Edward stared at Gengar with a puzzled look. Gengar didn't say anything, but its expression was a little odd. In the end, it refused Edward's request, unwilling to play a role in the short film. It even stopped playing its previously beloved game of rock–paper–scissors and simply turned away, leaving. The sight left Edward stunned.
"Why do I always get the feeling that Gengar is hiding something from me?" Edward scratched his head in confusion as he watched Gengar's retreating figure. Still, he didn't dwell on it too much. Since Gengar wasn't willing to act, Edward could only find another actor. In his view, Gengar would have been perfect for the role, but there was nothing to be done—Gengar simply didn't want to perform this time.
For this horror short, Edward was adopting a brand-new template, one not drawn from the horror shorts of his previous life. He had done so to better align with the tastes of his current target audience.
"Let's see… most wild Pokémon need to drink water, so setting the story at a watering hole would be perfect." Edward pondered for a moment and then quickly sketched out a script.
The biggest difference between a horror short and a feature-length horror film lay in the duration. Horror shorts were extremely brief, and in order to achieve maximum scare-effectiveness, most relied on sudden jump-scares.
Think of films like Lights Out and other classics of the genre—once you had watched enough of them, you realized they nearly all ended with a sudden ghastly face lunging out at the viewer in the final seconds.
Paired with jarring sound effects, the method was undoubtedly cliché. Yet one could not deny its effectiveness—jump-scares were extremely reliable.
At least for shorts, there were few alternatives. With such limited time, it was impossible to set up an entire story with atmosphere, pacing, and explanation. The only viable solution was the "in-your-face" scare.
For Edward, creating a short was not much of a problem. But once he finished writing the script, he slapped his forehead in realization.
He had been working so independently that he nearly forgot—he had a whole company behind him.
So, he sent the short film idea to Zoroark, asking it to post the task in the company's work group. The scriptwriting department could polish the screenplay, and he would review it afterward.
"Without realizing it, I've become the kind of boss who assigns work to others after hours." Edward chuckled as he saw Zoroark's message of acknowledgment on his phone. He remembered a joke from his previous life:
Ducks go quack-quack, chickens go cluck-cluck—but what sound do cattle and horses make? They go 'received, received'.
Edward let out a self-mocking laugh.
Still, he wasn't the type to constantly assign late-night tasks. Most of the time, he refrained. After all, he didn't want to end up "hung on a streetlamp" by disgruntled employees.
Once the short film task was off his plate, his mood eased significantly.
Bored, he opened the "Hoenn Horror Movie Lovers Exchange Group" group chat to see what his friends were up to.
[Not the Lich King]: Have you guys watched any new movies lately? So many of them are using that hyper-virtual filming tech these days!
Edward raised an eyebrow. Interesting—the first thing he saw was people discussing his new technology. Thinking of it, his expression became a bit complicated. The patent had earned him a fortune, and many major companies were now rushing to rent or purchase his specialized cameras.
Renting and selling the cameras had quickly become a major source of income for Ghost Films Productions.
Yet Edward didn't care that much about the direct profits. What mattered more to him was the broader impact—this technology had pulled his company out of the awkward situation of nearly becoming the industry's public enemy.
The introduction of the "Youth Edition Extraordinary Lens" camera had solved much of that tension. Though not perfect, it had at least eased hostilities. These days, he no longer received endless harassment calls. The occasional one he did get was just someone politely asking if they could use the original camera model.
The original was far more powerful and convenient, but because of its massive energy requirements, Edward refused them all. Though disappointed, none of the companies pressed the issue.
The Youth Edition might not be as advanced, but it was usable—and no one wanted to make an enemy of Edward.
[I'm Depressed]: Yeah, I saw one. Still pretty fun. I even heard some… ahem… adult film crews are interested in renting the camera. (dog head emoji)
[I Declare Lewdness Rules]: What? Adult films? If they really shot those with that camera, I'd support the official release instantly!
Seeing the chat devolve in an instant, Edward silently closed his phone. These guys had guts, no doubt about it. And as ridiculous as their jokes were, he knew there was a grain of truth—such groups had indeed tried to rent his equipment before, only to give up when they couldn't afford the sky-high fees.
Still, with the surge of new films and massive box office returns, it was only a matter of time before someone caved.
Just then, Edward's phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Director Kirk.
