Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 77: Stunning Performance

Chapter 77: Stunning Performance

Paul's gaze was incredibly determined, bursting with an unwavering resolve that emitted an unbelievable radiance. No longer panicked, no longer fearful, no longer hesitant, no longer desperate. It was as if all the chaotic thoughts were instantly severed, and the decisive and forceful dominance had an unstoppable momentum.

"I am Paul Conroy, an American citizen from Hastings, Michigan. I am a truck driver for CTR Company, and I have been kidnapped as a hostage somewhere in Iraq."

Rodrigo heard the cold and resolute voice in his ears, causing a slight tremor in his heart. The voice showed no hesitation, hiding a determination akin to facing death, while its calm tone hinted at the melancholy of an inevitable end. Rodrigo couldn't help but shiver, recalling Paul's despair just now—his colleague's life hanging by a thread, yet still with a glimmer of hope, while he himself was trapped in a coffin under the desert, with no light, unable to do anything but foolishly wait.

Him, or his colleague. This was a moral tug-of-war. The video being recorded now was his choice.

Rodrigo shivered again, involuntarily clenching his teeth. The almost suffocating oppression firmly gripped his heart, rendering him unable to make a sound.

"I need one million dollars, by nine o'clock tonight Baghdad time, or I will die buried in the coffin underground. They told me, as long as the money is given..." There was no fluctuation in his voice, as if even the most basic emotions had disappeared. Rodrigo could keenly feel the temperature slowly disappearing from his blood.

"Bang!" The sudden sound startled Rodrigo, almost making him jump up. He saw Paul's right hand clenched into a fist, fiercely pounding on the ground. That ferocious and brutal demeanor erupted for a moment and then disappeared, followed by a return to calmness as he focused on the camera, continuing calmly, "They said, as long as the money is given, they will let me go."

Rodrigo looked at Paul with uncertainty, not understanding what had happened. After a moment of confusion, he realized that perhaps the flashlight had malfunctioned, or the glow stick wasn't bright enough, so Paul was adjusting the lighting to ensure there was enough brightness for the video.

What was originally a minor mishap, Paul's concise and powerful action erupted into something fierce. This was Paul's true feeling at the moment, wasn't it? He wasn't a saint, nor a hero. He lacked the determination to sacrifice himself for righteousness or the nobility to sacrifice himself to save others. He merely made a difficult choice in a desperate situation. If possible, he didn't want to die. He wanted to continue living. But... the energy that burst out in that moment released all the anger, resentment, bitterness, and brutality deep within his heart.

A simple gesture, yet it stirred up a storm in Rodrigo's mind.

"Without money, I will die here." Paul continued recording, as if nothing had happened just now, and at this point, he paused slightly. "These threats are real and will be carried out." His voice leaked a barely noticeable tremble, revealing his helplessness and desire to survive.

He stared blankly at the camera, his deep brown eyes fluttering gently behind thick lashes, as if delicate butterfly wings; his lips moved slightly, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed it back. His thumb pressed the button, ending the recording.

Calming down again, he operated his phone, sending the video out, then remained still in place, maintaining the same posture without moving, as if time had stopped.

Rodrigo hesitated for a moment, unsure if the performance had ended, or if he should make a sound or something. But at this moment, Paul's lips curved into a faint smile.

It was a warm smile, as if a ray of sunshine had fallen on pure white snow.

The smile paused for a moment, then suddenly blossomed again, accompanied by a low chuckle, swirling in his chest like distant thunder, elusive yet easily drawing everyone's attention. The bitterness, helplessness, absurdity, and suppression within that smile reflected an indescribable anger—after reaching its peak, the anger turned into powerlessness, and all the strength followed the spine, leaving the whole person limp, unable to make any reaction except for a hollow laugh.

The smile receded into the solitude at the corners of his mouth; his eyelids drooped slowly, extinguishing the last glimmer of light in his eyes, and his shoulders suddenly relaxed, the tension he hadn't felt just now surged out, making the air tighten. Then, he closed his eyes, gently pressing his face against the sofa, letting go of all the strength in his shoulders, arms, and torso, exhaustion sweeping over him like a tide, all the pain, all the torment, all the confusion silenced with the disappearance of the noise.

