I Accidentally Became A Superstar

Now, this was surprising.

Ryeo Wang wanted to speak with him? At this moment? He showed no signs at all!

However, as soon as the old man showed what was behind his back, Zeno finally understood.

Ryeo had two pieces of wood in one hand and a pile of dried leaves on the other.

He wanted to learn how to make a fire.

Ryeo was about to open his mouth, but Zeno held out a hand. "Did you bring two sets?" he softly asked.

A small smile appeared on Ryeo's wrinkly face, and he grabbed something from his pockets, giving the other set to Zeno.

"We need to sit," Zeno muttered. "Making a fire isn't something an amateur can make."

Ryeo clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes. "I am 88 years old. Are you underestimating my power?"

Zeno pursed his lips. "You've never made it before, have you?"

"I have tried," he said with pride. "But it never worked out."

Zeno smirked before grabbing the knife he used to slice his potatoes. "It's better if you have a rough surface," he started off. "The rougher the surface, the better the friction."

With that, he scored the bottom of the long stick before grabbing Ryeo's, doing it for him.

"I can do it," the old man said.

Zeno merely shook his head. "Save your strength for the hardest part."

Fortunately, Ryeo didn't argue any further.

"The second thing is, we need to have a good base," Zeno continued. "Since you're a beginner, you need to make the broader wood as flat as possible."

Zeno demonstrated it patiently for the old man, laying it step by step. "Then, you carve out a small hole," he muttered, "before placing the scored stick right on it."

He glanced at Ryeo, who was watching with a slightly agape mouth. Zeno smirked. Old people were truly amusing. In a way, they were the same with children. It seemed that a human's beginning was also their end—they somehow regressed to their simplest forms with the extremes of ages.

"I doubt you can create good friction with just your hands; you need the help of another stick,"

Zeno said, snapping the long stick in half and placing it perpendicular to the remaining one. "You begin rubbing until you see smoke and embers."

Zeno demonstrated it effortlessly. "But one of the biggest mistakes is blowing on the embers too quickly before it can truly catch fire. You need to be patient. When it seems like you've got it, don't be complacent. Wait a bit more until…"

He span the stick a few times more before it finally lit on fire. Zeno placed some dried leaves on it, making it catch flame.

Ryeo pursed his lips, holding in the urge to clap. It was even cooler seeing it for the second time.

Then, Zeno stomped on the fire before turning to the older actor.

"It's your turn, sir," he said.

Ryeo gulped before nodding, ready to take on the challenge. He did the first few steps just as Zeno had said. However, as expected, he struggled during the rubbing part. Zeno was patient, though, even when Ryeo glanced at him, expecting him to lose patience.

Zeno never did.

After a while, the old man finally gave up, letting out a deep breath. Then, he shook his head. "As expected, I cannot do it."

"You're close."

Ryeo narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

"How did you know?" Zeno asked.

"You might be a good actor, but I am better," Ryeo smirked.

Zeno's eyebrows raised. "You think I'm a good actor."

Ryeo quickly pursed his lips. "I'm not flattering you."

Zeno raised both hands. "I'm not taking it as a compliment."

"Good," the old man concluded.

The two were engulfed in silence before Zeno opened his mouth. However, Ryeo beat him to it.

"Don't comfort me. I am not disappointed. If I was at least ten years younger, I would have been able to do it. Probably, even faster than you did."

A soft chuckle escaped Zeno's lips. "I didn't doubt you, sir. I actually have a question."

Ryeo Wang clicked his tongue. "My advice is usually expensive, but I'll give it to you for free because you patiently taught me."

Then, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What is it?"

"How did you become a great actor?" Zeno asked, curious about his journey. He thought he already had great acting skills, but being in the presence of someone who had an SSS, he felt the need to ask the question.

Ryeo smirked before glancing down at the equipment to make the fire.

His eyes didn't leave the blackened wood on the ground. The smoke had vanished, but its scent lingered between them.

"You asked how I became a great actor," he finally said. "But the question should've been: how did I keep acting?"

Zeno tilted his head slightly but didn't interrupt.

Ryeo pointed to the rough, carved wood Zeno had set aside. "Roughness is inevitable. That's the first thing you need to accept if you want to stay in this industry. You can't fake your way around splinters." His eyes twinkled. "Pain makes the best kind of actors. I don't mean sob stories. I mean texture. People think acting is just expression, but it's actually memory. And pain is the thing that sticks the longest in your bones. You fall, you fail, you burn out—and then you use it. Every grain, every crack, every disappointment, you let it live in your next character."

Zeno stayed quiet. Ryeo then gestured to the two sets of sticks. "The second thing is this. You can't do it alone. Even to light a fire, you needed my help, and I needed yours. Acting's no different. You need someone to hold the base while you spark the flame. Directors, co-actors, even the people watching—without them, your performance is just movement in an empty room."

He gave a little sigh and cracked his stiff fingers.

"Third," Ryeo muttered, "is patience. You saw it yourself. I was shaking, my arms were burning, and I still couldn't make fire. But you waited. You let me try." He looked at Zeno now. "Most people give up at the first failure. Some wait for shortcuts. But in acting, like fire, the ember doesn't show up right away. Sometimes, it takes years to even see smoke. Sometimes, it doesn't at all. You have to sit with yourself for that long. Are you willing to?"

Zeno's fingers twitched, but he didn't say anything.

Ryeo smiled faintly before pointing at the scorched patch where the flame had burned. "But here's the biggest lesson. Why are you doing it?"

Zeno blinked.

"That's the part that determines the fire's strength. If you're just doing it for show or for attention…" He shrugged. "It'll get stomped on like you did to the fire earlier."

He leaned back on his hands, eyes up toward the orange sky.

"But if you're doing it for survival, it'll burn desperately. Wild and strong… but it'll also eat you alive. That kind of fire doesn't last long either."

Zeno's gaze softened.

Ryeo's voice quieted. "But if you do it because you simply love the fire—because it's warm, it entertains, and it feeds the spirit… then it becomes long-lasting. A fire that stays. One that others will gather around without you asking them to."

He glanced back at Zeno. "That's the kind of actor I tried to be."