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Tycoon Actor C448
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 15:27:24 +0000 UTCAfter Lucas and Christopher exchanged a few words, the BTS members began joining in the conversation as well. Since only Kim Namjoon could speak English fluently, he naturally took on the role of translator for his group.
Lucas sat back in his chair, sipping his hot cappuccino with a faint smile tugging at his lips. His relaxed posture and calm gaze said everything—he wasn’t the least bit worried about how the collaboration between BTS and Marshmello would go.
In fact, the more he observed Namjoon discussing musical ideas with Christopher, the more confident he became.
‘Namjoon’s fluency in English really makes things easier. He bridges the gap smoothly between BTS and Christopher… this is going to work out well,’ Lucas thought, finishing the last sip of his coffee.
Just then, Namjoon turned to Christopher and asked, “By the way, where’s Lucid? Isn’t this supposed to be a three-way collaboration?”
Christopher paused for a moment, his masked face turning subtly toward Lucas. Namjoon couldn’t see his expression, but he noticed the slight shift in his body language—just enough to feel something unsaid.
“Ah… he’s not here yet,” Christopher replied casually. “But don’t worry—he’ll be here soon enough.”
Lucas caught the hint in those words. Soon enough, meaning it was time for him to slip away and prepare—time to become Lucid, his musical alter ego.
Setting his empty cup aside, Lucas stood up and dusted off his coat. “Well, I’ve got something to attend to. I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Christopher nodded quickly. “Sure, sure. Catch you later.”
Namjoon turned slightly, as if wanting to say something more to Lucas, but Lucas was already on his way out. The BTS leader remained polite, yet his mind was quietly processing the interactions.
He glanced at Christopher again.
‘There’s something strange going on here…’ Namjoon thought, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Lucas and Marshmello seem way too familiar. And now Lucas just leaves without even waiting to welcome Lucid? Especially when he’s the one who arranged this collaboration?’
He didn’t say anything aloud. ‘Maybe I’m just overthinking it,’ he reasoned to himself. ‘With someone like Lucas, he’s probably juggling a dozen things at once. Maybe it’s normal that he doesn’t stick around. I’m sure Lucid understands…’
Meanwhile, Lucas stepped into another hotel suite—completely different from the previous room. He slipped off his coat, loosened his collar, and walked toward the full-length mirror. Calmly, he began changing into a new outfit: a sleek monochrome ensemble—black pants, a white inner shirt under a sharply tailored black-and-white suit jacket.
From a suitcase beside him, he pulled out a pristine white mask. He held it in his hand for a moment, studying it before slipping it over his face. Then came a white fedora, stylishly tilted to shadow his eyes. He completed the look with a pair of black gloves—just a touch reminiscent of Michael Jackson’s iconic flair.
His dyed dark hair, slowly growing out to reveal his natural blonde roots, was neatly tucked beneath the hat.
Lucas gazed at his reflection silently for a moment, then cleared his throat and spoke. “Check… check.” His voice was smoother now—slightly higher, younger, with a distinct cadence. Still recognizable, yet elusive—just enough to make people second-guess if it was really him.
And then, something shifted.
He wasn’t Lucas Knight anymore.
He was Lucid.
His posture changed—more relaxed, yet radiating a cocky charisma. He moved with effortless swagger, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a smoldering confidence and a hint of danger. Lucid wasn’t polished or diplomatic—he was unapologetic, intense, and bold.
Lucas smirked behind the mask, but the feeling wasn’t entirely his own. It was like slipping into a second skin—something raw, a little arrogant, a little wild.
“Funny,” he muttered under his breath, “Lucid was supposed to just be a creative outlet... a new identity for music.” But now, he could feel it—Lucid was more than that.
He was becoming the part of himself that never got to breathe.
“Maybe I’ve been too careful as Lucas Knight… always perfect, always smiling, always the golden boy.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But Lucid doesn’t care about that. Lucid doesn’t need to please anyone.”
And for once, Lucas didn’t feel the pressure to hide that side.
Lucid was flawed. Lucid was real.
And maybe… that’s exactly what the music world needed.
Lucas hadn’t expected that acting as Lucid would start to feel so natural—almost dangerously so. His alter-ego wasn’t just a mask anymore; it was slowly turning into a fully formed personality that even fascinated him.
Without delay, he left his suite and headed toward the hotel room where BTS and Marshmello were waiting. The moment he stepped inside, all eyes turned to him.
Christopher stood up with a playful grin beneath his mask. “Well, well… look who finally decided to show up. Here comes Lucid.”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the figure that just walked in.
‘Height... body... It was too close to be coincidence.’ He remembered those online rumors claiming Lucid might actually be Lucas Knight. And now, looking at Lucid up close, Namjoon was starting to believe it too.
But something didn’t add up.
The way Lucid walked—relaxed, cocky, unbothered. His posture was looser, more fluid than Lucas’s usual poise. Lucas moved like a thoughtful actor. Lucid moved like he owned the room.
Then Lucid spoke—his voice slightly softer and younger than Lucas’s usual tone.
