The hallway of Apex Films was a graveyard of dreams. Hundreds of young men, all wearing the same slim-fit shirts and hopeful expressions, leaned against the walls. In his past life, Jai had been the loudest among them. Today, he was the quietest.
"Jai, stop staring at the ceiling and rehearse your lines!" Kabir hissed, shoving a crumpled script into his hand. "This is a Vikram Khanna production. If you land this, the 'Stain' on your father's reputation—the debt, the failed house—it all goes away."
Jai looked at the script. Suddenly, his vision flickered.
Floating above the paper, glowing translucent numbers appeared.
[ SCRIPT: 'SULTAN OF THE STREETS' ]
[ Commercial Success Probability: 88% ]
[ Artistic Legacy Score: 12% ]
[ Character Depth: 4% ]
[ Hidden Truth: Plagiarized from an uncredited writer. ]
Jai's breath hitched. In his previous life, this movie made him a star, but it also made him a joke among serious actors. He now saw why. It was a hollow shell, stolen from someone else's soul.
"Jai Vardhan? Cabin 4," the receptionist called.
Jai walked in. The room was cold. Three men sat behind a mahogany desk. In the center was Vikram Khanna himself, a man whose public 'Vibe' was 100% "Visionary Director" but whose metadata Jai could now see clearly.
[ TARGET: VIKRAM KHANNA ]
[ Current Mood: Boredom (92%) ]
[ Professional Honesty: 15% ]
[ Talent: 30% / Networking: 95% ]
"Whenever you're ready," Vikram said, checking his watch.
Jai didn't start the script. He stood there, looking at the camera set up in the corner. Above the lens, another set of numbers appeared: [ Current Framing Quality: 40% - Amateurish ].
"I'm not doing the 'Sultan' monologue," Jai said, his voice calm.
The room went silent. Vikram looked up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? Do you know how many people would kill for this role?"
"I know," Jai replied, looking at the metadata floating above Vikram's head. He saw a tiny, flickering icon: [ Creative Block: High ]. "But I also know that this script doesn't have a soul. You're worried, aren't you? You know the second half of the movie falls apart because the 'source' you took it from didn't finish the story."
Vikram's face went pale. The two assistants looked at each other, confused.
"What are you talking about?" Vikram stammered.
Jai stepped closer. "Give me the 'Villain' role. Not the lead. The antagonist who dies in the first thirty minutes. But let me rewrite his final scene."
Jai looked at the "Villain" character stats in his mind:
[ Potential Impact if Played Traditionally: 10% ]
[ Potential Impact if Played with 'The Truth': 99% ]
"You're auditioning for a lead and asking for a side-role?" one of the assistants laughed. "You're crazy."
"Let him speak," Vikram whispered, his eyes fixed on Jai. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost.
Jai didn't wait. He dropped the script. He didn't need it. He tapped into the "Slice of Life" he had lived in Delhi—the struggle, the quiet dignity of his father, the dark reality of the streets. He performed a simple scene: a man saying goodbye to a home he can no longer afford.
As he spoke, the metadata in the room began to shift.
[ Current Take Authenticity: 98% ]
[ Room Emotional Resonance: 94% ]
By the time Jai finished, the young assistant was wiping a tear. Vikram Khanna was staring at the floor, his 92% "Boredom" replaced by 100% "Shock."
"The Villain," Vikram said, his voice barely audible. "You want to play a 'Kalank'... a stain on the hero's journey?"
"I want to play the only character in this film that people will remember ten years from now," Jai said.
He checked the Script Metadata one last time.
[ Character: The Outcast ]
[ Potential to Launch 'Independent Career': 100% ]
"Get out," Vikram said, but his aura was now a bright, curious orange. "My manager will call you. We... we need to talk about that second half."
Jai walked out of the room. Kabir was waiting, frantic. "What happened? Why did you come out so fast?"
"I didn't get the lead," Jai said, a small smile playing on his lips.
"What?! Jai, you idiot! We're ruined!"
"No, Kabir," Jai said, looking at a small, golden thread appearing between him and the door. [ Link Formed: Strategic Ally ]. "We just started the most unique filmography in the history of this country. We're not building a star, Kabir. We're building a legend."
As they walked out into the Delhi sun, Jai looked at the passersby. He saw the percentages of their happiness, the success rate of the nearby tea-stall, and the dark truth of the luxury cars driving by.
He had the Eye of the Critic. He could see the "Stain" on everything, but for the first time, he also saw how to clean it.