"Hahaha, good evening everyone. I'm Kirk Kelpie, and today it is my honor once again to stand here and present an award to the rising waves of the film industry~"
Director Kirk stood smiling broadly on stage. Down below, Edward looked at this once-legendary director who had long since retired from the industry. The man was clearly still deeply respected—no sooner had he stepped onto the stage than countless camera flashes exploded like fireworks.
Edward smacked his lips. This… this is what status looks like. No wonder so many people fight tooth and nail for it. When your status is high, life really can feel much sweeter.
The screen behind Kirk began playing highlight clips from the four films nominated in the current category. Out of courtesy, Edward lifted his head to watch.
The first was Unit 743. Edward studied the montage carefully. The editing was quite clever—they had picked some of the film's more polished moments.
"I just don't know if these are the only highlights the entire film has to offer," Edward thought with a wry smile as he leaned back in his seat.
The League Film Festival, after all, was considered the most prestigious and fair festival in the entire Pokémon world. But as long as people were involved, true impartiality was nearly impossible. Backroom deals, exchanged favors, and hidden networks inevitably played a role.
That was why some films entered without any real hope of winning. Their goal wasn't victory, but a nomination. Just being able to brag "we were nominated for Best Science Fiction Film alongside classics like Wandering Planet and Star Voyage—we were just unlucky to lose to masterpieces" was already a form of capital.
In Edward's eyes, Unit 743 carried exactly that kind of hollow meaning. He hadn't seen it yet, but from the reviews alone, it couldn't be anything stellar.
"Wow, boss, I didn't think Unit 743 could even get a nomination. That's insane. The plot was stiff, and the character work was all over the place," Zoroark muttered beside him. Daniel, seated on the other side, nodded emphatically in agreement.
Edward's mouth twitched.
"You two already watched it?" he asked, incredulous. What the hell, why am I the only one here who hasn't seen it?
"I saw it too, boss. The story really wasn't good, and the special effects were terrible. Probably to save money they hired a third-rate effects team," Daniel said quietly.
Edward remembered that strange bird monster he'd glimpsed in a trailer and could only nod grimly. The thing had looked ridiculous.
Just then, Director Kirk's voice boomed again:
"And now, the winner for Best Screenplay—he also happens to be the investor in my comeback film—it's Director Edward Stone!"
For a moment, the entire hall fell into stunned silence. Even the air itself seemed to pause for several long seconds before erupting into thunderous applause and a wave of hushed discussions.
Edward gave a helpless smile. With the cameras already zooming in, he could only adjust his jacket, stand, and head toward the stage.
Even so, most eyes remained on Kirk. He was a veteran, a master of suspense films with a rich legacy of works behind him. Many production companies had tried to lure him back for years, but he had politely refused every offer.
And now… not only was he returning, but under Edward's investment?
"Senior Kirk, those words of yours will be tomorrow's headlines," Edward said as he accepted the crystal trophy, half-laughing, half-helpless.
The award itself was nothing more than cut crystal—its honor outweighed its material worth. Not that Edward cared for its physical value anyway.
"Hahaha, Edward, just don't blame me for stealing your front-page coverage!" Kirk chuckled heartily.
Edward shook his head with a rueful smile, then gave a brief but earnest acceptance speech before stepping down amid waves of murmurs.
The festival moved on, award after award being presented. Edward paid little attention to most of them—his eyes were fixed on Best Director, Best Picture, and especially Best Actor.
After all, although Daniel had become a top star thanks to Sherlock Holmes, if he wanted the rightful title of "Film Emperor," he would need that Best Actor trophy.
"And now, for Best Actor, please welcome Chairman Joel Theisman to present the award!"
The moment the host announced it, Daniel—who had been sitting casually until now—immediately straightened up, his expression taut with nerves. Edward almost laughed at the sight.
"The nominees for Best Actor are: Daniel Clovis in Buried, Donald Gramp in Unit 743, Roco Smith in I Am Legend, and Ben Eleven in The Main Feature!"
Chairman Joel rattled off the names swiftly. Edward liked that. Better than those drawn-out hosts who tried to milk every word for suspense.
"Unit 743 is clearly just here to make up the numbers. If that actually wins, this festival's credibility will be a joke," Edward muttered.
"I know Roco—he was my college classmate. His acting's always been solid," Daniel whispered, hands clenched as the screen began playing highlight reels of each nominee.
Edward had seen I Am Legend. Though busy with his own projects, he still found time to watch films in his downtime. It was a classic rags-to-riches tale of a rookie trainer rising step by step to become champion—though this time, the "champion" was literally the League Champion, which was admittedly a bit over the top.
But the film was billed as a biopic, supposedly based on Leon himself. Given that, it wasn't too far-fetched.
