1186-1190

Chapter 1186: Absolute Surprise

*Media Composite Score: 77*

*Surprise, absolute surprise!*

Although it didn’t ignite a wave of praise like a 99 score, Elephant’s return to the North American market managed to turn the tide of its reputation, delivering an impressive and satisfying performance.

From the score alone, it’s clear that controversies remain. This is obviously not a universally adored work, but the intrigue surrounding the debate only piques curiosity. Under the cover of such a composite score, praise and affirmation undoubtedly dominate. So, how will the general public perceive it?

Surprisingly, the audience score was revealed early.

As mentioned before, the so-called "audience score" is compiled from surveys filled out by moviegoers immediately after leaving the screening.

This score reflects the preferences of the general public more directly than any other metric—

- Master and Commander: B.

- The Butterfly Effect: A.

Clear as day, audience scores indicate audience preferences. That The Butterfly Effect became a box office hit isn’t surprising.

Typically, however, audience scores are limited to films with a wide release.

1. They require a large enough sample size.

2. The scoring organizations primarily collaborate with major chain theaters.

As a result, films shown only in art house cinemas during limited screenings rarely receive audience scores. Some films go through their entire run without one.

Then came the unexpected—

Elephant received an audience score.

This event caught the attention of major outlets like The New York Times and The Los Angeles Times, prompting immediate reporting.

According to these reports, despite its limited release, Elephant sold out every single screening, providing enough data for an audience score. For the first time, a reference score was issued.

However, the scoring organization issued a special note: *Data from limited screenings is for reference only.*

The key takeaway is that during limited screenings, the feedback primarily comes from film enthusiasts, die-hard fans, and professionals, differing slightly from general audience responses.

Even so, the audience score was dazzling—

*A-.*

*Media outlets gasped.*

Despite understanding the caveats surrounding limited screening scores, seeing this grade left journalists stunned.

Many doubted their eyes.

  The Cannes Echoes Resurface

In an era without social media, real-time feedback from the Cannes Film Festival wasn’t accessible to everyone. Unlike today, when film fans worldwide can virtually "attend" Cannes through live updates, seven months had passed since the festival before Elephant’s limited screenings brought its discussions back into the limelight.

*Viewer Comments:*

- “The film transforms an ordinary day into something extraordinary.”

- “Innovative! The collective silence depicted through calm cinematography reflects societal realities, making the school a microcosm of society.”

- “Gus Van Sant’s use of camera work deserves more attention. I believe he intentionally infused a touch of warmth to offset the brutality of violence.”

- “The editing flows seamlessly. The blend of piano sequences with gaming visuals finds a connection in contrasting styles, using montage to reveal hidden power. Gus Van Sant is brilliant!”

- “In some ways, it reminds me of Michael Haneke’s work, examining how media operates between film and reality. Gus Van Sant shows early signs of mastery.”

Now that these comments have surfaced, many realized that even at Cannes, amidst the controversies, praise for Elephant was already prevalent.

As time has passed, the film’s impact has only grown.

Reflecting on the Cannes experience months later, with time to process and distance from the bombardment of daily screenings, Elephant stands out in memory for its lasting impression and thought-provoking content.

- “This year’s main competition had many great entries, but Elephant lingers like Dogville.”

- “I didn’t like Elephant at Cannes; it left no impression. But now, it’s the one I think about most. I need to see it again.”

- “I’m a staunch Dogville fan, but Gus Van Sant’s understated approach shows depth and breadth.”

  A Brewing Storm of Curiosity

With other Cannes hits like Mystic River and Dogville already rolling out, audiences finally have their chance to judge these films for themselves.

Elephant has sparked a fresh wave of debates, excitement, and curiosity, and even media outlets, initially dismissive of its box office prospects, are now intrigued. Could its weekend screenings truly deliver a surprise?

The idea alone was electrifying.

While The Butterfly Effect’s box office success stunned everyone, Elephant was widely expected to remain a niche artistic triumph. Now, it seemed poised to challenge expectations.

The thought of Elephant achieving even modest box office success alongside its Palme d’Or win was enough to ignite widespread interest.

