The Actor's Emperor System

The villa was insane, honestly. One of those ridiculously huge, expensive places in Azurea’s capital, with a crystal chandelier that looked like a waterfall of frozen light.

“To us, Sister Helena! Bottoms up, you gotta drain it!”

Caleb Davis’s rough shout cut right through all that fancy quiet. Tshhh-tshhh. He popped the caps off two beers, handed Helena Madison one, then tilted his own bottle straight back and killed the whole thing in one uninterrupted go. He’s got skills, seriously.

That pale, amber stuff burned a hot line down his throat, settling heavy and satisfying in his gut. He felt that deep, malty, fermented scent just bloom right in his chest. You bet Caleb Davis let out a loud, proud “Hah!” Then, thud, the empty bottle landed on the polished mahogany table. Done.

He grabbed a handful of those crispy, salted peas—you know, the ones you can’t stop eating—and crunched them loudly. Looking over at Helena Madison, he leaned in, dropping his voice into that low, serious, real tone he uses when he’s about to lay down some truth.

“Look, let’s skip the fancy talk. I gotta be straight with you on this. Brother-in-law? His actions are pure trash. Before you guys were married, whatever, guys mess around. But he swore a vow, and he still can’t keep his junk in his pants? The worst part is he actually got caught! Seriously, look at this disaster. He's literally just dragged your entire name through the mud.”

Helena Madison stayed totally silent. She watched him, her eyes glued to the beer left in her bottle. She didn't say a word until she finished it. Then she took this long, shuddering breath, finally meeting Caleb Davis’s gaze. Her voice was too quiet, dangerously level.

“He’s still my husband, Caleb Davis. Speaking so badly about him right in front of me… Do you honestly think that’s appropriate?”

Trust me, any normal guy would've instantly shriveled up and apologized under that look. She was cold, man.

But Caleb Davis was immune. He was completely unfazed. He actually stepped right up onto the empty beer crate—it was right there—shoveled the last of the peas into his mouth, clapped the salt dust off his hands, and challenged her. “So what if I did? You screw up, you get reamed out. You break the rules, you face the music. Sister, don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental. You’re not about to forgive him, are you?”

“Forgive him? I hope he rots in hell!”

Her control snapped instantly. It was a sudden, vicious explosion of sheer fury.

Look, everyone knows the entertainment scene is a sewer. Cheating, casual hookups—that’s just the default setting. But seeing proof that her own sworn husband betrayed her, plastered all over the trashy gossip sites? That level of public shame is just brutal.

“Well, there’s your answer then,” Caleb Davis said, throwing his hands up like a tired referee.

He cracked two more beers open, sliding one across to her. He mumbled, half-joking, “You’re actually kind of insane, you know? You called me here specifically to use my big mouth to tear him apart, and the minute I do exactly what you want, you get mad at me.”

Helena Madison snatched the bottle, her eyes narrowing dangerously at him. “Just shut up about it!”

Caleb Davis raised his hands in a big, dramatic surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll be totally quiet. I’m just a nobody extra, remember? Who am I to lecture a total A-list Queen like you? Hey, Big Star, seriously, give me a chance. Let your little brother propose a proper toast.”

He straightened up, held the bottle high, and pasted this huge, cringe-worthy, fake-flattering smile on his face, purely for the comedy of it.

She just rolled her eyes, classic. “Stop that ridiculous performance.”

If it were literally anyone else doing that, she'd assume they were genuinely terrified of her fame. But Caleb Davis? This annoying kid? He’d gotten so familiar that he treated her with the most casual, irritating disrespect. She honestly thinks he often saw her less as a famous colleague and more like a particularly loud piece of furniture you couldn’t get rid of.

He never once worried that she might actually go ballistic on him. Maybe he was just fearless, or maybe he simply didn't care about the consequences. That raw, zero-filter attitude? That’s why she dragged him here tonight—to drink and get messy.

The moment her mood eased, Caleb Davis dropped the whole act, instantly back to his usual rough self. He tilted the bottle and chugged, that loud, rhythmic glug-glug-glug echoing in the room.

Caleb Davis held no surprise regarding her husband's cheating. Zero surprise here.

It literally happened in his previous life. It was a perfect, if utterly ridiculous, piece of history repeating itself.

Yeah, Caleb Davis was a Transmigrator.

Twenty years ago, he got ripped out of a place called Earth and dumped, wailing, as a baby in this parallel world, Azurea. Starting out, he didn't even want this showbiz mess. Back on Earth, he'd memorized all the hacks and schemes—enough to live a lazy life of luxury, guaranteed.

But then things got weird. Azurea's national soccer team actually qualified for the World Cup. Steam got swallowed by the local platform WeGame. And after the classic Counter-Strike 1.6, the sequel wasn't the legendary CS:GO; it was Crossfire.

He remembered just sitting there that morning, totally stunned.

Later, a sudden, devastating disaster hit his family, turning their already modest life into a desperate struggle. That’s when Caleb Davis decided: He was going to conquer the entertainment industry.

The second he finished high school, he left his hometown in the Northeast, showed up in Cedarwood, and started trying to hustle. He was determined to make it big, become a celebrity, and live that life of total excess.

Reality, though? It was brutal. The industry is jammed with people, a raging river of anonymous, desperate faces. If you don't have contacts or a huge bankroll, you just sink.

