It flew without direction and aim, traversing back alleys and shady streets.

Lost in its allure, The Photographer followed without caring for his safety. And no one bothered him—not the policemen, nor the riffraff.

The iridescent butterfly took him deeper into the labyrinth of The City. It flew past a long wall. On it was a graffiti that read Ethereal.

In the wide shot, with The Photographer chasing after the butterfly, the graffiti left a strong impression.

"Oh my, oh my," exclaimed Director Corsini.

He sat up in his seat, immensely inspired.

Emmanuel Echeverri was equally impressed.

'Do you want us to follow in love with wide shots that much, Director Groux?'

The butterfly drew rings in the air with its colorful flapping before landing on a stack of broken electronic appliances in a narrow alley.

The wide shot ended there, and it wouldn't show up for the rest of the sequence.

Standing at a distance, The Photographer clearly noticed the pattern on its wings.

His eyes were unfocused, and his head was slightly tilted. He appeared to be lost in an explosion of inspiration, as if he were trying to grasp an idea.

In that sense, he wasn't much different than his actor. While studying to act the part of The Lady, Averie was the same. Both were trying to grasp an idea.

In that sense, Averie Quinn Auclair was the most qualified actor for the role of The Photographer.

Director Corsini was pleasantly surprised to see the close-up of The Photographer.

Something seemed to change in those lifeless amber eyes. A glint of inspiration, a sign of intelligence, seemed to burn through the fog set over his visage.

He removed his round glasses—in a lazy motion that seemed more likely to crumple them than shield them—and set them aside as he slowly dropped to his knees.

In his hand was his instant camera, large and heavy like a cinder block. Even he didn't know when he had attached the lens and assembled it. But it was there.

One eye closed, he peered through the oddly-shaped viewfinder. Streaks of three colors were reflected in his iris—pink, purple, and blue.

His ajar mouth breathed out a puff of warm air.

A different world was unfolding before him, a landscape contained in frames. There were so many angles he could take that picture. There were so many possibilities.

'Should the object—the butterfly—be in the center? To the left? Right? In a corner?'

Such thoughts surely crossed his mind.

There were so many ways he could frame it that it made him nauseous. His discomfort could be felt from the quivering of his lips.

It only worsened as the seconds stretched and his finger inched closer to the mechanical button. His fingers were tense, and spasms spread through his legs.

The sharp sound of the shutter pierced the curtain of music.

Holding a hand to his mouth, the pale man pulled out the printed picture sticking out of the top of the camera.

One glance.

One glance was all it took for him to rush to the nearby wall. The sound of retching did not reach the audience as French vocals accompanied the crescendo.

Out of frame, The Photographer had the misfortune of vomiting everything he had eaten at the pub.

A novice in French, Averie understood but one word of the melancholic electro song.

Délicieuse.

A close-up of The Photographer's pale face showed tears of pain streaming down his cheeks as he uncontrollably retched.

His hand—leaning on the wall—slid down, revealing words too classy to be considered graffiti.

Colored in a gentlemanly black, they were written in a thin and elongated typeface.

The Photographer.

The tempo of the song rose, and the words of the female vocalist turned sharp.

The camera panned to show the picture he had dropped. It was beautiful, almost more than reality itself.

A few inches next to the picture, on the hard concrete ground, another set of words in the same color and typeface glistened in the neon light.

Averie Quinn Auclair.

***

Min-Ha heard a sniffling sound.

She didn't need to search for the source. It was right beside her.

"What's the matter?" she whispered.

Beside her, Hyerin was bawling as if she was trying to dehydrate herself.

"He is there," she whimpered.

Min-Ha grimaced. "What?"

Hyerin pointed at the big screen where Averie's name was displayed.

"His name."

Her tears, which had just begun receding, welled up once again. Before she could disturb the theater, Min-Ha covered her mouth.

"Don't make a sound, you hear?"

Her eyes looked bizarre as a murderous intent leaked out of them.

"I'm not getting kicked out of here because of you. Do you understand?"

Meekly, Hyerin nodded.

As if one psycho wasn't enough, she had to fear another one.

Although Min-Ha was harsh on her, she too felt a pang of pride seeing the name so royally displayed on the screen.

'He has finally made his film debut…'

***

"Ah," exclaimed Director Corsini.

'So, that's his name.'

He thought that it had a nice ring to it, and he realized where he had seen him.

'The man at the airport… Right, that was him.'

There was no mistaking that attractive pull.

'To introduce him like that…'

The director felt his old heart beating with renewed excitement.

'Is it artistry or great hopes for a new actor?'

It hadn't even been twenty minutes since the start of the film, and he was already admiring it. He could sense the care and love put into it.

He repeated the name in his mind, trying to commit it to his memory.

Although Averie didn't know it, he had gained the attention of a renowned director.

Regardless, the good actor grinned from ear to ear.

'He really made it all dramatic, huh?'

He would deny it if someone were to ask, but he did truly enjoy himself.

He glanced down at the lower seats.

'Is this your way of celebrating my first film, director?'

Whatever the case, he liked it.

It was, as the vocals described, délicieuse.

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