  Anson’s Indifference

Amid the buzz, Anson remained detached.

Avoiding news and social media while temporarily shutting out his agents Edgar and Eve, Anson escaped the Hollywood bubble. He focused entirely on his craft, immersing himself in his role while savoring the theater scene in New York.

It wasn’t until Saturday that Anson suddenly remembered—

Elephant had opened in theaters!

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1187: Family Activity

Lucas Wood stared at Anson, speechless, scrutinizing him up and down. Though he said nothing, his expression said it all.

Anson met his gaze calmly. "Don’t hold it in too long—you might hurt yourself."

Lucas glanced at him with a blank expression but couldn’t help himself after a brief pause. "Are you seriously carrying your guitar everywhere?"

"What I mean is, coming home for Christmas looking like a vagabond was already shocking enough. Now you're heading to the cinema with a guitar on your back. What's going on?"

Anson replied earnestly, "Of course. Otherwise, how can I fully embody the role?"

Lucas sighed. "Even Johnny Cash wouldn’t take his guitar to a movie."

"Maybe not," Anson conceded. "But Johnny would never go anywhere without his guitar. You never know when an opportunity to perform might arise."

"Even at the movies?"

"Even at the movies. The inconvenience is the whole point. Like getting dirty looks on the subway because your guitar takes up space, or accidentally bumping into someone at a coffee shop, only for the staff to suggest you take your coffee to go."

Lucas stared at him, incredulous.

Anson shrugged. "See? If you haven’t experienced it, it’s hard to imagine the struggles of not having your instrument when an opportunity arises—or the challenges of carrying it from city to city looking for those opportunities."

"I need to be with my guitar at all times to truly experience the chain reactions its presence creates."

Lucas studied Anson for a moment, then said, "So, what? You think this method is dumb? I admit, it’s clunky, but I don’t know any other way to do it."

After a pause, Lucas smirked. "No, I was just thinking—you’re fully an actor now."

Anson dramatically clutched his chest, pretending to be deeply moved, wiping invisible tears from his dry face, his expression exaggerated to the point of absurdity.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "This guy."

Ignoring Anson’s antics, Lucas changed the subject. "So, you’re sure about this, The Elephant?"

"Watching one of your movies every holiday—last year it was Catch Me If You Can, this year it’s The Elephant. Is this becoming a family tradition?"

Anson chuckled. "Like watching It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas?"

Lucas imagined the scene and couldn’t help but smile. "You’d better start making some uplifting films, or Christmas might turn into Halloween."

"Haha!" Anson laughed heartily. "I’ll try my best. This one’s an exception."

"I hadn’t planned to come to the cinema, but I’m a little worried about the box office this time."

"The director told me his last film only made $250,000 in theaters. Even though the studio didn’t expect it to be a moneymaker, that kind of result still stings."

"So for his next project, he partnered with HBO. Directors usually don’t like working with TV networks—it’s not glamorous. But he didn’t want the studio to take another loss."

Lucas nodded in understanding. "But didn’t this one win awards? That should help, right?"

"Winning awards is one thing; box office success is another," Anson replied.

"The director told me about his next project—he wants to film skateboarders in a park in L.A., pushing even further into exploring how cinema bridges the gap between art and reality. But getting funding for that will be just as tough."

"So I thought, maybe we could contribute a little to the box office ourselves."

Lucas considered. "Did you forget? We have our own production company."

"I mentioned that to the director," Anson said. "But he told me this project is a 99% money-loser, with little chance of making an awards run. He doesn’t want to sink our new company by investing in something unprofitable and unnoticed. If that were an option, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck’s fund could help, and the director wouldn’t be struggling."

"He’s hoping The Elephant’s success will inspire some wealthy producers to write him a check, dreaming of Cannes."

By this point, the Wood brothers had arrived at the Angelika Film Center—

It was a Saturday afternoon.

The theater entrance was bustling with the usual weekend crowd, not the long lines from the day before. Everything seemed ordinary.

Inside, however, the lobby was unusually quiet.

