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*****
"He shot a low-budget British film last year showing real genre competence. He holds exceptionally good instincts for physical space, claustrophobia, and action geography."
"Put him near the top of the list," Marvin instructed. He already knew the massive, lucrative *Resident Evil* franchise Anderson now stood incapable of burning in this world's future. "I want to meet with at least four directors before I make a final decision. I'd prefer to have the director officially contracted and confirmed by June. This gives us a solid five months of pre-production, set building, and costume design before November photography."
"June feels workable if we start preliminary conversations in March," Jeff agreed. He made a shorthand note in his small leather notebook. "What about the rest of the supporting cast? Anything specific at this point, or do you leave the background players to a casting director?"
"The primary male lead—obviously falls to me," Marvin stated. "And the vital female lead involves the vampire kid, a complex role. I actually hold two very specific young actresses in mind for that part. I will see how it works out."
Marvin leaned forward, interlacing his fingers. "The majority of the microscopic budget focuses on lush production design, authentic period costume work, the fight choreography this movie features, and securing the second lead actress's long-term contract. Those represent the only places where spending money produces visible, undeniable returns on the screen. The rest of the supporting cast—can effectively rely on emerging talent working cheap."
Jeff added to his copious notes. "What about the actual corporate production infrastructure? You said no studio involvement in financing. Do you run the payroll and liability through the Cheiron music banner, or a separate production entity?"
"A completely separate entity," Marvin explained his corporate shielding strategy. "I officially set up a dedicated, standalone film production company. This corporate structure gives the intellectual property its own protected legal identity, its own isolated P&L, and its own dedicated development bank account. If the first film performs as big as I expect, the entity possesses the complete infrastructure to move directly into second-film development. It won't require the exhausting, expensive rebuilding of the production apparatus each time."
Jeff slowly looked up from his notebook. His eyes widened. "Marvin. You aren't just making an indie movie. You're secretly building a film studio."
"I build a specialized production company for now," Marvin corrected him with a wry smile. "A financial difference exists. A major studio holds a distribution infrastructure, an unfocused development slate of hundreds of external properties, and all the crushing corporate overhead coming with those things. A production company holds a focused mandate."
He paused, mapping out the chessboard. "The global theatrical distribution for the first film relies on a standard P&A deal with an existing, major studio. I retain one hundred percent of the intellectual rights. They distribute the film to theaters for a flat, negotiated percentage fee. If the property performs like a blockbuster, the subsequent sequel films hold the undeniable leverage to negotiate better distribution terms, or to establish our own independent distribution network."
"Who exactly do you think of targeting for the distribution deal?"
"Sony, possibly. They need a hit. Or Warner Bros," Marvin calculated. "I'd prefer Warner for the dark tone alignment—they embody exactly the kind of studio appreciating dark genre films. They have shown willingness to put their massive marketing weight behind them. But that boardroom conversation remains too many months away at a minimum. First, I need to hand them a finished film."
Jeff closed his notebook with a soft *snap*. He looked at Marvin. He wore a deeply concerned expression. He reserved it for rare moments in their professional relationship when he felt the need to say something straddling the line between objective agent counsel and something far more personal.
"Can I ask you something?" Jeff said. His voice lowered.
"You will ask it regardless of my answer, Jeff."
"True." A brief, heavy pause hung in the air.
"Marvin. You are thirteen years old. You currently sit in the chaotic middle of what I can only accurately describe as one of the most extraordinary, historic, simultaneous careers in global entertainment history. You conquer the publishing world with a fantasy book, dominate the Billboard charts with diamond-certified music, anchor a record-breaking blockbuster film, and God knows whatever terrifying things you do with the financial side of your holding companies. And now, you want to simultaneously develop, fully fund, cast, and single-handedly franchise a massive, gothic universe from scratch."
"I don't direct it," Marvin pointed out calmly. "I said I seek a director to handle the daily grind."
"You know exactly what I mean, Marvin."
Marvin looked at him steadily. His eyes remained unblinking. "What forms the actual question, Jeff?"
"The question," Jeff sighed, "asks whether you do all of this because you genuinely hold the mental and physical capacity to manage this many plates spinning simultaneously at the elite level each requires. Or whether you do it simply because boys your age—even extraordinarily capable ones like you—occasionally, fatally overestimate their own capacity."
The silence that followed felt heavy, yet surprisingly comfortable. The silences between two driven men genuinely respecting each other can feel comfortable—not awkward, not loaded with ego, but deeply present.
Marvin held his agent's concerned gaze for a long moment. Then, he slowly turned his head to look out the glass window. He stared at the manicured Beverly Hills street outside. He observed the particular, sharp quality of the California winter light hitting the palm-lined sidewalk.
"Do you know the most common, fatal mistake in human history, Jeff?" Marvin asked softly. His voice echoed with the weight of centuries. "Among ambitious people correctly identifying an opportunity?"
"Tell me."
"Hesitation," Marvin stated. His voice hardened into steel. "The paralyzing, cowardly gap between identifying the golden opportunity and acting on it. The endless question of whether acting proves the right, safe decision fills that gap hopelessly. The opportunity does not wait for the question to resolve. It moves on to someone braver."
He turned his head back from the window. His eyes locked onto Jeff with the intensity of a predator. "I know exactly what this vampire property is. I know exactly what it will inevitably become if executed correctly. I know the kind of lethal actress it needs, the visionary director it needs, and the exact kind of production it needs to be. The only variable remains whether those physical things can be assembled in the time I have before November."
