Edward sat in his seat, lazily swirling the fruit juice in his hand, watching as the liquid traced patterns along the glass wall.
"Director Edward."
A deep, composed voice called out. Edward rolled his eyes inwardly. Here we go again. Couldn't he just enjoy a moment of peace?
Edward wasn't usually short-tempered. In fact, he was a very patient person. But he was getting overwhelmed by the nonstop stream of people approaching him—he hadn't had a full minute of rest without someone showing up.
"Hello, Mr. Bloom." Edward stood up with a polite smile to greet the man holding a glass of wine.
Mr. Bloom—his actual stage name—used to go by another name, but he changed it to something more memorable. And admittedly, it was easy to remember.
He was a veteran actor who had once won multiple best actor awards, but with the rise of a new generation and his own somewhat limited acting range, he'd gradually faded from the public eye.
And in showbiz, once you lose exposure, your career is basically hanging by a thread.
"Director Edward, your variety show this time is truly impressive. You've even managed to invite so many legendary veterans." Mr. Bloom was being extremely humble. Edward smiled and exchanged pleasantries, but he knew—this man definitely had something to ask.
Even though Mr. Bloom no longer had the popularity or traffic of his heyday, he was once a major star, and his wealth was nothing to scoff at. He certainly wasn't so broke that he needed to crawl back into acting just to survive.
So, being this humble now could only mean one thing—he wanted something.
Sure enough, after some small talk, Mr. Bloom hesitated before speaking.
"Uh… Director Edward, I have a son who's interested in joining the film industry. I was wondering if…" he trailed off, waiting for Edward's reaction.
Edward maintained his smile but sighed inwardly. Called it.
He had already dealt with several similar encounters—people casually chatting with him, only to eventually bring up their relatives and ask for a role in Sherlock Holmes Season 2. Even just a cameo would do.
Everyone knew Sherlock Holmes was Edward's personal project. While there was a reality competition to choose actors, if Edward wanted to sneak someone in, no one could stop him—after all, he was both the director and the screenwriter.
He had absolute control over the production.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bloom," Edward said with a polite smile, raising his glass. "All the actors must go through the audition process on the show. But if your son has solid acting skills, he'll definitely have a fair shot."
Mr. Bloom's expression stiffened a little but managed a polite smile before excusing himself.
Edward slumped back into his seat. Honestly, he hadn't spent more time sitting than he had in the restroom today.
"Boss, here are the variety show's contracts that need your signature."
Zoroark walked in with a stack of documents.
Edward quickly got up, took the contracts, and put on a serious face.
"This is urgent. Let's head back to the office for a meeting."
Edward briskly left the venue with Zoroark in tow. On the way out, he made sure to notify a few guests before finally escaping and letting out a long sigh of relief.
His steps suddenly felt much lighter—he had really not wanted to stay there any longer.
"Boss, what's up with you?" Zoroark teased, nudging Edward with its elbow.
Edward rolled his eyes.
"I haven't sat down for longer than a minute at a time," he grumbled. Not to mention all the strange people he had to deal with.
Mr. Bloom was still one of the more tolerable cases. Just earlier, an old-school director had approached him and, without any small talk, directly demanded that Edward reserve a female lead role for his "well-connected" relative.
Edward had nearly poured his wine on the floor in protest. Does this guy even own a mirror? What makes him think he has the right to say that to me?
But thanks to his good upbringing and strong self-discipline, Edward merely smiled and declined.
The old man wasn't happy—acting as if he was doing the show a favor by participating. Edward was so annoyed he actually laughed, then bluntly told him to leave. Only then did the director awkwardly walk away.
That contract, of course, was shredded.
Edward had no patience for these so-called "industry veterans," especially not ones whose directing styles were outdated and only gained recognition back when the league had very few directors.
He had no fondness for those with inflated egos and unearned confidence.
As the saying went—in a big forest, you'll see all kinds of birds.
"Oh, right! Boss, Miss Monica has something to report."
Zoroark suddenly remembered something and hurried to Edward's side.
Monica?
Edward recalled she was still filming Dollhouse. The shooting progress had been decent so far, though not yet finished.
"What happened?" he asked, curious. After all, what could really go wrong on set? It's not like a celebrity had gotten into a scandal, right?
"Well, it's like this," Zoroark said, his voice full of disbelief. "One of the extras that the casting coordinator brought in… smashed an IMAX camera on set!"
"Huh?! An IMAX camera? SMASHED?!"
Edward was stunned.
Good grief. This was a whole new level of dumb.
IMAX cameras, while technically just cameras, were exceptionally expensive due to their unparalleled image-capturing capabilities. A single unit cost over ten million pokedollars.
Ghost Film Pictures didn't even own one—they usually rented them, since they weren't needed often. Even renting one for a week cost 120,000 pokedollars, and that's after buying an insurance policy just to qualify.
Edward, despite his wealth, hadn't purchased one outright. Whenever they needed one, he had his staff rent it and get insurance.
Every time an IMAX camera was rented, the cinematographers treated it like a priceless treasure—sometimes even joking they'd sleep beside it.
And now, Zoroark was telling him… an extra had smashed one?
"What's the identity of this extra? Can they even afford to pay for it? Did you call the cops?"
Edward hit Zoroark with three rapid-fire questions, genuinely curious.
Was this extra secretly a second-generation rich kid like him?
(End of Chapter)