“Wait, are you the Arzen who won first prize in the literature competition last year?” 

Yuna’s eyes lit up, her voice filled with excitement. Finding someone with such a talent right when they needed it felt like a stroke of pure luck.

Arzen hesitated, his brow furrowing and his lips parting slightly as he took in the sudden turn of events. 

This world’s Arzen, too doubtful of his skills, had his story submitted by Hanjun without his consent. Arzen felt a flicker of guilt—a pang that this wasn’t his accomplishment. 

But what was he supposed to do? In this world, he was technically “the Arzen”. Saying no would be absurd because, as far as everyone was concerned, he was Arzen.

Arzen then looked at Yuna’s bright, expectant face, another thought nudged him: he needed any advantage he could get right now. This wasn’t the time to be noble; it was the time to survive.

“Y-Yeah.. I… I am, ‘that’ Arzen.”

Yuna’s response was instant, her enthusiasm unrestrained. She grasped Arzen’s hand, her smile stretching wider as she shook it vigorously.

“I loved your story! It was so well-written and captivating. We’ve needed someone like you!”

To Yuna, this was the perfect answer to all the club’s problems, and her mind was already spinning with ideas. Scripts, performances, success—it all seemed within reach now.

Arzen managed a smile, though a knot twisted in his stomach. These compliments were aimed at someone else—someone he was impersonating day by day. But there was no backing out now. He had to keep up the act. Yuna’s bright-eyed confidence was relentless, and he couldn’t afford to let his doubts show.

Before Arzen could gather his thoughts, Yuna grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the club room, practically dragging him along in her excitement.

“Come on, let’s not waste any time! We have so much to go over!” 

Yuna’s mind was already leaping ahead, imagining all the ways Arzen’s talent could save them.

Cain, leaning against the wall, watched them go with a scowl. Cain was known for his hostile demeanor and tendency to make people feel unwelcome. He eyed Arzen with clear suspicion, arms crossed and a frown that could freeze over a sunny day. Cain’s presence loomed, but his thoughts were his own—a silent disapproval that didn’t need words.

As they settled into the club room, Arzen looked down, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He took a deep breath, his blue eyes flickering with uncertainty as he met Yuna’s gaze.

"Are you sure I'm the right person for this?"

Yuna didn’t hesitate. 

"Absolutely!"

For her, this wasn’t just a stroke of luck—it was the turning point she’d been waiting for. Arzen was here now, and that meant change.

Arzen's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to mirror her enthusiasm. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, the weight of her expectations pressing down on him. 

"Um.. so, what exactly does the job involve? And why not work with the writing or literature club?"

Yuna brushed back a loose strand of hair, her smile unwavering. 

“It’s more than just writing. We need someone who understands us, who’s dedicated to the drama club. Our scripts have been a mess since our last writer graduated.” 

The frustration seeped into her voice—this wasn’t just about needing a writer; it was about finding the right one.

"None of our members can write a decent script. We've tried, believe me, but it's just not their thing."

Arzen listened, nodding along as she continued to vent. He then took a moment to look around the common room. It was spacious, with a cozy setup that included a sofa, a TV, game consoles, a minibar with a fridge, a snack cabinet, and a coffee machine. In one corner, a large dining table doubled as a meeting table, covered with laptops, papers, and a projector. It looked well-equipped for brainstorming sessions and planning.

Yuna’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

"We have to perform in the school festival in five months, and we still don’t have a script. It’s driving me crazy!"

"I understand, but—"

"No buts! You're here now, and that’s all that matters. We just need someone who can write, and you’re our best shot."

"Well, I'll do my best, but—"

Yuna suddenly whipped out a contract from seemingly nowhere, thrusting it towards Arzen.

"Now, now, don't worry too much! Just sign your name here and here, and you are officially hired!"

Yuna didn’t let go of Arzen's hand, her grip firm and unrelenting. Arzen’s brows furrowed, and his free hand twitched nervously at his side. The situation felt too sketchy, like he was being coerced by a loan shark.

