Eva moved out that very night.
She figured she'd probably never see that arrogant man again in this lifetime.
Based on her observation, his personality was a minefield. He wasn't someone you could sum up easily, and engaging with someone like that was a surefire way to get hurt. Best to stay away.
She found a rental online using her phone and paid the deposit immediately.
Next, she looked up the address of the Directors Guild of Ireland. Early the next morning, she headed straight there.
It was summer break, so she had plenty of time.
Her plan was to register as a director. Membership meant access to jobs and resources.
Production companies often posted listings for commercials, TV shows, music videos, and films directly with the Guild. Plus, if she wanted to make her own film, she'd have access to their massive actor database.
Joining the Guild was step one into the industry.
Eva didn't have time to waste. Sure, the streets were full of young men and women enjoying their youth, basking in the sun without a care in the world.
But Eva wasn't like them. She was done with that life.
Building a career with her own two hands—that was the only thing she wanted now.
To become a great director. That was her ambition for this life.
However, before heading to the Guild, she made a pit stop at a hardware store.
She bought a small dagger. Then, she went to an electronics store and bought a phone with a high-quality voice recorder.
She planned to carry both at all times. The reason was simple: self-defense.
Her androphobia was severe. Yesterday proved that in a moment of panic, she might react in ways even she couldn't predict. Plus, she was young and beautiful now—a magnet for creeps.
She needed to protect herself.
But a dagger wasn't exactly something you could just toss in a handbag; fumbling for it in an emergency could be fatal. Eva thought about it for a while, then went to a shoe store and bought a pair of high knee-high boots.
She slipped the defensive dagger securely into her boot.
With everything set, she continued on her way. She admitted to herself that this wasn't exactly normal behavior. Normal women didn't walk around with concealed weapons and recording devices.
But this was who she was now: a woman with a deep-seated, defensive distrust of men.
She spotted the Directors Guild building from a distance.
The Irish Directors Guild shared a building with the Screen Actors Guild. As soon as Eva stepped inside, she was greeted by the receptionist's pleasant voice.
"Hello, welcome to the Directors Guild. How can I help you?"
Walking in, Eva suddenly realized how out of place she looked.
The lobby was filled with older people, mostly men.
Every one of them was dressed in a suit, looking dignified, successful, and professional.
And then there was her: dressed casually and looking outrageously young.
Her face was fresh, glowing with collagen.
Passersby glanced at her sideways. This was a place for veteran directors and producers. A girl like her? They probably thought she was lost.
It was classic industry sexism.
Subconsciously, people believed women couldn't direct as well as men, which was why female directors were so rare.
According to a BBC report on discrimination in the Western film industry, the numbers were pathetic. Female directors made up only 4% of the industry.
Out of the top 100 grossing films last year, only one had a female cinematographer. Eight were written by women. Twelve were edited by women. The scarcity was depressing.
The industry was a patriarchy, a fortress that had yet to be breached.
So when a young, beautiful woman like Eva appeared here, everyone looked at her through tinted lenses.
Their eyes held surprise, disdain, and dismissal. Never admiration.
Their expressions seemed to say: You're this pretty? Go be an actress. Why bother directing?
But Eva wasn't intimidated. She had long stopped caring about what other people thought.
"Hello," she said to the receptionist.
The receptionist smiled politely. "Miss, hello. I think you might be in the wrong place. The Actors Guild entrance is on the other side."
Eva shook her head, her voice steady. "No, I'm in the right place. I'm here to register with the Directors Guild."
For a split second, the receptionist looked stunned. She probably hadn't seen someone like Eva walk in here all year.
Young, pretty girls usually wanted to be stars. They wanted the spotlight. She had never seen one come in here asking to be a director.
The receptionist recovered her smile. "Alright. To join the Directors Guild, there is an initiation fee of 300 euros."
Eva pulled out her wallet. "Okay, I have it."
"Before we process the fee, I need to verify a few things," the receptionist added. "First, do you have any official credits? Any previous work?"
Eva paused. "Work?"
The receptionist seemed to have anticipated this. "Yes. You need to have officially directed commercials, music videos, documentaries, TV episodes, or films. Anything works, but it must have been broadcast or released on a public platform."
Eva's expression fell slightly. "I don't have any released work."
The receptionist's tone became formulaic. "Then I'm sorry, you cannot join the Directors Guild."
Eva looked disappointed, but the feeling didn't last long.
Disappointment was part of life. Things rarely went according to plan. You just had to grind through it, right?
She gave a polite, dazzling smile. "Thank you for your time."
She turned to leave.
If this door was closed, she'd have to find a window.
But what could she do?
She had 100,000 euros in the bank, but that wasn't enough to fund an independent film.
It looked like she'd need to get a part-time job just to cover her living expenses first.
Just as she turned around, she saw a familiar face walking out of the Actors Guild across the hall.
If she wasn't mistaken, that was Colin Farrell—currently the hottest Irish actor around.
He was one of the few Irish actors who had truly made it in Hollywood. Back home in Ireland, he was basically royalty.
He was also a notorious playboy with a chaotic personal life.
When he saw Eva, he visibly paused. A girl this stunning wasn't something you saw every day.
He looked like he was about to come over and talk to her, but then he glanced over his shoulder and saw a pack of paparazzi swarming toward him.
He frowned, turned back to give Eva a charming wink, and slapped a business card onto the counter in front of her.
"I like your vibe. Call me," he said.
He strode out the door, heading away from her, the reporters hot on his heels.
Colin clearly didn't want to deal with the press, so he jumped straight into his car and sped off.
The paparazzi scrambled into their own vehicles to give chase.
Eva was still standing near the curb. The speeding paparazzi didn't even notice her. As their cars peeled out to chase Colin Farrell, their tires hit a puddle.
Splash.
Dirty water sprayed all over Eva.
She was soaked in grime.
Nobody cared.
Nobody apologized.
They were too busy chasing someone of "value." Who gave a damn about a nobody on the side of the road getting splashed with mud?
That was the world. Eva knew this game well.
There was no point in being angry. Instead of wasting energy on rage, she'd use it to figure out how to succeed.
She picked up the business card.
It had Colin Farrell's private number.
Eva tossed it into the nearest trash can without a second thought.
Men these days were so boring. Cheap and promiscuous.
After the tragedy of her last life, she had zero interest in men. The phobia made physical contact impossible anyway.
She knew that as a director, she'd have to deal with all kinds of men. But that was work. That was different.
Personally? She was done.
No deep connections. No contact outside of business.
She didn't know if her condition was a mental illness, but honestly? She preferred it this way.
Every scar she had screamed the same lesson: Men are unreliable.
Eva didn't fuss over her clothes. She simply rolled up her wet pant legs. She looked a bit ragged, but she didn't care. She walked back into the crowd.
She made her way to the bus stop. While waiting, something on the advertisement board caught her eye.
The 4th Dublin Short Film Competition
Open to: Everyone
Requirement: Bring your own work, self-funded.
Conditions: Create a short film (5 to 30 minutes) based on one of six themes by the deadline. Length depends on your budget.
Prizes:
Winning entries will have all production costs reimbursed by the organizers.
Winners will receive contract opportunities for commercials, music videos, TV series, and films.
Eva's eyes lit up.
Was this her chance?