From Thug to Idol: Transmigrating to a Survival Show

The movie continued, and June's first appearance was nearing.

The screen lit up with Yian's birthday celebration.

The Shadow clan's estate, shrouded in mist, was the perfect backdrop for the quiet and cold event. The camera panned across the courtyard, revealing beautifully adorned tables set with food that none of the guests seemed eager to eat.

Servants stood by silently, their faces hidden beneath hoods, as the Shadow clan members watched each other warily, exchanging only the occasional glance.

Despite the festive setting, the Shadows still appeared miserable and disdainful.

Jian stood at the edge of the gathering, clapping politely as his half-brother Yian was showered with praise and attention.

It was the first time June's character appeared on screen, and the audience collectively leaned forward. Jian wore the deep blacks of the Shadow clan, his sharp eyes and expressionless face making him seem like just another part of the scenery.

But even in the silence of his presence, there was something about him that drew the eye.

In the shadows, Jian was always there-watching, listening, waiting.

June crossed his arms in front of his chest. He barely remembered filming this scene, but now, seeing it on the big screen, he realized how crucial this moment was.

Jian was introduced early in the story as a silent figure in Yian's life. The younger brother of the Shadow clan's future leader, Jian, was everything Yian wasn't.

The camera focused on Yian's bright smile as the Shadow Master, their father, placed a hand on his shoulder, declaring him the future of the clan. The guests clapped half-heartedly, their eyes betraying their true feelings.

Jian's eyes remained fixed on his brother, his clapping mechanical and unfeeling.

June had to admit his performance wasn't as stiff as he feared. There was something subtle in the way Jian stood there, an undercurrent of emotion just waiting to break through the surface.

At the back, the members of DAWN exchanged amused glances. They had known June was talented, but to see him in this role, embodying a complex character on the big screen, was still amazing.

Bad Apple, sitting in the audience with his arms crossed, prepared to criticize June.

Yet, even he found it hard to deny the subtle intensity June brought to the role.

As the scene continued, the celebration moved on, but Jian remained in the background. His role was essential to the clan, though never in the spotlight. Yian was the heir, but Jian was the one who knew the clan's secrets- the one who carried messages in the dead of night, unseen and unheard.

With that, Bad Apple placed his pen down, not finding anything to criticize in the particular scene.

The scenes continued, and as Risa said, they tried their hardest to emulate the book.

An hour into the movie, most of the book lovers found themselves pleasantly surprised with how good the movie was.

Suddenly, the movie cut to a flashback-a glimpse into Jian's past.

Bad Apple frowned, searching his mind for this particular scene. "This isn't part of the book," he muttered. With that, he clicked his pen and opened his notebook, ready to criticize the movie for straying away from the original storyline.

He watched intently as a younger Jian stood in a small courtyard, facing a woman with tears in her eyes.

His mother.

This was the moment that shaped him, the scene that explained why he had become the silent, loyal messenger of the Shadow clan.

"Jian," his mother's voice trembled as she stood before him, holding back her emotions. She was beautiful but worn, her face lined with masked sorrow. "They are in need of a new messenger. You... you are not a useless yielder. You'll be treated well by the Shadow Master's family."

Her words sounded cold and distant. Jian stared at her, his young heart struggling to understand what was happening.

This wasn't the mother he knew-the warm, loving woman who had always been by his side.

June's character, young Jian, stood there, motionless, his small hands trembling at his sides. The soft fluttering of laundry in the evening breeze was the only sound.

"I... I don't want to go," Jian's voice was small, broken. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked up at his mother, silently begging her to say it wasn't true.

To tell him he wasn't being sent away like a piece of property.

Bad Apple gasped softly, his hold on the pen tightening for a brief second.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

His mother turned her back to him, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe but still with a stern face. "It's what's best for you, Jian. You'll be safe there. You'll have a place and a purpose."

"But what about you?" His voice cracked as he stepped forward, reaching out to grab the hem of her robe and pull her back to him. "I don't want to leave you. I don't want to be a

messenger. I want to stay here-with you, mother."

For a moment, she didn't respond, and the silence between them grew heavier.

When she finally turned back to face him, her eyes were red, but there was a forced frown on her face. "You don't have a place here. I don't want you anymore. You've burdened me for too long. It's time for you to be useful."

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

The audience sat in stunned silence, watching the heartbreaking scene unfold. The camera lingered on young Jian's face, the anguish and confusion so raw that it was hard to breathe. The younger Jian took a deep, shuddering breath, holding back the sob that threatened to escape. He wasn't allowed to cry.

He was the Shadow clan's new messenger, a role he didn't want but had no choice but to accept.

The camera cut back to the present, where Jian, now older, stood in the shadows of Jian. June's performance was stunning. The subtle nuances of his expressions, the way his body seemed to carry the invisible burden of his past-it was captivating. Even the most skeptical viewers, including Bad Apple, were drawn in.

In the dimly lit theater, Bad Apple's hand slowly lifted to his face. He hadn't realized it until that moment, but a single tear had slipped down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, embarrassed by the display of emotion.

For the first time that night, something marked Bad Apple's notebook. Not a harsh criticism or a sarcastic remark, but a single tear that stained the page.