Accident of Fame [Semi-Open] [Image-Heavy]

[Kyle]

Béthanie
05 December 2025

He staggered around the room as his vision narrowed and blurred. He pushed his left hand against the wall to support his body. Breathe in. Breathe out. Close your eyes.

After what seemed to be an eternity, he opened his eyes. The narrowing, the blur was gone. He took off his supporting hand and he was shocked to see a crimson handprint on the wall. His eyes widened as he looked at his hand, covered in red...

“B… blood?” His left hand was shaking as he moved it nearer to his face to see it closer.

He glanced at his right hand and the glint of the blade caught his eye. His right hand was still clutching a large kitchen knife, blood still dripping from its tip.

He let out a yelp as he dropped the knife. “What have I done?” He muttered. His heart was racing, his confused mind was trying to put pieces of broken memory together.

He looked backwards and his entire handiwork came into full view.

“NO!! Oh my God what have I done??”

His son was lying motionless on the floor. Three large stab wounds opened up his chest and stomach as the blood turned his previously-white T-shirt into red. His plaid shirt was sodden with his own lifeblood, draining out of him and forming a crimson pool on the white tiles.

“My son!” His legs buckled beneath him and he fell on his knees. He crawled towards where his dead son lay down. “What have I done to you? You were the only one I have left…”

He cradled his son’s head onto his arms and gingerly stroked his blond hair. “Please tell Dad you’re still alive, please...?”

His son’s lifeless visage became bleary as tears started falling down his cheeks. “Please, say something…”

He reached for his son’s limp arm and held his hand. “I promise, if you just tell me you’re okay, Dad will stop this habit and I’ll be sober like you me wanted to be…” But it was no use. He could feel the warmth escaping from his son’s hand. “I promise you that…”

He let go of the hand and touched his son’s chin, lifting it up like how a father teaches his son to always hold his head high. “You’re the only one who cared… you don’t deserve this.”

The father wailed loudly as the realisation of his deed sank in. He hugged his son’s corpse tightly, mumbling words of sorrow and despair. “I’m sorry, my son. Dad is sorry. Please forgive me Caël…”

“CUT!”

“… Dad is sorry. I – ”

“CUT!” The director commanded again. “Erwan we will need to shoot that scene again.”

A soft whimper still managed to escape Erwan before he could completely suppress his emotions. He let go of his son’s body. Erwan lifted his head up to look at all the crew around him.

“Why?” He unconsciously wiped the tears off his cheeks, smearing fake blood all over his face.

“You said my name,” Caël opened his eyes to look at his father. Caël was barely suppressing a laugh and was grinning despite wallowing in fake blood.

“Did I?” Erwan asked incredulously.

“You did say Caël,” the soundman confirmed.

Caël started chuckling. “Dad, my character’s name is Brendan.”

“Oh shoot,” Erwan grunted in embarrassment. “I got carried away. I’m sorry, let’s please do another one.”

"UH-OH BLOOPER!" Caël bantered his father.

Everyone burst into laughter.

 

[Kyle]

somewhere near Saint-Nazaire
06 December 2025

It was already past dinnertime and the father and son were still on the road after the long day of filming in Béthanie. The drive from Béthanie to Redon via Autoroute 10 was expected to last three hours. Caël was on the wheel, with his father Erwan sitting on the passenger seat. His father had fallen asleep; he had more scenes to film during the past two days than Caël and so he was more tired.

They had just passed the exit for Saint-Nazaire when Caël noticed his father stir.

“Dad, you ok?”

“Mhmmm.” His father opened his eyes and stretched out his arms. “Where are we?”

“Saint-Nazaire. Halfway to home.”

Erwan turned towards his son. “Thank you for doing this for me,” he mumbled.

“You’re my dad,” Caël chuckled. “You used to take me on long drives when I played youth hockey. You drove me two hours to Saint-Océan just so I can continue the sport… This is nothing.”

His father rubbed his eyes. “Roles are reversed now huh?”

