The Guest Room is not haunted

"The discipline of desire is the background of character." -John Locke

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Chapter 9 – The Stage is Set

The auditorium buzzed with hushed conversations, the shuffle of scripts, and the occasional burst of laughter from those trying to shake off their nerves. Sam and Ethan stepped inside, taking in the familiar scene. Rows of seats lined the room, a few occupied by early arrivals, while the large stage stood at the front, lit by overhead spotlights.

Near the judges' table, slightly outside their circle, stood a familiar figure—Alex.

A little on the chubby side, with a round face and slightly scruffy hair, Alex always had a clear and honest expression, the kind that made him easy to trust. But right now, his nervousness was obvious—at least to Sam and Ethan. His eyes darted from person to person, barely staying still for a second, as if he were trying to map out the safest route of escape. His fingers twitched at his side, and his posture was stiff, like he was bracing himself for something.

No one else seemed to notice, too caught up in their own performances and rehearsals. But to Sam, Alex looked like a rabbit in a den of wolves—standing alone, completely out of place.

The moment he spotted them, a visible wave of relief washed over his face. Letting out a quiet breath, he quickly stepped toward them, as if escaping the suffocating air around him.

"Finally," he muttered under his breath. "I was starting to feel like an outsider in my own club."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "They're that intense?"

"You have no idea," Alex sighed. "It's like they've already cast the whole thing in their heads, and we're just here to confirm it."

Ethan snorted. "Sounds about right."

As Sam, Ethan, and Alex settled into their seats, the atmosphere in the auditorium grew more tense. Contestants whispered among themselves, rehearsing last-minute lines, while others sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts. Then their conversation shifted—talk of past auditions, gossip about who was competing, and how serious everything felt this time around. There were murmurs about the new faces auditioning, a few people who had come from different universities to try their luck.

At the front of the room, the judges' panel sat behind a long table, their expressions unreadable as they skimmed through audition lists.

Professor Grant, seated in the middle, adjusted his glasses as he flipped through his notes. His presence alone commanded respect—years of experience in theater gave weight to every critique he gave. He wasn't needlessly harsh, but his feedback was always direct, leaving no room for excuses. If someone gave a weak performance, they'd know it immediately.

To his left, Lillian Cho rested her chin on her hand, watching the room with keen interest. She was the most expressive of the three, her reactions always visible—an intrigued tilt of the head when something caught her attention, a barely concealed yawn when she lost interest. A former actress turned director, she valued depth in performances above all else.

The last judge, Darren Holt, sat back in his chair with an air of boredom. He tapped his pen against the table, barely looking up from his notes. Unlike the others, he didn't seem interested in theatrical dramatics. If a performance didn't capture his attention in the first few seconds, he'd already moved on.

Sam studied them from a distance, memorizing their expressions. If he had to guess, Professor Grant would focus on technical skill, Lillian on emotion, and Darren… Darren would probably judge based on instinct alone.

"That guy already looks unimpressed, and no one's even started yet," Ethan muttered, nodding toward Darren.

Alex let out a nervous breath. "Yeah… doesn't help the nerves."

Sam hummed in agreement but kept his thoughts to himself. He wasn't nervous—at least, not yet. But he knew when his turn came, all three of those judges would be watching, analyzing, and deciding if he was worth their time.

And that, more than anything, made his stomach feel just a little heavier.

Ethan cracked a joke about how "This isn't just an audition—it's a battlefield."

Sam chuckled, but Alex didn't. He was still visibly anxious, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. Sam noticed but chose not to press him on it.

The air in the room felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the sheer number of people. Maybe it was the pressure.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

One by one, names were called, and people stepped onto the stage.

Some did incredibly well, earning nods of approval from the judges.

Others... not so much.

There were a few overly dramatic performances, exaggerated gestures that made Sam, Ethan, and Alex exchange subtle looks of secondhand embarrassment. Some were unprepared, stumbling over lines or forgetting them altogether.

Then came Lucas.

Lucas, unsurprisingly, delivered a solid performance. He had a natural charisma that made it easy for him to slip into a role. His presence was commanding, his voice steady and confident. It was no wonder he was always considered for the lead—he had that effortless charm that made audiences pay attention.

He makes it look effortless.

Victoria, on the other hand, was something else entirely.

Where Lucas was smooth and practiced, Victoria was sharp and deliberate. Every word, every movement, was calculated but never forced. She carried herself like she already owned the stage, and maybe in some way, she did.

She didn't need to prove anything—she just had to remind everyone why she was already a favorite.

Yet, there was someone new this time.

Another girl, positioned as Victoria's competition. Her name wasn't as well-known, but there was something about her performance—a quiet intensity, a controlled delivery—that made people take notice.

Victoria remained unfazed.

She watched her rival perform with an unreadable expression, offering only a small, polite nod once the scene ended. Not dismissive, not approving. Just acknowledging their presence, as if to say: You exist. That's all.

Ethan was like how he always did...he knew if he wants to be on the stage he will be on the stage , now it doesn't matter if it's a Side character A or B, as he always knew where to stop.

Sam observed it all with mild interest, but he wasn't overly concerned. He wasn't aiming for the hero.

His focus was elsewhere.

The villain.

And soon, it would be his turn.

The names continued to be called, the audition moving forward.

With each passing performance, the weight in Sam's chest grew heavier.

Not fear. Not quite.

More like… anticipation.

Ethan must've sensed it because he gave Sam a pat on the back. "Show them what a real villain looks like."

Finally—

"Number 17, Sam?"

The words rang through the auditorium, and everything else faded into background noise.

He took a breath, stood, and felt the weight of the moment settle over him.

As he walked toward the stage, there was a strange sense of déjà vu.

Almost like he'd done this before—

But in a place far colder.

He reached the center, glancing at the judges, then at the audience.

"Whenever you're ready," a voice said.

Sam exhaled, readying himself.

—END.