“Marshmello,” Lucid said casually, “Still hiding behind that Halloween bucket? Or did your hair finally give up and leave you?”
Christopher paused for a beat, visibly caught off guard behind his mask. The playful jab was unexpected—even for him.
Most of the BTS members looked at each other in confusion, not fully understanding the exchange. But they could feel the energy shift in the room—Lucid carried a completely different aura.
Namjoon, however, understood every word. He gave a small chuckle and translated quickly for the group in Korean, keeping it light and humorous. The members laughed awkwardly but politely, not fully grasping the joke, but catching on through Namjoon’s delivery.
Though Christopher was briefly caught off guard by Lucid’s snarky attitude, he quickly played along. ‘He’s probably just staying in character… keeping up the act to protect his alter-ego,’ he thought, understanding the unspoken code between them.
He and Lucas had agreed long ago: their alternate personas—Lucid and Marshmello—were to remain anonymous to the public. Only a few trusted people knew the truth. And while BTS was a group Lucas supported, they didn’t exactly fall under the “close inner circle.”
Christopher smirked beneath his mask and shot back, “And you’re still rocking that plain white mask, huh? Stylish as a paper plate.”
Lucid gave a low chuckle and casually patted his shoulder. “Says the guy wearing a marshmallow on his head. But hey—at least we’re honest. Just two guys hiding our insecurities behind plastic.”
Christopher laughed. “Touché.”
Then Lucid turned toward BTS. “Unlike our charming friends here—who clearly don’t need masks… because theirs are already permanent.”
The room went quiet for a beat. Christopher blinked. ‘Wait… did he just—?’
Lucid leaned back smugly. “I’m kidding, obviously. Makeup’s a mask too, isn’t it? Don’t take it too deep.”
Christopher let out an awkward laugh, still unsure if Lucid was joking or testing boundaries.
Namjoon’s brow furrowed slightly. ‘That joke was… odd. Too bold. Lucas would never say something like that…’ His suspicions started to fade. ‘Maybe Lucid really isn’t him.’
Lucid stretched and dropped into the seat beside Namjoon, legs crossed and body relaxed like he owned the room. “Anyway—masks aside, shall we talk music now?”
Namjoon subtly shifted an inch away, glancing sideways. ‘There’s no way this is Lucas… He’s way too cocky.’
---
Two days had passed since the three-way collaboration between Lucas, BTS, and Marshmello began behind closed doors—when suddenly, a massive leak hit the internet like a storm.
The secret Warner Bros. project, Taking Care of Business, was exposed.
Photos of Lucas dressed in vintage Elvis-style costumes flooded social media. The internet was in a frenzy—not just because the long-rumored mystery project turned out to be an Elvis biopic, but because Lucas looked uncannily like the King of Rock and Roll.
Comments poured in within minutes:
“Lucas is playing Elvis?! I didn’t see that coming—but I’m all in for it now!”
“He even nailed Elvis’s build. Who’s his fitness coach or doctor? That transformation is insane.”
“Say what you want—Lucas puts in the work. Respect.”
Praises erupted online. Yet, as expected, a wave of skepticism followed—especially from hardcore Elvis fans.
“Sure, he’s popular, but can he truly be Elvis? I don’t think so.”
“Younger generations will watch this for Lucas, not for Elvis’s legacy.”
“Lucas Knight may look the part, but does he have the soul of Elvis? That stage energy can’t be replicated by some Hollywood pretty boy.”
The internet became a battleground of admiration and resentment—supporters clashing with diehard traditionalists.
Meanwhile, Baz stared at the leaked content with a grim expression. Secret on-set photos. A behind-the-scenes video of Lucas sipping coffee while flipping through a script. Even footage of him rehearsing with other cast members.
His wife paced behind him, visibly upset. “This is outrageous. We need to do something immediately.”
Baz exhaled heavily. “The damage is done. We can’t erase it… but we can control the narrative.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you have in mind?”
“We release a pre-production test clip,” Baz said. “If people doubt Lucas, let’s show them what we’ve seen. Let the footage speak for itself.”
At Warner Bros. headquarters, chaos unfolded as executives scrambled to manage the fallout. Meetings were called, statements were drafted, and a PR campaign was quickly being formulated.
Back on Lucas’s end, he was still in the studio working with BTS and Marshmello when the news reached him.
Normally, Lucas was unfazed by internet noise. But this time, his mood soured—not because people now knew he was playing Elvis, but because of what it meant for everyone who had poured their hearts into the project.
Baz. His wife. The producers. The crew. The cast. The entire team who’d given everything to make this film special.
And now it was carelessly thrown into the spotlight by someone who couldn’t respect the process.
Lucas clenched his jaw and muttered, “Whoever leaked this… they’ll face the consequences.”
Unlike before, he wasn’t planning to let it go.
He was ready to dig. To trace the leak. To find out exactly who had betrayed the trust behind the film.
And this time—he was going to make sure they paid.
Comments
Gamer Dya
For a suggestion, for the fan of Elvis who don’t trust lucas for the role he can go on a tonight show with elvis fans as audience that can be a great idea
