[Owen POV]
I was at the set of The Man Who Tried when Steve Carell brought me the newspaper.
TIFF wasn't really big yet, so there wasn't much media attention on it.
However, for Hollywood, it was a different kind of story.
"It's on page 45." Steve said excitedly. He and Sarah were giddy, wanting to see my reaction.
I sighed inwardly and read an article that came out a day after the festival wrapped.
{TIFF Jury Citation — August 1996}
*"The jury of the 21st Toronto International Film Festival awards a Special Jury Citation to Serpent's Son, directed by George Burnett, for its extraordinary artistic achievement.
In particular, the performance of Owen Chase is singled out for its raw intensity, haunting vulnerability, and unflinching embodiment of trauma.
His portrayal transcends acting — it is a work of transformation, a performance that lingers long after the credits roll.
Though the film confronts difficult themes of abuse, mental illness, and faith, it does so with artistry, courage, and humanity."*
For the public, it was just a line in the arts section of the newspaper. For Hollywood insiders, it was like a golden stamp saying — "This guy is the real deal."
It also won the FIPRESCI Prize (International Critics Award).
The movie winning two awards at TIFF was phenomenal in its own right.
"So?" Steve laughed giddily, confused as to why my face didn't change.
"It's okay?" I replied, slightly confused.
Both of them were stunned by my reaction.
"Wow, you have absolutely no change — your face is still as expressionless as always," Sarah teased.
I shrugged and said, "It's just TIFF."
Steve was slightly irked and said sarcastically, using a childish voice, "It's just TIFF. It's just the Oscar. I already have a god-given acting talent so these things don't faze me."
Switching back to his normal tone, he added, "That's what you sound like."
I just shrugged at him. He snatched the newspaper back and said, "Give me that. I'm going to show it to Payne and Lisa."
From afar, Chbosky called out, "Please give me back my newspaper. I haven't finished reading it yet."
"Just wait!" Steve turned around manically, acting as if Chbosky was the unreasonable one.
George called me from Canada afterward. He told me that Serpent's Son, despite the awards, hadn't received a buyout offer.
"I guess the theme is too heavy. People are afraid of putting it into theaters," George said, slightly disappointed.
Even Claire hesitated to buy the movie.
"I have some money now. Do you think I should release it myself?" George asked.
"Hmm… you have around ten million now. Maybe," I replied.
By the way, I had received a couple more paychecks from The Sixth Sense. The movie had reached 450 million at the box office by then.
I had already received a check for 180 million dollars, which I rolled back into the creation of the studio.
However, The Sixth Sense was slowing down at the box office with the release of Independence Day, a summer, war-of-the-worlds type blockbuster.
That movie had taken over the country, but The Sixth Sense was still holding in its tenth week. Most theaters said it would bounce back during the Halloween season, so it wasn't pulled yet.
Theatrical runs in this era were really long. It would take until December before the movie finally ended its run.
Hollywood analysts predicted the movie would hit at least 600 million dollars worldwide, which was an impressive feat. It became a monoculture talking point, just like other big pop culture events.
Payne read the newspaper and smiled, saying, "This is a really good thing for the movie. It'll drive people to come and watch it."
We were already on the last week of filming. Maybe because it was indie, or because there wasn't any pressure from financiers, the two men — Chbosky and Payne — had managed to finish the work smoothly.
My restorer Djalu worked with the construction company to rebuild the burned-down house, while my calculator Augustin provided the architectural blueprints, making things move quicker.
We only had to wait a couple more days for the construction to finish to shoot the indoor scenes, and then filming could be wrapped.
Michael waited for me in the car as filming wrapped for the day. However, a couple of talent agents were lingering near the set and intercepted my path.
"Hello, Mr. Owen Chase. I'm from William Morris Talent Agency—"
"I'm from CAA!"
"We're agents from UTA."
"I'm from N.V. I want to talk to you about your representation!"
The agents flocked to me like vultures, which made Michael rush out of the car to act as my human shield.
"Everyone! Back off! We already have representation!" Michael barked.
"You don't have any! I've checked!" the CAA agent snapped.
Michael escorted me to the car as the agents tried to pitch themselves. Luckily, they weren't like paparazzi and still maintained some sense of space.
"That is really shocking," Michael commented as we drove away.
"It's really troubling," I muttered with dissatisfaction.
"Do we still go to the publishing company?" Michael asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
They had called me earlier, wanting to talk about the Phantom Troupe: Night Raid book.
It had been on the market for two weeks, but I hadn't even checked the sales yet since I was too busy with the studio and filming.
…
Michael and I were led into the Harper & Brooks building, where the smell of ink and paper lingered in the air.
A woman in her mid-thirties with sharp glasses and auburn hair rushed to greet us.
"Mr. Chase! Finally." She shook my hand warmly. "I'm Kimberly Sloane. I run acquisitions and fiction here. And—" she hesitated with a grin, "I'm also Lenny's cousin."
