When Edward arrived at the amusement park, he immediately saw that the entrance was lined with an exceptionally long queue of people.
However, this time there were far more girls among the crowd.
Previously, most of the visitors had been male, but now there was a noticeable increase in female guests.
From that alone, Edward could already tell that the news about the "Handsome Boy at the Crossroads" had spread far and wide.
Of course, that was only natural.
As officially recognized "pretty boys," though one was dressed in black and the other in white, both possessed outstandingly handsome looks that easily caught people's eyes. It was no wonder they attracted so many girls' attention—just like how Thomasie, with her mesmerizing beauty, also naturally drew the gaze of countless men.
"Boss, the amusement park's visitor flow is getting heavier and heavier. Several areas are already implementing crowd control measures. Do you think we should consider expanding the park?" asked Zoroark. Although it had come out to relax, it hadn't forgotten its work responsibilities. Watching the bustling scene, it turned toward Edward and asked with a serious tone.
Edward seemed to be lost in thought.
In truth, the amusement park industry had never been easy to sustain.
Even in his previous life, it was the same story.
Most amusement parks could only barely survive if they were built near city centers or large public parks—places with constant foot traffic. And even then, many of them still faced the looming threat of closure, since the problem of homogeneity among amusement parks was simply too severe.
One park launches a six-ring roller coaster today, and another will follow suit Thomasorrow. You introduce a "Hell Catapult," and the next day, someone else builds one too.
The result was that no matter which amusement park tourists visited, they all felt the same. The only truly successful case was that of a world-famous amusement park giant, which, thanks to its vast collection of beloved intellectual properties, managed to carve out a unique identity for itself—and even then, it still faced constant pressure to maintain its dominance.
Therefore, most amusement parks tended to shrink after being established rather than expand. Expansions were rare.
Yet as Edward looked at his own amusement park, sprawling and lively, with dense crowds filling every corner—he couldn't deny it anymore: the park did indeed feel a bit too small now.
"Still," Edward said, "I don't think there's much need for expansion. After all, these people may say they came for the amusement park, but in reality, they're all here for the haunted house."
He knew perfectly well what most visitors' true intentions were. Almost all of them were coming specifically for the haunted house. Wherever Thomasie was, that was where the crowd gathered.
So, solving this problem was both simple and complicated.
In theory, the solution was easy: just move Thomasie's haunted house elsewhere, create a large independent area for her attraction, and the issue would be resolved. But in practice, it was not possible, because Thomasie's contract was signed under the amusement park itself.
If he moved her haunted house outside the park, the contract would have to be re-signed and that meant needing a brand-new system contract, something Edward didn't currently have available.
Thus, Thomasie could only stay where she was.
"Boss, are you saying… we're going to relocate Miss Thomasie's haunted house?" Zoroark tried to guess Edward's thoughts but wasn't entirely correct. Edward shook his head, walking forward with the crowd while carrying Q in his arms.
The small creature nestled lazily in Edward's embrace, its eyes scanning the surroundings as though searching for something.
"We can't relocate her. Miss Thomasie doesn't want to leave her haunted house—there are some reasons for that," Edward explained, shaking his head. He still planned to expand the park instead. Though such an approach might make others accuse him of greed, Edward didn't have much of a choice.
After all, the special tool that allowed him to hire ghosts as employees was extremely rare; to this day, he hadn't obtained a second one. All he could do was hope that this "Thomasie: Unlimited" event might bring him something new.
Still, Edward wasn't too confident about how much "fear points" Thomasie's movie could generate.
Even though Thomasie had done extremely well at the box office, its growth in accumulated fear points was very slow. It had only reached about one hundred thousand so far, even though the box office had already surpassed two hundred fifty million, on its way toward three hundred.
Edward figured it was because, while Thomasie was technically categorized as a horror movie, it wasn't particularly scary. Most of its horror leaned toward disgust rather than fear—it made people uncomfortable, but rarely gave that skin-crawling terror that made you shiver. Edward had tried adding elements of psychological horror, but the effect still wasn't ideal.
At this rate, by the time Thomasie: Unlimited finished screening, its total fear points might only reach two or three hundred thousand—just enough for two or three draws. Edward wasn't sure what kind of rewards that would bring.
"So, what should we do then?" Zoroark asked, puzzled. If relocation wasn't possible, how exactly would they solve the problem?
When Edward simply replied, "We'll expand," Zoroark almost wanted to transform back into its original form just to grab its boss by the collar and demand, "Then what was the point of all that talk before?!"
Yawning, Edward finally reached the haunted house.
As the boss, he naturally didn't need to line up. He went straight in—and saw Thomasie, along with the open door beside her. Inside that door lay what looked like an ordinary town, shrouded in thick mist. Standing at the doorway was a white-clothed handsome young man.
"No wonder they call him a pretty boy," Edward murmured with genuine admiration. Even by his own standards, the boy truly lived up to the title—a flawless beauty, his features delicate yet strikingly defined, the kind of face that would make anyone stop and stare in amazement.
The boy heard Edward's comment and turned his head slightly to look at him. Zoroark studied the young man's face quietly, mentally noting it down. It had met many humans before, but it had to admit—this one was by far the most beautiful. His looks were almost unnaturally perfect, so much so that it made one question whether he was even human.
"Zoroark, go downstairs for a bit," Edward instructed. He intended to talk with the young man privately, and it would be inconvenient with Zoroark present. Zoroark nodded understandingly and left briskly—it wasn't worried, since its boss was strong enough that no ordinary person could ever harm him.
