….

  So yeah, Ragel's sistency, volume, and quality were winning him an ever-growing audience.

  Just minutes ago, he had uploaded today's quota of chapters.

  Yet he didn't leave his chair.

  Instead, his attention shifted to the clutter of tabs open in his browser.

  Most of the open tabs were actor profiles - images and bios of performers, some instantly reizable, others entirely fn to him.

  But no, he wasn't seriously looking to cast anyone.

  Not yet, anyway.

  He didn't even have a finished script, so why would he?

  Besides, the aring back at him were the kind that dominated headlihe A-listers of this era.

  This was the early 2000s, a time wheer was booming but not quite the pyground for everyo would ter bee.

  Back then, having a Wikipedia page wasn't a given and is still a bit reliable.

  If you had a personal page, it meant you mattered. You were a top-tier actor, director, or producer.

  Still, scrolling through these profiles wasn't just idle curiosity. Regal wasn't hunting for colborators.

  He was hunting for something else.

  Familiarity.

  He was trying to pce the faces of this world over the ones from his past.

  As he scrolled, he searched for features or hat clicked.

  And some did.

  Enough to make him sit up straighter.

  Regal had long e to terms with the fact that this world wasn't his own.

  Parallel Earth, alternate reality, whatever it was, it came with plenty of quirks.

  But knowing something and experieng it were two entirely different things.

  Some actors were youhan they should have been, while others seemed older.

  Some had different names or pletely altered backgrounds.

  And some? They were missing altogether.

  It was disorienting.

  Shouldn't they have aged by now? And why is she still young?

  The insistencies were everywhere, subtle yet gring oiced.

  Regal smirked, the absurdity of it all bringing a faint flicker of amusement. "So… for all I know, I could just run into some mini version of RDJ on a random street?"

  His excitement, however, was rudely interrupted by the low growl of his stomach, the sound eg in the cramped silence of his apartment.

  He frowned, his gaze dropping to the desk in front of him - crumbs scattered across its surface, a half-eaten piece of stale bread resting forlornly on a pte.

  Yeah, definitely not cutting it.

  A g the clo his desktop - 8:45 AM.

  His meeting was in an hour and fifteen minutes, and he wasn't about to tackle the day fueled by nothing but sugar and air.

  Sighing, Regal grabbed his wallet, locked up his ft, and slung his bag over his shoulder.

  Inside, a fsh drive taining the final version of his ＜Harry Potter＞rewritten rattled against the spine of the book he always carried - a habit born of equal parts paranoia and hope.

  Hollywood might not be waiting for him just yet, but opportunities had a funny way of sneaking up when you least expected.

  His fingers fumbled with the lock for a moment before it clicked into pce.

  He spared the apartment o look over his shoulder. Crumbs, chaos, and jam-streaked regrets stared back at him.

  "Later." He muttered, smming the door shut behind him.

  The day was calling, and so was breakfast.

  A mental map of the neighborhood popped into his head, his thoughts zeroing in on the '' venieore.

  Ten minutes, maybe less if he skipped waiting for the crosswalk light.

  By the time he reached the store, the neon lights buzzed and flickered zily against the te m haze.

  Regal pushed open the gss door, the faint jingle of the bell above him announg his arrival.

  Behind the ter, Jordan sat as always, his fareadable except for a faint twitch at the er of his mouth - caught somewhere between a smirk and a yawn.

  "Back, huh?" Jordan's voice sliced through the air, sharp, with that casual retail-worker questioning tone.

  Regal shrugged, already closing the gap to the ter. "I was just a little hungry."

  He had just walked ara ten minutes instead of taking the shortcut to the other store, and the reason is - this was the pce where he worked part-time.

  The pce was his sed home… or maybe more like a really bad hotel room where you weren't allowed to pin about the sheets.

  Jordan snorted. "What now? Shift s?"

  "Nope." Regal said, leaning on the ter, mock seriousness pstered across his face. "I am here to quit."

