Chapter 4
This is the story of a criminal who has an unexplainable obsession with his elder brother and voluntarily gives his life, just to make Ito happier.
It is the story of the transfer of madness from the younger brother to the older brother.
Hum. Animal abuse story.
It doesn't matter which one. In the end, I found that this became a one-man show, belonging to Ryuzaki's acting show. After all, he played two roles by himself, but he created a completely different atmosphere. Two perverts, two unique madnesses, two monsters, both belong to Rue Ryuzaki. Ryuzaki—
Ryuzaki slowly got up. There was a tombstone in front of him, and the soil was still in his hands. He stopped laughing, but the strange sense of madness remained on his face.
…
At first, I didn't want to cast Ryuzaki, mainly because Sheriff Ito's temperament is far from his. Ito's apparently mental-disturbed younger brother fits his image.
Ito is an extremely decent and resolute image. He is always expressionless and doesn't show emotion, and his only outburst occurs at the end of the play, that is, when he smiles. He speaks in a commanding tone, and the sense of majesty that belongs to the superior that he has cultivated over the years makes people fear. But Rue Ryuzaki —his back hunched, standing there, one thinks of a homeless person with nothing to do all day long, a slumped, sleep-deprived painter, or a hidden psychopath, especially in those red eyes. With killing intent.
I allowed him to audition out of his confidence in his "can do any role" statement. On that day, the young man was wearing makeup (the makeup was so good that people mistakenly thought it was his original appearance). The bridge of the nose was straight, the eyes were sharp, and the serious dark circles and hunchback habits had disappeared. On that pale face, the facial features with western European characteristics stand out. He stood in a standard military posture, his thin lips pursed into a straight line. The image of a young and promising police officer emerged in this way. The aura is powerful and serious, and when he speaks, people just hold their breath and listen.
Ryuzaki got the role with his outstanding appearance. Then, it was his subtle performance that made the audience amazed. Ito's imperiousness and stubbornness are hard to imitate, but through micro-expressions such as slightly pursed, displeased eyes, slight twitches of facial muscles, or micro-movements – always propping up his elbows when sitting, to hold up space in front of him – come and show it properly. Ryuzaki's tone was concise and powerful, and it was definitely not a high-ranking posture, but he unconsciously released threats, forcing people to bow their heads and agree.
The hardest thing to deduce is the madness and anti-social tendency that Ito has hidden for 28 years. Those eyes, cold and calm, seem to lack a human soul. But this is not enough. When playing a monster who is indifferent to the death of his loved ones, he also needs to show the indifference of common sense and the secret pleasure of sin. His brother's crime pleased him. It can be said that since he killed the cat, he is no longer a normal person, but a psychopath addicted to violent delusions. Relatives are the props, while the younger brother is the fuse that ignites the abnormality.
Under Ito's peaceful appearance like a calm sea, vicious blood flows, and the storm brewing there never appears on the surface, but only stirs up a circle of slight ripples. No one has seen what kind of monsters are hiding under it.
The best part Ryuzaki did was the smile, he mechanically raised his lips, making the smile appear full of calculated evil, like a rehearsal of a person who never smiles before a mirror for the first time, because he can't control it The joyful speed was distorted, and that scene was the same as the wide-eyed smile of Hannibal behind the cage.
In the end, Ito's wish was granted because he was able to survive undisguised.
The younger brother, Takuya, is the complete opposite. He is fierce and manic, and seems to be eager to show the opposite characteristics of his brother. He acts recklessly and is as hot as fire, but he does not choose to burn the society but himself. This is the desire to self-destruct. Starting as a dead cat, he was twisted by his brother whether he wanted it or not.
Originally, the script didn't end with Takuya's seppuku. Originally the story required two different leads, but Ryuzaki's excellent audition changed my mind.
He played the duality so well that I couldn't help but suspect that Ryuzaki also has a criminal brother, and there are high-ranking people around him, so under the influence of his ears and eyes, he can make the characters come alive. At the end of the play, I was still in shock.
Hunting Crimes would not have been as successful if it hadn't been for his version. I think, his screenwriting talent is also very sufficient, he could have been a real playwright, or a first-rate director above me…
…
"Thank you." Because of the script, Ryuzaki was silent for half a minute before acting out of the role. Ito's scenes were shot later, so we're still on the last scene. A quiet, empty cemetery.
