1401-1405

Chapter 1401: Diligence

Charles didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t even sure if there was a solution. Maybe they should seek advice from a professional psychologist.

Looking at Anson, he wanted to say something—anything—but he couldn’t find the words.

He opened his mouth, but when he saw the smile in Anson’s eyes, he swallowed his words. Instead, Charles returned the smile, offering a silent response.

“What about the film crew’s work today?” Anson spoke first.

Charles was caught off guard. “Huh?”

“The crew,” Anson repeated. “What happens to today’s filming?”

Charles: …

Standing at the doorway, Lucas took a deep breath, pulling himself back to reality.

Anson needed him. He had to stay calm, stay rational, and keep his composure. He couldn’t let the nightmares of his youth repeat themselves.

Turning around, Lucas pushed open the hospital room door, his expression now composed.

“I just heard someone talking about work. Please tell me it wasn’t you, you idiot.”

As he spoke, Lucas fixed his gaze on Anson.

Anson looked up at the ceiling, pretending not to know who Lucas was referring to.

Lucas scoffed. “You. It’s you. Lying in a hospital bed, clearly not in the best condition, and yet you’re still worrying about the film crew? If that’s not idiotic, then what is?”

“This is Hollywood. No matter who’s missing, it’ll keep running.”

Anson sighed and looked back at Lucas.

“That’s exactly why I need to stay focused on my work.”

“I want to be an actor who is truly one of a kind—irreplaceable. My role, my presence on the big screen should be something unique.”

“And then, everyone will kneel before me.”

Was that last part a bit too intense? Did the tone just take a weird turn?

Charles couldn’t hold back a twitch of his lips. “Now you finally sound like a proper Hollywood egomaniac.”

Lucas groaned. “Dad!”

Charles raised his hands in surrender, but he kept muttering to himself, “Humility doesn’t get you anywhere in Hollywood. Honestly, I kind of like this version of Anson. Let the jealous ones go to hell.”

Anson burst out laughing. “Ha!”

Then, he and Charles even high-fived to celebrate.

Lucas: …

Noticing Lucas’s murderous glare, Anson quickly pulled his hand back and put on his most innocent expression, blinking as if he were completely guiltless.

“You can tell the director that I’ll be back on set tomorrow.”

Lucas frowned. “Why the rush?”

“If you’re worried about what happened on Spider-Man 2, there’s no need. Things are completely different now. No one would dare come after you.”

Last time, when Anson got injured on the Spider-Man 2 set, it caused a massive uproar. Half of Hollywood got involved, and the ripple effects were beyond imagination.

Now, just six months later, a similar situation had occurred again. The media storm was inevitable. They would never let Anson off the hook easily, and things could spiral into something even bigger and uglier.

But this time, there was no need to worry. Everything had changed.

Anson’s status was no longer the same. The conversations surrounding him had completely shifted. He didn’t have to fear the media’s attacks or scrutiny anymore.

Besides, let’s not forget—the production company behind Walk the Line was Forest Studios. And the man running the show was standing right here in Anson’s hospital room.

Even if the gossip-hungry media tried to stir the pot again—using the success of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to frame Anson as a diva—the entire media landscape had changed. Anson was no longer defenseless. Things were different now.

Watching Lucas’s casual yet subtly commanding presence, Anson’s smile widened.

“No, I’m not worried.” The more he thought about it, the funnier it became. Anson outright laughed. “Lucas, I was never worried. Have you forgotten?”

“Last time, I wasn’t worried either.”

“If those reporters think I’m some weak little lamb who will just sit there and take whatever they throw at me, they’re dead wrong.”

“I’ve never been afraid of the media. Not once.”

Lucas instinctively wanted to argue, but when he looked into Anson’s clear, unwavering eyes, he stopped. Because he knew—Anson meant every word.

Lucas exhaled. “Then what are you worried about? The director?”

Anson shook his head. “No. Johnny Cash.”

Lucas: …

Anson chuckled. “Haha! You guys should see your faces. I’m not crazy. I know Johnny Cash is just a role I’m playing.”

But that’s exactly the point.