Lucas glanced at Anson, a bit concerned. He wasn’t a frequent moviegoer and didn’t know what to expect on a Saturday afternoon. But a theater like Angelika being this empty didn’t feel right.

Anson returned Lucas’s look with a furrowed brow, worry etched on his face.

When they reached the ticket counter, Lucas asked, "Two tickets for the next showing of The Elephant, please."

"The 2:45 screening is sold out," the cashier replied cheerfully. "Would you like tickets for the 3:00 show?"

Lucas blinked.

Anson leaned forward. "Did you just say 'sold out'?"

"Yes, all screenings so far today are sold out. The 3:00 show is over 90% full, so you might want to arrive early for good seats."

Anson blinked again.

Lucas looked at Anson, confused. "I thought you said the box office was struggling?"

This time, Lucas took over. "Can I ask—why is it so busy? I didn’t think this kind of film would draw much of a crowd. Or is it just this theater?"

"Starting yesterday, it’s been packed. Not just today—pre-sales for tomorrow are already over 50%. It’s got to be the Anson Wood effect."

"If you’d been here yesterday, the place was overflowing. Most tickets for today were sold out yesterday, so the lobby’s quieter now. Even we were caught off guard by the demand."

Lucas and Anson exchanged bewildered looks, utterly unprepared for this turn of events.

"Would you still like tickets for the 3:00 show?"

"Yes. Two, please," Lucas replied.

"Enjoy your time at the Angelika."

As they took their tickets and turned to leave, the brothers were still at a loss.

Lucas broke the silence. "Does this mean the director doesn’t need to worry about the box office anymore?"

Anson shrugged, spreading his hands. "You can’t predict art-house film performance. But I’m pretty sure the director doesn’t know about this yet."

So, selling out screenings—this is a good thing, right?

*Chapter 1188: Utter Silence*

Gradually, the Angelika Film Center became lively.

Audience members for the 2:45 PM screening began to arrive, their faces brimming with anticipation and excitement. Their body language alone conveyed their eagerness, and the chatter in the air vibrated with palpable energy.

By protocol, the audience from the previous screening should have already left. However, the theater remained eerily still. Staff members had to open the theater doors and gently remind everyone that the screening had ended, finally prompting some movement.

Compared to the eager energy of the waiting crowd, the departing audience seemed quieter. The two groups briefly intersected in the lobby, exchanging a few comments, but soon moved on their separate ways.

This scene caught the attention of the Wood brothers, leaving them slightly puzzled.

But Lucas didn't have to wait long to understand.

---

When Elephant ended, Lucas remained seated, unmoving and silent.

The screening room was filled to over 90% capacity; the empty seats stood out starkly. At that moment, everyone remained motionless, as if rooted in place. The end credits rolled slowly across the big screen, reflecting off wide, unblinking eyes, while emotions surged quietly in their minds.

*Utter silence.*

Such silence is both a blessing and a curse.

The dark reality is that the events depicted in the movie continue to play out in real life. No one can predict when or where they will happen again.

The silver lining is that the film provokes thought, forcing people to confront uncomfortable truths.

Anson was no exception.

Watching Elephant again, the same waves of shock, helplessness, and despair surged within him. Some tragedies never dull with repetition. At the same time, a great work like this reveals more layers with each viewing. Its cinematography, lighting, and sound design weave an invisible net that seizes the heart and tightens its grip, leaving one gasping for air.

It’s hard to fathom that the events depicted represent just another “ordinary” day—one so mundane it’s unsettling.

Of course, everyone knows that ordinary days are rarely truly ordinary.

Yet, for Anson, the film’s focus wasn’t on the climactic final 15 minutes. Instead, it lay in the subtle currents of unease captured in the first half.

Under Gus Van Sant’s lens, he exposed the hidden undercurrents lurking beneath the surface of seemingly peaceful routines.

The harm? It had already begun.

Injury is not limited to visible bloodshed or physical violence.

Prejudice.

Discrimination.

Apathy.

Turning a blind eye.

These are even more powerful than the stormy climax of the film.