Rodrigo could hear the sound of his heart breaking, not out of sympathy, but out of helplessness. Watching Paul try his best to save another life, risking giving up all his own chances of survival, the suppressed desire for survival deep inside his soul was forcibly suppressed, pressing heavily on his heart, cruelly making it unbearable to continue watching.

Up until this moment, even if Paul didn't say a word, Rodrigo knew, the performance had ended, and he finally understood the meaning of the "two parts."

The first part was the fear, panic, and despair in the desperate situation; the second part was the collision between the will to survive and reality. Paul was just an ordinary person, one among millions of ordinary people, with his own problems and his own choices, but in a crisis where life hung by a thread, every choice, every decision defined his life. He wasn't a good person, nor a bad person, he was just an ordinary person struggling in life.

But he became a sacrifice of war— or rather, a sacrifice under the power game of governments and interests. He bore the plight of the entire society: they were paying the price for the decisions of governments and the elite. How could Paul's small and frail shoulders bear such weight?

So, he failed.

Suddenly, Rodrigo remembered the ending of the movie "Buried": Paul, truly buried alive. Cold and cruelly cutting off all vitality and hope.

"Are you okay?" "Are you alright?" "Is something wrong at home?" "Do you need me to call the police?" "Is it serious?"...

The chaotic voices disrupted Rodrigo's thoughts, the heavy emotions unable to be shaken off for a while, so when he saw the concerned crowd in front of him, he was a bit at a loss.

"Are you the mastermind behind this? What are you plotting?" Suddenly someone pushed Rodrigo's shoulder forcefully, caught off guard, Rodrigo didn't know how to explain.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Renly's voice came from the crowd, he stood up again, smiling at the unfamiliar faces, "I'm really fine. It was just acting." The commotion calmed down a bit, and Renly explained simply, "I'm an actor, and he's a director. I was auditioning. So, I'm fine, and my family is fine."

The young people exchanged glances.

The situation just now was too real, too cruel, as if the hidden waves under the calm surface were about to break the string at any moment, causing them to hold their breath, afraid that their slightest movement might cause irreversible consequences, the strong heartbeat plunging everyone into panic.

Now they were told that all of it was acting?

"Is it true?" Doubts immediately arose, a blonde girl who looked like a college student widened her eyes in disbelief, "Are you kidding me? All that just now was fake? Jesus Christ, I was so scared that I thought your wife had been kidnapped or something."

Renly turned to look at the disheveled Rodrigo beside him, a tall and burly man grabbed Rodrigo's collar, lifting him up, glaring fiercely at Renly, with a hint of suspicion in his eyes— he seemed to still worry that Renly had to say so under coercion.

"Look at me, I'm fine, my future wife... should be fine too." Renly's humorous tone eased the atmosphere slightly, "I'm an actor, and the situation just now was just acting." Renly shrugged, "I'll take your reactions as positive feedback, right? It means my performance was very successful, isn't it?"

"Guys, guys, I can testify." The front desk staff of the youth hostel also came over, "Rodrigo is indeed a director and has been living here for two weeks; as for this one..." The staff pointed to Renly, "Didn't you recognize him? He's indeed an actor, the rich young man from 'The Pacific'."

Everyone exchanged glances, and finally someone reacted, "Yeah, yeah, I thought he looked familiar, he's that big shot!"

"Eugene 'Sledgehammer' Sledge?" Another person chimed in, two out of eight people recognized Renly, which was quite rare, considering that this was just a youth hostel, and most of the guests were young foreigners.

Renly spread his hands and nodded, "That's me."

After confirmation, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, expressing their astonishment, "Oh my God, your performance just now was really amazing!" "What kind of movie is this? I thought I was going to have a heart attack!" "I can't believe it, can't believe it!"...

"Uh... excuse me, can you let go of me?" Rodrigo patted the strong man's arm, looking sad.