The black-haired young man touched the side of his face, as if checking his body temperature. He patted the dust off his trousers, then took off his wig, letting the frizzy hair fall freely.
As "Ito", he was wearing a dark brown trench coat, brown and black tight straight-leg pants, and a pair of polished leather shoes. This was by no means Ryuzaki's everyday attire.
Click—When I asked the crew to evacuate, Ryuzaki obviously relaxed, and his back returned to its original position. All of a sudden, he lowered half his head. With that suit, it looks a little funny. But I didn't notice it.
I said, "Even though the two main characters were filmed separately, the footage will be edited together in post, so that they still appear to be facing each other in the same space. Then there is no problem." This kind of editing is called montage, and it creates realistic illusion. "You're doing very well, Ryuzaki."
The montage is possible because the two characters don't have much physical contact. It's a pity that all the erotic scenes were deleted for this reason. The end result, is like ordinary drama with side effects.
Out of respect, I bowed slightly to him. Just relying on two scripts made me look at him with admiration, and changed from contempt to respect, which is an unprecedented treatment.
But Ryuzaki possessed real talent, a rare genius. Talent like this—in my persistent judgment as a director—should not be wasted.
I complimented him again, but Ryuzaki didn't say a word, not even an um.
Last time, he looked extremely tired after the performance. Must be exhausted now.
"Are you going back? I'll send you back."
He glanced at me. The calm eyes were similar to Ito's usual calm. But not aggressive, not intimidating. It's kind of like a void—after an orgasm, the emotions are all taken away, and there's nothing left.
"No." One word.
Ryuzaki raised his head and glanced at the sky. I followed those gazes and saw only a gray canvas. The setting sun hides behind the cloud.
"Let me send you back. The weather is bad, it's probably going to rain."
The young man pinched the frizzy hair beside his ears. He was still wearing Ito's makeup now, but his temperament is different. Casual, lazy. His eyes were no longer cold but turned dull.
He took off his coat–that old, heavy coat. Then he unbuttoned the white formal shirt, starting from the collar, one by one. When I reminded him aloud, he had almost taken it off completely, exposing half of his chest and pale belly.
"Hey - Ryuzaki, are you taking it off here?"
"I hate tight clothes," was his answer. The voice disappeared in the quiet cemetery, "Besides, there is no one here."
No… By the way, he's already taken it off. He stood there with his upper body naked, as if there was no one else around, without any discomfort. Had it not been for his reluctance to break the law, I have no doubt he would have taken his trousers off as well. Ryuzaki stood there blankly, as if in a trance.
He held out his hand to me.
"my clothes."
It took me two seconds to understand what he meant. "Your clothes?" He's asking me for his own clothes? "Of course I don't have them. They're in the studio."
Then he showed a particularly disappointed expression.
The next time I shoot an exterior scene, I will bring Ryuzaki's clothes… I made a mental note. He resignedly put the heavy windbreaker back on (without a shirt), did not button it up, and let it hang wide open on his body. I was shocked by his lack of common sense, because when he walked out in public like that, he would still be washed away by crowd's glares. But it's not that he doesn't have common sense, but he's used to doing his own way, and the eyes of others…to him, it's like justice to Ito.
Between a row of gray tombstones, amidst the rustling wind and falling locust leaves from time to time, he stood like a zombie. His hands were loosely inserted in the slim straight-leg pants. He looked like he's leaving.
"Ryuzaki!" I had to stop him. It was a mistake not to keep it last time. Seeing him walking farther and farther, I unconsciously said too loudly, "Ryuzaki!"
He stopped.
"I'll take you back—no, let me treat you to dinner."
"Excuse me for refusing."
"It happens to be dinner time. Any cuisine will do. You don't want to eat dinner?"
"No." Rehection.
He finally turned his head. I don't know whether it's exhaustion or bored with my invitation.
"I brought my own dinner."
"…Did you bring it? Then you…" I searched for words, "Where do you want to eat? Why don't I take you to another place. Are you familiar with this neighborhood? "
The young man tilted his head, he was completely considering how to reject my proposal. He did specially lack common sense, because any actor would not easily refuse the invitation of the director, as long as they are still paid – oh. He's a fucking exception.
"Is this a date invitation?" Ryuzaki put his index finger into his mouth, sucking like a baby. The wide-open eyes seemed to be swallowed by a monster. "Or an unspoken invitation to sex?"
