"Boss, the Pokémon League Film Festival is about to start. When are we going over?" Zoroark asked as it glanced at Edward. Edward, however, was focused on his phone. On the screen was a headline:
[Alien's Box Office Surpasses Two Billion! Three Billion Within Reach, Ghost Films Productions' New Patent Sparks Moviegoing Frenzy!]
Edward scrolled further down and saw more news articles, but nearly all of them revolved around Alien. That left him somewhat speechless.
[Alien Slaughters the Competition, Film Industry in Turmoil]
[Renowned Director Brandon Pitt States: Ghost Films Productions' New Patent Is a Game-Changer for the Entire Industry]
Just seeing those headlines gave Edward a headache.
"You go ahead and book the tickets first," Edward muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The constant barrage of sensational headlines was wearing him out. No—on second thought, it wasn't just the headlines. It was that certain people in the industry had finally lost their patience.
Even though Edward had been busy with the Unova sci-fi film contest these past weeks, Alien had been dominating the theaters, smashing records with an impressively high screening rate and raking in box office revenue. The film was undeniably eye-catching.
But with success came trouble.
The more money Edward made, the more envious others became. If this went unresolved, the situation would turn dangerous. Sooner or later, rival forces would want nothing more than to destroy Ghost Films and snatch away his precious new patent for themselves.
"Alien's Fear Points…" Edward glanced at his system panel. The number had already soared past 150,000, nearing 160,000. Considering it took around 80,000 to trigger one lottery draw previously, hitting 160,000 meant he could roll again.
If he could pull something useful this time, maybe he'd have a way to counter this looming crisis.
"Zoroark, how's the internal research going? Is the company's R&D department making progress with popularizing the patent?" Edward asked.
He hadn't just sat around waiting for the lottery. After obtaining the patent, he'd immediately had Zoroark send it to Devon Corporation's research division to see if they could replicate the technology, design new cameras, and mass-produce them. That way, the problem might resolve itself.
He wasn't against letting his patent revolutionize the industry. After all, unless he could monopolize the entire film world—which was impossible—this outcome was inevitable.
"Boss, word from R&D is… they've hit a wall," Zoroark admitted helplessly. It wanted badly to help, but the patent was just too bizarre. The head researcher even joked that stumbling upon this patent was like having a lottery ticket smack you in the face while walking down the street—five identical bets, all hitting the jackpot.
It was absurd.
Or like a meteorite falling from the sky, cracking open to reveal a pile of gold. Pure dumb luck.
"I see," Edward exhaled. He hadn't understood much of the technical jargon himself, but even his layman's perspective could tell it was fiendishly complex. Expecting the team to replicate it so soon was unrealistic.
"Looks like I'll have to rely on the lottery again," Edward murmured. If the draw didn't help, his only other option would be to divide and pacify rival companies one by one.
Just then, Zoroark brought over the flight details. The ticket was for tomorrow morning. The awards ceremony was scheduled for the day after, so the timing was perfect.
Edward wasn't particularly concerned about most awards—Best Screenplay, Best Actor, and so on weren't his priority. What he truly had his eye on were Best Picture and Best Director. If he secured those, his reputation would skyrocket.
"Boss, you seem really invested in these awards?" Zoroark poured him tea. Edward had been about to message in the group chat but paused at the question, setting his phone aside.
"Not that invested. But to prevent certain people from constantly using this against me, I need some official recognition," Edward said, sipping the tea before setting it down.
Left to his own devices, he wouldn't care about trophies or honors. Audience approval mattered far more. But the endless noise from detractors accusing him of chasing fame without accolades was grating. Better to silence them with hard proof.
Zoroark recalled the online backlash earlier and nodded. True—without some titles to his name, the haters would never shut up.
The next morning, Edward boarded the plane and headed straight for the festival's venue.
[Alien: 168,241 Fear Points]
Without hesitation, he triggered the lottery.
[You obtained: Extraordinary Lens – Youth Edition]
[Extraordinary Lens – Youth Edition: A cheaper, simplified version of the Extraordinary Lens. Provides immersive effects, though not as strong as master-level Cinematography.]
Edward let out a relieved sigh. Thankfully, the system had provided exactly what he needed. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to quiet the industry's complaints. Unless rival directors could capture legendary Pokémon to power their own films, they wouldn't surpass this anytime soon.
With the issue handled, he felt much lighter. He leaned back, closed his eyes briefly, and gazed out the window at the passing clouds, lost in thought.