Imagine if Peter Parker had never been bitten by a radioactive spider and gained superpowers in Spider-Man. What would his life have looked like?

He’d be just another geek, no different from the countless overlooked students in Elephant. His visible and invisible wounds would remain, as would those of so many others.

This is why, when tragedy strikes, people often fixate on the most superficial elements—like weapons. It's the same as shouting "Expelliarmus!" in the Harry Potter films. Yet, if the root cause isn’t addressed, disarming is merely a temporary fix.

But solving root causes? That’s unimaginably hard.

Why do people only see surface-level issues and avoid delving into deeper truths?

Because it’s difficult.

Even the wisest struggle to offer solutions. In the face of overwhelming challenges, people often rush to contain immediate crises, buying precious time to prevent things from spiraling further.

Unfortunately, time and again, they fail—watching helplessly as the world burns.

That is the cruelest and most disheartening reality.

Does Anson have an answer?

Regrettably, no.

Realizing this truth, a suffocating sense of helplessness and despair descended over him like a massive shadow.

---

And so, Anson sat in his theater seat, staring at the now-blank screen, listening to the faint sounds in the air. His breathing slowed and softened, his heartbeat resonating in his chest, igniting a quiet blaze amid the smoldering wreckage of his thoughts. Slowly, inevitably, he sank into the vast, inky darkness.

Only when the Angelika Film Center staff gently reminded the audience to leave were their fragmented, wandering souls pulled back to reality.

In a daze, Anson and Lucas stepped outside into the crisp winter air. The lazy sunlight of a New York winter warmed their skin slightly, grounding their muddled, weightless thoughts. They finally realized they were standing outside the theater.

Now, they understood why the previous audience had behaved the way they had.

---

Scattered across the steps outside the Angelika Film Center, small groups of people lingered.

Some engaged in heated debates, voices rising in fervor. Others sat quietly on the steps, gazing at the slivers of sky visible between Manhattan’s skyscrapers. A few softly comforted companions visibly shaken by the film.

Though their reactions varied, the impact was evident in each individual.

Clearly, these viewers had grasped the message Gus Van Sant sought to convey.

Lucas noticed Anson’s footsteps falter, his gaze resting on the young audience members. A mix of emotions—grief, frustration, and reflection—swirled in his eyes.

“Anson...” Lucas called gently.

Anson forced a small smile. “I was just thinking, what can we do? How can we mend these wounds, address these issues?”

“People hope for superheroes in real life—like in Hollywood movies—to descend from the skies and solve everything effortlessly.”

“But we all know they’ll never come.”

Lucas pondered for a moment. “Keep creating. Keep speaking out. Keep making meaningful films like this one. Anson, you’re on the right path.”

Anson glanced at Lucas. “Really?”

Lucas met Anson’s gaze and nodded sincerely. “Yes.”

Anson chuckled. “Lucas, even though I know you’re just trying to comfort me, I need it. At least it reminds me that I’m doing something.”

Lucas tilted his chin slightly. “At the very least, you made me think. You know, someone like me—a capitalist—rarely thinks beyond profit.”

“Haha.” Anson laughed, his mood visibly lightened by Lucas’s earnestness.

Anson surveyed the scene. “Lucas, sit with me for a while?”

Lucas grimaced at the sight of the steps but followed when Anson sat down.

Unexpectedly, Anson opened his guitar case, pulled out his instrument, and rested it on his lap. His fingers brushed the strings with ease and purpose.

The notes danced under his touch, chaotic and anxious at first, reflecting his unsettled mind. Gradually, the music coalesced, transforming into a steady stream of resilience and clarity—a quiet but unyielding force flowing through the air.

Chapter 1189: Quietly Waiting

Silence, soothing and ethereal, like countless fireflies flitting up and down in an impenetrably dark night. Their faint glimmers sketch the shape of the night, as all the noise, clamor, and restlessness fade into the shadows. Thoughts ripple and spread gently within the fluorescent glow.

The sound of a guitar string is so pure, so clean, so crystalline. It vibrates in those long, broad hands, humming out a melody—neither hurried nor sluggish.