"No. No, absolutely not." He actually misunderstood like this. His blunt question made me a little embarrassed, "You have such acting skills, but you don't get paid, which makes me feel bad. I want to make up for it in other ways, as long as you are willing."
The tone of my words is almost like saying "absolutely non-toxic" when handing candies to a child. But I absolutely, 100%, mean it.
I really saw the talent of this new star and foresaw how he would become famous in the future. If possible, I don't want him to be taken away by other crews. Dissuade him from giving up his acting career. There are many benefits to developing a personal relationship with such a genius. Of course, if it's possible to violate and possess…no.
That goes against my principles. No matter how indulgent he is, he doesn't have personal relationships with the artists under him. This is the rule I set. "We're going in public."
"…"
He thought for a while.
"For example, where?"
"Restaurant, teahouse, riverside, dessert shop, game hall." Those are places that young people of his age should like. Actually, it doesn't matter where. Just keep him for a while longer. "I still have something to tell you. Including future plans, my other scripts, and…"
I cut myself off. "Don't reject me." At this point, I can only use my identity as a director to suppress him, which is really annoying.
Ryuzaki's red eyes flickered for a moment. "It's not the first time Director has lied to me."
"If it's just dinner, fine. But I only allow you to watch me eat. Because what to eat has already been decided."
It's a feat to make a wayward genius let go. I breathed a sigh of relief and felt much better.
"good."
I walked to his side, and I couldn't directly wrap my arms around his shoulders, so I kept a close distance and walked by his side.
Until we walked out of the cemetery, Ryuzaki didn't fasten the open dark brown windbreaker.
…I put him in my car parked by the cemetery. He climbed up obediently, like a huge pet dog. He was remarkably quiet all the way. And I followed the rearview mirror and observed him sitting slumped, his back pressed against the seat.
"Did someone take you out, Ryuzaki?"
"No."
He's really not a good person to chat with. Because he doesn't answer.
"You live in this city?" I tried to sound as casual as possible. "What do you usually do? Hobbies?"
He did not answer the previous question.
"acting."
Just like I hate communicating with people from the bottom of my heart, I never say unnecessary words.
"Have you participated in other auditions? With your strength, it shouldn't be difficult to get a spot. Ordinary people would not choose a pornographic film crew as their first choice, especially when the acting skills match the normal script."
"Um."
What does that mean?
Ryuzaki must have hated these unreasonable inquiries, because he closed his eyes. I knew he was pretending to be asleep, because even if he wasn't human, he fell asleep so fast.
Wayward brat. I observed his sleeping face and sighed. Continue to drive smoothly.
Hunting Crimes… as I mentioned, was supposed to be a two-actor film. Its ending is also far from what it is now. However, after the audition, out of curiosity and with the idea of trying, I handed the script to Ryuzaki and allowed him to make revisions.
The revised script is quite different from the original. The mentally disturbed brother, that criminal, after imprisoning the sheriff, should have raped him in that factory, and played a game of punishment, masturbating in front of the sheriff, talking dirty, etcs. That's the logic of porn: all contradictions and emotions lead to sex. Lust has nothing to do with hate or love, it's a game of violation and being violated. But Ryuzaki says it lacks a percussive impact.
Lacking impact, that's a cruel remark. "If you want to make a plot-oriented movie, don't let the ending fall into a cliché." His evaluation was equally sharp. It's then altered to look like it is now, ending with blood and a horrifying smile.
I have to admit, this version is more in line with my aesthetic. The essence of it is art that the public cannot understand, but art—as it should be. If I weren't a third-rate director, I would never have been this satisfied with filming pornographic films.
As it should be. Ryuzaki's screenwriting talent was amazing. In Ryuzaki's case, I was too astonished to leave a comment.
Reading the script he annotated, there is another point that makes people particularly concerned.
That is his detailed setting of the crimes committed by his younger brother Takuya, and his obsession with the details and reality of the murder, and his perfectioness with the crime setting. It can be seen from the cat bone. Although most of its settings have not been expressed, and the lines full of professional vocabulary have all been deleted by me, I still uphold this perfect spirit.
The duration of bloodletting, the method of dismembering the corpse, the angle of insertion of the murder weapon, the preservation of the corpse… He knows the extent to which the corpse will rot after a certain period of time, so he must have a deep understanding of crime and the human body. And those descriptions…. expressed through vivid images, as if he really was Takuya and killed them all.
