The Haunted Cinema

Under normal circumstances, actors are required to follow the script exactly as it appears in their minds, embodying the role assigned to them. However, in this case, that would effectively be a death sentence for the actors, as in these films, people actually die.

Therefore, the curse offers a sliver of hope for survival: the Redemption Tickets. To become an actor in a real horror film, one must continue playing roles in various terrifying movies. Yet, if an actor accumulates ten thousand Redemption Tickets, they can redeem their freedom and return to the real world.

Redemption Tickets are the actor's compensation, earned after each film according to the significance of their role and their screen time. The purpose of these tickets is to grant actors the ability to act in ways that diverge from the script, allowing them to avoid death by sacrificing a portion of their accumulated tickets. For example, if the script calls for a character to enter a haunted room and be killed by a ghost, but the actor refrains from entering, a certain number of Redemption Tickets will be deducted at the end of the film.

Of course, actors cannot act on a whim; certain fundamental actions cannot be altered. The first rule is that an actor must perform every task as the character they portray. Even if they know something through the script, they must behave as though they have no knowledge of it. For instance, even if the script reveals that ghosts are present, they cannot warn others. This is the most basic rule. Furthermore, actors are forbidden from using their real names or discussing any aspect of the real horror film. In essence, the actor must entirely immerse themselves in their role.

Additionally, certain sections of the script are written in red (vividly appearing in the mind), and these parts must be strictly followed. Failure to do so will result in one inevitable outcome: death.

Therefore, based on Allen's understanding, the actor playing the driver would surely abandon the bus and flee in the final moments. As a rookie actor, he didn't possess any Redemption Tickets, but the deduction of tickets would occur at the film's conclusion when compensation is distributed. At that point, the actor would receive their payment minus the deducted tickets. Naturally, seasoned actors, having accumulated more Redemption Tickets, would have greater flexibility to alter the storyline.

Allen had already realized that his compensation amounted to a meager two hundred Redemption Tickets. This paltry amount indicated that his role was insignificant, and he would likely perish early on. The mere thought of it tightened his chest.

Of course, until the bus broke down, none of the actors could change the script. They were bound to follow their lines.

For the next ten minutes, Dan and Carlin engaged in conversation, leaving Allen with no lines to speak. Without any dialogue, he could only remain silent, his head pressed against the window, observing the world outside. Simultaneously, he was contemplating his strategy for survival. It hadn't even been ten minutes since entering this strange world, yet he had already regained his composure, in stark contrast to the trembling Clark, who was drenched in cold sweat, gasping for breath, and ashen-faced. If not for the strict script rules prohibiting actions that deviated from the script, Allen was certain Clark would have already demanded an explanation from the lead actors about what was truly going on.

Allen, however, remained calm. He knew that panic would lead only to death. His only chance of survival was to exploit the rules to his advantage. Moreover, there was another rule: if a character managed to survive, the subsequent scenes of the script would also change accordingly. Even a background character could rise in importance, eventually overshadowing the leads and perhaps even becoming the protagonist! If that happened, the final compensation would increase dramatically. Thus, in this real horror film, there were no definitive leads—if one had the skill, they could seize the protagonist's role.

Allen had made up his mind: he needed to devise a plan in the first act. The bus hadn't broken down yet, so he couldn't do anything yet. But in ten minutes, he would seize every opportunity to interact with others, trying to find allies with whom he could escape the bus. However, for now, he couldn't even speak a single extra line. This was the unbreakable rule of the script.

Of course, even if he managed to escape the bus, that wouldn't guarantee safety. He wasn't naive enough to think survival would be so simple in this real horror film. Once outside, he would inevitably encounter bizarre and terrifying events. At that point, his priority would be to gather information—specifically about the mountain. Were there any supernatural or eerie legends associated with it? His first step would be to question the tour guide. If he could obtain useful information, he might be able to anticipate the plot and find a way to survive.

However, just as this thought crossed his mind, he suddenly realized that the tour guide was also an actor! In all likelihood, the guide knew nothing about the background information either.