“I’m worried about my role. My performance. Lucas, do you understand? This is the first time I’ve completely lost myself in a character. At certain moments, I feel like I am Johnny Cash—that I’ve fully entered his world. The line between reality and film is fading.”

“I know, I know. Don’t look at me like that. If Mom were here, the three of you would treat me like a toddler.”

“What I mean is—I think I’ve finally discovered something new in acting. I love this feeling, this state of mind. This is why I love performing—channeling my own inner shadows into a role, using the character’s life to express and release them.”

“And maybe—just maybe—when the movie is over, when filming wraps, I’ll leave behind some of my wounds with the character, with the story.”

“Because let’s be honest—outside of acting, there aren’t many chances in life to truly confront our scars. That’s why therapy is such a booming business. Those couches in a therapist’s office? For many people, that’s the only place they can be truly honest with themselves.”

This was something neither Lucas nor Charles had ever fully understood.

Charles still looked hesitant, as if he wanted to argue, or at least convince Anson to reconsider.

But this time, Lucas spoke first. “Tomorrow. You’re sure?”

Anson raised his hands and feet in exaggeration. “Come on, Lucas, do I look injured? If I weren’t worried about you all having heart attacks, I would’ve gone back to set this afternoon—”

Before he could finish, he felt the temperature drop as Charles and Lucas both stared daggers at him.

He quickly raised his hands in surrender.

“Tomorrow.”

“So, I said tomorrow.”

“For God’s sake, can you two stop acting so dramatic? Calm down. You know what adults value most? Composure.”

Lucas squinted at him suspiciously.

Anson immediately shut up, whistling as he turned to look out the window. “Ah, nice weather today.”

Outside, the pedestrian bridge was empty. Jack was gone.

The hallway was silent, the glass reflecting their figures.

Charles followed Anson’s gaze toward the empty bridge. But he couldn’t be sure if he and Anson were seeing the same thing.

That thought gripped his heart, making it hard to breathe.

Still, Charles kept his emotions in check. He didn’t say anything—at least not until they had left the room, put some distance between them, and ensured Anson couldn’t hear.

Then, he grabbed Lucas by the arm.

“Are you sure?”

Chapter 1402: Walking on Thin Ice

Charles lowered his voice slightly, trying his best to conceal his emotions, but the worry and exhaustion still seeped through his expression, casting a shadow over his face.

Lucas gently shook his head. "No, I’m not sure."

Charles felt a tightness in his chest. "So, do we really not need to find a psychologist? In this situation, a professional should be involved."

It was a simple truth—professional problems should be handled by professionals.

However, they still didn’t fully understand the situation. Just how serious was Anson’s condition? Did he truly need a psychologist? If they rashly sought help now, would Anson reject it? Would he resist or even develop a rebellious mindset?

After consulting with the hospital, they also agreed that more observation was needed before jumping to conclusions.

Everything remained in limbo—

Nothing was certain. The future was unclear.

The feeling was unsettling.

Lucas shook his head again. "I don’t know."

Charles frowned. "Then why did you tell Anson he could return to the set?"

Lucas didn’t answer.

Charles felt suffocated. He loosened his tie, exhaled deeply, then waved his hand as if trying to brush away his worries. "Sorry. You know Anson—once he’s made up his mind, we can’t stop him. Instead of letting him recklessly charge ahead, we should at least be there to watch over him."

A dull pain throbbed at Charles’s temples, pulsing like waves, again and again.

But Lucas shook his head. "That’s not the reason."

"I’ve been thinking… is it possible that acting is the trigger for Anson’s trauma response?"

"If I remember correctly, the first time Anson saw Jack was because of Catch Me If You Can. This time, it’s even more obvious—playing Johnny Cash forces him into a dark world, making him explore the shadows of his soul. It must have stirred something inside him, awakening memories he had buried."

"All these years, Anson has completely blocked out his childhood. But then Jack appeared—what happened to Jack seemed to be a projection of Anson’s own past."

"Logically, we should completely cut off the source of stimulation, prevent more painful memories from resurfacing, and help him return to a normal life. But, Dad, how many years has it been? We’ve been pretending nothing happened. And yet, the truth? Those wounds never truly healed."

