Although Edward himself didn't really care about the whole "Ben Sox" affair—he hadn't even put it in his mind—there was no stopping this Ben Sox person, who seemed to have either gone mad or lost all sense of sanity. He just kept trying to "rub against" Edward's fame, again and again, using every chance to leech attention from him.
Today, he'd posted online claiming that all of Edward's movie scripts must have serious problems, and that comic-based movies like Batman were boring anyway—just cheap tricks to scam people out of ticket money.
Tomorrow, he said that audiences shouldn't waste money watching Edward's films at all; they could just buy the comics instead. Magazines were cheaper, he claimed, and they'd save "a whole lot of cash."
The day after that…
Well, the man just never stopped talking.
"Seriously, is this guy crazy, or does he just have brain damage?" Edward couldn't hold it in anymore. At first, he'd had no intention of dealing with this lunatic. But no matter how much he ignored him, this nutcase kept using Edward's name to gain traction—it was getting extremely irritating.
"Boss," Zoroark reported, looking a bit helpless, "according to what his parents said, Ben Sox hasn't been answering their calls at all. He even blocked their numbers."
The public relations department had been busy these days—busy dealing with Ben Sox's constant provocations.
After all, even if the boss claimed he didn't care about such matters, the employees couldn't just sit idly by. If things got out of hand, and the boss did get angry later, what would they do then? Edward might not care about the process, but he would care about the results.
Of course, that was just what everyone imagined—Edward wasn't actually that kind of unreasonable boss—but the PR team had been handling it anyway, and Zoroark didn't think they were wrong to do so.
"So, what you're telling me," Edward said, twitching the corner of his mouth, "is that this Ben Sox guy is ignoring his parents and putting all his energy into picking fights with me?"
It was the first time Edward had encountered such a lunatic. Still, he couldn't help but suspect there was something strange going on behind the scenes.
After all, Ben Sox wasn't actually insane—there was no reason for him to keep locking horns like this. What good would it do him? Nothing at all. It would only create trouble. Yet he insisted on doing it anyway. Edward was sure there had to be some hidden reason.
People were adults—most wouldn't do something so pointless unless there was profit involved. And Edward had no personal feud with this Ben Sox guy. There was no reason for him to cling on so obsessively. If there wasn't something fishy going on here, Edward thought, then even ghosts wouldn't believe it.
But if the guy was just trying to ride on Edward's popularity, the price he was paying seemed absurdly high. He was ignoring his own parents' calls! If Edward didn't already know for certain that he'd never met Ben Sox before, he might have suspected this person was his sworn enemy—like someone who bore a father-killing vendetta.
"Boss," Zoroark continued, "according to my colleagues in PR, it's possible the guy either envies your success or he's deep in debt. Maybe he's desperate and trying to squeeze attention to make money."
That explanation made Edward raise an eyebrow—it actually sounded somewhat plausible.
Back in his previous life, before his transmigration, Edward remembered seeing something similar. There had been a so-called "super inclusive human-rights" game that cost hundreds of millions of dollars to make, but it flopped miserably just a few days after launch. The game was called Concord, and its failure became a running joke among players.
At the time, the producer swore that Concord failed not because it was bad, but because the FPS-RPG market was already oversaturated—with titles like Overwatch and Apex Legends dominating the scene.
But a short while later, a certain Chinese game studio released Marvel Rivals, another FPS hero shooter. And it absolutely exploded. It crushed Concord and, in doing so, slapped that arrogant producer right across the face.
The result? That producer became the laughingstock of the gaming industry. Even though Marvel Rivals didn't become super popular in China, it went absolutely viral overseas. On foreign streaming platforms, it was the top-viewed game.
Millions of players mocked Woke Western developers for their ugly character designs and tone-deaf storytelling, praising how a Chinese company had managed to create a Marvel-style hero game that completely outclassed the Western-made ones. On Steam alone, it reached over six hundred thousand concurrent players, and total player counts across all platforms were rumored to have exceeded twenty million.
That salty Concord producer had been furious, insisting that Marvel Rivals's glory should have belonged to his game. He believed his own creation should've been the one to rise to fame and success.
If Ben Sox thought the same way—that Edward's achievements should have been his—then, well… it started to make a bit of sense.
Still, Edward personally suspected the debt theory was closer to the truth. If it were just jealousy, no one would go this far. This wasn't "riding a trend"—this was outright self-destruction.
"Forget it. The movie premieres tomorrow, doesn't it? Let's go and take a look ourselves," Edward said at last, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Even though he'd written the screenplay, he hadn't been involved in the filming. For this world's first DC movie, Edward was genuinely interested to see the result.
"Understood, boss," Zoroark said, already moving to arrange the schedule.
Meanwhile, online, Ben Sox's popularity remained sky-high. The man was too active—constantly saying outrageous things. Quotes like 'Please, I'll do anything, just come watch PokéMan!' and 'Once Director Edward faces his failure, he'll surely want to forget everything!' were spreading like wildfire.
