Vi - Arcane

{Year is 60s}

Your dream had always been to become an actress - to shine like a star, to be seen, to be wanted. You thought the industry was full of artists, people who lived and breathed their craft, who created beauty simply because they had to.

But dreams are just that - dreams. And Hollywood?

Hollywood eats dreamers alive.

Your family never supported you. The idea of a woman making her own way disgusted them. "Why work when you could marry a rich man? Why struggle when you could be kept?" That was all they ever said. But you had already made up your mind. You endured the grueling auditions, the fake smiles, the long nights practicing lines in the dim glow of your bathroom mirror.

And finally, after all that suffering, you got your first role.

It was a supporting part in a film backed by one of the biggest production houses in Hollywood. Everyone knew their name. They controlled everything - the movies, the magazines, the awards. This was your chance to prove them wrong. Your family, the world.

You thought you'd made it but that was just the beginning.

---

You had heard the whispers, of course. The stories about men in expensive suits and women in tight dresses with glassy, vacant eyes. The casting couch, the promises, the way the lights could burn you if you weren’t careful. Whispers that says "women only rise by satisfying men". Disgusting.

But you told yourself you were different.

You were young, fresh, barely out of girlhood when you walked into this world. And at first, everything went just the way you wanted. The cameras loved you. The audience adored you. Your name was starting to hum on the lips of industry giants.

But then the rot set in.

Rude co-stars, cruel directors, men who looked at you like you were a thing to be passed around. And worst of all - your boss.

He was powerful, untouchable. He invited you to dinner, to private meetings, to discuss your future. You always declined with a polite smile. Then the gifts started. Dresses in boxes tied with silky ribbons. Jewelry that caught the light like a trap. Roses, so many roses, their petals curling black at the edges.

You ignored it.

Because in Hollywood, if you say no too loudly, you’re done.

But then one night, after a shoot, he caught you alone.

The air was thick with his cologne as he invaded your space. A hand on your waist. Fingers brushing your jaw, lingering, testing. A low chuckle when you flinched.

He thought you’d be like the others. That you’d understand how this works.

You wanted to run.

But where?

He controlled everything. The contracts, the media, your career. One word from him, and you’d be nothing.

So you did what so many before you had done.

You let him.

It didn’t last long. It never did with men like him. A hand pressing, a mouth whispering sickly sweet promises, the weight of his body crushing, suffocating. You stared at the ceiling, at the glow of the city outside the window, and let yourself disappear into it.

He kissed your forehead when it was over. Called you his star.

And you told yourself it was just once.

Just once.

After that evening, when you got home, you stood in the shower for hours, throwing up many times. You had crying fits whenever you thought about it.

---

Days later, he sent a contract to your agent. You were to model for a high-profile magazine spread - except the concept was all wrong. Dark lipstick. Silk sheets. Lace barely covering your skin. A Lolita fantasy for the masses.

You weren’t given a choice.

Because when men like him invest in you, they expect something in return.

And you?

You were supposed to be grateful.

---

But someone else had been watching. Her name was Vi.

Vi wasn’t just an actress - she was a force of nature. She had climbed to the top of Hollywood without ever bending to men like him. She directed, she modeled, she fought tooth and nail for every ounce of respect she had.

And when she found out what your boss was planning, she lost it.

She stormed into his office, her boots hitting the ground hard with every step. The door slammed so hard it rattled the walls. Without hesitation, she threw a thick folder of contracts onto his desk.

"What the fuck is this?!"

Her voice was sharp, venomous.

"You think you can turn a girl into a goddamn toy and sell her to the highest bidder? You think no one’s gonna stop you?"

Her jaw was tight, her hands curled into fists. "I don’t do this job to entertain men’s sick little fantasies. And neither will she-"

The boss leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Then - he smiled as he interrupted her.

"She’s already agreed to it."

Vi’s body tensed, her shoulders squaring as if she was ready to lunge across the desk and rip the truth out of him. But before she could, the door opened.

And you walked in.

You weren’t supposed to be there. You had come for something else entirely - a meeting, maybe, or just an escape from the world outside. But instead, you stepped straight into the storm.

Vi turned at the sound of your footsteps. And when her eyes met yours, something in her face shifted. She saw how tired you look, she saw your empty eyes...she can already guess what was going on.

The rage, the fire - it softened.

"Tell me you didn’t sign it." Her voice was rough, urgent.

You just looked at her with those empty eyes. She understand that you signed the contract. She watched you give the contract to the boss like you were a robot and being controlled

Not the press.

Not the agents.

Not the world that wanted to paint you as something fragile and breakable.

Vi.

She believed you but you...

She watched you with disappointed eyes. You didn't understand why such a famous person would care about you. She didn't say anything... just watched you. You had become the person you didn't want to be.