CHAPTER 480: THE HEIR WHO ACCIDENTALLY JOINED AN AUDITION (PART TWO)

Micah followed the group of pretty boys down the hallway and stepped into a bright room at the end.

Inside, a crowd of boys stood waiting, forming uneven lines while two men with clipboards paced along the row. Their expressions were sharp, like they were choosing vegetables instead of people. Every few seconds, one of them would stop, look up, and say either in or out. And just like that, the chosen one stayed while the unlucky were led toward the exit.

Micah blinked as one of the men passed him without so much as a glance. "Guess that means I’m in?" he muttered under his breath.

The brown-haired boy beside him didn’t reply. His posture was rigid, hands clasped behind his back. Only the faint tremor in his fingers betrayed how tense he really was until the man finally uttered In and passed by.

The brown-haired boy exhaled in relief.

They were soon directed into another smaller room where a bored-looking assistant sat behind a folding desk, asking for first names or nicknames and contact details. No surnames, no fancy affiliation, nothing that screamed "official."

Just a sheet of paper and a printer spitting out stickers with their numbers.

"Name and address?" the assistant asked without looking up.

"Micah," he said and uttered one of his apartment’s addresses.

The man nodded, typed something, and handed him a sticker with a number. "Stick that on your shirt."

Micah pressed it against his chest.

The boy beside him gave his name next, and Micah finally learned it. Ilyas.

Micah looked at him curiously as they moved aside. Even up close, Ilyas looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine. Tall, slim, and sharply put together. His white button-up shirt was tucked neatly into light grey trousers, his sleeves rolled up to reveal slender wrists. He carried an air of confidence, his chin lifted, his eyes direct, but his shoulders were just a bit too stiff, the corner of his mouth too tight.

Micah could see through it easily. Ilyas was cold on the surface, but his nerves showed in the smallest gestures, the constant smoothing of his cuffs, the faint clench of his jaw.

Micah’s fingers itched; his desire for sketching awakened. He could already picture what kind of design would suit the boy. His focused stare made Ilyas snap his head toward him. "What?"

This silver-haired boy was getting on his nerves. He looked so relaxed, as if he was certain this audition would be in his hands. Ilyas hated these kinds of people, who used underhanded methods to steal opportunities from talented people. His earlier impulsive grip had only been to stop the boy from making trouble for them. Not that he found him pleasant.

"Hey..." Micah said casually, leaning a little closer. "Do you know what they are advertising?"

Ilyas gave him a look of total disgust. "You came here without even knowing what it’s for?"

Micah scratched his cheek, feigning sheepishness. "It’s just a coincidence. My friend was supposed to come, but I filled in for him."

Ilyas suppressed his anger. "It’s for a new AI product. They want a pretty cold boy to play a humanoid robot or something like that."

"A robot?" Micah repeated and looked around the room.

Then he turned toward Ilyas again. "So why are they holding an audition? Wouldn’t a seasoned star or a rising one be a better choice than some no-name idol or actor?"

Ilyas straightened his white shirt. "They tried. But the director refused every single celebrity suggestion. She said she wanted someone fresh."

"Wow. You know a lot," Micah said, amused.

"My older brother works here."

"Really!" Micah smiled. "Your older brother must be pretty amazing if he works in the Ramsy Empire."

"Yeah, he is," Ilyas said simply, eyes flickering to the floor for a moment before returning to the waiting area.

"So they just advertise it for anyone to join?" Micah asked.

"Umm, I heard she refused a lot of rookies before. From big entertainment companies to small agencies. As a last resort, they posted an open call on social media," Ilyas said.

Micah hummed thoughtfully. Was it really logical for an ad to go to this length? So that’s why they didn’t ask for anything, just contact information?

The assistant soon reappeared, calling numbers one by one.

Ilyas went first, and after ten minutes, he returned expressionlessly.

Before Micah could ask how it was, he was called next.

Micah stepped into the audition room. A sleek glass desk sat near the far wall, behind which three people observed him quietly. Two men and one woman.

The man on the left had round glasses and a nearly trimmed beard, his expression distant but curious. His voice, when he spoke, carried the kind of tone that came from years of dealing with clueless rookies.

"Name?"

"Micah," he replied, stepping forward.

"Alright, Micah," the man said, flipping through a data chart. "List any previous work, ads, modelling, acting, whatever you’ve done."

Micah went tongue-tied. Hell. He had nothing. He couldn’t exactly say hi, I’m the heir of the company that owns this place, could he?

"Hello, nice to meet you. I am 19 years old, a fashion design student, and I modelled for a small boutique sometimes, and also played in school drama."

He left out the part about cosplaying as Asena. That was too embarrassing.

The man hummed and wrote something.

The second man in the middle looked vaguely familiar to Micah. He searched his memory but still couldn’t remember where he had seen him.

The woman on the right scanned Micah from head to toe like she was dissecting him. "Your look fits what I’m looking for," she said finally, voice calm. "But can you act expressionless like an AI unit?"

"Do you have a specific requirement or script?" Micah asked.

"Do your own," she replied curtly.

He took a deep breath. Expressionless, she said.

He thought for a moment. Then a face flashed in his mind. Right. He was the perfect example.