On the streets of New York, cars come and go, noise surges like waves. The roaring engines, the angry howl of the subway beneath the feet, the hurried crowd spilling snippets of phone conversations, and the curses of a homeless man quarreling at the crossroads—all form a cacophony of urban life.

In such a clamor, even ordinary conversations on the streets demand a raised voice, almost an argument, to communicate clearly. This is true in Phone Booth and Uncut Gems alike.

Yet precisely because of this chaos, a small stream of tranquility stands out all the more.

Like a ray of golden sunlight piercing through the noise, breaking the fog, and quietly illuminating a tiny corner of the city—solitary, forlorn.

Unconsciously, scattered gazes begin to gather.

In those gazes, the figure appears oblivious to the raging noise around them, simply sitting quietly in their corner, wholly absorbed.

There’s no singing, no vocals, only the melody of a guitar. Soft sunlight shimmers like ripples across the Mediterranean's tranquil surface.

The melody captures the ear. The surge of chaotic emotions slowly sinks into the depths of the sea.

Though there are no lyrics, no singing—just pure guitar playing—an undercurrent of sorrow and loneliness flows through the notes. The world falls silent in its presence. The noise and tumult remain, yet the heart finds a refuge amidst the bustling city.

Gently, gently, thoughts sway along the rhythm, like waves.

In a haze, it feels like stepping back into the movie Elephant, wandering aimlessly through the campus alongside "Anson." The aimlessness and confusion of youth, the repression and frustration of life—it’s disheartening. Vulnerability seeps out inadvertently but is quickly concealed in a flurry of panic.

Like a bird with no feet, flying and sleeping in the wind, never daring to stop—for the moment it lands, life will meet its end.

Then, a soft breeze carries a gentle, murmuring song, humming lightly amidst the babbling streams:

“When the nightmares come, remember to stay awake. Baby, close your eyes. I’ll bear the weight. If you prepare to speak, I’ll hold back, turning into a song—just a song.” (Be the Song - Foy Vance)

So light, so tender. The breeze kisses the face, like the gentle sunlight of early summer mornings. It falls slowly. Unconsciously, one lifts their chin, closes their eyes, and bathes in it; yet in its caress lies a delicate, sharp ache—a pain so fine it moistens the eyes.

But why?

A moment late in realization—it’s not tearing but healing.

As wounds heal, it turns out they too can hurt.

In that instant, breath halts, leaving one frozen in place, motionless.

“Scars deep within the soul, show on the cheek. Darkness hides quietly. Sensory corners retreat. I won’t speak. I’ll hold back, turning into a song—just a song.”

Some moments are so heavy and dark, laden with scars and exhaustion. At such times, even a simple “Hang in there,” or “It’ll all get better,” or “Just keep going,” can feel burdensome. Reality isn’t a movie; no protagonist simply fights harder and overcomes.

In endless darkness, even merely enduring demands every ounce of energy and effort.

Thus, he wouldn’t say “hang in there.” He wouldn’t utter encouragement, spout hollow clichés, or share profound truths. He wouldn’t even let the other person know he’s silently staying by their side, offering support. It didn’t matter if they didn’t notice. He would keep standing behind them, praying silently, letting the melody flow.

Until one day, when they’d finally weather the hardest and darkest times, when they’d rediscover their strength and lift their head again—he’d appear ahead.

With a smile and open arms, he’d continue to protect them.

Then, they’d walk forward together.

Actions always speak louder than words; melodies possess the power to break barriers and touch souls.

A thousand words, swirling thoughts, chaotic and tumultuous, struggle to find accurate expression. Even comforting words feel pale and powerless.

Thus, Anson composes with his heart and writes with his soul, sitting quietly in the corner, softly humming and silently praying that the fragments of melody reaching others might offer them a moment of peace.

There’s no fiery passion, no surging adrenaline, no climactic high notes. Yet, in its unpretentious simplicity, it resonates deeply, returning to its essence.

“Torrents flow between the peaks and valleys of the soul. Darling, you occupy every corner of the canyon.”