[Kirk]: Director Edward, this old man's coming to your company tomorrow to sign the agreement. I won't be intruding, will I?
As straightforward as ever, the old master. Edward quickly replied that it would be no trouble.
They had already discussed a collaboration, but Kirk wanted to fetch a script he cherished before coming. Later, family matters had delayed him further.
Edward hadn't pressed him. With Kirk's status and character, a verbal promise was as good as gold—there was no risk of betrayal.
Now that Director Kirk was truly coming, Edward was delighted. This would be the director's first film after his return, sure to make waves in the market. In other words, a guaranteed win.
The next day at the company, Edward welcomed Kirk. At the director's side was another elderly man, dressed plainly but carrying a scholarly air.
"This is my old friend," Kirk explained warmly, "He's provided me with many excellent scripts over the years."
Hearing this, Edward instantly realized who the man was—a famous screenwriter of considerable reputation. He had faded from the limelight after Kirk retired, but his past works were legendary.
"An honor indeed, sir. I've long admired your name." Edward greeted politely, shaking hands. The man smiled modestly before producing a script.
Edward glanced at the title— "Rear Window."
His eyes lit up. Could it be that Rear Window?
Though this was the Pokémon world, many cultural echoes of his previous life existed. Given Kirk's persona, Edward felt sure this was indeed the classic Rear Window.
A quick skim confirmed it—it was the very same.
Contracts were signed swiftly. Kirk and his friend would film the project, and what happened afterward could be discussed later. Edward had no objections.
Kirk was wealthy, respected, and beyond temptation. The only way to keep him on board long-term was to let him personally experience the new technology's strengths. Perhaps then he'd want to continue.
Though aging, Kirk's skills were undeniable. If Edward could secure him for Ghost Films, it would be a great asset. But there was no need to rush. For now, he simply asked about the budget, ordered Zoroark to disburse the funds, and promised to cover any shortfall. Kirk's smile widened.
A client who paid generously and made few demands—what more could a director ask for?
After Kirk and his companion left, Zoroark approached.
"Boss, Hoenn is hosting a charity auction gala and has invited you. Do you want to attend?"
Edward paused. A charity auction gala?
It made sense. He had established a foundation and made donations, earning a reputation as a philanthropist. It was a good name to have—but it also meant constant requests from various organizations seeking aid.
After all, in this world, most problems could be solved with money.
His PR team's account was flooded daily with such pleas. If he handled them personally, he'd have no time for anything else.
"Let me see." He accepted the flyer from Zoroark.
The event would be held in Lilycove City. Items would be auctioned, with proceeds donated to charities. Standard fare.
But one particular item caught his eye—
[The Bell of the Bell Tower]
The Bell Tower in Ecruteak City was famous across the regions. Every six months, its bells were replaced, and the old ones sold, with profits funding the tower's upkeep.
But this bell was different.
It bore scorch marks, as though pulled from charred ruins. It was cracked in places, and most intriguingly, it was stained with what appeared to be blood—blood that, according to the description, could not be washed away.
The flyer explained: This bell once hung at the tower's highest point during the great fire. When it was recovered, strange bloodstains clung to it and could not be removed. Donated by a private collector.
Clearly, the organizers had chosen this as their star auction item, worthy of the invitation cover.
Edward's curiosity was piqued.
Normally, he would have skipped such a dull event. These galas were boring, packed with sycophants and tedious social maneuvering. Why bother, when he could just stay home and play games?
But this bell intrigued him.
Even if it turned out to be ordinary, buying it would still cement his image as a charitable man. Not a bad investment.
"Alright, I'll go." Edward nodded.
Then another thought struck him. "By the way, Zoroark, how's the amusement park project going for Mismagius and the others?"
That had been underway for a while. If it was complete, he wanted to try it out.
Zoroark considered briefly before answering: "Boss, the park's main structures are finished. The rides are still being installed."
Edward nodded. A park itself was simple, but attractions were tricky. In this fiercely competitive world, only originality could make a park stand out. The rides would be the heart of it.
In his previous life, most theme parks had long since died out. A few survived in large cities, and the only truly global success was the one backed by a massive media IP—the one with the fearsome legal team.
Without that IP, even it would have perished.
"An IP, huh?" Edward stroked his chin thoughtfully.
(End of Chapter)