I widened my eyes slightly, thinking, 'Another Sloane? Damn, they are everywhere.'
Michael smirked beside me, wanting to flirt with the woman. "So you're the one behind Phantom Troupe: Night Raid?"
Kimberly flushed with pride. "Yes. And let me just say—your manuscript shook me. It's the kind of book that is brutal, uncompromising, and real. We all fought over it internally on who should handle it."
I nodded politely, unsure what to say.
We entered her office and sat at her desk.
She flipped open a folder, sliding a few sheets of paper across the polished table. "We published two weeks ago. As of today, hardcover sales are at fifty-two thousand copies."
"Is that good?" I asked, confused.
"Yes. To put it into perspective, most literary debuts don't even break ten thousand in their first year. You've outsold three Booker Prize winners already. And the reviews—well, they're scaring people, in a good way."
She hesitated, "Everyone's saying it feels too real. There's a rumor swirling online that it might get banned soon, which drives the sale. It– It's all rumors! So don't believe them."
"It's fine." I just shrugged nonchalantly, not really bothering with it.
She sighed and smiled, "The book is a hot commodity in the literary market right now. That's why Hollywood has already come knocking."
I frowned slightly.
Kimberly leaned in, lowering her voice as if she were letting us in on a secret.
"Miramax called this morning. They're offering one million dollars for the film rights. Cash upfront. They want to lock it down before the buzz grows any bigger."
Kimberly expected me to be impressed, but I had no change in my expression at all.
"Um. For a popular actor like you, one million might not be much. But it is still a pretty great offer."
"My advice… don't take it. Not yet. The book is barely out. Your name is only rising. And Owen—" she caught herself, "—Mr. Chase, you're about to explode. I'd bet the rights could go for two, three times as much within a year. Maybe more, if the right studio bites."
I just shrugged and asked Kimberly, "Who else is circling?"
She grinned, clearly enjoying this. "CAA called me. Paramount sniffed around, but they lowball. HBO asked if you'd consider a television adaptation."
"Interesting." I muttered. "But I don't have any plans to sell the adaptation rights. So you can just reject them."
Kimberly was slightly taken aback, "Oh… Okay."
I had my own studio. I wasn't going to sell the adaptation rights to others.
As I got home, David was waiting for me at the lounge area by the pool with Zoey.
"Sarah– Sorry, Zoey. Your studio called me to see if she wants to try out for the audition. They are going to do an open casting call for the characters, but Zoey already was narrowed for the lead role." David said excitedly.
Zoey grinned and said, "If it works well, we are going to work together on a project, Owen!"
I sighed and said, "I'm not sure if I want to do the musical though."
"WHAT?!" Zoey was frazzled. "What do you mean you won't do it?"
I just shrugged. "It will take a long time to shoot since they planned to do all three movies at once. It might take 9 months just to finish the principal photography for the movie."
"And George already picked me as the lead for his blockbuster. Unless they worked things out for me to be able to film both projects at once, I have to choose between the two. And I picked the blockbuster since it will only take 3-4 months."
David nodded in understanding while Zoey was irritated.
"We have an amazing duet together! Yet you want to throw that away!" She complained.
"It's a demo. It's not like it's the real thing." Micheal muttered, which made Zoey even more mad. She almost jumped at him but her dad held her back.
"Sorry. She became much more aggressive now after she regained her health." David apologized to me.
"Anyway," David changed the subject. "You don't have any plans going forward, right?"
He opened his briefcase and took out multiple stacks of papers, "I have some offers here from studios and production companies. Some of them are cameos. Some are true roles. Do you want to hear it?"
I checked on the movie, but it was basically all B-movies and some cash grab wanting to bank on my name.
I shook my head and said, "I don't think I will pick any. I want to get some rest after finishing this one."
David sighed and said, "To get the truly great movies, you're going to need to enter an agency since they have a monopoly basically."
"Well, if they want me, they know where to find me." I told David.
We finished up the discussion and surprisingly the next day, someone really did try to find me.
"Spielberg wants me in the next Jurassic Park movie?" I muttered in shock.
…
–Jack Kennedy's office–
The filming is in October, huh? I don't really have a lot of scenes in it, but since it's a Jurassic Park movie, it's hard to say no.
"Are you even listening, Jack?" Claire asked, raising one eyebrow at me.
"I heard you. You're talking about the choreographer, right?"
I picked up the resume. "Britt Stewart and Kenny Ortega. Why can't we hire both of them?"
"We are hiring both of them. We're talking about how we need more, since you want to do all three movies at once for some reason." Claire sighed.
She pulled out a few headshots and laid them on the table. "And I found the one you wanted. Britney, right? I also found Christina Aguilera. Britney's parents want at least one million for all three films."
"It's fine. Hire her. She's worth it." I agreed without hesitation.
"Lastly, the sound engineer and composer. They're the most important people for the musical. You already have several songs, but we'll need them fitted perfectly into the story," Claire said.
