"Director Edward, welcome to the Unova region. I am George Pickett, a judge on the committee for this year's science fiction film competition."
George smiled warmly as he extended his hand. Edward looked at the middle-aged man before him, returned the smile politely, and shook his hand.
Edward studied him carefully. George's complexion was pale, almost unnaturally so, like someone recovering from an illness.
For some reason, Edward couldn't shake the feeling that this judge looked strangely familiar. He was certain he had seen him somewhere before, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall where. It was a vague yet nagging sense of familiarity.
Still, this was their first meeting. Edward could hardly blurt out something rude like, "Why do you look so pale? Did you eat or drink something bad?" That would have been far too abrupt. So instead, he kept his thoughts to himself, smiled, and followed George inside the committee's offices.
Though called a "committee office," in Edward's eyes it wasn't much different from an ordinary company office building.
The only real difference was that there were fewer people around, and at the front stood an enormous screen. Edward even suspected that these people spent most of their free time just sitting there watching films.
"Director Edward, to be honest with you, before you arrived I went to see your latest film—Alien," George said cheerfully as he poured him a cup of tea. His secretary also prepared a cup for Zoroark.
"Oh? And what did Judge George think of it?" Edward asked, genuinely curious.
Alien had just premiered today, and he had come to Unova specifically to present it to the judges for evaluation—hoping it might win the grand prize of the competition.
If it did, Edward already planned to donate all of the prize money to charity foundations to help more people. The image of those poor souls kneeling outside the charity offices weighed heavily on his heart.
But what surprised him was that George had already watched it. Edward had assumed the judging panel would gather together to screen the movie formally, pausing in between to discuss details.
"It was excellent. The use of new technology made the film all the more striking, and your command of visual language has become increasingly mature."
George's praise was high. Edward smiled and thanked him.
Of course, one person's opinion couldn't decide the fate of the grand prize, but at least it showed his work had left a strong impression on one of the judges. It was, at the very least, a good start.
"However, Director Edward, I am curious. The way you depicted space in Alien—what did you base that on?" George asked, his eyes filled with interest.
Beyond the alien monster itself, what impressed him most was the way Edward portrayed the environment of outer space: weightlessness, the silence of sound unable to travel, and other subtle details. None of these were emphasized through exposition, yet they were woven in so naturally that they left a lasting impression.
As a member of the science fiction judging panel, George had a decent grasp of the field. But in this world, exploration of the cosmos was still at a purely theoretical stage. Many competing theories circulated—some even still swore by flat-earth notions, which was ridiculous but oddly persistent.
"This?" Edward paused a moment before answering. He knew perfectly well what space was truly like. In his previous life, humans had already landed on the moon and even begun exploring Mars, so he had no shortage of real knowledge.
But in the Pokémon world, research had progressed slowly, largely due to Rayquaza's dominion of the skies. Much remained speculative guesswork, with little verified fact.
So, Edward simply smiled and explained, "I actually invited professors from Hoenn University—specialists in astronomy and rocket science—to serve as consultants. That's how I came to understand these things."
When he first conceived of Alien, Edward had anticipated questions like this, so he had prepared his answers long in advance.
"No wonder. In my view, your film holds very strong science fiction value. By wrapping it in a horror film's shell, you also draw more general audiences into theaters—while quietly spreading scientific concepts," George said with genuine enthusiasm.
Edward nodded along with a pleasant smile, occasionally adding a word or two.
By now, he was used to this kind of exchange. After months of covering for his father's position, Edward had grown accustomed to meeting all sorts of people every day and conversing smoothly with them. Now, he could make anyone feel like a spring breeze in his company.
And truthfully, he enjoyed these discussions. The earlier he established such scientific "settings" in the public mind, the more he could capitalize on them later. When the League finally broke through to the stars and began truly exploring the universe, his film could enjoy renewed attention. Even if it was long out of theaters by then, he could still profit from DVD sales or streaming views.
He had never been overly concerned about money before, nor was he obsessed with it now. But these earnings provided a means to help struggling families, so he welcomed the chance to earn more. After all, the more he made, the more people he could help. All the while, the revenue from Devon Corporation he never touched—only the profits from his films.
"Still, Director Edward, with the kind of wildfire success Alien is about to see, you will inevitably face many challenges ahead," George said meaningfully.
Edward nodded in acknowledgment. He understood what George was hinting at.
George didn't press the issue. After all, he barely knew Edward. He spoke only from the perspective of a critic and someone half within the film industry. He admired Edward's work and didn't want to see him dragged into unnecessary trouble. Though given Edward's background, few would dare move against him, it was better to stay cautious.
Edward himself already had thoughts on the matter. But solving it was far from simple. Perhaps the system would grant him another reward that could help. As for monopolizing his camera technology, Edward wasn't too concerned.