"Why do you know this much?"
According to him, through crime movies, and "reading detective novels".
This is absolutely unbelievable. But I can't think of anything to say against it.
I don't know anything about his mysteries…just realize they exist. Just as the audience can realize the abnormality of the character, but cannot accurately describe it in words. We are in the same predicament.
The car drove smoothly on the asphalt ground covered with a layer of rainwater. And the young man, Rue Ryuzaki, was still pretending to be asleep.
We came to a nearby dessert shop.
A place that young people like, I think. The food here, with his due paychecked, can be enjoyed hundreds of times.
This is a place I would never normally come to. Full of girly decorations, pink bubbles, and a space full of couples. I suffer embarrassment for him.
Before breaking into this sweet space, he finally finished buttoning his coat. It seems that he is not completely ignorant of common sense, but just too lazy to follow. It's a pity, because of the hunchback, and because after removing makeup, severe dark circles under the eyes still attracted the attention of people around him. A girl stared into his eyes like a monster.
That is indeed a very peculiar eye color. But I don't think it's real. Ryuzaki may still be wearing colored contact lenses, and when he is disguised, outsiders will never be able to see it.
"I will treat you."
I shoved the menu in front of him. Ryuzaki sat down on the seat slowly, with an annoying procrastination. Curl your legs into a squat position.
He hugged his legs like a child feeling cold. He didn't even glance at the menu.
"I said I won't eat."
This is true. Helpless, I ordered the most famous dessert here, the crepe wrapped in cocoa sauce and the signature fruit tart. Served on a delicately patterned plate.
"You don't like dessert?"
"No."
How strange that when I gave a list of locations, he only responded to the dessert shop. Didn't like it at all?
Ryuzaki who said that was taking out something from the bag he was carrying, and it was – a jar of jam.
"Isn't that sweet?"
"It has a sour taste."
As he spoke, he scooped out a large piece with his index finger and stuffed it into his mouth. There is no brand on the glass bottle. Judging from the state of the fruit, it is a strawberry. Well, strawberries are sour, but don't think so, I can ignore the white sugar that occupies 1/3 of the bottle.
While eating, Ryuzaki licked the remaining jam around his lips and on his fingertips.
His appearance attracted more attention. But I take it easy. Jam stained the fur collar of the fine fabric of the trench coat.
"Ryuzaki," I said about the serious thing, and that was something that came to my mind in the past few days: for greater fame, he should try a normal script. I happen to know some colleagues who only shoot serious dramas. It hurts to hand him over to others without giving up his love, but that is the most correct choice. What's more, the benefits he brought me have already far exceeded what the rewards can match. Actors with strong personal style and weirdness are more eye-catching. I seem to have seen the birth of a future superstar. At this point, forcing him to continue working as a pornographic actor is a waste of talent. "Even if you don't need money," I said, "you have to prepare in advance. After winning the award, both fame and money will flow." Isn't that what everyone dreams of? "No matter what you want to do in the future, if you have money, you can…" He ate up the jam, pinched the bottle again, and licked the rim of the glass.
"No," he said.
"I'm not interested in being famous. Quite the contrary, I definitely don't want to be on screen." What?
"Money won't help me. Thanks for the offer, though, Director."
"…What do you mean you don't want to show up on screen?"
"Literally." Ryuzaki sucked his fingers vigorously, and looked at me with inorganic eyes. "Maybe, one day you and the whole crew will die from sudden food poisoning. This is the consequence of forcing me to do anything I don't want to do. Please don't mention the money thing again, or I will be angry."
Angry… He really does say such horrible things occasionally. Threatening to kill us all, it's humorous.
I wiped the cold sweat off my forehead and smiled.
"I'm doing it for your own good." He doesn't want to appear on the screen, but after the film is broadcast, his acting skills will always be known. "It's fine if you don't like it, I promise - I won't force you to do anything."
The young man nodded.
"This time, although the shots of criminal and policemen are separated," I said of the just-concluded Hunting Crimes, "but through editing, it will not reveal the truth. The protagonists are so different. When the audience finds out that they are actually the same people – how surprised will they be? If I didn't hand the script to you Ryuzaki, I would never have thought of this kind of reformation. The original one won't work with just one actor, having sex and being close to each other's bodies. Now use a double and edit it, we create an illusion of 'there are actually two people'."