"If we keep ignoring it—"

Lucas’s heart clenched violently. He didn’t finish his sentence, but his pupils trembled as if he had glimpsed a terrible disaster unfolding before him.

And in that moment, Charles understood—

Just like Jack.

Jack had cried for help, had tried to escape, had fought to survive. But everyone turned away, pretending not to see, not to hear—including them.

All this time, they had desperately maintained an illusion of "normalcy and peace," pretending the past never happened. But now, looking back, maybe this forced normalcy had only suppressed Anson, had only deepened the pain. They had ignored the wounds festering in his soul, allowing the darkness to spread—until Jack was born.

Oh God, what had they done?

Charles hurriedly shoved his hands into his pockets, clenching them into fists, trying to control himself. But his hands still trembled, and he could barely breathe.

Finally, Lucas steadied himself, regained his composure, and looked at Charles again.

"Maybe Johnny Cash is the answer."

"Like Anson said, he projects his own memories and experiences onto his characters. Acting helps him find himself—it’s his way of seeking reconciliation between fiction and reality. Performing is his way of facing his past and healing."

"The answer is hidden in the movie."

That was why Lucas hadn’t stopped Anson from returning to set.

Charles met Lucas’s gaze, still filled with worry. "What if we’re wrong? What if we fail?"

Lucas didn’t answer directly. "I won’t give up on Anson."

Charles opened his mouth to say something.

But Lucas cut him off again. "I won’t give up on Anson."

With that, he didn’t wait for Charles’s reaction—he simply turned and walked away.

Charles watched Lucas’s retreating figure—his upright posture, his unwavering determination. Bitterness filled Charles’s mouth.

He wanted to tell Lucas that what happened back then wasn’t his fault. That he shouldn’t carry the burden of Anson’s nightmares. That he deserved a life of his own. But as the words reached the tip of his tongue, he swallowed them.

Such empty reassurances carried no real weight.

Helplessly, Charles closed his eyes.

---

Anson returned to the Walk the Line set just twenty-four hours later. After missing only a single day of filming, the lead actor was back on set.

The production resumed smoothly.

On the surface.

But beneath the surface, an undercurrent of whispers and sidelong glances surged through the set. A strange atmosphere spread in hushed conversations and exchanged looks.

This was the second time.

Not long ago, Anson had shown up to set looking like he hadn’t sobered up from a hangover. Back then, the crew had gossiped endlessly, speculating about what had happened.

Now, a similar situation had happened again.

And this time, the rumors were getting even wilder.

Some claimed that the night before, Anson had lost himself so deeply in the role that he couldn’t tell if he was Anson or Johnny Cash. That he ran out of the hotel in the middle of the night, chasing after June Carter.

Some said he had become so immersed in the character that he couldn’t separate fiction from reality, that he had gone mad in his hotel room.

Some even whispered that his method acting had gone too far—that he had lost touch with reality and had spent the entire previous day in a mental hospital.

The last time rumors spread like this, most of the crew had dismissed them as ridiculous PR stunts. They weren’t children—they knew how Hollywood worked.

But now, it had happened again. And this time, the tension on set was undeniable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. It was impossible to ignore.

Because the film itself didn’t lie.

Looking at the footage they had captured, Anson’s performance was becoming more and more intense—not just realistic, but eerily authentic. He wasn’t just acting anymore. His presence on set wasn’t just affecting his own performance; it was pushing his co-stars, including Reese, to new heights. He had even inspired director James Mangold multiple times.

Everyone had seen it with their own eyes.

It all made sense now.

Even if they didn’t want to believe it, they had no choice.

Looking back at Walk the Line’s early production days, rumors had already spread that Anson had spent months sneaking into bars with a guitar, immersing himself in Johnny Cash’s world. That his unforgettable performance at the Grammys had only been possible because he had already become Johnny Cash.

The struggles, the challenges, the setbacks—when viewed in hindsight, everything fell into place.

Ah. So that’s what was happening.

Now, seeing Anson back on set was like seeing Johnny Cash reborn.

The entire production was watching him, surrounded by hushed voices and silent stares.

No words were needed.

Their eyes said it all.