  Straight to it - no sugarcoating.

  Jordan didn't flinch.

  Regal hadn't expected him to.

  Straight talk was Jordan's thing, a no-nonsense, all-business approach to life that bled into everything he did.

  Maybe that's why his wife had left him, a fact Jordan had let slip after ooo many drinks during a te night at the bar.

  True to form, Jordan's rea was minimal.

  He raised an eyebrow, his expressioling into a quiet, unsurprised look.

  Not shocked, not disappointed - just resigned figures.

  Regal hadly been subtle. The past few days had worn him thin, and Jordan, observant as ever, had clearly picked up on the signs.

  "Got a new job lined up?" Jordan asked, the casual tone now slipping into something a little more curious.

  Regal scratched the back of his head, pretending to think.

  "Sort of… I am gonna be a director soon." He said, like it wasn't the most ridiculous thing he had ever said. "You know, Hollywood stuff. Probably start a produ pany, get a star in it… you know, the usual."

  Jordan didn't even blink. He had heard the whole 'I am gonna be famous' line more times than he could t fral, but today he was in a good mood - or at least pretending to be.

  "Alright, well… break a leg, kid." His voice was dry but not unkind. "Just don't fet about us lowly venieore folks when you hit the big time."

  Regal grihe kind of grin that stretched wider than it should. "Nah, I am pretty sure the fame will be so overwhelming, I will fet about you by week."

  Jordan's lips twitched, but he didn't respond.

  It wasn't the first time Regal had tried to joke his way out of an awkward situation, but holy, Jordan didn't mind.

  It was a wele distra from the usual, predictable grind.

  Grabbing snacks off the shelf, Regal set them on the ter.

  The transa was quid wordless, and Regal was halfway to the door when Jordan's voice stopped him.

  "You know?" Jordan's smirk resurfaced. "This is why I 't stand hiring kids. You all think you just bail the sed somethier es along without a word."

  Regal paused, casting an exaggerated side-eye over his shoulder.

  He didn't rush to respond.

  There was no real sting in Jordan's words - just that tired, world-weary hoy that came from hearing the same old thing time and time again.

  "I have seen it before." Jordan tinued, his tone lighter now. "But hey, if you think you have got it all figured out, good luck. Just don't e crawling back when it doesn't work out."

  Regal chuckled, the sound mehan it had been a moment ago. "I hope you still hire 'kids' like us iure."

  "I will try, but you guys are a pain in the ass." Jordan muttered, shaking his head with a grin.

  He didn't really hate Regal for it, though.

  Jordan uood, it was just the nature of the game.

  After all, he had been there himself.

  Regal fshed him a thumbs-up and turo leave, but not without o jab. "Thanks for everything. And I will be sure to name a character after you in my movie. Probably the grumpy old guy who runs a venieore."

  Jordan's deadpan response followed him out. "Perfect. I will be here when it flops."

  The door chimed softly as Regal stepped outside, the cool air greeting him agaiook a deep breath.

  "On to the appoi." He murmured.

  ….

  Regal stood at the bus stop, shifting from foot to foot.

  He adjusted the strap on his bag and gave the street a quice-over.

  After waiting for over five minutes, finally a bus rumbled up, and the doors creaked open.

  He stepped aboard and swiped his card, the doors closing behind him with a familiar hiss.

  Ihe usual mix of - don't talk to me - faces.

  In the era of booming teology, most passengers were lost in their little worlds resembling his modern day from his past life.

  Well, that was none of his business, as he took a window seat and stared out, letting the city blur into some half-familiar smudge.

  L.A. was a dream, or so they said.

  Bright lights, glitter, fame.

  But, of course, peddlers like him won't be able to afford living there – ridiaintenance cost.

  So for now, Echo Park would have to do.

  No, it wasn't gmorous, but it is a roof for many like him.

  .

  ….

  [To be tinued…]

  ★─────??★??─────★

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