Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

Inside the hotel room.

Amanda was fast asleep.

A dark figure slipped in through the balcony.

Moving slowly to the bedside, the shadowy figure studied the sleeping girl under the glow of the streetlights filtering through the window.

Without makeup, her face was dotted with light brown freckles, but instead of being unsightly, they added a unique charm to her beauty.

The figure wore gloves, gripping a dagger in one hand—but did not raise it.

Instead, they simply stood there, quietly watching.

One hour, two hours…

No one knew how much time had passed.

Suddenly, the girl turned over in her sleep, groggily sitting up.

Still half-asleep, she stumbled out of bed and entered the bathroom.

The sound of running water echoed in the room.

Underneath the bed, the shadowy figure listened in silence.

Soon, the whooshing of the toilet flushing followed.

Then, the bed creaked as the mattress sank—Amanda had lain back down.

The figure beneath the bed continued waiting.

Over an hour later, the shadow carefully crawled out from under the bed, slipping into the bathroom for a moment before returning to stand beside the bed, quietly watching her once again.

They remained there until the break of dawn before finally leaving through the balcony.

8:00 AM

The alarm rang on time.

Amanda sat up, stretched lazily, and rubbed her face, still not fully awake.

She felt strange. Had she been having nightmares all night?

She hadn't slept well.

Yawning, she dragged herself to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and finally woke up completely.

She went through her morning routine—washing up, putting on makeup… and then left the room, never noticing that the trash bin beside the toilet had been disturbed.

On set.

"Amanda, you need to be fiercer! Your character is supposed to be antagonizing the protagonist right now!"

"Cut! The emotion still isn't right. Amanda, you seem a bit off today?"

"Director, give me a few minutes. Let me get into the right headspace."

Amanda, eyes red, walked into a corner bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and pinched her thigh a few times.

"Come on, Amanda, pull yourself together!"

A wave of nervousness brought on a sudden urge to pee.

She hurried into a stall, pulled down her pants, and squatted down.

Closing her eyes, she focused on relieving herself—until she heard a sudden thud outside, like a phone dropping on the floor.

Her eyes snapped open.

A shadow flickered beneath the stall door.

"Who's there?"

Amanda's breath hitched, and midstream, she stopped.

Footsteps shuffled outside—hurried, almost panicked.

"Who's there?!" she called again, louder.

No response.

She hesitated, then cracked open the stall door, peeking out with one eye.

The restroom was empty.

A chill ran down her spine. She shoved the door open and bolted out, heart pounding, not stopping until she reached the bustling film crew.

Seeing people everywhere finally calmed her nerves.

"Amanda, what's wrong? You look terrified," Lindsay Lohan's voice rang out.

Amanda forced a smile. "Hey, Lindsay. I… I'm fine."

Lindsay frowned, studying Amanda's face—she was clearly shaken.

As if realizing something, Lindsay's expression darkened. "Did someone mess with you? Tell me, I'll take care of them!"

Lindsay was fiercely loyal.

Having been involved in the auditions for all the girls playing the "mean girl clique" in the film, she instinctively treated them as her own—even those like Rachel McAdams, who tried hard to get close to her, and Amanda Seyfried, who preferred keeping to herself.

"Uh…"

Amanda hesitated before whispering into Lindsay's ear, "I… I'm not sure if I imagined it, but I think someone was spying on me while I was in the restroom."

"WHAT?!"

Lindsay's face twisted in anger.

She hated creeps.

"Which restroom?"

"The second one around the corner, but I'm not sure."

"No worries, I'll have Erica check it out."

Erica, the leader of the four female bodyguards Martin had hired for Lindsay, rushed off to investigate.

A few moments later, she returned, shaking her head. "No signs of anyone. If there was a peeper, they must've run off."

Lindsay frowned, her baby-fat cheeks scrunching up in thought.

After a moment, she turned to Amanda. "From now on, just use the bathroom in my trailer. It's safe."

Amanda was touched.

She hadn't expected Lindsay to be so kind.

"Thank you, Lindsay. You're such a good person."

"Haha, that's the worst compliment I've ever heard, but I'll take it."

Lindsay laughed.

Elsewhere.

"Charles, where did you run off to just now?"

"Uh, Wentworth, I just went to the bathroom. What's up?"

"I got you a small role—two lines. Shooting starts in half an hour. Here's the script, so prepare quickly."

"Oh wow, thank you so much, Wentworth! You're such a good person!"

This time, Amanda's performance was spot-on, earning a satisfied nod from director Mark Waters.

After the scene wrapped, Rachel McAdams casually asked, "Lindsay, what were you and Amanda talking about earlier?"

"Nothing much, just small talk."

Lindsay playfully winked at Amanda, silently assuring her that she wouldn't spill the secret.

Amanda didn't think much of it, but she still felt warmth in her heart at Lindsay's thoughtfulness.

From that day on, Amanda and Lindsay grew closer.

Whenever she had no scenes to shoot, Amanda would join Lindsay for casual chats, the two often laughing together.

Lindsay found Amanda easier to talk to—Rachel McAdams always felt like she was trying too hard to win favor.

Amanda also stopped using the corner restroom, opting instead for Lindsay's trailer.

The first time she stepped inside, she was stunned.

The interior was luxurious.

Living here must be so comfortable, she thought.

Amanda failed to notice that ever since she stopped being so isolated, the eyes that had been silently watching her had grown colder.

Lindsay, Rachel, and Amanda were gathered, chatting—a common sight on set now.

"Lindsay, Rachel, you won't believe this. I think I'm going crazy! Every night when I go to bed, I feel like someone's watching me. And I swear my toothpaste is running out way too fast. This morning, my toilet seat was up—I freaked out!"

"Did you report it to hotel security?"

"I did, but it's a small hotel. The security guy is like sixty. He just took a quick look around and said there were no signs of a break-in."

"Hey, why don't you just sleep in my trailer? You wouldn't have to wake up so early either."

Lindsay's suggestion made Rachel McAdams' expression darken with jealousy.

She was sure Amanda was lying just to get closer to Lindsay.

But to her surprise, Amanda declined.

"I shouldn't. Your trailer's nice, but there's only one bed. It'd be too cramped."

"Oh, come on! The bed is huge—plenty of space for two! Please, please?"

Lindsay playfully clung to Amanda's arm, using the puppy-eyed persuasion technique she'd perfected on Martin.

Blushing, Amanda hesitated. "W-Well… okay then."

"Yes! Tomorrow, you're moving in. It's settled!"

Rachel fumed. That bitch is totally playing hard to get!