*Chapter 1403: A Break in the Clouds*

From the early stages of preparation, the production faced numerous challenges. After years of setbacks, they finally began filming, believing they had weathered the storm. But just as they were ready to start, a new wave of disasters struck, leaving no room to catch their breath.

Start, stop, stop, start.

One unexpected event followed another, to the point where the crew had given up resisting and simply resigned themselves to the storm.

After experiencing so many setbacks, they stopped being surprised by each new one.

However—

The truly remarkable thing was that while chaos plagued the production behind the scenes, everything on set flowed seamlessly.

Since that fateful night when Anson "became too immersed in his role," rumors had spread that he was suffering from severe dissociative episodes, requiring constant medical care. Yet, Anson fearlessly returned to the set and threw himself back into the role. From that moment on, filming progressed smoothly.

It’s no wonder the rumors were so detailed—because it seemed as though Anson had truly unlocked a deeper level of acting mastery. His performance was so layered and profound that it fully embodied Johnny Cash’s spirit. Not just the other actors, but even producer James Keach was completely in awe.

Everyone on set knew that Keach had been a close friend of Johnny Cash. Not only was their relationship deeply personal, but Keach was also the sole authorized producer of Johnny Cash’s biopic. He prided himself on being an expert on Cash, frequently giving input on the script, performances, and even costume design.

To Keach, Johnny Cash was irreplaceable—an immortal legend.

Though he never openly criticized Anson’s performance, Keach never held back his opinions when speaking to director Lucas. He was always straightforward and unfiltered.

Yet, this same Keach was now sitting quietly, completely captivated by Anson’s performance. He would stare at the monitor for hours, lost in thought, as if transported back in time with Johnny Cash himself.

No words were needed.

Keach’s expression alone spoke volumes.

It’s no wonder that more and more people on set believed Anson had truly become lost in his role. His method acting had led him deep into Johnny Cash’s psyche—a phenomenon seen before with legends like Robert De Niro and Daniel Day-Lewis, who also struggled to separate themselves from their characters.

And now, it was Anson’s turn.

During this period of filming, the story focused on Johnny Cash’s darkest, most painful years—his descent into chaos, his struggle against despair. Anson had fully immersed himself in that world, slowly losing himself in Cash’s torment and suffering.

Amazingly, whether on or off camera, the crew could see the transformation happening. After each scene, Anson seemed to shed his usual bright and carefree aura, instead carrying the weight of darkness. His unsteady steps and distant gaze reflected Johnny Cash’s internal battles.

It was impossible to ignore.

Without realizing it, the entire crew had been transported back to the 1950s and 1960s.

Under Anson’s influence, everyone—actors, staff, extras—came together in complete harmony, making the filming of Walk the Line unexpectedly smooth.

No matter what problems arose off set, the moment the camera started rolling, the cast and crew locked in and executed each scene with remarkable efficiency.

Initially, the crew had worried that the constant setbacks would delay the production by at least a month. They whispered among themselves, concerned that falling behind schedule was inevitable.

For big-budget films like Spider-Man or Titanic, a one-month delay was common. Some films even extended production by six months or more. But for a mid-budget biopic like Walk the Line, designed for awards season, a one-month delay could be disastrous. In Hollywood’s well-oiled production system, small-scale projects rarely faced such delays—when they did, it usually signaled major problems.

Delays often meant creative struggles, conflicts on set, or an overall lack of cohesion among the cast and crew. For a film like Walk the Line, an extended delay would likely spell failure.

And yet, all predictions were proven wrong.

Not only did Walk the Line avoid delays—it actually wrapped filming *ten days ahead of schedule*.

Ten days!

Considering that the production had already started two weeks late, the fact that they still managed to finish early was nothing short of miraculous.

Even the crew members, who had witnessed the entire process firsthand, were left in disbelief:

*How did we pull this off?*

With this realization, their admiration for Anson only grew.

The answer was clear—it was all because of him.

Looking back at the frustration and complaints from before filming began, it all seemed like a lifetime ago.

By every measure, Walk the Line had become one of the most significant projects of Anson’s career.

Before filming started, skepticism surrounded him. Various factors had led to widespread doubt, pushing the criticism of Anson to new heights.

