"Boss, the foundation needs people—and money."
Early the next morning, just as Edward stepped into his office, he saw Kode already standing there. Zoroark was off to the side, watching Kode with a helpless expression.
Edward paused for a moment, but then quickly realized what this was about.
After all, he was well aware of how explosively popular the second episode of Sherlock Holmes had become the night before. The ratings had climbed yet again, and the League's TV station was thrilled—so much so that they had contacted him last night to offer congratulations and subtly bring up the topic of a second season.
Edward had simply laughed it off and sidestepped the issue.
He hadn't even started thinking about Season 2's plot yet. While he could probably just adapt another story from the Sherlock Holmes collection, reworking the material was another matter entirely. Some of the plots from Sherlock's second season weren't exactly fit for adaptation either.
Script adaptation was no easy task.
Still, the massive success of Episode 2 had drawn attention to the charity foundation he'd established. It was no longer a complete unknown, and with the growing recognition, it was only natural for Kode to come asking for more resources.
"I can give you money," Edward said, cutting to the point, "but the salaries won't be high—only around the average League rate. As for hiring employees, that's your job."
He set the tone clearly.
So far, the foundation had been running with volunteers—people doing charitable work without expecting payment, just needing travel expenses covered. But if the foundation wanted to expand, full-time staff were becoming necessary.
Sure, there were many kind-hearted volunteers in the Pokémon world, but those who could dedicate their full time to this kind of work were still rare.
And Edward had no intention of relying on unpaid labor forever.
"…That's fair," Kode muttered, looking a little troubled. It was the first time Edward had seen a Alakazam look so conflicted.
"Salary isn't the real issue. It's the employees…" Kode hesitated.
"Boss, from last night to this morning, Kode's received a flood of calls from people wanting to apply—some even offering to volunteer," Zoroark cut in, handing over a file as he spoke. "But these applicants…"
Edward glanced at the file and hesitated. He didn't really want to take it.
"Look, hiring isn't my problem," he said, taking the file anyway. He didn't bother opening it—the sheer weight of it was enough to give him a headache. He could already guess: the applicants were going to be a mixed bag.
Sure, there would be some good-hearted people—but there would also be those with ulterior motives.
There are those who do charity work for the sake of kindness, and others who treat it like a business.
Kode's mustache drooped slightly in dismay, but he knew Edward had already done what he could. The charitable nature of the foundation's work meant Edward agreeing to cover salaries was already a big win—it would help maintain the foundation's integrity.
But how many people were truly willing to work full-time for modest pay—or no pay—just to keep the mission alive? The foundation couldn't rely on unpaid volunteers forever.
Kode left with a heavy heart, and Zoroark followed. Once they were outside the office, Zoroark nudged his old friend on the shoulder.
"Don't your kind—Kadabra and Alakazam—have a private communication group? Try posting there." Zoroark offered. "Most Pokémon tend to be more genuine than humans, and there are some Psychic-types especially drawn to charity work."
Plus, Psychic Pokémon were highly capable. One could do the work of several humans—definitely worth it.
"…I'll give it a try," Kode said, his expression unreadable. Even among Pokémon, there were those with difficult personalities. He'd still have to screen them. But now that he was chairman of the foundation—and after seeing the grateful expressions of those they'd helped in hospitals—Kode had no intention of backing down.
Compared to his previous job at the Pokémon Resource Bureau—leisurely, but also a bit dull—this mission felt like something truly worth dedicating his life to.
"Boss."
A knock came at the door, and Monica poked her head inside.
Edward raised a brow at her.
Of course he remembered the new hire at his company. The script she'd submitted had impressed him—he was quite optimistic about her talent.
"It's about… the directing issue," Monica said as she stepped in, her face slightly flushed.
At the moment, Ghost Film Pictures didn't have many active filming projects besides Ada's Tom and Jerry. They had room in the schedule.
After hearing her out, Edward understood what she meant.
"…So, what you're saying is—you're not really used to directing, and you don't want to do it anymore?" Edward asked, looking at her. Monica immediately nodded.
They say amateurs watch for fun, professionals look at the craft.
Monica had written scripts and spent some time around film crews before—but once she actually sat in the director's chair, she quickly realized the job wasn't as glamorous or easy as she'd imagined.
Dollhouse hadn't even started filming yet, and she already felt overwhelmed.
"Then I'll have you stay on as the scriptwriter, and I'll find someone else to direct," Edward said without much concern.
Work was all about trying things out to see if they fit. Since Monica felt she wasn't up to directing, the best approach was simply to swap her out—saves time, money, and effort.
Unlike in anime or novels, where protagonists are always forced into roles they're not suited for and become so-called "Pushover Knights," real companies don't work like that. Not everyone is cut out for every job, and forcing someone into the wrong role just leads to poor results.
Monica was clearly a talented writer, but that didn't mean she'd make a great director.
"Thank you—that's such a relief." Monica let out a breath and left, clearly in a much better mood. Edward didn't think much of it.
Still, he mentally added "find director for Dollhouse" to his to-do list.
Finding a director wasn't that difficult these days. After all, directors didn't always have steady work. If someone approached them with a project, they'd take it. If no one came calling, they'd either stay home or network around to find their next gig.
Unless you were a famous director, most others had to make ends meet by working as assistant directors, production assistants, or taking whatever jobs came their way.
"But for a script like Dollhouse…" Edward mused. He would need someone truly capable. Wasting a good script would be a real shame.
(End of Chapter)