The-Greatest-Showman

Everyone is expecting Renly to fall.

Strictly speaking, this sentiment might be unfair—no one openly desires his downfall—but after he seemingly "owned" the entire world, fatigue set in. The endless adulation grew tiresome, and people began to crave something different. Success had become mundane; failure, on the other hand, was newsworthy.

This phenomenon is common in sports: an undefeated team ceases to be interesting, but the moment they lose, the headlines explode.

More importantly, negativity sells.

So, when paparazzi began spreading damning rumors across Twitter and Facebook, the public was all too willing to believe them.

"I think we should understand Renly. He has done well."

Even the most sympathetic voices carried an undercurrent of pity—an implicit acceptance of his supposed downfall. The Don Quixotes, his most devoted followers, even found themselves questioning reality. Was this the truth?

The Internet's Double-Edged Sword

In the digital age, information is overwhelming, relentless, and contradictory. Praise and criticism collide, intertwining to form a chaotic landscape where truth is fragmented.

Some choose only to see the negative, twisting reality to confirm their cynicism. Others ignore the darkness, painting an illusion of a perfect world. But for those who care enough to search, the truth always lurks within the noise—waiting to be pieced together.

And that is exactly what happened.

Through scattered filming clips, the real story began to emerge. From the initial encounter with the paparazzi to the escalating confrontation, a clear picture took shape. At first, only a handful of photos provided vague hints, but soon, unedited videos surfaced.

The title of the most-viewed video on YouTube? "Animal World."

A ruthless natural order exists in the wild: the strong prey upon the weak, and survival takes precedence over morality. In such a world, there is no compassion—only the instinct to attack, to exploit, to devour.

That's exactly what happened with Renly.

The paparazzi, like scavengers, smelled weakness and pounced. Even as their target lay defenseless, they refused to let go, tearing deeper into the wounds, desperate for the final, fatal bite.

Had reinforcements not arrived, the scene might have turned even uglier.

The Truth in Fragments

Technically speaking, the paparazzi didn't lie. Their reports contained elements of the truth—just carefully curated fragments twisted into a damning narrative. But once the full picture emerged, the accusations lost their sting. The criticisms, the mockery, the judgment—they all felt hollow.

There were no heated debates or fiery defenses; things hadn't spiraled too far out of control. But now, in full context, the paparazzi's aggression was undeniable, and the fickleness of the public stood exposed.

Yet, would the paparazzi apologize? No.

Would netizens feel guilty? No.

Would anything change? Of course not.

People moved on. They condemned the paparazzi with a few angry comments, then forgot all about it. That was all.

The Silence of an Age

The New Yorker published a scathing op-ed, taking aim at the media's reckless pursuit of profit, its penchant for distorting facts, and its utter disregard for truth. In this fast-food era of journalism, integrity had long been sacrificed at the altar of sensationalism.

But the article didn't stop there—it turned its gaze toward the public.

Hiding behind anonymous screens, netizens indulged their worst instincts, unleashing waves of baseless hate. The piece called it for what it was: a disease. An era terminally ill.

"For profit, the Church once burned 100,000 witches; for profit, today's media and public are willing to burn Renly Hall.

Why him? Because he is an EGOT winner, because he has reached the pinnacle of success, because he is an icon. But no one remembers that he is, at his core, an actor who loses himself in every role he plays."

It was a powerful indictment, but it barely made a ripple.

Neither the online nor print edition of The New Yorker generated any significant discussion. Compared to last year's controversy surrounding "Hypegate," or even Blake Lively's latest street fashion photos, it was nothing.

That, in itself, was the most brutal truth of all.

Don Quixote's Death in the Modern Age

How does society kill Don Quixote?

Not just in medieval times, but here, in the 21st century.

No one can blame the younger generation for their increasing pragmatism, for abandoning idealism. After all, in this world, there is no room for dreamers. No space for people like Renly.

The misunderstanding flared up overnight. And once the truth emerged? Silence.

Netizens continued their online existence, lambasting the paparazzi as if they hadn't been complicit just days earlier. They now claimed the moral high ground, conveniently erasing their own missteps.

But the paparazzi? They didn't stop.

When Renly was admitted to the hospital, an army of reporters stormed the premises. Not out of remorse. Not out of concern.

But because a shot of Renly on a hospital bed?

That was another headline.

Another paycheck.

The Beast

Paul Walker had seen enough.

He posted a single song on Twitter: "The Beast."

One lyric stood out: "I will become a beast for you. If the price is high enough, anything goes. And no one will remember the dream."

What dream was that? The dream of being a journalist. The dream of uncovering the truth. The dream of honor in the press.

All lost to time.

Paul, known for his gentle demeanor, had finally snapped. When confronted by reporters, his frustration boiled over.

"Can't you see? Renly poured his soul into his work. He's exhausted, even broken, and yet you still chase him? Why? Can any of you answer that?"

A reporter countered, "But he already won EGOT. Why push himself so hard? Isn't he just asking for trouble?"

Paul laughed bitterly. "Yeah, why? I wonder too. But you'll never understand. That's why you'll never be Renly Hall."

For the first time in his career, Paul Walker walked out of an interview.

He was furious.

The paparazzi had become executioners, ruthlessly driving Renly to the edge.

And the worst part?

No one cared.

The Hospital Room

After dismissing the reporters, Paul returned to the ward.

Renly was still asleep, completely drained.

The doctors had finished their assessment: the wound on his palm was severe, having been torn open twice. Thankfully, no deep muscle damage. He was also suffering from dehydration and extreme exhaustion. His mind and body had been pushed to the brink.

Before the examination even ended, he had slipped into unconsciousness.

Watching Renly rest so peacefully while the rest of the world panicked felt almost ridiculous.

Ryan Gosling sighed. "So, all of us are running around in circles, and he's just… sleeping?"

Paul shrugged. "Let him sleep. The doctor said he needs rest. By tomorrow, he'll be back on set, acting like nothing happened. Might as well let him enjoy one good night's sleep."

Rooney Mara nodded. "They gave him a sedative. His body needs to reset.

Looks like tonight's party is officially postponed."

And just like that, the storm raged outside, but inside this hospital room, all was quiet.