“It’s time for you to enjoy what you love doing after putting us before yourself and your dreams.”

“You didn’t have to get into acting,” Erwan looked at his son to spy his reaction.

“I am enjoying it. Don’t get fooled by mum’s and my sisters’ opinions. We are straightforward with each other. I will tell you like it is. If I didn’t like it, you’d be the first to know.”

Erwan turned his gaze on the road ahead. “I’ve never imagined that I’d be working with my son in my dream job. Yet here we are. What’s more, you are good at it. I’m proud of your acting skills and your work.”

“Thanks dad. I know that you are proud,” Caël glanced at his father, who was straightening up the previously-reclined passenger seat. “You don’t have to validate me just because the rest of the family denigrated what I – we – do.”

“You still hurt by what they said?”

“Still a bit, yeah. The family meeting cleared up a lot of the misunderstanding, but I guess it may take time to heal. I’m not angry at anyone of them now – I just can’t be. I love all of those women to death.” Caël made sure the road ahead was clear before glancing again at his father. “How about you Dad? They blamed you for everything.”

Erwan sighed. It was just a week after their family meeting and this was the first time that Erwan and Caël were talking about it again in person. Erwan did not want to talk to Caël about it, but his son was asking now.

“It’s the same for me,” Erwan replied. “I love them all, but I was so hurt that they blamed me. I would never ruin your – or any of my children’s – lives. Accusing me of that really stung. I think I have ruined you and your sister’s lives enough by not – ”

“Hush…” Caël said in a comforting tone. Caël knew where the conversation was going. Maëlle brought it up again during the family meeting. Maëlle harboured some resentment towards their father for insisting to live modestly on their father’s single income, despite their mother coming from a well-off family. Maëlle accused their father of putting his “masculinity” first before the welfare of the family. Maëlle was the most vocal of them, but Caël had previously sometimes heard Morgane or Kristenn make offhand comments along the lines of ‘If only we had just been well-off…’ As the only other man in the family, Caël understood where his father was coming from. Caël had always cringed and recoiled when he heard these comments, prompting Morgane or Kristenn to take them back. But not Maëlle… her bitterness still lingered. His twin sister brought it up again during the family meeting, making the connection between Caël taking up the project for money and the family’s ‘poor’ upbringing. This was despite Caël telling the family that he didn’t necessarily need the money from the project.

“You did not ruin our lives, Dad,” Caël assured his father. “Don’t you ever think of that… I think it’s great – that you taught us the value of working hard for what we have. I can see my sisters do that. That’s also why I take up work when I can… like these projects you were sending me.”

“I hope you’re not accepting them just because I sent them to you,” Erwan said. “You remembered what I said during the meeting. I was sending all the projects to you for you to decide for yourself. The last thing I’d want to hear is that they accuse me of mishandling your career. Apparently I still did.”

Caël sensed the sadness in his Dad’s voice. “Dad.”

“It’s ‘damn if I do, damn if I don’t.’” Erwan grumbled sadly. “Everything I do is wrong.”

“Dad, no. You didn’t mishandle my career,” Caël assured his father. “That’s what they think you did. But remember, as a talent agent, the opinion that matters the most is your client’s – and that’s me!”

Erwan suppressed a whimper. The two Boënnec men were outwardly tough and stoic when with the women in their family; but between each other, father and son wore their hearts on their sleeves.

“Thank you Caël.”

“Is that where all the emotions were coming from during our filming?”

“Yeah,” Erwan chuckled. “I was letting out all the pent-up anger… I couldn’t scream at your mum or your sisters. Sorry if I had to let it all out at you...”

“It’s just acting! At least it’s a safe outlet for those emotions.”

“Then you were the only one who understood me, both on the story-side and here in real life. It did make me more effective during the filming, because I had raw emotions I could harness.”

“You were bawling on my death scene.”

“Haha, that’s also probably the reason why I called your name instead of your character’s.”