After all, even in his past life, companies that produced lithography machines or semiconductors never kept them solely for themselves. They patented their inventions and sold them to other companies, raking in profits. If they had restricted them for internal use only, they would have made themselves targets of universal hostility.
George's reminder showed that he was a decent person.
As Edward looked at him again, the realization struck. Suddenly, he remembered why George had seemed so familiar.
This judge was the very image of Takeo Saeki!
The hairstyle, the face—it was all the same. Only the neatly trimmed beard had thrown Edward off. But if George let his facial hair grow into stubble, he would be the spitting image of Takeo Saeki himself.
And who was Takeo Saeki? The cause of the malignant spirit from Ju-On, a violent, abusive man—the very source of the tragedies that followed.
Edward had been wondering who could play that role. Now, staring at George, the answer was clear: none other than him!
"Judge George, may I ask… would you have any interest in acting in a film?" Edward rubbed his hands together, barely containing his excitement.
Diantha had declined the role of Kayako because of her status, but finding an actress for Kayako was still manageable. What mattered was expressive performance, strong acting skills, and a willingness to contort oneself for the part.
After all, Kayako often appeared crawling with limbs grotesquely twisted.
If an actress had some rhythmic gymnastics training, all the better. Some scenes even required hanging upside down from the ceiling—easy enough for a short time, but dangerous if prolonged.
But if he could secure George for Takeo's role, that problem would be solved.
"Eh?" George was stunned. Just a moment ago, they had been talking about something completely different. How had the topic jumped to film acting?
"It's like this," Edward explained with a grin. "I'm preparing to shoot a horror film, and I believe one of the roles matches your appearance perfectly."
Zoroark tilted its head curiously at George. To it, the man looked utterly ordinary—a typical middle-aged man. In this era, just keeping one's hair was enough to stand out among peers, and George had managed that. But to Zoroark, he still seemed average. What exactly was its boss planning to shoot?
"What kind of role?" George asked. He found Edward amusing—one moment discussing lofty matters, the next suddenly leaping to filmmaking. No wonder his movies were always so creative. George couldn't help but wonder what he would produce this time.
And truthfully, George was interested in acting. Watching countless films over the years had stirred his own desire to try performing. And of course, acting came with paychecks. He had been eyeing some new fishing equipment, but with most household finances under his wife's control, he needed extra income to convince her.
Of course, there was another way to persuade her—one that was hard on his waist.
"The role is of a man—violent, twisted, with a cruel glare. He brutally murders his wife, then others as well," Edward said, summarizing Saeki Takeo's character.
George went quiet. He wasn't offended by the "twisted" description. Instead, he considered seriously whether he could portray such a role convincingly.
As a critic, he knew better than most the importance of acting. There had been a dark period when the League's entertainment industry valued looks over skill, and as a child he had suffered watching actors whose performances were so wooden they made him want to die of secondhand embarrassment.
Actors who tried to express every emotion with wide eyes. Actors who conveyed everything with one creepy smirk. Actors who treated filming a drama like taking personal photo shoots, staring into the camera constantly.
A true actor must avoid the camera's gaze, not seek it. Unlike trained idols, whose instinct was to find the lens, actors had to act as though the camera didn't exist—even when it was inches from their faces.
For idols transitioning to acting, simply retraining themselves not to look at the camera consumed vast time and effort.
And then there were those with frozen faces, whose smiles looked painfully fake. Such things had left a deep scar on young George's mind. From then on, he had become a sharp critic. Unexpectedly, it turned into a career that now provided him a comfortable life.
The next moment, George lifted his head. His eyes locked on Edward and Zoroark.
Edward froze for an instant—then clapped his hands with delight. That glare, that expression—it was as though Takeo Saeki himself were about to twist Kayako's neck right there.
"Excellent, excellent! Judge George, your gaze is perfect. Exactly what I needed!" Edward beamed. George was truly born to embody Takeo Saeki.
His acting instinct was there, his eyes could radiate menace, and his appearance matched perfectly. It was ideal.
They soon reached an agreement. Edward signed a contract with George, securing him as one of the actors in his upcoming film. A weight lifted from Edward's shoulders.
Ju-On had a fairly large cast. While each installment had a relative protagonist, the true central figures were always Kayako and Takeo. Having solved the problem of casting Takeo, all that remained was finding the right actress for Kayako. Then production could begin.
Just as Edward was about to say more, his phone buzzed. He instinctively pulled it out to check.
The message was from Mewtwo.
[Edward, members of Team Rocket are planning to come to my home. Do you have another place I can stay?]
Edward blinked in surprise. Team Rocket is really that persistent?
Still, he had plenty of houses available…
(End of Chapter)