Edward sat quietly in his office, typing away at the script for Shutter. Since he had already invited Diantha to join the project, naturally, he had to complete the story outline for it—after all, this would be his next movie.
As for Tomie: Unrestricted, Edward planned to shoot that one only after Shutter was done. He'd still need some time to prepare the sets and other production details anyway.
The plot of Shutter revolved around a young freelance photographer named Tun and his girlfriend, Jane.
These two were the male and female leads in Shutter. Of course, since the story was set in Thailand, the names carried a distinct Thai flavor—but Edward didn't intend to change them.
Tun and Jane, after attending a class reunion, encountered an unexpected accident on their way home. Ton was driving with Jane in the passenger seat. Perhaps still caught in the lingering joy and nostalgia of the gathering, they weren't paying full attention to the road—until, in that split second, a shadowy woman suddenly appeared before their car.
For that brief instant, time seemed to freeze—then came the inevitable crash. The car struck the woman and then slammed violently into a roadside signpost.
Startled and panicked, Jane instinctively wanted to get out to check on the injured woman—showing that, at heart, she was a kind and compassionate person.
However, to her surprise, Tun stopped her. Perhaps driven by fear or the dread of getting into trouble, Tun insisted they leave the scene immediately. His voice trembled as he urged Jane to just drive away.
And so, in their panic and confusion, the couple fled the scene, leaving the woman lying alone on the cold, dark road. It was a simple setup—but a deliberate one. Edward designed it this way so that viewers would instinctively expect the woman they hit to come back and haunt them for revenge.
When Tun and Jane returned home, they thought life would quickly return to normal. But soon after, strange and inexplicable things began to happen—like shadows clinging to them wherever they went.
Tun, as a photographer, often worked with cameras and film. He took on various photography jobs: company shoots, school graduations, and so on. But lately, he noticed something unsettling—his photos had started to reveal something terrifying.
In many of the photographs, a strange blur of light and shadow appeared. It wasn't random. Each time he pressed the shutter, that mysterious form seemed to reappear, as though it were deliberately captured in every frame.
At first, Tun thought he'd made a mistake—that maybe the lens was dirty or malfunctioning. But after inspecting it carefully, he found nothing wrong.
His odd behavior didn't go unnoticed. Jane began to sense that something was seriously off. Tun grew increasingly strange—often muttering to himself or speaking into thin air, as if conversing with someone invisible. The eerie behavior filled Jane with unease. She began to suspect that Tun was hiding something—something terrifying.
When Tun later went for a medical checkup, another oddity emerged: his weight. Though Tun was quite thin, the scale registered a far heavier number—so heavy, in fact, that the doctor assumed the machine was broken.
Tun had gone to the hospital because of persistent neck pain. But after running some tests, the doctor found nothing unusual and simply prescribed a few painkillers before sending him home.
In the scenes that followed, Tun would occasionally rub or twist his neck, as if that strange ache still haunted him.
And it wasn't just the photos. Around them, other terrifying events unfolded—unnatural, bone-chilling, and deadly.
Tun's friends began dying—each one committing suicide under mysterious circumstances. There was never any warning, no reason. It was as though some invisible force was orchestrating their deaths.
Every time the news of another death came, it struck Tun and Jane like a hammer blow. Their fear deepened. The oppressive dread around them grew heavier and heavier, suffocating them both.
Tun's behavior became even more erratic. It seemed he had begun to realize something after noticing the pattern in his dead friends' names. But he kept the truth from Jane. Instead, he tried to avoid the entity and at the same time, secretly investigate it on his own.
The deeper he dug, the clearer the truth became. The woman they had hit was named Natre. She was Tun's ex-girlfriend. They once shared a tender love—but it ended in betrayal and cruelty.
Under the pressure of his friends, Tun had taken humiliating photos of Natre—photos that became the root of her anguish and hatred.
Even worse, while those photos were being taken, Natre was being assaulted by Tun's so-called friends. She had looked at Tun her boyfriend—with tears and horror in her eyes, and from that moment on, she hated him to the core.
The friends who were now dying one by one were the very same people who had abused her that night.
"Hm…" Edward rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He considered whether to add some Pokémon elements to the story. After thinking for a bit, he decided he would—though in his movies, Pokémon couldn't harm ghosts or spirits anyway. Including them was more about integrating the plot into the world's broader setting.
The gentle and introverted Natre, unable to bear the humiliation and torment, had ultimately taken her own life in despair.
Tun only discovered this when he went to Natre's home—by then, her body had already decomposed to bones. Jane, meanwhile, knew nothing of it; she was simply tormented by Natre's terrifying illusions.
Natre's ghost manifested with horrifying intensity. In one iconic scene, as Tun developed photos in his darkroom, the lights flickered then Natre's ghostly reflection slowly rose from the sink. Her face was pale yet hauntingly beautiful, her eyes filled with endless resentment. For a moment, Edward could almost imagine Kayako from The Grudge standing there instead.
Natre's shadow began appearing everywhere—in their home, on the streets, in reflections—watching, following, haunting.
Tun was hospitalized after one such encounter. Even there, Natre didn't leave him alone. One of Shutter's most famous scenes occurred as Tun tried to escape by climbing down a ladder outside the hospital wall—only for Natre's ghost to crawl upside down toward him, her long hair hanging as she moved spider-like down the stairs.