“I so believe it will get on the blooper reel. I can’t wait to see how our new project will turn out!”

 

[Kyle]

Redon, Saintonge
13 December 2025
11 am

“Hey bud!” Fintann eagerly stood up from the couch and put down the game controller, not even bothering to pause his L’appel du Devoir video game. Styrbjörn Refslund has just arrived. Fintann went around the couch to give his friend a brotherly hug. “Good to see you again, Styr!”

“You too,” Styrbjörn replied as he lazily put down a knapsack on the floor of Caël’s mancave.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been here in Redon,” Fintann commented. “Welcome back to our lair.”

The lair is Caël’s basement, where Caël and his best friend Fintann play games in. The ostensibly wealthy Caël Kegelin Boënnec was able to buy a house and lot at the outskirts of Redon. He had converted the basement into a gaming room and a gym – the definition of a mancave. Though Caël’s younger sister Rihann had also moved in as her university was nearer to Caël’s house than their family home, she rarely goes in the basement.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Styr agreed.

“So, you’re staying for the weekend?” Fintann asked.

“Yes I am!” Styr confirmed. “We’re playing games!”

“But before a play games, we must eat,” Caël told them as he held up two boxes of pizza and a container of chicken tenders. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Nah, let’s just eat here!” Fintann said.

Caël frowned a bit.

“Come on! It’s just pizza and chicken,” Fintann told Caël. “We don’t need your fancy cutlery for that!”

“Alright,” Caël then reluctantly put the food on the coffee table in front of the couch.

***​

Over some Santonian charcuterie pizza, meat pizza, and chicken tenders, the three friends caught up with how each other was doing.

“They were so mad at dad and I think they are still somewhat upset,” Caël related the happenings during the past week when his family expressed their strong disapproval of his role in the TV show Ifern.

“I can see why,” Styr jokingly said as he pointed his slice of pizza at their host. “You got assf*cked! They UNLOADED on you!”

“Hey hey, it’s just acting!” Caël protested while laughing.

“That’s what he told me too,” Fintann said in between chews as he half-sarcastically rolled his eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?” Styr continued the banter. He then took a swig of Toki’s that Caël keeps just for Styr’s visits.

“Hey that’s just disrespectful to your host!” Caël facetiously feigned offence as he pointed a finger at Styr. “But yes I enjoyed it!”

“Ack!” Styr let out a gurgling sound as the soda shot out of his nose, startled by Caël’s answer. Even Fintann spat out the pizza he was eating as all three friends bowled over laughing at their banter.

“Caël, you don’t joke while I am drinking!” Styr protested as he blew his nose onto a piece of tissue to let out the residual drops of sugary drink from his nose. “God, I swear you have a mean streak in you sometimes!”

“Me? Mean?” Caël chuckled. “You asked a question. I just answered it.”

Styr wiped his nose with another piece of tissue. “Gosh, Prydanians already think you’re gay.” Styr commented as he picked up a piece of chicken and took a bite. “Now people are going to think that you’re an assf*ck enjoyer.”

“I’ll take it!” Caël said with a grin, causing Styr to spew partly-chewed chicken out of his mouth.

“You’re wasting food, Styr,” Caël jokingly reprimanded his friend who was almost choking after another of his unexpected comments.

“Caël!” Styr coughed a bit before continuing, “Stop making joke innuendos while I am eating!”

“I mean, you kinda walked into it, Styr,” Fintann sniggered as he sipped his Vin Mariane.

“Gah, I will stop then,” Styr surrendered.

After the three young men were finished eating, Caël cleared the coffee table so they could now play games. But instead of game controllers or board games, Styr put a pile of folders on the table.

Fintann was confused. “What is this? I’m done studying.”

Styr waited for Caël to return to the couch before handing each of his friends a thick folder with documents written in legalese.

“What language is this?” Fintann asked as he mindlessly flipped through the papers.

“These are the papers in which you are selling your soul to Styr,” Caël joked. “But seriously, is this about your company?”