He paused, a dark smile playing on his lips. "And that is exactly where you are useful to me, Jeff."
Jeff looked at him for another long, defeated moment. The overwhelming presence of the boy's will crushed any further argument. He simply picked up his glass of water.
"I hate it when you do that," Jeff grumbled.
"Do what?"
"Flawlessly answer a genuine question about whether you act totally unrealistic, by completely manipulating the psychology of the room to make me feel like *I'm* the one acting cowardly and unrealistic." He took a sip of water. "It is incredibly annoying."
"It works, though," Marvin noted, a spark of amusement in his eyes.
"Insufferably well," Jeff sighed. He pointed his pen at the boy briefly. "All right. Fine. We build it. I will start building the international director list in February. I will begin the actress search immediately. Handing an unknown seven-to-nine-film contract with a character commitment of that nature requires either someone trusting your success and fame enough to take an artistic leap, or someone whose stagnant career makes a long-term role an incredibly attractive, desperate proposition."
"Both situations are acceptable," Marvin said. "The raw, dramatic quality of the actress matters more to me than the specific career desperation or circumstances bringing her to the audition room."
"And the grueling physical requirements—the heavy action component, the strict period aesthetic—"
"Are non-negotiable," Marvin said simply, leaving no room for debate. "She must look like a gorgeous, lethal vampire belonging flawlessly in both environments simultaneously. The restrictive corset and the tactical leather. The high 1895 London society facade, and the bloody Death Dealer beneath it. If I watch her screen test and only see one persona but not the other, she is not the right person. Next."
Jeff made a final note. "I will cast a big net. It might easily take until April or May to find someone actually checking all those boxes."
"That timeline is perfectly fine. I said final casting doesn't begin before August. I want a curated short list by June, physical and chemistry screen tests running through August, and a formal, binding contract offer issued by September at the latest. The actress needs a minimum of five weeks of combat training and physical preparation before principal photography begins. This requires a confirmed, signed offer by the first week of September at the latest."
Jeff stared down at the timeline he just wrote. "You already planned this entire production down to the specific week."
"I planned most things in my life since I turned nine years old, Jeff," Marvin said smoothly. He stood up from the sofa and buttoned his jacket. "It simply became a habit."
Jeff looked up at his young client. He looked at the thirteen-year-old boy possessing the eyes, the unshakeable posture, and the cold composure of a veteran man. A man who sat as the smartest person in enough important, high-stakes rooms to stop being changed or intimidated by them. Jeff felt a familiar, chilling wave of awe wash over him.
"*Let the Right One In*," Jeff finally said, repeating the title aloud. "It really acts as a very weird title."
"It's the *right* title, Jeff," Marvin corrected him with a final smirk.
"One last thing," Marvin said. He turned back as they walked toward the heavy glass exit doors of the CAA office, stepping past the other agents, the ringing phones, and the frantic deals conducted in the bustling bullpen.
"Of course there is," Jeff sighed, stopping in his tracks.
"The lead actress," Marvin said. His voice dropped into a quiet, intensely specific register. "When you look at headshots, and I know this serves as a secondary consideration relative to the raw acting talent and the physical requirements... I want someone the camera loves from every angle. Beautiful enough her physical presence in a frame registers immediately as magnetic. But..."
Marvin paused. "...I want the kind of plastic, striking beauty holding deep specificity to it. Real character in the bone structure. Not the generic, blonde, sunny Hollywood beauty simply reading as 'pretty' and nothing else."
He paused near the entrance. In the pale afternoon light cutting through the glass lobby doors, Marvin's flawless face possessed the exact quality he sometimes exhibited—the magnetic combination of features making ordinary people look once, and then helplessly look again. The quality camera lenses instantly found since he turned eleven years old, and that still, even to Jeff who saw him daily, produced a moment of involuntary, subconscious recalibration.
"The character of Selene lived for over two hundred bloody years," Marvin explained softly. "It needs to show in her face. Not physical age—something else entirely. Weight. History. The undeniable, chilling sense that considerably, vastly more burns behind her eyes than what currently expresses in the scene."
Jeff looked at him in total silence. "You describe yourself," Jeff said, before his professional filter stopped him.
Marvin smiled—the full, brief, genuinely warm handsome smile.
"I describe the character, Jeff," Marvin said smoothly. "Start looking."
He turned and walked out into the crisp January afternoon. The bright Beverly Hills sunlight caught his dark hair as the heavy glass door closed smoothly behind him.
Jeff stood frozen in the bustling CAA lobby for a long moment. He clutched his leather notebook tightly in his hand. He watched his client disappear into the crowded street with an easy stride. Slowly Jeff opened his notebook to a fresh, blank page.
At the very top, he wrote in bold block letters: ***LET THE RIGHT ONE IN — LEAD ACTRESS (SELENE).***
Beneath it, after a long moment of deep, slightly unnerved thought, he wrote the primary casting directive: *Must be able to display dark and ancient behind the eyes.*
He stared at that line of ink for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he added:
*Like him.*
He closed the notebook with a sharp snap and went down to the garage to find his car. He had a universe to cast.
---
The darkness of the California night pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the San Marino estate. The estate lay silent, a stark contrast to the chaotic madness consuming the global entertainment industry.
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences officially announced the Oscar nominations.
And history rewrote itself.
Marvin lay casually across his bed, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. He busied himself on the phone.
"Congratulations, Marvin!" Scarlett's voice crackled through the speaker. It brimmed with a breathless excitement cutting straight through the static.
****
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