“Torrents flow between the peaks and valleys of the soul. Darling, you occupy every corner of the canyon.”

Closing one’s eyes, taking a deep breath, the fullness of the pain emerges.

Lucas was a mess.

He couldn’t believe that Anson’s childhood memories had completely vanished. Even if Anson were truthful in claiming he remembered nothing, the scars remained, rooted deep in his soul like a haunting nightmare.

Lucas couldn’t imagine the pain Anson endured to avoid that part of his past, erasing it from his subconscious entirely, as if it never happened. But the cruel reality is, it did happen. The harm was done. And his brother was never the same again.

The world, so serene, yet so turbulent, sees the battered soul within sprinting desperately, trying to escape the darkness. The bright, tender melody transforms into a powerful force, driving the body forward—faster, and faster—until the dawn finally seems within reach.

The singing fades, leaving only the gentle strumming of guitar strings, like waves lightly lapping, healing wounds.

Unnoticed, the crowd outside Angelika Film Center has fallen utterly silent. Those standing or seated pause entirely, drawn by the melody. In the bustling Manhattan chaos, they find a moment’s refuge, giving scattered thoughts space to breathe.

For no reason at all, tears well up, making one feel utterly embarrassed. A quick, frantic swipe of the corners of their eyes reveals a big, awkward smile, attempting to mask their emotions.

The curious part? Even they can’t explain where the tears come from.

Once hurriedly wiped away, the gaze returns to the source of the guitar’s sound. The gentle pull of the wound deep in the heart brings a faint sting, tugging the soul out of numbness and rigidity, allowing it to feel life’s pulse once more. Like surfacing after holding one’s breath underwater for too long.

The yearning for life awakens in the blood.

Then, the tears return—but this time, there’s no effort to wipe them away. Through a blurred gaze, they watch the scene, their lips curving into a full smile.

(Note: The song “Be the Song” by Foy Vance is referenced in this chapter.)

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1190: Endless Night

At this moment, they were all the same—a group of souls lost in anger and sorrow.

"Elephant", a film like no other, carried far more than just bloodshed and death. Long before the tragedies unfolded, the scars were already there. Those feelings of loneliness, desolation, confusion, and fragility engulfed them, leaving them gasping for air. They tried to cry out for help but could only swallow the bitterness in their mouths, wandering aimlessly and drifting to unknown corners, left to fend for themselves.

For this reason, when the film ended, they couldn’t find their voices—

Life is cruel like that. There are no answers.

Even now.

In a fleeting moment, a clean and pure melody seeped through the noise and chaos, gentle and serene. It softly touched the deepest corners of their wounds. The slight sting of being pulled back into reality dragged their souls out of the void. Before they even realized it, they were lost and immersed in the melody.

Quietly, the sound of the guitar strings flowed gently.

The world fell silent.

On the steps in front of Angelika Film Center, a small world took form. Wounded and scarred souls gathered here in silence.

*"Then as you run, far from my gaze,

I will appear, in this silent night."*

*"But I won't speak, not until dawn breaks,

Turning into a song, just a song."*

Carrying their scars and pain, they trudged forward in the darkness, barely able to stand, gasping for survival. The agony, torment, and struggles were destroying their souls.

Yet, in the endless darkness, a melody continued to flow—a gentle and resilient tune healing the wounds and infusing strength. It guided them to find a ray of light in the infinite chaos.

He wouldn’t come closer, but he wouldn’t leave either. He was just there, quietly keeping watch.

He wouldn’t force inspiration, nor would he sink into despair. He simply stood there, steadfast and resolute.

Patiently waiting, silently keeping them company, walking alongside them through the abyss.

In an instant, their hearts were struck fiercely. All their armor, masks, and defenses fell away, allowing emotions to surge forth uncontrollably. For once, they let themselves be weak because they knew they weren’t alone, because they understood they wouldn’t walk this path in solitude.

That voice hummed softly:

*"Turbulence flows through the peaks of my soul,

Beloved, you’ve filled every corner of the canyon."*

*"Turbulence flows through the peaks of my soul,

Beloved, you’ve filled every corner of the canyon."*

Over and over.

