Best Actor Reclaims His Throne

I was working as a stunt double for a fight scene when a rising idol actor stabbed me with a real knife and sent me straight to the hospital.

My actress girlfriend rushed over in a panic, fussing over me with endless concern.

Before I could even feel touched, a floating comment suddenly appeared above her head.

[When is Scott finally going to realize that the Best Actress linked him and Francis through a Beauty System?]

[The more Scott cares about a certain part of his body, the more perfect that same part becomes on Francis!]

The next second, my manager of five years hurried into the room as well.

Another barrage of comments floated up.

[The manager's no better. She tied them to an Achievement System. The harder Scott works, the more achievements Francis gets!]

I stared at the two women in front of me and fell silent.

So… my only option was to give up and do nothing?

The comments kept flooding the screen, and the more I read, the colder my heart became.

How was this possible?

The two women closest to me were actually sabotaging me, using me as cannon fodder?

Just then, an entertainment headline popped up on my phone screen.

[Top idol Francis Meyers spotted by fans, warmly hugging fans and taking photos together.]

In the video, he showed off a perfectly sculpted eight-pack, every muscle sharply defined, while the fans around him screamed nonstop.

I had filmed a fight scene with him yesterday. His abs definitely hadn't looked like that.

The comments under the video scrolled wildly.

[Francis really is the king of self-discipline. People mocked his belly fat just days ago, and now, he's completely transformed. That's insane!]

[I heard he runs six miles every morning to maintain his physique! If stars like him don't become famous, who will?]

[Doesn't this totally throw shade at a certain senior actor? He's been in the industry for years and still can't manage his body.]

[Exactly. His skin is dull, and he's fat. If he doesn't flop, who will?]

I didn't even have to think to know that the "certain senior actor" they were mocking was me.

Instinctively, I looked toward my girlfriend, Sarah Koch, and my manager, Alice Hastings.

Both of them were staring at their phones with foolish grins, their eyes filled with unconcealed admiration and pride.

I used to think they were simply happy to see an artist from the company succeeding. Now, I realized they had been laughing at me all along.

Another comment drifted across my vision.

[See? The more Scott worries about scarring on his stomach, the more insane Francis's abs become.]

I took a deep breath and finally began to believe the comments. After all, there was no other way to explain how Francis's abs could become so perfect overnight right after my abdominal injury.

Looking at the two women before me, rage surged through my chest.

One was my girlfriend. Back when she was still a nobody, I spent a fortune promoting her — buying advertisements, investing in productions, pouring in tens of millions to push her all the way to Best Actress status.

The other was my manager. When she first entered the industry, she'd been cornered and bullied by others. I was the one who stepped in and took her under my wing when I was still a popular idol myself. Later, because of me, she became a top-tier manager.

And now, these two women had joined forces to hurt me for Francis's sake.

I was just about to explode when a nurse walked in to change my dressing.

Sarah immediately snatched the medicine and powder from her hands and said gently, "I'll do it. You can leave."

The nurse left with a gossipy smile and even said to me enviously, "Your girlfriend is so beautiful and considerate."

I forced a smile in response, but out of the corner of my eye, I secretly watched Sarah's movements.

With her back turned to me, she quietly dumped the medicinal powder into the trash can.

A new comment floated up.

[So vicious. This way, Scott will definitely scar, and he'll care about it even more.]

I stood up and kicked her aside.

"No need. Leave it."

Sarah froze, staring at me in disbelief.

"Scott, do you even realize that keeping scars off your body is the greatest respect you can show the audience? And besides, you're my boyfriend. If you end up scarred, how would you still be worthy of me?"

Her words claimed she didn't want me scarred, but deep down, she wanted me insecure and obsessed with it.

Back then, despite countless male celebrities pursuing her, the award-winning actress had chosen to stay with a washed-up actor like me. Because of that, her fans cursed me for years.

Yet, not only did she never defend me, she even gaslit me.

"Scott, maybe they just think you're ugly. It's okay. Cosmetic procedures are so advanced these days. If you want to get some work done, I'll support you."

Blinded by love, I had actually nodded like an idiot.

To become more worthy of a Best Actress like her, I desperately threw myself into cosmetic treatments. But my face only got worse and worse. Now, people online mocked me for overdoing the injections, calling me a plastic surgery monster.

Because of that, I once curled up under my blankets in depression, trembling as I cried.

And on that exact day, Francis won the award for Most Popular Male Lead purely because of his appearance.

Dragging my thoughts back to the present, I gave Sarah a half-smile and shoved her away.

"If you really cared about me, why don't you go settle the score with Francis and ask him why he used a real knife instead of a prop during the scene?"