I paused, then asked, "Do you know Dr. Dre?"
"The rapper?" Claire frowned.
"He just started his own label, right? What do you think about hiring him—just for the boy-band song? Since we're making it hip-hop."
She thought for a moment before answering, "If you bring in an actual musician, the budget might balloon. And there's the issue of royalties later."
"It's fine as long as the song's good," I told her.
Claire sighed. "You know, sometimes I miss the greedy execs I used to work with. At least they knew they were annoying me—unlike you, who does it inadvertently."
"How am I annoying you?" I asked, genuinely baffled.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Claire was frazzled.
She got irritated whenever I focused on making the best product instead of the most profitable one. Acting like a studio suit annoyed her enough; doing it casually was worse.
She took a deep breath before changing topics. "About the VHS distribution side of the company… We bought some of the Japanese anime like you suggested. Akira alone has already recovered the entire acquisition cost," she said with a proud smile.
"But we really need a few straight-to-VHS movies to justify the cost of keeping the VHS factory running. Let's do three movies shot cheaply, around $500,000 total. If it works, we could recoup at least a million."
I wasn't thrilled about making straight-to-VHS movies, but Claire was right. The factory was bleeding money just sitting idle.
"Alright. I'll do it myself," I said.
"Sorry? I didn't catch that. Do you mean it's fine for me to proceed?" Claire asked.
"No. I mean I'm going to direct the movies myself." I grinned childishly.
Since it was straight-to-video, it didn't have to be high quality. I could probably finish it in a week or two.
A single VHS video could be sold for about $15–20 in stores. Big blockbusters sometimes went up to $25–30, especially Disney's family films.
The rental market was even stranger—when a new movie dropped, video stores like Blockbuster would pay $70 to $100 per tape. They'd make their money back by charging $3–5 per rental, over and over again.
That was how studios squeezed licensing fees out of rental shops before sell-through pricing became common.
Since I owned the VHS factory, it only cost about a dollar or two to manufacture each tape, box, and wrap.
If I sold a million copies at $15, that's $15 million in gross. Knock off $2 million for production and marketing, and I'd still be walking away with over $13 million in profit.
Even the shittiest straight-to-video action movies—shot for under $1 million—could move 50,000 to 100,000 units just by sitting on Blockbuster shelves.
At that rate, they could already break even. If one of them hit cult status, the numbers could jump to several hundred thousand units sold.
That was the game. VHS wasn't about art. It was about volume. About pumping out tapes that would rent ten thousand times across America.
Aladdin made over 1.2 billion dollars from the VHS sales alone, selling over 55 million VHS tapes.
Disney made a lot of money from the VHS market since people were always going to rent family friendly movies. Once the musical came out, I was sure Disney would see us as a threat.
Claire sighed and said, "Alright then. I guess you have to sharpen your craft before you can be the true studio head. Do you have any ideas, or do you want me to try and find some potential screenplays?"
"It's fine. Straight-to-video movies are basically formulaic. I'll do one more for Halloween, one for Christmas, and the first will be an action movie since that thrives on the VHS market. Can you find me a list of actors within the 28–40 range for the project?"
She walked to the door and shouted, "Jeremy! I need a list of male action stars—willing to do straight-to-video! Ages 28 to 40!"
"Got it!" Jeremy yelled back.
"Done." Claire said.
I looked at her with disbelief, but before I could leave, she added, "You can't go home yet. I told you, we're meeting the head of a talent agency. You have to be there."
"Fine. Which one?" I sighed, sinking reluctantly back into my chair.
"Julie Nelson from N.V.," Claire replied.
My heart skipped a beat. Claire turned around with a smile and said, "Oh, they're already here."
The moment the woman walked into the office, my senses went on high alert. Her aura was overwhelming—stronger than the golden core realm. She was at the Nascent Soul Realm, two realms above me.
Julie Nelson wasn't beautiful. She had a large mole on her chin, thick glasses, and a pudgy, short figure. But what stood out even more was her foul presence—sulfur radiated off her in waves.
And the presence was extremely familiar.
'The one who got George before? No. I don't think she has the ability to do that. Is she… no, that can't be it?'
Studying her aura, which she never bothered to hide, I came to a conclusion.
' She's a demon with a master.'
Nelson had brought two actresses along, one blonde and one brunette. Neither looked like professionals—they looked like offerings.
Both were dressed in deliberately provocative outfits– half-buttoned blouses showing their cleavage, fishnet stockings, and skirts so short they could barely sit down properly.
They weren't there to be treated as artists. They were trophies on a leash, paraded as if they were currency to be traded.
"This is pissing me off a little." I muttered, a dangerous glint in my pupil.
Although I would be facing a strong demonic being, I wasn't really worried about it. After the spirit messenger and the demon dog intruded my office, I had created a few kill and suppression zones all over the floor.
And she was walking right into one of them– the conference room.
'Should I kill her right here and now?'