Again and again.

A faint warmth coursed through their hearts, slowly filling the chasms, scars, and dark corners. They closed their eyes involuntarily, drifting in the melody, their tense nerves and muscles gradually relaxing.

At the end of "Elephant", Anson and his father stood at the campus gates, staring at the explosion near the gymnasium. Flames consumed the sky, but they neither ran nor reacted, having lost the ability to respond.

However, his father walked over to stand beside Anson. He raised his right hand, intending to pat Anson’s back, but hesitated awkwardly before lowering it again, choosing instead to stand quietly by his side.

No one knew what the future held.

They weren’t heroes, nor were they particularly wise. Life had far too many problems and far too few solutions.

So they would continue to wander, lost and confused.

But at least, they wouldn’t face it alone.

*"Turbulence flows through the peaks of my soul,

Beloved, you’ve filled every corner of the canyon."*

Once. Again.

Unconsciously, their eyes grew moist.

Then, a ray of sunlight broke through, falling over Angelika Film Center, its warm glow easing their tense bodies.

The world lit up.

The performance ended.

*Clap, clap, clap.*

Applause erupted sporadically from all directions—not loud or overwhelming, but scattered and irregular. Yet, within it, one could feel the strength and warmth behind each clap. Eyes brimming with emotion focused on the guitar strings, unable to contain the surging waves in their hearts.

Lucas watched his younger brother silently, softly calling out, “Anson.”

Anson looked over, his gaze questioning.

Lucas had countless words stuck in his throat, unsure how to express them. His eyes showed a mix of struggle and pain.

Catching this, Anson chuckled softly and smiled faintly. “Lucas, I’m fine.”

Lucas didn’t believe him.

Anson was about to explain that the melody was inspired by the movie—or more precisely, by the audience who were so deeply immersed in the film. It was meant as a small comfort for these lost souls.

But before he could speak, a passerby interrupted.

“Thank you. Thank you for this performance.”

Someone approached, prompting Lucas to turn awkwardly to hide his expression.

Anson greeted the newcomer with a gracious smile, appearing at ease.

But as one person came, more followed. Anson suddenly found himself overwhelmed, with no time to dwell on his thoughts. Lucas managed to regain his composure.

“I love this song.”

“Did you write it for ‘Elephant’?”

“What’s the song’s name? Who’s the artist?”

“What? You wrote this yourself? No wonder I’ve never heard it before.”

“Thank you. You saved my afternoon.”

Chatter filled the air, the crowd bustling around Anson.

Lucas’s sentimental mood quickly dissipated under the sunlight and commotion. He glanced at Anson, utterly exasperated—always the center of attention, no matter where!  

But the important thing was that no one suspected Anson’s true identity—not one person.

They thought he was just a street performer, or perhaps an ordinary viewer. No one connected him to Anson Levien.

This made the scene even more astonishing. Even if he wasn’t Anson, even if he were just a stranger—or Llewyn Davis—it would still be impossible to ignore his presence.

Lucas caught Anson’s pleading glance and reluctantly stepped in to help manage the crowd. Despite rolling his eyes, he stepped forward to take control of the situation.

“The next screening is about to start. Are you planning to watch it again?”

With a small reminder, the crowd’s attention shifted back to "Elephant". Should they rewatch it? Or continue discussing it here? They shouldn’t lose sight of the moment—their thoughts were born from "Elephant", after all, weren’t they?

Gradually, their focus shifted away from Anson.

Anson discreetly wiped away sweat.

In broad daylight, unlike in the tavern, a single misstep could expose his identity. He wasn’t keen on causing unnecessary chaos.

Finally, the crisis was averted.

Just as Anson was about to call Lucas to leave, he noticed someone still standing there even as the crowd dispersed. The figure wore a timid smile, their tear-filled eyes glinting faintly in the sunlight.

Their gaze met Anson’s. The person offered a small wave, tentatively greeting him.

“Hey.”

End of Chapter.