Oblivious to it all, Anson’s unpredictable actions continued to cause headaches for the production, almost as if he was deliberately testing Hollywood’s patience.

These issues made the filming process more challenging than expected. However, as work progressed, Anson methodically shattered each doubt, proving his dedication to acting. Even in the wake of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’s massive success, he continued to demonstrate his ambition and artistry.

*Actions always speak louder than words.*

More than any PR campaign, more than any interview or promotional effort, his work on Walk the Line spoke for itself.

Though the wider industry didn’t yet understand, the Walk the Line crew had already felt the shift. When they looked at Anson now, they saw a completely transformed figure.

Soon, word began to spread.

In Hollywood—a place no bigger than a small town—news travels fast.

But outsiders refused to believe it.

Walk the Line was the first project under Forest Pictures, a company owned by the Wood brothers. Everyone knew this, and they assumed the rumors were just Lucas Wood’s attempt to boost Anson’s image.

“Obviously fake,” they scoffed. “If you believe that, you’re a fool.”

*Chapter 1404: The Final Sprint*

Anson—an actor, method acting, completely immersed in his role, and so dedicated that he moved the entire crew to tears?

No one would believe that… right?

Ha.

Anyone with half a brain could see that this was clearly a classic Hollywood PR move, designed to reshape the image of a so-called "pretty boy" idol.

After all, this is Hollywood—where method acting is the norm.

Yet, amid all the skepticism and sarcasm, the crew of Walk the Line saw things differently. They stood by their perspective with unwavering conviction.

With an open and honest expression, Cody Carver admitted, "I didn't like Anson at first. To be honest, I don’t like any of Hollywood’s A-list actors—they’re all spoiled brats. So, on the first day of shooting, I badmouthed Anson behind his back… and got caught red-handed."

Cody didn’t hold back.

On the first day of filming Walk the Line, Anson had disrupted the entire production schedule by heading straight to the recording studio, throwing everything into chaos. Cody made no attempt to hide his disdain and openly complained about Anson behind his back—never expecting that this incident would mark the beginning of an unexpectedly good collaboration.

Not only did Anson not fire Cody, but he also took the criticism in stride, even joking about it with the crew.

As the shoot progressed, Cody gradually realized that even though Anson had delayed production on the first day, he wasn’t acting out of arrogance. In fact, he was preparing for the film and his role with a meticulous dedication that became evident in his performance.

These behind-the-scenes moments remained vivid in their memories, easy to recall even after filming wrapped.

And it wasn’t just the first day.

"Think about it—yes, this film is a Forest Pictures production, and Lucas Wood has never hidden his protective stance toward his younger brother."

"But now that filming is over, we’re no longer on set. Everyone talks trash about their boss—come on, a job where you can't complain about your boss isn’t a real job. I could rant about Lucas for an hour. No—two hours, easy."

"So why would I lie to defend some high-and-mighty Anson?"

"If Lucas hands me a $3,000 check, I might consider it."

Laughter erupted.

Cody was surrounded by a lively group of friends—some sitting on chairs, others on the floor, a few standing off to the side. Each held a bottle of beer, their expressions relaxed, their banter lighthearted and filled with teasing remarks.

This was a private gathering of Hollywood industry workers, all of whom were involved in filmmaking.

To outsiders, Hollywood and the movie business seemed glamorous and full of mystery. But in reality, it was just a job—no different from any other. People like Cody and his peers were the real backbone of the industry.

After all, only a tiny fraction—the top 1%—made it to the peak of the Hollywood pyramid.

That’s why industry gossip spread so quickly between film sets.

But these were seasoned professionals who had spent years in Hollywood. They weren’t easily fooled.

"$3,000? Cody, your price is a little low," someone teased.

Cody widened his eyes. "Hey, that's six months' rent! I’m very valuable."

The group roared with laughter.

"Cody, who knows—maybe you’ve fallen for Anson? Don’t worry, we won’t make fun of you."

The laughter wouldn’t stop.

Cody silently raised his middle finger.

"Come on, Anson is a nightmare—a walking, talking headache. I admire his dedication to his craft, but he caused us so many problems."

"Let me tell you—right from day one, we had to reschedule shoots because of Anson. We had to relocate at the last minute. And on the very last day, when we thought things were finally on track, this gentleman surprised us yet again."

