I Accidentally Became A Superstar - Chapter 399 399: Everything

The rooftop smelled of grilled meat and citrus. The sun was long gone, replaced by the stars in the clear night sky. Even then, they weren’t paying much attention to the view.

Eli was holding out a grape with chopsticks, aiming it toward Minji’s mouth. She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance but still leaned forward to take the bite, cheeks lifting in a smile as she chewed. Eli grinned.

“Seriously, do you two ever stop?” Doha groaned from the other side of the blanket, leaning dramatically into Maxie’s fur. The fluffy dog let out a tolerant huff as Doha squeezed her tighter.

“You’re suffocating me with your happiness. What about me? Huh? The lonely one over here?”

“You’re not lonely, you have Maxie,” Minji teased.

Doha buried his face into the dog’s neck, inhaling loudly. “I miss Zeno!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled by Maxie’s fur. “Watching him on screen just isn’t enough. It’s worse, actually. It makes me want to see him in person even more.”

Eli chuckled, feeding Minji another piece of fruit before adding, “You know, you’re acting like he went off to war. He’s filming, Doha. He’s literally working.”

“Still!” Doha sat up, his hair messy from rolling around with Maxie. “You saw him in the first episode, didn’t you? It was insane! And don’t get me started on how the internet is losing its mind.”

“Zeno is so handsome on screen,” he added suddenly. His eyes widened at himself, then he clutched his chest dramatically as though confessing had caused him physical pain. “It’s quite concerning.”

Both Minji and Eli burst into laughter, nodding furiously.

“It is concerning,” Minji agreed, still laughing. “Even I had to pause. Well, he’s always been handsome.”

Doha pointed a finger at her. “Exactly! He’s dangerous like this. The world is going to see what we’ve been seeing and then—” He broke off, clutching Maxie even closer. “No, Maxie, we’re going to lose him to the public!”

The dog gave a confused bark.

But beneath the dramatics, they all felt his absence. Seeing Zeno on screen only reminded them how strange it was not having him around. However, even then, they were happy for him.

The first episode had taken everyone by storm. The premise of Act on Top was already unusual, but with Gene PD handling the narrative hooks that appealed to the younger generation—memes, witty edits, sharp cuts—and Bacon PD adding in nostalgia and emotional dignity for the older audience, it became an instant hit. Even people who didn’t usually care about acting competitions tuned in.

Social media was ablaze.

On one side, younger viewers were spamming.

– Zeno is daddy material?

– The way he just stood there and the camera found him… chills.

– Forget acting, I’d pay just to watch him breathe.”

On the other hand, film critics and older audiences were posting threads.

– This show is a fascinating commentary on the nature of performance and reality. The contestants are forced into roles that mirror existential questions.

– We might be witnessing a new face in serious acting. Zeno Han—remember the name.

The overlap created a strange phenomenon—memes and thirst tweets stacked on top of critical analysis. As a result, the show was already trending in multiple categories.

Doha scrolled through his phone, reading the comments out loud.

“‘I can’t believe he looked like that and had the audacity to exist.'”

“‘His jawline could cut glass, but his voice could mend it back together.'”

“‘If he doesn’t step on me in the next episode, I’m suing.'”

“I haven’t been this invested in a show since forever. The editing, the acting, the stage—everything feels cinematic. Please release the next stage already!

Minji leaned forward, interested. “So people are already demanding the next stage?”

“Yeah, look!” Doha held his phone out. “‘Next stage, please! Next stage, please!’ It’s everywhere. They’re hooked. They want to see what else the contestants can do.”

Eli whistled, impressed. “That’s good, right?”

“It’s more than good,” Minji responded.

Just then, Doha’s phone buzzed. A new notification lit up the screen.

The three of them leaned over to look.

It was from the official Act on Top page.

Just four letters, along with a poll that had the contestants’ names.

VOTE.

***

Now there were only twenty of them left. The room that once brimmed with noise and over fifty contestants felt spacious.

Everyone sat in anticipation, waiting for the announcement of the next mission. The screen above them lit up before the sound of footsteps echoed into the room.

“Ryeo Wang?” Ian muttered the moment he saw the old actor, brows shooting upward.