I was talking nonsense.
"I also just realized that they are brothers, so it is reasonable to look similar. They look similar, but the degree and method of insanity are different…"
He didn't answer either, just listened quietly. Occasionally propping his chin with his hands, he looked at me with bored eyes. He was already waiting for the conversation to end. He showed indifference to everything outside of acting. Nor did he show much joy in eating what was said to be his favorite strawberry jam.
Compared with my dullness, Rue Ryuzaki is mysterious and weird, full of secrets. Where does he come from? I couldn't guess it from the delicate face with European and Asian features. He doesn't look like he belongs anywhere.
"Then," I said, about to end this procrastinating soliloquy. "Do you have any requirements for future plays?"
"Anything you want." I urged him to speak.
"Hmm…" He pretended to be thinking. "Hmm…" That seemed very difficult, like imitating other people—imitating what character was thinking. "There are a few."
"I will agree within the scope of my ability."
"I hope I can act in my true identity." He said firmly. Then explained: "I mean, no makeup, wearing the original clothes."
Oh, I know, that baggy white shirt and jeans. "I don't want to change my appearance."
"Also. It's pure pornography."
"What?"
"Don't need plots and other superfluous things." He bit his nails and said. "Rape. Orgy. Incest. Group sex. Bestiality. SM. Torture. Torture."
I was taken aback and almost stood up from my seat.
The words popped out of his mouth, and he didn't even frown or blush in response. He…for the sake of him being a rookie, I specially arranged a gentle script, and because of his talent, I focused on the ones that are plot-oriented, but what is he talking about now?
"I want to try as many genres as possible," he said. Re-emphasis: "Something like that. The more pain, the better."
"Are you sure, Ryuzaki?"
"The more intense and curious the better." His tone remained unchanged. "I was serious."
"…"
I paused. "Why?"
"The director doesn't need to know why."
Well, his threatening tone is like saying we're going to die from food poisoning. I let out a deep breath—is it disappointment or excitement? Lost in wasted talent, exhilarated because my interest in his sordidness lingered. From the first time I saw him—yes, I wanted to see what that face would look like when forced. If twisted by pain…
I shook my head.
"I have a few sadomasochism movies in my hand, but they don't meet your requirements. I think—I need to revise for a while. Find suitable actors and delete the plot…"
"I can write it myself. As I said, my time is limited."
What is this anxiety? I scratched my hair in confusion. This is the first time I have seen such an unusual actor. But. Damn it, when he talks like this, all I can think of is the way he is panting in a daze.
"…Yes. As long as you sign the consent form."
I didn't move a bite of the dessert. I also have a deep aversion to sweetness. It must be so.
I briefly described the content of those sadomasochism works, but Ryuzaki Rue didn't seem satisfied with it. I don't know what he's after, but it's no ordinary story that ends in death.
"When I'm tortured, I want real knives." He hugged his knees tighter. Then put his head between his legs, "Drugs. Real drugs. Not the placebo in Canvas."
His tone was serious, albeit low. I stared into his eyes to make sure he wasn't joking.
Then my face changed.
"I can prepare it myself." Ryuzaki whispered.
"I can film you," I said, "but drugs, and murder weapons—prohibited. Absolutely prohibited. Or you're fucked now. Leave."
"…" He pouted. Seems disgruntled, hit or something harsh. But I'm also serious. If I do that, not only will I be accused and sentenced, Ryuzaki's precious life also will be under threat.
"Are you kidding me, Ryuzaki? Do you… a masochist?"
"It's nothing. I will follow the director's instructions."
Nonchalant tone.
He got up from his position, lowered his curled legs first, then stood up straight, and let his spine bend down. This complicated procedure is like trying to figure out what role it is, giving people an unnatural feeling that is not out of the heart. Unnatural, yeah. I finally explained the source of the sense of incongruity: before he made any response, he would pause for half a second, if it was an instinctive action, he shouldn't pause. Strawberry jam shouldn't be sour. And he was as indifferent and mature as he showed, so he shouldn't show his childish side in some moments.
When the young man left, I stared at his back like last time. I originally wanted to catch up with him to see how he planned to go home, but I knew in my heart that I would fail like last time: with the agility of a spy, he could suddenly disappear from the spotlight, let alone this dense and vast night.
(Traces of revision inkings)
(More traces of revisions)
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