"Anson."
The moment he entered the room, Edgar spotted his target and called out.
"Perfect timing."
"Yves and I were just discussing whether you still plan to go ahead with the upcoming European street tour as planned. Are you sure we don't need to increase security?"
"We both think that after the Cannes Film Festival, your recognition in Europe has changed, and the situation might be more complicated. It's probably best if we—"
Before Edgar could finish, he noticed Anson's eyes.
Calm and deep, as if they could see through every facade.
Without a word, Edgar knew something must have happened. His heart sank, but he clung to reason and remained composed.
Taking a deep breath, Edgar steadied himself.
"Your expression doesn't look great, certainly not like someone who just won the Palme d'Or. Come, sit down and tell me what happened."
Anson scrutinized Edgar carefully. He decided to be direct—no point in beating around the bush.
"I just learned that the filming schedule for Spider-Man 2 was moved up because of a conflict with my schedule. Is that true?"
Anson spoke calmly and directly, trying to keep the conversation objective without assuming too much.
Edgar froze—he hadn't expected this.
After a pause, Edgar asked, "Who told you that?"
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. Edgar didn't answer the question directly, instead asking about the source, which said a lot.
"A little bird," Anson replied.
Edgar noticed the brewing storm behind Anson's calm gaze.
What should he do?
At moments like these, Edgar cursed Anson's intelligence and sharpness. He could always see through the masks, leaving Edgar in a bind.
But on second thought, Edgar realized this was also why he trusted Anson so much.
They had benefited from this trust in the good times, with their partnership running smoothly. Now, they faced its challenges.
In a flash, Edgar made his decision—to tell the truth.
He could lie. After all, there was no evidence, no trace to find. But Edgar knew that trust didn't need proof to crack. Once doubt took root, things would spiral out of control.
Especially with Anson.
"Yes, it's true," Edgar nodded. "I convinced Sony Columbia to move the filming schedule to June to avoid missing next summer's release."
As expected.
Anson's heart sank slightly. Even though he had correctly anticipated the situation, the truth still stung.
He remained calm. "Why?"
Edgar hesitated. "Anson, you know..."
Anson gently shook his head. "I need to hear it from you, not just guess, reason, or imagine on my own. I know life is full of lies and hypocrisy, especially in Hollywood. But at least between us, I hoped for honesty."
"Remember? From the start, our partnership was built on honesty."
Edgar paused, took a deep breath, and said, "Because I don't want you to take The Princess Diaries 2."
"I understand. Because of Garry Marshall and Anne Hathaway, you'll take that project, no matter what."
"But..."
"That script is a disaster—an absolute trainwreck. Garry Marshall doesn't know what he's doing, and Disney isn't putting much effort into it. From the characters to the story, it's all a mess."
"There's a difference between innocence and stupidity, but the script clearly doesn't see that."
"I can't stand by and watch you throw away everything you've worked so hard to build."
The truth was out.
Anson's intuition had been right, but there was no satisfaction in having predicted it correctly.
Facing the reality of the situation, the harsh truth gnawed at him from the inside out.
"Captain, this isn't how things should be," Anson said, without hiding his disappointment.
"I know every actor wants their work to succeed, forever, because those films will remain, even ten, twenty, or fifty years later. One mistake, and it's permanent."
"But that's not the point. The point is the experience and memories behind each project. That's what's irreplaceable. It's like an adventure."
"Not every adventure will succeed, but even failed ones are valuable. The struggles with your team are precious memories."
"Movies are the same."
"What actor hasn't starred in a bad movie or two? A career without bad films is incomplete. Even those bad films can become part of the memory, something you can look back on with a smile."
"Without Garry Marshall, I wouldn't be who I am today. This isn't how things should be."
Anson's reaction didn't surprise Edgar.
Not only was he unsurprised, he had expected this entirely, and his expression was one of frustration.
"I knew it."
For once, Edgar didn't back down. "I knew you would take that script, even though it's total garbage."
"That's why I stepped in, fulfilling my duty as your agent. I rejected it for you, stopped you from making a mistake. Isn't that my job?"
Anson shook his head. "No, you should have told me. It's my decision to make."
Edgar replied, "If it was up to you, you'd have taken it. Isn't that clear enough? You're not thinking rationally. You're acting purely on emotion, agreeing because of Garry Marshall."
"No, this isn't you."
"I couldn't let that happen."
"Anson, that's a disastrous script. You'd be playing the fool in it. Disney is treating you like a prop, a clown, exploiting you. You'd know it's a trap, and yet you'd walk right in. Right?"
"How could I tell you? I knew I absolutely couldn't tell you."
"We worked so hard to shake off the 'pretty face' label and create a new image for you as an actor, and then The Princess Diaries 2 would undo it all, resetting everything to zero? I can't let that happen."
"Yes, you're right."
"Not every adventure will succeed, and actors are bound to make bad films. Someday you might laugh at those memories."
"But do you think everyone has the privilege of laughing off a bad film experience? No. Only successful people can do that, and they're one in a hundred."
"And the rest? They disappear from Hollywood along with their bad movies. People forget them entirely. Who's going to listen to their stories?"
"I can't..."
"God, I can't watch you jump into a cesspool."
For once, Edgar was angry.
Even though he was in the wrong, he turned the situation around and exploded, pouring out everything he had to say, suppressing Anson completely.
Until—
Edgar realized that Anson wasn't responding.
Anson had remained calm, quietly observing him, neither interrupting nor avoiding his gaze. He just listened silently, maintaining his composure amidst the storm.
That calmness made Edgar uneasy.
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