Performing on stage

The small recording room was dimly lit, with a single spotlight on Liam as he stood on the slightly raised platform in front of the judges.

The judges sat at a long table that had a red top, their expressions showed indifference and curiosity.

Liam adjusted his stance, his breathing finally calm after his mad run to the audition.

"Alright, Mr. West," the first judge said, flipping through some papers.

He had a sharp face and thin glasses perched on his nose.

His nameplate read Simon Marlowe. "You've got three minutes to perform. Convince us it was worth waiting for you."

"Good luck," the second judge, a middle-aged woman with curly hair and an encouraging smile, added softly.

Her nameplate read Grace Thompson.

The third judge, a younger man than the other judges dressed in a sleek blazer with his arms crossed, remained silent.

His expression was that of scepticism and that said enough.

Liam nodded, his fingers trembling slightly as he clenched them into fists at his sides.

"Thank you for giving me the chance. I'll be performing a monologue from The Broken King."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "A bold choice," he muttered under his breath, but he gestured for Liam to proceed.

The room fell silent as Liam took a deep breath.

He closed his eyes, letting his new skill overtake him. When he opened them again, they carried a persona that wasn't there before.

"Do you think this crown makes me a king? Never, it's merely a physical object, while my royalty is absolute." Liam's voice, deep and resonant, filled the space.

He slowly raised an invisible object to his head, the imaginary crown.

The judges' gazes slowly sharpened as interest in Liam built up.

Grace leaned forward slightly, her smile fading as her eyes widened with interest.

"I was a king before this piece of gold ever touched my head!" Liam's voice cracked with anguish.

His hand shook as he brought it to his chest, his body hunched forward as if carrying a burden that overwhelmed him.

"It wasn't the crown that made them kneel—it was the fear. It was the blood they saw staining my hands!"

The third judge who had been slouched slightly, straightened up, his previous sceptical expression replaced with a contemplative frown.

Liam turned sharply, his expression dark and conflicted.

"And now, they call me mad? After I've sacrificed everything for their peace? After I drank blood for their sake?" He let out a bitter laugh that echoed in the room. "No… I am not mad. I am broken."

"Broken from their hypocrisy and fakeness, they want to act righteous now? Where was it when I saved the kingdom from being razed to the ground? Where was it when I annihilated poverty?"

The imaginary crown fell from his hand as he stared at it with a mix of hatred and despair. "But I swear, that I will destroy this kingdom… even if it means destroying myself."

The monologue ended with Liam collapsing to his knees. The room was silent for a beat.

Then two.

Simon leaned back, his hand on his chin as he studied Liam.

Grace glanced at her fellow judges, her expression a mix of surprise and interest.

"Well," Simon finally said, tapping his pen on the table, "that was… unexpected."

Grace broke into a smile, her earlier encouragement now replaced with genuine warmth. "You brought that character to life. I could feel his pain and his conviction."

The third judge, whose nameplate read Ethan Cross, unfolded his arms as he said.

"It was good," he said simply, his tone calm. "But I wouldn't say perfect. Your emotions were raw, but they teetered slightly."

Liam's jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. "Thank you for your feedback."

Simon tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze sharp. "You said you were performing from The Broken King, but your interpretation didn't feel like you were just copying the play. You added something personal to it. Where did that come from?"

Liam hesitated, unsure how to explain the system's skill without sounding insane. "I've… always connected with roles like this. I guess I put a bit of myself into the character."

Grace tilted her head, her curiosity evident. "Have you performed before? Maybe in theatre or smaller productions?"

"No," Liam admitted, his voice steady. "But I have trialled out on an audition before."

Grace nodded, as she handed the talk to Simon.

Simon scribbled something on his notepad.

"Alright, Liam West. You've got potential, that much is clear. But raw talent isn't enough."

"This industry doesn't just chew people up, it spits them out without a second glance. If you want to make it here, you'll need to refine keep improving."

Grace chimed in, her tone softer. "I think you have what it takes to grow into something great, Liam. But Simon's right. Are you ready for that?"

Liam met her gaze with a firm nod, his back straightening. "I'm ready. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

Ethan smirked, his earlier scepticism replaced with a hint of approval. "Then welcome to the real world, Liam West. Let's see if you can survive it."

Simon tapped his pen one last time before setting it down. "Congratulations. You've made it to the next round."

The words hit Liam like a truck, but he kept his composure. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline running through his veins.

As he left the room, the faint sound of Grace murmuring to her fellow judges reached his ears. "He's rough around the edges, but there's something about him…"

Simon's reply was quieter, but firm. "Let's see if he can hold onto it."