Styrbjörn nodded. “Remember I told you that I will be giving a share in Förpack to you guys?”

“Awww, Styr, you don’t have to…” Fintann said half-jokingly. “I am not prepared to be rich!”

“Well, I actually wouldn’t give you a share in my company.”

“WAIT! I take it back!!” Fintann laughed. “I am ready to be rich!”

“Are you ready to pay the punishing Santonian gift tax?” Caël pointedly asked Fintann.

“What’s a gift tax?”

“If Styrbjörn was to straight up give us shares in Förpack, we would have to pay 10% of the value of the shares he will give us,” Caël explained. “I don’t have that money.”

“Caël is right. He mentioned that to me and referred me to Morgane. Morgane then recommended that I talk to some people,” Styr related. “I talked to these consultants regarding it and they said gifting you shares in my company would expose you to the gift tax, on top of the income tax.”

Fintann nodded.

“Still, I wanted to show how much I love and appreciate you guys for everything you did for me here…” Styr clutched a copy of the thick documents. “I might have lost my family in my old country, but you are my family in my new country.”

“Aw,” Fintann muttered. “We aren’t expecting anything in return…”

“But you guys deserve it because you helped me be where I am now… Caël still helped me a lot with these stuff.”

“I’ll let Styr explain the complicated thing,” Caël chuckled a bit. “Even I still don’t understand the entire thing.”

“So, this document is a trusteeship agreement,” Styr began. “This document is about the establishment of the trust and its governing structures under Prydanian laws. I’ve decided to use the Prydanian legal structure – even though we’re all Santonian citizens – is so that they can say that Förpack is owned by a Prydanian entity. The trust going to be called the Gunstveldt-Refslund Family Trust.”

“Is it like how Caël’s mum’s family owns Interflix?” Fintann inquired.

“Yes, precisely like that,” Styr answered.

“This is why I say I don’t own Interflix,” Caël added. “The Kegelin Family Trust manages all the shares of my mum’s family in Interflix and we don’t have a say in running the company. The trustees of the Kegelin Family Trust do the management and members of the Kegelin family only get some sort of dividends or payouts from time to time… to put it bluntly, this is a mechanism for my mum’s family to keep the company in the family’s hands. Otherwise, Kegelins marrying out might give their shares to others; or Kegelins in financial trouble might sell their shares for a quick buck.”

“Ah I see,” Fintann replied. “So this is to keep Förpack in your family?” The realisation sank in. “I… we… are your family… aw… Styr, thank you.”

“It’s also for future generations,” Caël said. “if Styr were to get married and have children, they can simply be added to the trustors.”

“Yes,” Styr started to explain again, “So essentially, when Förpack gets formally restituted to me later this month, I will surrender control of the company to the Gunstveldt-Refslund Family Trust. I still technically own the shares in the company, but the management we will do together as trustees. That’s what these documents are about.

“You guys don’t get to necessarily own shares in Förpack, but instead become a trustee in the Trust. When Förpack distributes dividends, we can then decide how to divide the money. All three of us could get some share… we now only have to pay the Santonian income tax and no longer a gift tax. It’s like we will have some sort of big supplemental income every time Förpack earns money! It might be big but it’s not regular, so personally I would still do a regular job… so we’d still work in your company Caël, and you Caël, you can get to keep acting!”

“I suggest that the money we get would go to our investments, retirement, our home, and other things,” Caël suggested. “I can get my future brother-in-law to help us plan for what to do with the money.”

“Morgane’s fiancé?” Styr asked.

“Yes, Brice is a financial planner at the Caisse Populaire Béthonne.”

“Hm, that’s nice,” Styr muttered and then handed his friends another folder filled with a sheaf of documents. “My only request is that we don’t keep all the money to ourselves but use it to help others.”

“That goes without saying, Styr,” Fintann smiled.

Caël glanced at the paper. “Is this the foundation?”