…
This year's festival was held in Ecruteak City in Johto—a seemingly ordinary city, though not without its peculiarities.
"Ecruteak, huh? Hopefully nothing strange happens there," Edward muttered. The city's Bell Tower, home to the legendary Ho-Oh, made him uneasy. His luck with legendary Pokémon had been consistently troublesome.
He quickly shook his head. Impossible. Ho-Oh was far too busy playing cameraman across the skies to linger at the Bell Tower. Even if it was there now, it would surely be gone by the time of the ceremony.
"Ho-Oh…" Edward yawned.
When the award day finally arrived, nothing unusual happened. Edward exhaled in relief.
"Boss, there are so many people today!" Zoroark said excitedly. Edward glanced around, then straightened his suit. For once, he was dressed formally—an obligation for such events, lest gossip spread.
"Not too bad. Daniel, I imagine your schedule's packed lately?" Edward asked his actor.
This time, he hadn't brought a large entourage—only Daniel and Zoroark. The rest of the crew were comfortably watching from a five-star hotel courtesy of Edward.
"Yes, Boss, the schedule's been busy. But if you're filming, I'll always make time," Daniel replied respectfully. Edward chuckled. No matter how many times he told him to relax, Daniel always treated him this way.
"I'm not shooting anything right now," Edward waved him off.
He had plans for Ju-On, but given Daniel's rising star image, Edward didn't want him associated with horror films just yet. It might hinder his momentum.
Although Edward looked forward to the festival, once inside, he quickly found it dull. Endless flattery, self-congratulations, industry schmoozing—it was tedious. Still, thanks to releasing the Youth Edition lens yesterday, plenty of people approached him warmly.
"Director Edward, your new patent is truly remarkable," an old man said, smiling as he sat beside him. Edward turned, startled, then hurriedly greeted him.
It was none other than Director Kirk Kelpie—a legendary filmmaker who had directed countless masterpieces and introduced theories that shaped modern cinema. In short, a giant of the industry.
"Director Kirk, you flatter me. I'm unworthy of such praise," Edward said modestly. Facing such a senior, he didn't dare posture.
In truth, he deeply admired this man. Kirk was, in many ways, a composite figure of several legendary directors from Edward's past life—most prominently Alfred Hitchcock.
"Haha, don't be so modest. Your patent is fascinating! Even I, an old relic, feel tempted to return and shoot another film!" Kirk said with a hearty laugh. Edward's eyes lit up instantly.
Kirk was a world-renowned master of suspense, his works celebrated everywhere. Sadly, he had retired at sixty, claiming he'd earned enough and deserved to enjoy life.
But now… he wanted to come back.
"Director Kirk, would you consider joining my company? I'll finance everything—you pick the script, the cast, and direct however you like," Edward said eagerly. If Kirk agreed, it would be an unbelievable coup.
Kirk fell into brief thought. He hadn't lied; the patent truly intrigued him. As a director, he could see its revolutionary potential. The chance to test it in his own film stirred his long-dormant passion.
"Really, only financing? No strings attached?" Kirk asked. Edward nodded firmly.
Kirk hesitated. He'd grown weary of meddling financiers who dictated casting or forced product placements. Their interference had been part of why he retired. But if Edward genuinely meant hands-off funding, then he might finally create the film he truly wanted.
"Haha, in that case, I'll trouble you. I'll be sure to deliver a worthy piece of work," Kirk said with a smile. Since the patent came from Edward, it felt right to collaborate. And Edward, as Devon's heir, clearly had the resources to back his word.
The two exchanged contacts and even added each other as friends. Edward was about to continue chatting when the award ceremony officially began, forcing him to pause.
Meanwhile, Kirk glanced at his phone. A while back, a friend had sent him an intriguing script. He hadn't touched it, given his retirement, but now…
"Rear Window, hmm?" he whispered with a faint grin. He'd read the script before—it was clever. But now, with the new technology, he envisioned an entirely different way to bring it to life.
On stage, the announcer declared:
"This year's nominees for Best Screenplay are Unit 743, Crisis, Buried, and As the Gods Will. Please welcome guest presenter, Director Kirk Kelpie!"
Edward perked up. He'd only watched Crisis and As the Gods Will. Unit 743 had abysmal ratings, so he hadn't bothered.
(End of Chapter)
TN: Alfred Hitchcock is legendary director who died in 1980 and Rear Window 1954 is film directed by him. We going pretttty old here.