NO SINGING! BECOME AN ACTOR OR DIE

CHAPTER 4: The Child Actor with a Broken Soul

“Where is the script? Let’s start now,” Dirga said in a very quiet, serious voice, ready to do battle again.

Dina stared into Dirga’s eyes—the cold, determined, and demanding eyes of a seven-year-old. That aura stunned Dina, an ambitious millennial. It was as if the boy before her wasn't a potential client, but a senior negotiator from a conglomerate family.

“I like your spirit. And I know you’ll definitely get a part in that film,” Dina said, pulling a dark blue document from her shoulder bag. It wasn't a script, but a thin printout of an agency contract.

“But wait, let’s settle our business first. This exclusive contract for my little agency.”

Mum immediately grabbed the document, reading it quickly. Her eyes narrowed with tension.

“A three-year contract?” Mum asked anxiously. “This is very serious, Dina. I mean, we don’t know if Dirga is truly serious or if this is just a passing fancy,” she said worriedly. After all, Dirga was only a fickle seven-year-old boy.

“Mum, I’m serious, and I’m not playing around this time,” Dirga cut in firmly, grabbing a pen and pulling the contract from his mother’s hand.

“Besides, I need a manager. Dina will help me choose good scripts. And three years isn't long. Dina will get a suitable commission. In exchange, she has to guarantee the quality of my acting work,” Dirga continued with a sweet smile.

Once again, Dina nearly dropped her jaw at Dirga’s confidence. The contract was merely a formality for a fledgling agency, yet the boy in front of her had verified every detail.

“I promise I’ll make Dad, Mum, and Anya proud. And you too, Dina. You trust me, don’t you, Mum?” Dirga asked in a very sweet, teasing tone.

Dirga’s mother instinctively nodded, seeing her son’s enthusiasm. In her heart, she was already proud of Dirga.

After the brief signing, Dirga received a thick photocopied script with blurry pages that smelled of cheap magazine paper. He read it thoroughly when he got home.

Dirga’s situation changed drastically within a few days. The crisp advert audition was successful, just as he had predicted. Three days after the audition, the Producer called Dina; they loved the anomaly of Dirga’s Broken Heart Eyes. It was interpreted as a philosophical expression hidden behind childish mischief.

Before the advert officially aired, filming for *The Silent Harbour* had already begun. Dirga, accompanied by his anxious mother and the enthusiastic Dina, went to the first shooting location.

****

Studio 7 RTV in East Jakarta felt cold. Dirga, wrapped in a worn, itchy costume—a shabby jacket and denim trousers torn at the knee—felt the stage vibrations, a feeling vastly different from a massive concert with millions of fans. This was the silent, artistically tense atmosphere of a film set, brimming with creativity.

The film was about a crisis of trust and loss. Dirga played Arka, the quiet son of a harbour master who struggles to find food when his father is trapped in village intrigues. It was a role more mature than his years.

“He’s only seven, are you sure he can deliver that expression of loneliness?” asked the camera operator, Mr Joko, who enjoyed chewing sweets, to the Director.

Director Ical, in his fifties, with a rigid face and thick glasses, smiled cynically.

“Children have their own loneliness, Jok. Let’s see if he can meet my expectations. He was good during the casting,”

Dirga stood next to his mother, who whispered fearfully to Dina, “The scene is so bleak, isn’t it?” she commented, horrified by the set before them.

“This is what we call cinematic art. You don’t need to worry, Mum, because the set has to reflect the storyline.” Dina replied.

[Side Quest: Successfully loaded emotional data ‘Broken Heart Eyes’ for the role of Arka.]

[Emotional Mastery Level: 10%. Initial Acting Ability: B+.]

For the first take, Dirga had to stand in front of a pile of old wood, staring at the fake waves generated by the crew using a giant fan machine, waiting for his father to return from the fierce sea.

“Arka must wait there,” Director Ical commanded, his voice calm and authoritative. “You are alone, son. You are hungry, and you have no hope.” He elaborated.

For a normal child actor, this might need to be evoked with a sad fictional story. But for Dirga, who possessed a forty-year-old soul and had witnessed the collapse of his entire family, no visual aid was necessary.

He allowed the memories of the future to poison him. The fear of watching Rendra take his father’s money, which destroyed his family. The bitterness of dying alone on a jet plane. That was more than enough.

