#793 - Not a Personal Vendetta
As she moved toward the right-side exit, she cast a casual glance at the audience seated in the dimly lit theater. The audition process mimicked a traditional stage production, with only partial lighting illuminating the space. The actors sitting toward the back were visible, waiting in hushed anticipation for their turn.
Nina's steps were purposeful, her mind solely on her destination—until something made her stop abruptly. The deep red carpet muffled any sound of her halted movement, but internally, her thoughts were in turmoil. She turned her head sharply, scanning the crowd for the familiar face that had caught her off guard.
"Renly?"
The name escaped her lips before she could stop herself, her voice laced with genuine surprise.
It wasn't just Renly Hall's presence that shocked her—it was the way he carried himself. He was calm, inconspicuous, and entirely unassuming. In the world of London theater, where every audition for Les Misérables had been scrutinized with great fervor, Renly was undoubtedly the standout candidate.
In the past two years, he had taken North America by storm, establishing himself as a formidable actor. His classical training, combined with a natural screen presence, made him one of the most intriguing performers of his generation. Despite his meteoric rise, he had remained grounded, committed to honing his craft rather than basking in celebrity status.
This audition was highly anticipated—Renly's return to the theater world. Everyone, from critics to directors, was eager to see if the acclaim he had garnered in Hollywood translated to the unforgiving live stage. Could he truly hold his own in a production of this magnitude? Or was his reputation simply an inflated myth?
Earlier that day, Nina had been informed that Renly was finishing a shoot for Edge of Tomorrow at Trafalgar Square. Because of this, he was expected to arrive later in the afternoon, possibly even missing part of the audition schedule. His team had already communicated with the production staff to ensure everything was arranged accordingly.
Given the buzz surrounding his participation, Nina had expected a grand entrance—something akin to the New York auditions, where Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe had been swarmed by the creative team. But Renly had done the exact opposite. He had arrived quietly, on time, without any fanfare, and had taken a seat among the other actors, waiting patiently for his turn.
If Nina hadn't needed to use the restroom, she might never have noticed him. The realization stunned her.
Her outburst had momentarily disrupted the audition in progress. Realizing her mistake, she quickly turned back to the stage and apologized. "Sorry, my fault. Please continue."
But the damage had been done.
For Eddie Redmayne, the interruption was anything but minor.
He had been moments away from starting his audition—prepared, focused, ready to immerse himself in the character. But the sudden break in concentration threw him off balance. His carefully cultivated emotions, which had been simmering just beneath the surface, now had nowhere to go.
He sat frozen in his chair, trying to recover his composure. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the production team shifting their attention toward the back of the theater. Whispers and subtle movements disrupted the atmosphere. It was as if the stage lights had been redirected, casting an unseen glow onto the audience instead.
Eddie clenched his jaw. He didn't need to turn around to know what had happened.
Renly Hall.
Again.
In London's social and theatrical circles, the name was inescapable. Though Eddie and Renly had never crossed paths personally—Eddie being seven years younger, their professional trajectories never overlapping—Renly's presence was omnipresent.
It wasn't that Eddie harbored any personal grudge. He simply disliked the way Renly had bypassed the traditional theater route. While Eddie had painstakingly built his career through West End performances and rigorous classical training, Renly had leaped straight to Hollywood success without ever proving himself on a London stage.
It was an unspoken resentment shared by many within the British theater elite. While actors like Keira Knightley had returned to the West End to validate their craft, Renly had seemingly ignored the convention altogether. To Eddie, it was as if Renly had skipped the struggle, reaping the rewards without enduring the necessary hardships. And now, here he was—poised to claim a role that should have been reserved for those who had paid their dues.
Eddie had never voiced these frustrations openly. He prided himself on professionalism, on letting his work speak for itself. But right now, in this very moment, he could feel the collective energy in the room shifting away from him, towards Renly.
The frustration boiled beneath his skin. He took a deep breath, willing himself to stay focused. Years of stage experience had taught him how to handle unpredictability. He had worked too hard to let this moment slip away.
Lifting his eyes, he waited for the signal to begin his audition.
But the room remained unsettled.
As if drawn by an invisible force, Cameron Mackintosh—the legendary producer himself—stood up and walked toward the back of the theater. A wave of hushed murmurs rippled through the seated actors. Even without words, the shift in attention was undeniable.
Eddie tightened his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
Renly Hall had arrived.
And, whether intentional or not, he had already stolen the spotlight.