"No, even on the final day, this guy was still the thorn in our side. He just had to shake things up one last time."

All eyes turned toward Cody.

Sometimes, behind-the-scenes stories were more entertaining than the actual film.

Cody, satisfied with the attention, lifted his chin slightly.

"That day, we were filming the final scene of the entire movie at Folsom Prison—the legendary concert Johnny Cash performed there."

Now, let’s rewind a little—to the days leading up to the wrap of Walk the Line, when the entire crew traveled to California’s second-oldest prison, Folsom Prison.

Built in the 1920s, the prison was still operational, but in recent years, it primarily housed inmates serving lighter sentences. It was considered a lower-security facility.

So when the Walk the Line production team reached out to request permission for an on-location shoot, the prison authorities responded positively.

After all, Folsom Prison had achieved legendary status across North America, thanks in large part to Johnny Cash’s 1968 live album recorded there.

Back in the ‘60s, Cash’s request to perform at Folsom Prison was seen as shocking, even scandalous. The idea faced intense opposition and logistical challenges. But he persisted, overcoming every obstacle to become the first artist in history to perform a live concert inside a prison.

A small concert—one that would change not just music history, but also the history of North American prison reform.

Following the event, Cash released a live album of the performance, which went on to become the most successful and celebrated record of his career.

The album didn’t just revitalize Cash’s career, selling three million copies across North America—it also gave a voice to the marginalized and left an indelible mark on both music and social history.

One of the most well-known stories from that night involved an inmate named Glen Sherley, who had written a song about the prison chapel called Greystone Chapel. The prison chaplain passed the song along to Cash.

The night before the concert, Cash listened to the song and was deeply moved. The next day, during his performance, he sang Greystone Chapel live.

Sherley, sitting in the audience, had no idea this would happen. When he heard Cash singing his song, he was overwhelmed. It was a moment that changed his life.

After his release on parole, Sherley—thanks to Cash’s support—became a country music artist.

So when it came time to film Cash’s biopic, recreating the Folsom Prison concert was an absolute must.

Director James Mangold scheduled this crucial scene as the film’s final shoot—a grand finale before wrapping production.

Folsom Prison welcomed the team with open arms.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. But, as Cody had pointed out, problems had been present from the very first day. And they didn’t stop, not even on the last day.

So… would it be fair to call that consistency?

---

*Chapter 1405: Dazed and Confused*

“You have to understand, that’s a prison!”

“Even though the prison had agreed to let the crew film, our movement was restricted—we couldn’t just wander around. But somehow, we lost track of the film’s lead actor. The entire crew was dumbfounded.”

“Where did Anson go?”

“You can imagine how panicked I was at that moment.”

Even now, looking back, Cody still felt shaken. But at the time? It was pure chaos.

Cody vaguely remembered himself running around like a headless chicken, searching frantically but to no avail. Amid the panic, it was Reese who had a moment of insight.

Technically, Reese had already finished filming all her scenes. She could have wrapped up and left. However, she had chosen to follow the crew all the way to Folsom Prison.

The plan was to spend two days there filming the remaining scenes, officially wrapping up the project. With the finish line so close, Reese didn’t want to miss the final stretch, so she decided to stay.

Amidst the confusion, Reese suddenly thought of the meeting room—

Even though that area wasn’t part of the prison spaces made available to the crew, that was where the warden had welcomed them. Today, it had been cleared out and prepared for filming.

With no staff or bystanders lingering there, it was the perfect place for someone seeking solitude.

Sure enough, Cody and Reese found the missing leading man in the meeting room.

The room had a window with iron bars. Peering through it, they immediately saw Anson sitting on a bench, cradling his guitar and plucking at the strings.

“Anson!”

Cody pounded on the door, the sound echoing loudly in the empty space. Yet, Anson didn’t even look up. His head was lowered, completely absorbed in his playing, as if his entire being was focused on the guitar strings.

Cody froze.

He called out several more times, but Anson still didn’t respond. It was clear that he could hear them—he just didn’t care to acknowledge them.

Cody was at a loss.

What now?

Desperately, he turned to Reese for help.