Jane, realizing something was horribly wrong, went to Tun's apartment to confront him. Though she still loved him, she demanded to know the truth. Guided by Natre's spirit, she discovered the hidden photographs from that night—the proof of Tun's betrayal.
Only then was the entire truth revealed.
Tun tried desperately to win Jane back, shouting and snapping photo after photo with his instant camera, hoping to capture Natre's ghost.
In a fit of madness, he smashed the camera to the floor but as it hit the ground, it clicked once more and flashed. A photo printed out by itself.
As the image slowly appeared, Tun suddenly remembered all the strange signs—the inexplicable heaviness, the neck pain, the distorted photos.
He picked up the photo, trembling.
And there, clear as day, was Natre—perched on his shoulders.
In the film's final scene, Jane visited the now-insane Tun at a psychiatric ward. As she left the room, the reflection on the glass door revealed it clearly: Natre was still clinging to him.
And with that, the film ended.
"Tsk, tsk… I've got to admit, Shutter really is an excellent horror film," Edward said with satisfaction as he looked down at the script.
In his previous life, there had been many horror films, but few as outstanding as this one. If anyone ever made a list of the twenty greatest horror movies in the world, Shutter would definitely be on it.
Whether it was the suspenseful pacing, the storytelling, or the final twist—all of it was perfectly executed. What made Thai horror special, Edward thought, was that it always carried a moral balance: as long as you hadn't done anything evil, you didn't have to fear the ghosts.
After all, Thai ghosts were reasonable—if they wanted revenge, they took revenge, and that was it.
Edward even remembered a few jokes about Shutter from his past life:
"If Shutter were a Japanese film, everyone— Tun, Jane, even the hospital staff—would be dead."
"If Shutter were Western, Natre would go on a blood-soaked rampage, turning into a deranged serial killer—basically I Spit on Your Grave all over again."
"If Shutter were Chinese, Ton would just turn out to be mentally ill, or Jane would secretly be Natre's sister avenging her death—and of course, the ghost would be fake."
That was why Thai horror was so comforting to watch—you didn't have to worry about unreasonable ghosts. The odds of survival were actually quite high.
After finishing the Shutter script, Edward put the papers away. It was time to begin casting. He hadn't planned to start production so soon—after all, he had just finished Inner Senses—but Diantha's schedule didn't leave much choice.
To accommodate her availability, Edward planned to film her scenes early. Fortunately, Natre's ghost didn't appear too often onscreen—many of her moments were done through visual effects—so her part would be relatively easy to shoot.
"Zoroark, take this script downstairs and start pre-production," Edward called.
Zoroark quickly entered, took the script, and left. Meanwhile, Edward turned his attention to the progress of The Dark Knight, which was filming smoothly under director Roda.
He couldn't help but admire Roda's skill. The camera work, the lighting, the costumes, the sets—everything exceeded Edward's expectations.
With such meticulous craftsmanship, it was impossible for the movie to turn out bad.
Indeed, Edward believed that sometimes you could tell if a movie would be a flop just by watching the production process.
"Boss, speaking of bad movies… what do you think is the worst one ever made?" Roda asked curiously over lunch, his tone genuinely interested.
"Do I even need to think about it? Of course it's Dream Chasers in the Film Industry," Edward said instantly, earning a knowing nod from Roda.
"Boss, what's Dream Chasers in the Film Industry?" Zoroark asked curiously.
Edward's mouth twitched. That film was a legendary disaster—a movie so bad it had become the very definition of a flop.
Everything about it was bizarre: the direction, the costumes, the nonsensical acting. The director had cast a bunch of fresh graduates from acting school—kids who had studied just enough to seem talented, yet somehow looked completely clueless onscreen.
The result? A cinematic catastrophe.
"Is it at least entertaining?" Zoroark asked again, intrigued.
"Entertaining?" Edward sighed. "After watching it, you'll wish you spent that time napping. Or staring at a wall. Or hell, even picking up bottles for recycling would feel more rewarding."
Zoroark looked unconvinced, his curiosity undiminished. Edward could already tell this fool would go watch it anyway.
But that was fine. Let him. Once he did, he'd come to appreciate the true beauty of the world.
"Hey, boss," Zoroark said suddenly. "I saw the theme song of that movie was performed by a pretty famous group!"
Edward bit into a piece of grilled meat, chewed, and swallowed before replying, "Yeah, and they're still regretting it. If it weren't for the contract penalties, they'd probably have refused to sing it at all."
In the film industry, it wasn't unusual for producers to hire big-name singers for soundtracks. In fact, many stars welcomed the collaboration—it was mutually beneficial exposure.
But in this case, the song was the only good thing about the movie—and the movie dragged it down with it.
So honestly, Edward couldn't blame the singers for hating it.
"Oh~" Zoroark murmured, clearly itching to see it even more now.
Edward just sighed. Some people had to experience disaster firsthand before they learned their lesson.
"Hello, Director Edward."
A peculiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Edward turned and saw a man in a purple suit with a wild hairstyle approaching him a bit nervously.
"Ah, hello there," Edward smiled. "Your performance was excellent. With some refinement, I think you've got a real future ahead of you."
The man—an actor playing a clown—lit up with excitement. He worked as a clown both in circuses and in film.
But Edward believed this role the Joker would become the turning point of his entire life.
As he thought to himself: In another world, this Joker role alone was enough to secure an actor's legacy forever.
"Thank you!" the actor said excitedly, licking his lips in that familiar, chilling way—already embodying the Joker completely.
(End of Chapter)