Thank God Caleb Davis had good looks. Honestly. Even though being a guy meant he couldn't exploit the easy 'golden-ticket' routes some women had, his face—which was, like, A-list handsome—plus a sliver of luck, kept him afloat.

It’s been two years now. He actually managed to land a small role as a eunuch in a period drama. If that hadn't happened, he was already planning to pivot and become an internet personality.

His connection with Helena Madison? Pure, random fate, stretching back to an extra gig about six months ago.

The result is that somehow, he and Helena Madison ended up being these weird, genuine friends. Today was just dumb luck; Caleb Davis felt like drinking, sent a mass text, and she was the one who actually answered.

“On a side note, with this whole mess, the Brother-in-law has to be flying back, right?” Caleb Davis said, setting his empty bottle down. “I saw a post on Weibo earlier; he looked like he was waiting at his airport gate.”

Helena Madison responded with a harsh, dismissive snort. “And so what if he is? Does he truly think I’m some little kid who’s going to fall for a few placating words? Oh, I am so not finished with him over this!”

She grabbed her bottle and took a hard pull.

Caleb Davis couldn't figure out if she was just drunk or running on pure spite. After finishing her beer, she let out a little hiccup. Her eyes, hazy and far away, locked onto him as she asked the weirdest question: “Caleb Davis, you’ve been doing this for two years, haven’t you?”

“Yup,” he confirmed, nodding. “Why?”

A wicked, knowing smirk touched her lips. She opened two new bottles, sliding one over. “C’mon, tell your Sister the truth: how many famous people have you actually, you know, slept with?”

Caleb Davis used his chopsticks to push some food around, meeting her gaze. “Would you believe me if I said, like, seven or eight?”

“No way. You can’t even get close to them. How would you?” she instantly retorted.

“Then why are you asking me such a pointless question!” Caleb Davis scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You spend all day chatting about nonsense.”

“Hehe, I just had a random thought, I was curious! Look how worked up you are,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Caleb Davis ignored her completely.

He pulled out a Marlboro, lit it, and took a deep drag. He got that rough, tobacco taste, mixed with that weirdly distinct scent—kind of like old leather or something—filling his mouth.

He let out a long stream of smoke, then looked back at Helena Madison, ready to start the argument again.

But he froze. He sucked in a sharp, cold breath.

Helena Madison was now fully sprawled on the velvet couch. Those long, slender legs looked incredible in the sheer black silk. Her jacket had ridden way up, showing her lower stomach, and Caleb Davis could see the white lace underneath, struggling against the pressure. And her famous 'assets'? They were severely pressed, framed by a face that was somehow charmingly vulnerable thanks to the alcohol.

"Holy. Freaking. Shit."

Caleb Davis cursed silently. He’s twenty! How was he supposed to handle this kind of temptation? He instantly felt a surging desire to 'launch a rocket' himself, like that tech mogul guy, you know?

Helena Madison, sharp even when drunk, noticed his reaction. She giggled, then asked, her voice a little slurred, “Caleb Davis, is it really true that men just can't resist temptation?”

Caleb Davis flicked his eyes up. “What kind of temptation are we talking about?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “The obvious kind, duh.”

“I’m sorry, I honestly don’t follow what you’re hinting at,” Caleb Davis insisted, feigning total innocence.

“Stop playing dumb! I saw everything!” she scolded softly.

Caleb Davis adopted his best innocent, wide-eyed look. “But I genuinely don’t know! Unless… maybe… you could, like, demonstrate for me?”

“Aha! I knew you were trying to set me up!”

She sprang off the sofa, grabbed a cushion, and whipped it right at him.

Caleb Davis caught it and got serious again. “Wait, wait. You’re totally missing the point, Sister Helena. I’m a simple guy from the country. Asking if I can resist temptation is irrelevant—the real question is about your husband. What you truly seek to know is whether he could resist, correct?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“Then, to understand the Brother-in-law’s mindset, I need to have the identical experience he did, right? That’s the only way I can empathize. Otherwise, whatever I tell you is just my random guess, and that's not convincing, right?”

“No, wait a minute! That’s completely messed-up logic! You’re suggesting that for me to learn what that guy, Brandon Smith, was thinking, I’m the one who has to get screwed over?”

“Sister Helena, that’s such a narrow way to look at it. This is just an equal exchange! Plus, you gain the invaluable psychological insight into your husband. It’s a huge win!” Caleb Davis’s voice was smooth, persuasive, and utterly reckless.

Helena Madison just stared at him. She was totally silent, maybe too drunk, actually thinking about his twisted logic.

Caleb Davis saw his moment. He decided to risk everything. He surged forward.

Her mind went blank. She shoved him back instantly, a sudden, sheer panic in her voice. “Wait! Wait—where is my husband? You said he was coming back soon! If you do this…”

“Doesn't that just make it ten times hotter? More exhilarating?” Caleb Davis grinned, knowing the moment was perfect. He stood up, walked calmly to the door, and bolted the security lock. He turned back to her. “Sister, marriage is a two-way street. He showed you his cards. You just treat him exactly how he treated you. That’s totally fair, isn't it?”

The simple, brutal logic silenced her completely.

Seeing his advantage, Caleb Davis closed the distance, pressing forward.

It was a chaotic, beautiful mess: Rose-flushed cheeks turned, sucking on crimson lips, a tangle of limbs pulling wildly, like two jade rings hopelessly linked—a moment from which neither could break free.

[BING—]

[The Film and Television Martial Emperor System 1.0 has been bound.]

(End of Chapter)