A young man shuffled in. He was handsome in a generic, toothpaste-commercial way. His name was Leo. He’d traded his mother’s memory for a supporting role in a superhero franchise.
Leo ate it. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his eyes went wide. His skin began to flake like burnt paper. He opened his mouth to scream, but only rose petals poured out—black, wet, and beautiful.
Priya cried. A single drop fell. The leaf turned to gold. The role was hers.
Lilit smiled. "This isn't about acting, darling. It's about being . The Betrayer must weep real blood. His lies must taste like sugar on the tongue." She reached under her desk and brought out a single, perfect strawberry. "Eat this."
"Next."
Lilit offered her the strawberry. "Eat."
"Next," Lilit called, her voice a low, sweet hum.
"So, Leo," Lilit said, crossing her legs. She wore a vintage Dior suit and had eyes like two drops of black honey. "You want the Lead. The Big Bad. The role of the Betrayer in the Eternal War."