Reese’s expression was serious. She called out to Anson as well but got no response.

Thinking for a moment, she tried again.

“John. Johnny!”

Anson remained lost in his trance, utterly oblivious. Reese had hoped using the name “Johnny” would snap him out of it, but even that didn’t work.

Still no response.

Reese patted Cody’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll be right back.”

By the time Reese returned with Lucas, Cody had shouted himself hoarse.

Watching Anson so intently, Cody felt more than just worry—he felt a creeping sense of unease, a chilling fear. It was as if he were witnessing something demonic take over Anson’s body. No matter how much noise he made, it couldn’t reach Anson. His soul seemed to be floating somewhere else, on another planet entirely.

That thought made Cody’s skin crawl.

Lucas arrived, breathless from hurrying over. But he didn’t start shouting—if both Cody and Reese had failed to get Anson’s attention, what difference would it make if someone else tried?

Besides, this was a prison. They could simply notify the guards or the warden. Every door had a key. They could just unlock the door and walk in—there was no real cause for concern.

What truly worried Lucas was Anson’s state of mind.

This wasn’t just a case of an actor getting too deep into his role. If it were, calling out “Johnny Cash” should have snapped him back. But right now, Anson looked like he had slipped into another realm entirely, his mind drifting aimlessly through the void. It was unsettling.

A shadow of doubt and dread settled over Lucas’s heart.

“Quiet. Everyone, be quiet.”

Lucas finally spoke, silencing the group and restoring stillness to the space.

As they listened closely, they could hear Anson humming—

A soft, delicate tune.

Gentle yet sorrowful, his voice painted a picture of a soul slowly breaking apart, floating through endless darkness, fading away.

Cody was stunned. Reese, too, stood frozen.

Earlier, they had been too preoccupied with their frustration, too eager to snap Anson out of it. Though they’d noticed him strumming his guitar, they hadn’t truly listened.

So, Anson… was composing music?

Wait a minute—could it really be that he had left the entire film crew hanging in Folsom Prison just so he could lock himself in the meeting room and write a song?

That sounded ridiculous. Like a joke so absurd that no one would laugh.

But then, Cody remembered something.

Before Walk the Line had even started filming, there had been a moment just like this.

That realization brought him back to his senses. Following Lucas’s lead, he quieted down and truly listened.

There were no lyrics, only melody.

No soaring vocals, only humming.

Everything felt so still, yet unwavering.

It didn’t matter that the air in Folsom Prison was heavy and cold. It didn’t matter that the people outside were desperately trying to reach him. Anson remained immersed in his own world.

And then—

“Ah… No time…”

A soft murmur, pulling at the heart.

Though barely a whisper, it was enough to make one’s chest tighten, to tear open wounds buried deep in the soul.

Pain seeped through his voice, spreading, filling the room, sinking deep into their chests, dragging them down.

Down, down, further down.

Like a soul in freefall, plummeting through infinite darkness.

Tears welled up in Cody’s eyes.

A sorrow. A confusion. A profound sense of loss.

In that moment, they were adrift in the vastness of the universe, utterly lost. Confronted by the enormity of existence, they felt their own insignificance—tiny, powerless, swallowed whole by time and space.

Standing there in the meeting room, was that really Anson?

Or Johnny?

Or just a weary, wounded soul, wandering alone through the cosmos?

No further explanation was needed.

As others from the crew arrived, they, too, fell silent, mesmerized by the scene before them.

The warden arrived with the key.

But Lucas held up a hand. “Please—could you give me a moment?”

The others didn’t understand.

Lucas struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Anson… he needs space. And time. That’s why he came here alone. It’s his way of asking for it. We should give him that.”

“The filming can wait. You all should go. I’ll stay here and keep him company.”

His words were vague, but Reese understood.

She had witnessed everything firsthand—she knew what had been happening on set. As Anson’s co-star, she had been watching.

Turning to the others, Reese spoke up. “Let’s go. Give Anson some space. A short delay won’t affect the schedule. We still have time.”

Following her lead, the crew quietly left, until only Lucas remained.

He stood outside the meeting room, watching Anson in silence.

Anson, still cradling his guitar, still lost in his song.