“Yes, these are the documents for the establishment of the Refslund Foundation, to be incorporated under Santonian laws. We three will be the directors. I would just request that a part of the money we will be getting should go to the foundation. The foundation will be helping orphaned children, especially Prydanian orphans… I don’t want them to experience the same difficulties as I did…”

“That’s so kind of you…” Fintann said.

“We’d be happy to help you in this!” Caël said. “I’ve always wanted to have one such endeavour, but I don’t have that much wealth yet!”

“You lend your celebrity star power, Caël!” Fintann giggled.

“Hey, I am not a celebrity!”

“Not YET,” Styr chuckled. “Anyway, so those are the documents I would want you to go over and sign… If you have questions, I’ll try to answer them, or else I would set a meeting with the relevant people.”

Fintann went back to the first document. “So it’s now the Trust that will run Förpack?”

“Yes,” Styr answered. “Which is essentially us, sort of. We will choose the people to sit on the Board of Directors, use our vote share to elect the CEO and other C-Suite officers, and so on…”

“Good, I don’t know how to run a paper company,” Fintann answered.

“Me neither,” Styr agreed. “That’s why I am keeping Davíð as CEO.”

“You said ‘vote share’,” Caël noticed. “Did you go ahead with the plan?”

“Yeah.”

“What plan?”

“The trust does not own the entirety of Förpack,” Styr explained. “In the process of having the Trust own Förpack, we have stuck to it being a limited company. Ninety percent of the shares will be owned by the Trust.

“I gave two percent of the shares to Davíð in gratitude for persevering to find me and for really, rebuilding the company… this is on top of the pay and bonuses he will get as CEO.”

“Two percent?” Fintann mused.

“Yes, 12 million IBU in value as Förpack stock.”

“Wow,” Fintann murmured. “Where’s the other eight percent?”

“I gave five percent of the Förpack stock in the retirement fund for Förpack employees.”

“Nice.”

“So I asked the workers’ union at Förpack to also establish a Trust. This will be the Förpack Employees Union Trust. This trust will manage the Förpack stock the union owns. They will use this shares to increase the retirement benefits for their members and for mutual assistance. Because it’s a substantial share, they will have another seat in the Board of Directors, aside from the legally-mandated seat for workers. The initial payout from their shares – because the dividends have already accumulated for eight years already – the union will use as seed money to diversify their investments.”

“It would be nice working there then.”

“I think that’s how my grandfather ran the company,” Styr said wistfully. “It’s only right that I give back to the people who made the company successful.”

“And reward them for their loyalty,” Caël added.

“Oh yeah, that too,” Styr remembered. “The rest, the three percent, will be controlled by Förpack for use in the Employee Stock Ownership Plan. So aside from the stocks that the union owns through their Trust, individual employees will also earn stock the longer they work in the company. They can also sell the stock if they are in need of cash.”

“But for all of the outstanding stock that is not uhh… mine, the stipulation is that Förpack will always have the right to first buy it back.”

“So it’s like an employee loyalty programme?” Fintann asked.

“Yeah.”

“All this giving away of wealth and redistribution sounds very socialist,” Fintann joked. “Wealthy capitalist Caël would be very allergic to it.”

“HEY!” Caël protested.

“I want my Employee Stock Ownership Plan too,” Fintann teased his friend.

“I would do that if we were a big company and if Seabee wasn’t a SOLE PROPRIETORSHIP. Also,” Caël frowned, “am I not a nice boss?”

“Just kidding bro,” Fintann clarified.

“Actually, Interflix has similar stuff,” Caël said.

“It’s actually Caël that told me about it,” Styr mentioned. “He was like, ‘would you want to do the same thing to Förpack?’ And I was like ‘yes, that sounds nice’.”

“Aw, you two are very nice people to poors like me,” Fintann joked.

Styr half-ignored the comment. “I don’t care about the money, to be honest. It’s more than enough for me. As long as I have my family and friends, I am content.”