"The Main Feature was pretty interesting too, even if the title was weird," Zoroark added, its exposure to films growing ever broader since becoming Edward's assistant.
Edward mused silently. Though one of the nominees was clearly a filler, the others were stiff competition.
Then the final clip rolled: Daniel in Buried, screaming in despair, then sighing in resignation, accepting death with calm dignity.
"And the Best Actor award goes to… Daniel Clovis, for his role in Buried! A film with only one actor, yet one that buried the entire audience in raw emotion!"
Daniel rose to his feet, ecstatic, and made his way to the stage. Edward clapped warmly behind him.
This man—once nearly crushed by life, once deliberately suppressed—had fought through it all and finally triumphed. Though many said it was Edward who gave him the chance, Edward knew the truth: the root of it all was Daniel's perseverance, his refusal to give up, his constant honing of his craft.
Of course, choosing him as the lead had also been a crucial factor.
"Daniel really had it rough," Edward murmured as he watched his actor, eyes wet and voice trembling, thank him over and over on stage. Zoroark clapped happily beside him.
The following awards—Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress—barely registered for Edward. None of his films had nominations there.
Then came Best Director.
At once, Edward sat straighter. If he could win this, it would finally silence all those internet trolls who mocked him for lacking official recognition.
But when the presenter was announced, Edward blinked in surprise.
"Me? I'm presenting?" he said aloud, confused. Others in the hall were equally baffled—until it was revealed the idea had come from Jim Carrey, the scheduled presenter.
Jim was famous for his pranks, and also one of the greatest comedy actors alive. Yet as Edward walked onto the stage and saw the bearded man smiling beside him, a pang of emotion stirred in his chest.
It was well-known: comedy actors were often plagued by depression. The silent-film master before had been so; Jim, too, was rumored the same. Though he smiled, Edward could see the weariness hidden in his eyes.
"Thank you for letting me present tonight. Honestly, I thought I'd just be sitting below, heart pounding, waiting," Edward quipped as he held up the envelope.
He wasn't nervous. The result was already sealed inside the paper; worrying wouldn't change it. So, he chose to relax.
As the screen replayed highlight reels of the nominated films, Edward tore open the envelope and glanced at the name.
"And the award for Best Director goes to…" Edward deliberately stretched the words, and the hall grew silent in anticipation.
"…the director of Buried, Edward Stone!"
He announced with a grin. Laughter and applause erupted below. Carrey clapped along enthusiastically.
As Edward shook his hand before leaving, he leaned in and whispered something softly. Jim blinked in surprise, then smiled faintly and nodded.
Winning Best Director, Edward no longer minded Best Picture. It was an unspoken rule of the festival: the director's prize and the top film award rarely went to the same person.
And indeed, when the winner was announced, it was not him.
"Of course. It had to be this one," Edward thought knowingly when Earthquake was named. He'd guessed it the moment he saw it among the nominees.
It was based on a real historical disaster from Pokémon League records. As long as it wasn't horribly executed, its victory was guaranteed.
Zoroark agreed. "It was a main-theme film, but honestly very well-made. Starting from a small person's perspective, using the little to show the great—it really brought tears to my eyes."
Edward nodded silently. He too had seen it. It was touching, well-paced, with no forced logic. Worthy of the prize.
And besides, he hadn't come to hoard awards. He had already filled his cart.
When the festival finally ended, Edward yawned. The event had been enjoyable, though far too long. If he hadn't slipped away quickly, they would've dragged him to the afterparty.
"Director Edward."
Outside, he unexpectedly encountered Jim Carrey again. But now the man's smile was gone. He looked tired, weary, almost hollow.
"I'm glad you came," Edward said warmly.
But Jim shook his head, pressing his fingers to his brow. His voice was tinged with apology.
"I'm sorry, Director Edward. I really don't have the heart for movies right now."
Edward said nothing. Instead, he pulled out his tablet and handed it over.
Jim frowned—he had just declined, yet Edward was still pushing. But out of courtesy, he glanced down.
And froze.
The Truman Show.
The title alone piqued his interest. He decided to skim a page. Just one minute.
Then another. And another. Soon he was fully absorbed. As a seasoned actor, he could instantly recognize the power of a script—and this one resonated with him more deeply than he expected.
He had refused because he thought he wasn't suited for Edward's horror works. But this? This was something different entirely.
Looking at the protagonist Truman, Jim suddenly felt a sharp sense of kinship, as though the role had been written for him.
"Boss, are you planning to invite Mr. Carrey to star in your new film?" Zoroark asked curiously.
Edward nodded. That was exactly his intention.
"Director Edward… can I play him?" Jim asked, eyes shining with uncharacteristic fervor.
Edward met his gaze seriously and nodded again.
He had written The Truman Show with this man in mind.
And it seemed he had chosen well.
(End of Chapter)