And soon, the day of the grand movie showdown finally arrived.
The cinemas were packed that night. Although several other major films were also showing, none could compete with the hype surrounding Edward's The Dark Knight and Ben Sox's PokéMan. Even theaters that hadn't planned many screenings started increasing showtimes for PokéMan, just to cash in on the buzz.
At midnight, the theaters were crowded with eager moviegoers.
"Hey, honey, aren't you a film-review officer? Why do you still need to come watch this in person?" asked Corey's girlfriend as they sat waiting for the movie to start. He held two tickets in his hand—Batman: The Dark Knight.
"Because it's different watching it on the biggest screen," Corey said, excitement in his eyes. His tangled fate with Edward wasn't over yet. After returning from his vacation, he'd reviewed Carrie, Shutter, and Batman: The Dark Knight.
Although Edward had only directed Shutter himself, the other two films were also based on his scripts—so Corey kept encountering his work. Among them, Carrie and The Dark Knight were his favorites. Even though Shutter had left his neck sore for days (he kept feeling like something was sitting on it), he couldn't deny the movie's impact.
Thankfully, he hadn't committed the same sins as the characters in that story, so he wasn't too afraid. But The Dark Knight—that film had impressed him the most. The massive production scale, the thrilling story, the brilliant villain—it was breathtaking. Even as a comic-based movie, it didn't require prior knowledge of the comics; anyone could follow and enjoy it.
"Is it really that good?" his girlfriend asked, wide-eyed. Corey grinned and nodded, then went to buy popcorn and cola—after all, the film was long, and watching on an empty stomach wouldn't do.
Elsewhere in the theater, another familiar face had also come, Smiley a well-known video creator.
"Hmph, let's see how good this so-called PokéMan really is," he muttered, looking at his tickets—one for PokéMan, one for The Dark Knight.
Though known for anime and manga commentary, Smiley was no stranger to cinema. He often reviewed anime movies, so this was nothing new to him.
Based on his experience, the smartest way to handle a double-feature was simple: watch the bad movie first, then the good one. That way, the pain came early, and the night ended on a high note. Watching a masterpiece before a disaster, on the other hand, was like eating a gourmet feast—then being force-fed rotten fish straight after.
So, he cleverly decided to watch PokéMan first, then The Dark Knight. Even if the first one was awful, the second would cleanse his palate.
He glanced at his watch—tight schedule, but doable. PokéMan was ninety minutes long, The Dark Knight ran a hefty 152. It was going to be an all-nighter.
When the announcement sounded, he walked into the PokéMan theater—and was surprised to find it nearly full. Apparently, he wasn't the only one curious to see what kind of "masterpiece" dared challenge Edward's work.
But within thirty minutes of the movie starting, people began leaving in droves.
The film was an animated mess—rough, incoherent storyboards, sloppy art, stiff animation, robotic voice acting, and a plot that made no sense whatsoever.
By the time it reached the thirty-minute mark, half the audience was gone. When the credits rolled, only two people were left: Smiley, and a man who had fallen asleep halfway through.
Smiley left immediately, grateful for his decision to save The Dark Knight for later. Otherwise, he might've been too disgusted to sleep for days.
He quickly posted a short update online—just one line:
"PokéMan is pure garbage. Don't watch it."
Afterward, he went straight to the next screening and was completely blown away. The tension, the action, the acting—it was perfect. When it ended, he was practically shaking with excitement.
By the time dawn arrived, a new hashtag had exploded across the Pokémon League's online network:
#PokéManIsTrash
A simple phrase, but bursting with raw emotion. No fancy adjectives, just pure outrage.
People who had seen the movie flooded social media, cursing PokéMan and calling Ben Sox a fraud for daring to sell such trash for forty-eight credits a ticket.
Yet ironically, the controversy only made more people curious—just how bad could it really be?
That morning, Smiley uploaded his full review video. It went live at 5:30 AM.
He'd stayed up all night editing, fueled by spite and caffeine—but the hard work paid off. The video instantly went viral.
"Hey everyone, it's Smiley. Today we're going to talk about PokéMan—yes, that trash movie."
"I'm normally a pretty tolerant guy, especially when it comes to original animation. I want to support new films. But this film? Absolute garbage. I only made it through because I wanted to roast it properly."
"The theater was packed at first. Fifteen minutes later, people started leaving. After thirty, only half remained. By the end, it was just me—and one guy who fell asleep."
"It was torture. The kind of film that makes your skin crawl. If you haven't seen it yet—don't. Run. Run for your life."
"At this point, I honestly think Ben Sox must owe a mountain of debt. Otherwise, why would he release this kind of trash just to ride Edward's hype? This looks like something made by a barely-passing animation student with no supervision. Ten million pokedollars of budget? Fraud!"
(End of Chapter)