The contestants gasped. It had been weeks since Ryeo appeared in front of them. He looked thinner and paler. His cheekbones were sharper, and his lips lacked color. Something in his complexion screamed that he wasn’t doing too well health-wise, and yet, his presence commanded attention like no other.

Ryeo Wang was still Ryeo Wang, the actor who terrified them into excellence.

Zeno frowned instinctively, but he snapped back into reality as soon as Ryeo’s voice filled the room.

“You’ve reached what we call the serious part of this competition,” Ryeo began, “You have done quite a bit, but now—” he paused, “you will do much more.”

The words felt like a gauntlet thrown at their feet.

“After the airing of the first episode,” he said, “a poll was sent out to the public. We wanted to know who captured the most attention, the most curiosity, and the most support.”

Immediately, the giant LED screen behind him flashed awake, a dramatic drumroll vibrating through the speakers.

Two names appeared in bold letters.

Phoenix.

Zeno.

Phoenix smirked, leaning back in his seat with arms crossed. Zeno, on the other hand, remained composed as usual.

The suspense dragged on. Contestants turned to him. Hero and Ian, sitting side by side, clapped loudly in his direction. Phoenix glanced at him with that knowing edge, the silent dare in his gaze.

And then, at last, the winner was announced.

“Zeno Han.”

The room erupted with applause and murmurs.

Hero was the loudest. Ian clapped until his palms reddened. Even the quieter contestants, though clearly disappointed, had to admit— Zeno’s rise in popularity had been undeniable.

Ryeo allowed the room to settle before continuing. His lips curved into a smirk.

“Before I dive into the significance of the voting results, let me announce the next mission.”

The screen flashed again. This time, a single word appeared.

EVERYTHING.

“Huh?” murmurs rippled through the contestants.

“You’ve done almost everything at this point,” Ryeo continued smoothly. “Act. Sing. Write. Dance. Direct short performances. But there’s still something you haven’t done just yet.”

Brows knitted across the room. They didn’t know what he meant.

Zeno pursed his lips. The phrase echoed in his head: Everything.

Ryeo’s smirk deepened. His gaze sharpened, and he turned smoothly until he was staring directly at Zeno.

“I’m sure he knows.”

Everyone’s heads turned instantly toward Zeno, eyes wide with expectation.

“Everything,” Zeno said finally. “A full production. A movie.”

The room reacted instantly.

“Whoa!”

“No way!”

“Wait, what? A movie?!”

Ryeo’s smirk widened. “Correct!” he exclaimed.

Gasps, groans, and exclamations filled the air.

“A movie?!” Hero nearly jumped out of his chair. “A real one?!”

“This is insane,” Misha muttered.

“How are we supposed to do that?” another voice protested.

“Yes,” Ryeo cut them off firmly. “A movie. Two productions. Divided into groups. And what are you going to do? Everything.”

“Writing. Editing. Shooting. Casting. Lighting. Sound.”

The list rolled off his tongue like a strike of thunder.

“You will know what it’s like,” he added, “to put yourselves in the shoes of real creators. You will struggle. You will complain. Some of you will want to quit. But by the end of it, you will understand what it means to create not just a performance, but a world.”

The silence that followed was thick.

And then, as expected, the protests started.

“How is that even possible?!” one boy shot up.

“There’s no way we can shoot a whole movie by ourselves!” another argued.

“This isn’t fair—we’re not filmmakers!”

Ryeo didn’t budge.

“You have one month,” he said coolly. “One month to complete your projects. During that time, the rest of the pre-filmed episodes will air. And at the end of that month, you will present your mini-movies in front of a real, live audience.”

“And there,” Ryeo finished, “they will vote for the better film.”

A month. An actual movie. A live audience.

Some contestants looked like they were going to faint. Others looked electrified, adrenaline pumping through their veins.

However, Ryeo wasn’t finished yet.

“Make sure to do it well,” he said coldly, “because the winning team will be exempted from elimination… while the losing team will lose five of its members.”

“And as for the significance of the voting…” Ryeo paused. “Well, there must be a director, mustn’t there?”

He let the suspense hang once more before delivering the blow.

“The people have already spoken.”

Zeno’s blood ran cold. His chest constricted as he realized what this meant.

“The top two contestants in the voting will be the directors.”

“And they will be competing against each other, betting everything they have.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com