According to the rules in his mind, the actors would never be cast in films with hopeless, inescapable deaths—films like the Japanese horror film Ju-on, where no one survives. This meant that survival was always possible in the movie, though the method would only become apparent as the plot unfolded. Therefore, as a background character, Allen would have to explore the storyline himself to uncover any potential means of survival.

Allen clenched his fists. He refused to die in this terrifying place! If there was a chance for survival, he would give everything to seize it!

He glanced around the bus and noticed that most people seemed unaffected, but a few had pale faces, likely indicating they were also rookie actors. He mentally calculated the number of people on the bus, including the driver—forty-three in total. Of these, eleven were middle-aged or elderly.

He continued to track the passage of time…

Three minutes…

Two minutes…

One minute…

With only thirty seconds remaining, the conversation between Dan and Carlin grew increasingly lively. Dan then said, "Yes, yes, you're absolutely right. I feel the same way. Carlin, it's amazing how fast time flies. I still remember when we first met during college registration…"

Just as these words left his mouth, the bus suddenly lurched to a halt!

It began!

Allen's body lurched forward due to inertia, but he managed to steady himself just in time. As the character of Dean, he could not possibly foresee that the bus would break down, nor could he make any preemptive movements to counteract the force of inertia. But now, he had the opportunity to deviate from the script! Of course, from the moment he uttered his first improvised line, deductions would begin from his salary in the form of Redemption Tickets. If a line is only slightly altered without affecting the storyline, it generally doesn't result in a ticket deduction. For example, swapping "exert every effort" with "do one's best" would be acceptable. However, if the improvised line alters the plot in any significant way, then the deduction of Redemption Tickets would be inevitable.

"Why has the bus stopped?"

"Driver, what's going on?"

The driver stood up—an aloof, middle-aged man with a bald head. He scratched it and said, "Sorry, let me check if there's an issue."

Allen admired his composure. He had expected the driver to abandon the vehicle and flee immediately, further solidifying his belief that the man was an experienced actor. Of course, if he had done that, it would have been a fatal mistake. Such a blatant defiance of the character's logical behavior would never be allowed. According to the rules of the script, even if an action isn't explicitly marked in red, any behavior that deviates from the established character arc would cause an NG, meaning the scene would be reset. In other words, everything would revert to ten minutes ago, and the film would start filming again.

NG, or "No Good," was a special rule. Allen had taken the time to carefully analyze it over the past ten minutes. Unlike traditional movie sets, an NG here wasn't triggered simply by a misstep in dialogue or a lackluster performance. In this real horror film, the standards for acting were virtually nonexistent—after all, if the actors weren't professional, or even trained, they wouldn't be involved in the filming process in the first place. The only true criterion for an NG was any alteration to the plot that breached the "bottom line."

The "bottom line" was somewhat vague, with little explanation given. However, Allen had already formed his own interpretation. One crucial point was that if an actor, at any point, refused to assume their role, shouting "I don't want to make this film" or using their real name, or outright rejecting the movie's premise, they would undoubtedly trigger an NG.

An NG occurred when the plot was altered beyond the acceptable limits. If even a single actor causes an NG, everyone must return to their starting positions and re-shoot the scene. However, an NG could only occur a maximum of three times. If there were a fourth, every actor—without exception—would die. For Allen, that would mean being dismembered once again, facing true death. There would be no second chances, no reset button.

Thus, altering the plot required the utmost caution.

Allen knew that this was not the ideal time to escape. Every action the actors took had to align with the logic of their characters; otherwise, there was a very real risk of causing an NG. One NG would render all previous efforts null and void. He would not make such a foolish mistake.

At present, the actors on the bus appeared relatively calm.

It was clear that they all understood the stakes. Panic would only result in a larger deduction of Redemption Tickets, and no one wanted to lose those precious tickets, which were the only means of escaping this terrifying movie. Allen suspected that the reason for this calmness was that most of the actors were veterans.

Before long, the driver, with a grimace on his face, announced, "The bus has broken down."