Chapter 1: The Star Who Vanished

A dim hospital room. The sharp scent of antiseptic. The slow, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

A young man sat silently beside the hospital bed, his head bowed, his fingers gripping the frail, wrinkled hand resting atop the sheets. His grandmother's breathing was shallow, her once lively eyes now closed as if weighed down by time itself.

"Mr. Cross," the doctor spoke hesitantly, breaking the suffocating silence. "I understand this is difficult, but without treatment, she only has a few months left."

Snow Cross clenched his jaw. He already knew. The words only confirmed what he had feared.

"How much?" His voice was hoarse, as if unused for years.

The doctor sighed. "For the full treatment, including medication, therapy, and care… around 800 million won."

Snow let out a bitter laugh. 800 million. A number so large, yet once upon a time, it was pocket change to him. The money he spent on a single luxury watch back then could've bought his grandmother years of life now.

He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand through his hair.

Ten years. That's how long it had been since he left. Since he disappeared from the industry that once worshiped him. Since he abandoned the world of flashing cameras, deafening applause, and suffocating expectations.

Since he turned his back on everything.

He had no regrets about leaving back then. Not after that night. Not after that call.

[Snow… Mom and Dad… Hyung… they're gone.]

His fingers curled into fists at the memory, the sharp sting in his chest as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. The three people he had neglected the most… the ones he had taken for granted, always telling himself 'I'll make time later'—they were gone before 'later' ever came.

And it was his fault. If he had just been home that day. If he had just said no to that one extra scene. If he had just…

He shook his head. What-ifs didn't matter. Only reality did.

And reality was cruel.

His grandmother was the only family he had left. And she was slipping away too.

He had no choice.

A trembling exhale left his lips. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out something he hadn't touched in years—a faded magazine. On the cover, a boy barely fourteen smirked at the camera, his face too beautiful, his eyes too sharp, holding a confidence far beyond his years.

His face was a masterpiece—smooth, sculpted, with sharp cheekbones and piercing silver-blue eyes that seemed to see through everything. His raven-black hair framed his face perfectly, accentuating his flawless, almost ethereal beauty. He had once been called 'The Face of the Industry'—a beauty so hauntingly unforgettable that directors fought to cast him, and fans wept just looking at him.

The headline read:

"The Unstoppable Monster! Snow Cross, A Prodigy Like No Other!"

He stared at the boy he used to be. A legend in the making. A child prodigy who had held the industry in the palm of his hand. A face no one could forget.

Now? He was nothing.

As he walked through the empty streets that night, his mind was in turmoil. He needed money. He needed to act again. But could he? Would they even accept him?

Then, his gaze landed on a casting notice pasted on a billboard.

[Auditions Open for 'The Price of Redemption' – Seeking Male Lead]

His breath hitched. His fingers tightened around the edges of the paper.

An audition.

The industry that had abandoned him. The world that had forgotten him.

Could he step back in? Would they even recognize him?

He hesitated, his mind flashing with doubts. But in the end, the answer was always the same.

He had no choice.

The audition room was packed.

Executives, directors, producers, and casting agents sat in rows, murmuring amongst themselves as they flipped through headshots and resumes. Talented newcomers, struggling actors, and rising stars all waited for their turn to prove themselves.

And then, Snow Cross walked in.

Unlike before, no one reacted immediately.

He could hear whispers but not recognition.

"Who is that?"

"Did he even submit a headshot?"

"He looks familiar… but I can't place him."

The director, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes, squinted at him. He tapped his pen on the table, narrowing his gaze as he studied Snow. There was something about him… something he couldn't put his finger on.

Snow stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Snow Cross. Auditioning for the male lead."

The director's fingers stilled.

Snow Cross.

His eyes widened slightly. The name triggered a flood of memories—the golden child, the prodigy who vanished, the boy with a face so unforgettable that even a decade later, it still haunted the industry.

"You…" The director muttered, now fully remembering.

A smirk tugged at Snow's lips. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The director exhaled sharply before chuckling, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Alright then, prodigy. Let's see if you still have it."

TO BE CONTINUE