Film must be a crystallization of beauty.

That is the unshakable creed of me, a film critic, Katsuragi Shizuku.

I have served as chief judge of the Imperial Capital Film Festival and have appraised countless masterpieces with my own eyes.

In this world’s film industry, it would not be an exaggeration to say that the value of a work is decided by a single stroke of my pen.

That is why, when an invitation arrived for the premiere screening of director Kujō Hibiki’s new work Requiem of Iron and Blood, I frowned.

I had heard the rumors.

Apparently, for the villain role this time, an unknown newcomer had been cast and what is more, a man.

‘…There’s no way she’s sane.’

On the red carpet leading toward the screening hall, I let out a small sigh.

Inside the venue, heavyweight figures of the film world and major actresses were all present.

Everyone wore refined smiles at their lips, but their eyes held the same color as mine.

A cold curiosity that said, let us see the genius Kujō Hibiki’s misstep.

Bzz.

The buzzer sounded and the hall went dark.

I opened my notebook, preparing to jot down points for criticism.

And then, the film began.

* * *

The first scene.

Projected onto the screen was an abandoned factory caked in garbage and rust.

It was far too filthy.

Not calculated beauty of decadence, but real grime.

A reality so vivid it provoked physiological revulsion.

Just as I frowned in discomfort.

Zuuuuun…

The theater speakers trembled with an unprecedented low frequency.

“…You’re in the way.”

A voice echoed from the darkness.

A crawling, subterranean frequency that could never come from a woman’s vocal cords.

A chill ran down my spine.

On the screen, the figure of a single man emerged.

A massive frame.

Muscles like armor forged from steel.

And the eyes of a feral beast that slaughters its prey.

I sucked in a breath.

What was that creature?

Was that really a man as we knew them?

“Go hajike that detective.”

The words he spat out.

Hajiku.

I did not know the meaning.

But the violent resonance contained in the sound itself rang an alarm in my instincts.

Terrifying.

Even through the screen, I felt like I was going to be killed.

I could sense the great actress beside me, normally known for her icy smile, hugging her own shoulders and trembling slightly.

And the instant the action scene began, my common sense was utterly shattered.

Thud. Crack.

There was no dance-like elegance there.

Only the sound of bones grinding and flesh being crushed.

Stuntmen were not soaring gracefully on wires, but being slammed clumsily into the ground in obedience to gravity.

The mafia boss played by Akutsu Jō processed the oncoming enemies with no wasted motion whatsoever.

“…Ah…”

A voiceless breath slipped from my lips.

Savage. Vulgar. Filthy.

And yet, why could I not tear my eyes away?

His violence was cruelly beautiful.

Not the decorative beauty found in past films.

It was functional beauty and wildness, like a honed blade.

Every time the mud and sweat-covered male body surged into motion, my heart pounded.

Was this fear? Or was it something else?

I glanced around the hall.

It was a bizarre sight.

Critics known for their harsh tongues were leaning forward, staring at the screen as if possessed.

Some pressed handkerchiefs to their mouths, struck dumb.

Others flushed their cheeks with rapture.

The entire venue had been infected by the poison known as Akutsu Jō and was delirious with fever.

* * *

And then, the story surged toward its climax.

A death struggle on a rooftop at sunset.

A bare-knuckle fight between the lead actress Tennoji Karen and Akutsu Jō.

Watching the two of them grapple in the mud, I did not even notice that I had dropped my pen.

There were no beautiful dresses and no polished lines.

Only the sound of souls colliding.

A gunshot.

The man, shot together with the knife he had concealed, slowly collapsed.

There were no beautiful words of love and no tears of redemption.

Spitting blood, he twisted his lips into a grin.

Even in his final moment, the light of evil had not vanished from his eyes.

“…Heh.”

I could hear the entire audience swallowing their breath.

“…I’ll be waiting in hell.”

Thump.

My heart hammered violently.

Hell.

What a merciless and yet intoxicating word.

Even in death, he sought to dominate us.

Before the overwhelming pride of that absolute male, I surrendered completely.

The man died and silence fell under the setting sun.

The end credits began to roll.

Normally, polite applause would start here.

But the hall was deathly silent.

No one could move.

Stunned as if their souls had been ripped away by the shock.

The afterimage was heavy and deep and lodged painfully in our chests, refusing to fade.

The words Director Kujō Hibiki vanished from the pitch-black screen and the lights came up.

Several seconds of silence.

Someone began clapping with trembling hands.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

It spread in an instant, like wildfire.

Boom.

Thunderous applause.

Without realizing it, I was on my feet.

A standing ovation.

The great actress beside me, the stubborn critic behind me, everyone stood and sent unrestrained applause toward the empty screen.

Some were even in tears.

“Bravo.”

“A masterpiece.”

“Incredible… what an incredible film…”

There was no cast appearance.

Akutsu Jō was not there.

Yet the audience continued to shower feverish acclaim upon the phantom of the charisma of evil that had certainly existed there.

With trembling hands, I picked up the pen I had dropped.

There was no way I could write criticism.

What I needed to write was a declaration of defeat and the dawn of a new era.

This is a singularity.

I was certain.

From tomorrow onward, the film world will be transformed.

The definition of beauty would be rewritten and women across the world would become captives of this savage, coarse villain.

The history of action cinema would be divided into before Akutsu Jō and after Akutsu Jō.

Still applauding fervently, I stared at the screen that had yet to cool.

It was frustrating, but I had to admit it.

In my life as a critic, I had just fallen into the most thrilling and most dangerous love of all.