Once Zoroark left, Edward was about to begin when Thomasie and the white-clad youth started arguing. Their bickering gave him a headache, though fortunately, it didn't last long. In the end, they seemed to reach a truce of sorts. The black-clad young man, meanwhile, could not be bound or restrained but in this world, under its unique rules, Edward didn't have to worry about him causing trouble.
"Hmm… should I make a movie about them?" Edward pondered as he gazed at Thomasie and the beautiful boy. Their appearances were absolutely top-tier—one stunning woman, one impossibly handsome man. Together, they could captivate both male and female audiences alike. A film starring the two of them might even break four hundred million at the box office.
Yet Edward hesitated. With faces like theirs, they seemed more suited for a youthful, bittersweet romance film rather than a horror one.
The problem was, such movies rarely received high ratings. Even when some managed to be good, they were often dragged down by scandals involving the lead actors. Moreover, the "student life" in this world was different from that of his past life—less harsh, more diverse. After all, though people could still take the college entrance exam, it was no longer the only path forward.
Eventually, Edward abandoned the idea, because he received a message from old Mr. Kirk.
"Hahaha, Edward! This is one of my juniors—his name is Thomas Ward. I think the script he wrote is quite interesting, so I'm sending it over for you to take a look!" said the old man cheerfully.
Edward glanced curiously at Thomas.
As he looked down at the script in his hand, his expression grew increasingly peculiar.
The Conjuring
The large title stared right back at him, printed boldly across the page. Edward's feelings turned complicated—he truly hadn't expected to see The Conjuring script here, and in the hands of this so-called Thomas, no less.
He said nothing, simply flipping through the pages intently, eager to see whether this version of The Conjuring matched the one in his memory.
The story began in a quiet small town, where a couple named the Perrons moved into an old farmhouse.
"…Wait, it's really exactly the same?" Edward muttered, his expression subtle. This setup felt all too familiar. The Conjuring was practically the textbook example of Western horror: the story always began with a new house or a cursed object that triggered a series of supernatural events.
As the Perron family settled into their farmhouse, strange occurrences began creeping in. Over time, odd and chilling phenomena appeared—at night, their daughter Cindy would hear someone crying; furniture would move on its own; and freezing cold drafts would sweep through rooms without warning, making everyone shiver.
Edward nearly wanted to applaud. "Yes! That's exactly the feeling!" he thought. This was classic Conjuring atmosphere, though similar scenes could also be found in many other horror films.
The eerie events gradually escalated until the Perrons were overwhelmed by fear.
In desperation, they sought help from a pair of paranormal investigators living in Rustboro City—the renowned Warren couple, known for their extensive experience and strong sense of justice in dealing with supernatural phenomena. Armed with their equipment and determination, they came to the farmhouse.
Upon entering, the Warrens immediately sensed something abnormal. They began a thorough investigation—taking photographs, recording sounds, documenting every sign of the supernatural.
Naturally, the script included a few sudden "jump scare" moments as well.
One night, Cindy's room became the epicenter of activity. Awakened by a chilling gust, she saw her bedroom door slowly creak open by itself. The Warrens rushed in, turned on their night-vision devices, and spotted a blurry, shadowy figure drifting in the room.
Mr. Warren clasped his prayer beads tightly…
"Hmm, makes sense," Edward muttered under his breath. In this Pokémon-filled world, he wouldn't even be surprised if Mr. Warren was holding an Arceus figurine instead.
Mr. Warren began chanting prayers to drive away the evil spirit. But the spirit wouldn't yield—it shrieked with bone-chilling fury, lunging toward Cindy.
The Warrens resorted to a more advanced exorcism ritual: they circled Cindy's bed with salt and sprinkled strange powder, apparently droppings from Dark-type Pokémon believed to ward off ghost. Mrs. Warren wielded holy water and sacred relics, praying fervently while her husband continued chanting deep, resonant verses to suppress the spirit through divine force.
Yet the spirit's power was overwhelming. It lashed out violently, sending the Warrens flying and turning the whole house into chaos, as if a small earthquake had struck.
Realizing that brute force wouldn't work, the Warrens began investigating the entity's origins.
Their research revealed that the farmhouse had been the site of a horrific tragedy: a mother, in her desperation to protect her children, had killed her husband and several of her children before taking her own life. The lingering resentment from that tragedy had given birth to the vengeful spirit haunting the house.
"It's textbook storytelling," Edward sighed, half amused. Most horror films loved inserting a tragic backstory in the middle to explain the ghost's origins—and this was no exception.
Following the revelation, the Warrens concluded that to defeat the spirit, they had to sever its connection to the past. In the basement, they discovered old belongings tied to the murder. Mr. Warren resolved to destroy them, cutting off the ghost's power source.
But the spirit launched another furious assault, taking on a terrifying form and attacking with unrestrained wrath. The Warrens fought back with everything they had—Mr. Warren used his prayer beads to resist while Mrs. Warren released her Dark-type Pokémon to weaken the spirit.
Edward noticed this modified section and narrowed his eyes, mentally noting the change before continuing.
In a fierce showdown, the Warrens finally exploited the spirit's weakness. Using the power of their Dark-type Pokémon, they disrupted its energy and sealed it inside a box engraved with Arceus's sigil, thus ending the haunting.
And so, the story concluded with a happy ending—almost identical to The Conjuring he remembered.
"Why did you alter this part of the script?" Edward asked curiously.
Thomas hesitated, then replied, "I felt… evil spirits shouldn't be defeated by Pokémon alone. So, I made a few changes. It was thanks to your techniques, actually." He looked at Edward with genuine admiration.
Edward felt slightly embarrassed but also deeply satisfied as he reviewed the script. His company was truly in need of talented young directors and writers like this.
Under Edward's invitation, Thomas excitedly signed the contract—officially joining Edward's company as one of his directors.
(End of Chapter)