He turned towards the camera, his expression calm, wordless, yet the longing locked within felt strong, piercing, threatening to shed the genuine tears he had long held back.

“Arka,” Director Ical called, not loudly.

Dirga replied without turning away from the artificial waves, his voice small and purely deep longing, not whiny.

“Come home, Dad,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

Silence descended upon the set. It was only two words. But the entire crew, from the Director to the costume designer, felt the emotional tremor. There was an existential loneliness in his voice. They were used to tearful, whiny acting. But this was different. This was the beauty of cynicism in childhood form.

“Cut! Perfect, Dirga! My God,” Director Ical shouted, rushing over. His eyes were genuinely moist. He grabbed Dirga’s shoulder.

“Where did that come from, son? That expression is so mature,” he praised.

“Thank you, sir,” Dirga replied, sighing. “I just thought about things that make me sad.”

Director Ical immediately softened and praised him, “Good heavens, son. You are special, you are talented. I knew it when I saw your casting. Take a break now. We’ll continue later.”

Dirga wiped his cheeks, which weren't wet but were hot with emotion, and felt a surge in the System statistics.

[Production Team Appreciation (Internal): Outstanding. Persona Credibility: Increased. B+ Level Active.]

Dirga smiled faintly reading the text. His fame was born in this moment. Not from his acting, but from his complex soul, which had inadvertently become the most sophisticated artistic tool in the entire country.

As the crew prepared the next scene, a bitter debate occurred between the character Arka and Dirga, who stood outside the room. Dirga took a deep breath before exhaling. He needed to regenerate his energy and pretend to be lonely.

For Dirga, entering the soul of the character he played consumed twice the spiritual energy required to sing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in front of 100,000 people.

He walked towards the small restroom, which felt warm. He began humming a song from his past, slowly, a gentle ballad.

All his life, his passion for music had been therapeutic. It was the antidote to the bitterness of acting and the emptiness of his new life.

As his voice touched certain notes—a small voice with the deep resonance of an adult soul—it suddenly fell silent.

A blue and black status window appeared. He knew the second punishment was coming.

[VIOLATION: FAILURE OF ABSOLUTE FOCUS DETECTED!]

This time, it wasn't just money that was forfeit. The light emanating from the System window was so intense that it drained the colour from the surrounding room, turning it black and white, threatening his vision.

[USER DEEMED TO HAVE FAILED TO RESTRAIN ORIGINAL PROFESSIONAL TENDENCIES.]

[Warning: Activation of the Art of Singing is only permitted AFTER MAIN QUEST S1 IS COMPLETED.]

The tension felt like an electric shock.

[SYSTEM PUNISHMENT APPLIED. All newly acquired ‘Fate Credits’ within 48 hours will be reset.]

That meant all his hard work acting today would be lost! His B+ status reverted to C-.

“No! Hey, I didn’t mean to, I was just humming. I was on a break. Please, I haven’t committed any violation,” Dirga whispered, feeling anger and panic.

The System displayed text with an aura of absolute threat, as if signalling, *My power is greater than you suspect.*

[SYSTEM CONCLUSION: Ignoring Initial Rules for Personal Enjoyment is considered an Absolute Violation.]

[ATTENTION. THE SINGING CAREER PATH DOES NOT MEET THE CRITERIA FOR YOUR SELF-EVOLUTION.]

[PUNISHMENT ANALYSIS. If the Master violates the rules again: Dirga’s Family (Anya) will be involved in a Critical Road Accident Crisis, Untreatable by the System.]

Anya. That single word choked Dirga.

His throat instantly dried up. This threat was far more terrifying than a Ponzi scheme, or the threat of poverty. The System was not only threatening his assets but the lives and health of his loved ones.

Dirga collapsed onto the restroom floor. His knees hit the cold tiles. He couldn't breathe. His entire body ached from the absolute terror of this entity, so powerful and controlling of fate.

“I… I promise… I won’t sing again. I will only act,” he said, trembling. His hands clenched, and tears welled up now. Not acting tears, but genuine ones.

His words managed to calm the System. Slowly, the terrifying black and white text was replaced by a flat light blue, and the display returned to its personalised format.

[Main Quest resumed. 361 days remaining.]

[Instruction: Be a full-time Professional, Master. Prioritise Artistic Image, Not Cheap Commercialism.]