The Greatest Showman #1463 - Demons Emerge

"Card!"

Damien's voice echoed in the practice room, but Renly didn't stop immediately. The slamming sounds continued for a moment before officially halting. Renly let out a soft breath, raising his head. His eyes were clear, and his expression calm. Aside from a slight breathlessness, he appeared unchanged.

He glanced around, offering a shallow smile and a nod to Paul, Ryan, and the others. He seemed unaffected, as though everything had been under control from the start. The earlier frenzy appeared to be nothing more than a part of the performance, with no real impact on reality.

Yet, something felt off.

It was like before the Titanic collided with the iceberg—everything seemed too calm, too normal, while an inevitable catastrophe brewed beneath the surface. The eerie stillness was unsettling, and it left everyone with a sense of foreboding.

Renly remained unaware of this unease. He stayed composed, patiently waiting for Damien to recover before asking, "How was the scene just now?"

Damien, still struggling with stomach acid, rinsed his mouth with mineral water, trying to regain his composure. "The shooting was perfect, Renly. We just need some close-ups now. First..." He paused, focusing his attention as he re-centered himself.

But Renly noticed something subtle: Damien couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze.

This had never happened during previous shoots. Did this mean Renly's performance had struck a chord?

During Renly's performance, Damien's inspiration had flowed freely. The entire movie scene pieced itself together in his mind from different perspectives and editing styles. The shoot was targeted and deliberate.

Renly, however, made it seem effortless. Whether the shots were wide, close-ups, or sweeping orbits, everything went smoothly. His performance had transcended into a new realm—an interpretation that felt like a seamless extension of the character, showing the gradual descent into depravity.

The scene took nearly an hour to film, but Renly remained relaxed throughout. Afterward, he approached his friends with a smile, expressing, "It's rare to have so many of you here today. It feels like we're back on the West Side stage again."

Everyone's gaze was fixed on Renly. All of them were actors, experienced in performance, but none of them could quite place what was different about Renly's state.

Renly seemed both mad and conscious, out of control yet composed, in the dark yet moving freely. He appeared to merge with Andrew, but the moment passed, and Renly returned to his usual self.

This blurry line between control and chaos, reality and surrealism, had everyone perplexed.

Jake Gyllenhaal had an inkling of what it reminded him of—a faint echo of what he had seen when working with Heath Ledger, and a sense of déjà vu from his collaborations with Denis Villeneuve. It was as if Renly had crossed into another world, one that Jake could almost touch.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked cautiously. "The wound on your palm looks bad. Are you sure you don't need a bandage?"

Renly chuckled lightly. "I'm not Wolverine, you know. I need to disinfect it to avoid infection."

This was Renly—not Andrew.

But what exactly was going on?

Paul, Ryan, and Rooney exchanged confused looks. The shift in Renly's behavior was subtle, but undeniably present. They couldn't pinpoint the exact difference, but something was off. Was this a good change, or a bad one?

Why did the first thought that popped into their minds feel like "a mentally ill person appearing to be normal after going insane"?

Jessica Chastain, who had missed the horrors of yesterday, could only assess the performance from the news, but even she was struck by Renly's display. The intensity in his eyes caught her attention.

"Are you sure you're fine? That performance was terrifying. Any actor would be exhausted after that, but you look... like nothing's wrong."

Jessica voiced what everyone else was thinking, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Renly met their gazes calmly. "I'm fine, trust me. I'm just doing my job as an actor. It's what we do, no need to overreact." He continued, his voice slightly tired, "But I do need more time to fully explore the role. It's been a while since I've worked on something this difficult, so right now, even though I'm standing here, I feel like I'm almost asleep."

Rooney was the first to sense the deeper issue.

Renly's calmness was deceiving. A heaviness lingered between his brows, exhaustion creeping into his demeanor like a shadow. There was something darker, a storm surging beneath the surface.

"You need rest," Rooney said seriously, following Renly's cue.

Renly's eyelids drooped, and his lips curled into a faint smile. "Yes, I need rest." His exhaustion was now clear, his eyes dimming as he added, "Sorry, I can't entertain you today. You're free to go, and we can talk another time."

With that, Renly excused himself, walking away from his friends. The crew carried on preparing for the next scene, while Renly found a quiet corner to sit. Leaning his head against the wall, he let his tense shoulders drop, slowly closing his eyes as the fragility of the moment passed in a fleeting breath.

The others stood in silence, exchanging glances before Paul spoke first. "Should we order lunch for them? It's nearly time."

"Of course!" Jessica replied with a smile. "I had an amazing pork cutlet bento last time in New York. I'll call my agent and ask for a takeaway number."

"I'll handle the afternoon tea," Rooney added, already focused. "Damien told me the schedule runs until 8:00 pm today. We're shooting late because of the Juilliard School's schedule."

"Okay, I'll take care of desserts," Ryan chimed in. "I'll step out for a bit in the afternoon and return in the evening."

Paul nodded, then turned his attention to Renly again. "I'll handle dinner. But I need to talk to Andy about that girl from earlier. I can't believe how she acted..."

Paul's anger was palpable, the shock of the incident still fresh. Renly's current state, combined with the girl's behavior, left Paul unable to understand how such a person could exist in this industry. Wasn't professionalism, at the very least, a basic expectation?

Ryan, ever the realist, made an "OK" gesture. "Trust me, there'll be more like her. When Renly was a newcomer at the Toronto Film Festival, he had already met someone like that." He glanced at Renly, a helpless smile playing on his lips. "I thought I was already a joker, but compared to him, I'm like an amateur."

As much as his friends worried about Renly's condition, Renly knew better than anyone. His mind was a battlefield, torn between two worlds, and the tug-of-war was growing more intense. He couldn't even decide whether to merge the worlds or keep them separate.

For now, he was barely holding on. But as the filming progressed, the restraint became harder to maintain. Each step forward felt like a struggle. The more he resisted, the more powerless he became, like a nightmare wrapping tighter and tighter around his heart.