?<strong>Chapter 636:</strong>


    The sound carried a gentleness that made her instinctively lower her guard. She turned, puzzled, her heart still pounding.


    A young man stood a few feet behind her. His silver hair gleamed under the sunlight, falling effortlessly across his forehead.


    He looked no older than eighteen, with a mischievous smile that yed at the corners of his lips. A diamond stud in his left ear caught the light, glinting like a yful wink.


    He was tall and lean, dressed in a crisp white Loewe T-shirt beneath a stylish jacket. A small teddy bear dangled from his shoulder bag, adding a quirky charm to his otherwise polished appearance.


    Carrie studied him, her brow furrowing slightly. She removed her sunsses, her voice soft but guarded. “Can I help you?” He looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember who exactly he was. Her gaze lingered on his hair, perhaps because the silver reminded her of Soren.


    The young man’s smile widened, his expression lighting up with excitement. “It’s really you! I knew it!” His cheeks flushed as he gazed at her, his eyes sparkling like he was meeting a lifelong hero. “I’m a huge fan. I absolutely love your scripts and the role you’ve yed.”


    As he spoke, he fumbled around for paper and pen, eventually finding a marker.


    He held out the marker to her and lifted the hem of his pristine white T-shirt, revealing the expensive fabric with a grin. “Would you sign this for me?”


    gα?ησν????s﹒c??m has it all


    Carrie blinked, hesitating. Her eyes flicked to the T-shirt, recognizing the logo immediately. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a limited edition from Vic…”


    Signing on a T-shirt worth over twenty thousand dors didn’t seem right.


    The young man waved off her concern. “Yeah, it is. But who cares? A shirt’s just a shirt. Your signature will make it priceless.” Carrie was momentarily lost for words.


    “This is Isonridge, after all,” she mused inwardly, “where even the fans casually wear designer brands like it’s no big deal.” She uncapped the marker with practiced ease and signed her name, adding her pseudonym, Katrina, in elegant strokes. “Thank you for your support,” she said warmly, handing back the marker. “I’d love to chat, but I’ve got to go.”


    “Got work waiting for me.” The young man’s excitement didn’t waver. “Will you be in more dramas soon?” he asked eagerly.


    Carrie nodded, her tone candid. “There’s a new script almost ready. I’ll be acting in it, but probably not as the lead. I’ve started my own mediapany, so the spotlight will likely be on a neer.”


    The boy beamed. “I’ll support you no matter what!”


    Just then, Camille appeared in a flurry of energy, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement. “Carrie! The audition’s about to start—why are you still out here—”


    Her words trailed off as her eyesnded on the young man. Her expression shifted immediately, lighting up with curiosity and something bordering on admiration. “Well, hello there! Where did this pristine young mane from?” She tilted her head, giving him an appraising nce. “He’s even more handsome than the neers we’ve signed!”


    Before anyone could react, Camille stepped closer, her tone suddenly yful. “Hey, handsome, ever thought about bing an artist?”


    The young man’s blush deepened, his silver hair brushing against his cheeks as he looked away, clearly flustered.


    .


    .


    .