VIP Ward.
"Hi, Ted."
Howard greeted the action star in the hospital bed with his usual flamboyant charm.
"Hi, Howard. Call me Henry."
The action star, whose real name was Henry Lofkovsky, happily returned Howard's greeting.
There was no helping it.
As a spirited young Jewish man, he had always been regarded by his people as a psychiatric patient. They pitied him, despised him, and looked down on him—but never accepted or respected him.
Yet with Howard, he not only felt accepted, but respected, even envied.
That made him very happy.
He really was a spirited young man. No mental illness, no drug history, no messy circumstances had forced him down this path.
He simply liked it.
Or rather, this was his faith!
And he was genuinely gifted at it.
He had filmed seven movies in a single week, collapsing on set before being rushed to the hospital.
At first, his condition had been unclear, and they had even begun preparing for a liver transplant.
But his line of work was looked down upon.
Dr. Duncan had subtly warned him that, while the transplant committee had no explicit restrictions on paper, its members would never give a liver to someone in his profession.
Even though he cared more about hygiene than anyone else, getting regular checkups every few days and requiring the same of anyone acting opposite him.
But this was the American TV Show World.
They shouted every day about not discriminating, yet open and hidden discrimination was everywhere.
There was so much of it that it was suffocating.
He desperately needed the approval of someone like Howard, a fellow Jew of the same age.
"Is that a new script?"
Howard's gaze fell on the sheet of paper in Henry's hand.
"Yeah."
Henry smiled. "Dr. Duncan has already treated