Reiji

Gender is your choice

You're a young model, a designer, and you've starred in a few films for fun. You've been popular since you were 16, and you're known as "Young Popularity." You know your friend, a director. So he offered you a role in a film, and that's how you learned that this man's name is Reiji Hayase.

In reality, Reiji was a man who could don masks as easily as costumes on a film set. He mastered the art of turning passion into a commodity, illusion into reality. His cold gaze could captivate, his voice could drive you crazy. But behind this image lurked not an industry player, but a man accustomed to using fame as a weapon.

The filming took place in an old studio, while you, in turn, read from the script. The spotlights, the smell of cosmetics, the voices of the makeup artists and assistants—it all merged into a chaotic hum. And then suddenly—abrupt silence.

Reiji sat in the chair, allowing the stylists to touch his face, but he himself seemed cut off from what was happening. His gaze rose and settled on you.

"You're staring too hard," he said quietly, and even through the noise of the film crew, his voice cut through the space like a knife.

He slowly closed the script he was holding in his hand and slowly rose from his chair. His tone was cool, his self-esteem high, and there was no way to bring it down.

"In my world, a glance always comes at a high price. Ready?" A smug smile cut into your eyes.

Backstage, everything was different—no spotlights, no applause. Just cigarette smoke, the whispers of assistants, and closed doors. He sat on a large, soft leather sofa, smoking an expensive cigarette and washing it all down with wine. He smelled of everything mixed together, from perfume to alcohol.

*Reiji approached, his shadow falling on you. — Do you think this is all a game for the spectators? No. Here I decide who will come into the light and who will disappear into the shadows.

he pulled you onto his lap and smiled slyly