"Wait, before I sign anything, can we talk about the pay? What are the expectations, and how often do I have to join the activities?"

"Of course! The pay is quite decent, considering the club funds. You'll be compensated fairly, and there are bonuses if the performance is well-received."

Arzen glanced at the contract in his hand, eyes nearly popping out at the long string of zeros. Yuna had barely finished her pitch when she noticed his stunned expression.

"Just take a look at the contract. As for expectations, we need you to create a compelling script that aligns with our theme."

Arzen's hand twitched slightly, his grip tightening on the contract.

"You might need to attend some practice sessions. We usually have meetings in the common room."

‘Huh?’

"But today, there’s no meeting; all the members are practicing in the practice room."

Yuna noticed Arzen's frozen expression and paused, her brow furrowing in concern. She tilted her head slightly, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Is this a typo on the contract where the fee is stated?" 

Arzen's voice wavered as he pointed at the suspiciously generous amount.

"No, it's not a typo. Is it not enough? How much do you want? I’d need to discuss it with the finance team first."

‘More? Are you kidding me? Who pays this much for a high school play script?’

Arzen’s mind spun. This kind of money for writing a school play? It was like finding a treasure chest in a school basement. He rubbed his temples, feeling both overwhelmed and a little dizzy. He wasn’t sure if he could pull off the job, but with this kind of pay, he’d figure it out.

‘Practice sessions, meetings… I can handle that.’ 

Arzen thought, trying to justify taking the job. 

‘If I’m stuck here, I need the cash anyway. This is like winning the lottery.’

With the contract clutched tightly, Arzen made his way out, steps slow and unsteady as he re-read the payment terms for the hundredth time. It still didn’t feel real. Yuna had told him to come back tomorrow for a proper introduction to the club members—a meet-and-greet Arzen wasn’t exactly thrilled about.

Before he left, Yuna had introduced him to Cain as the club’s prominent leading actor who had been stealing the spotlight in plays since the first grade. Cain barely glanced at Arzen, his eyes cold and indifferent. The nod Cain gave was mechanical, more of a “Yeah, whatever” than a genuine greeting. Arzen nodded back, matching Cain’s ice-cold vibe with his own bland expression. 

They locked eyes for a moment, a silent agreement that neither cared to pretend to be friendly. 

‘Great start.’ 

Arzen thought dryly. Cain turned away, clearly not interested in wasting any more energy on the club’s new scriptwriter.

Exhausted, Arzen headed back to the dorm, collapsing into bed almost immediately. He needed sleep, and badly. But just as his eyes began to close, the door creaked open. Arzen peeked over to see Hanjun stroll in, looking as relaxed as ever.

Hanjun set his bag down, moving around his desk with deliberate precision, placing each item neatly in its place. He glanced over at Arzen with a smirk, noticing the way he looked more worn out than usual. Arzen’s appearance amused him—bed barely touched, eyes heavy, like he’d been through a day much longer than it actually was.

Arzen tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed, hoping that Hanjun would, for once, just be quiet.

"I haven’t been back for a week, and you don’t run to me and give me a hug? I’m heartbroken."

"No, thanks. I'm good."

Arzen mumbled into his pillow, not even bothering to look up.

Hanjun chuckled, adjusting his desk items with the finesse of a picky interior designer. 

"Our Zenzen is growing up too fast. Doesn't want hugs from his best friend anymore."

Arzen glared at him, letting out a long, exasperated breath.

‘This crazy demon. It's so late, and he still has the energy to spout nonsense.’

Arzen thought, rolling his eyes in a silent plea for Hanjun to just be normal for once.

Hanjun finally finished his ritualistic desk tidying and turned to Arzen, his smirk still firmly in place.

"By the way, this Golden Week, you are coming home right? Mom and Dad want to see you."

"I'll think about it."

"Huh? You will think about it? What do you mean?”

Hanjun's smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine shock. He stood up from his chair, his expression serious—a tone he rarely used with Arzen. 

The sudden shift caught Arzen off guard, his chest tightening as he realized he’d messed up.