"Heh… it's the same group of us again, huh?"
Corey stared in mild despair at the two colleagues standing beside him—the middle-aged uncle and the young woman. This lineup felt far too familiar, triggering memories he would rather forget.
Every single time they ended up reviewing one of Director Edward's films, it always seemed to be this exact configuration of people. Was this fate? Coincidence? Or some kind of cursed pattern?
"Yes, it's still the three of us. And this time… we're watching The Grudge 3."
The girl sighed softly, lifting the cup of water beside her. She planned to take a sip, but after hesitating for a moment, she put it back down.
Drinking water now felt risky—something unpleasant might happen in the next couple of hours. And they still had a full two-hour movie to get through.
Edward's movies were scary—terrifying, even. Although he had also shot films of other genres, including some that weren't strictly horror, the girl firmly believed that the majority of Edward's works fell into the "absolutely horrifying" category. And now they were supposed to watch the notorious The Grudge.
She could tolerate many genres of film, but The Grudge was one she absolutely could not handle. Last time she watched it, she genuinely felt like her heart had almost stopped.
"Well, at least after we finish this one, we don't have to go to the theater to watch it again. Watching horror movies in a theater is always way scarier than watching them in a review room like this one."
The uncle chuckled as he rubbed his increasingly thinning hair, his eyes carrying a hint of humor.
Corey nodded in agreement. He felt exactly the same.
These days, everyone had TVs and computers at home. People could easily watch movies on their own. But it was undeniable: cinema equipment was far superior to anything you could have at home. Because of that, watching a movie in a theater always felt better—sometimes much better.
But that excellent audiovisual experience came with unintended consequences… especially when watching one of Director Edward's horror films.
"Wow, it really is Corey and the others again. You're sure this isn't intentional?"
One of the staff members muttered while looking at Corey.
"It has to be coincidence. The scheduling is random. Sure, they've worked together before, but every time an Edward film shows up, all three of them end up together. Still, it's just coincidence."
Another colleague laughed while holding a stack of documents. His complexion looked pale, and he clearly hadn't slept well.
"That's true… scheduling is random, and people take days off. So, it's logical. It's just… the more logical it is, the stranger it feels."
The staff sighed. Indeed, the entire situation felt bizarre no matter how you looked at it.
But they only gossiped briefly and didn't continue. Even if it was weird, it would eventually become just another workplace ghost story.
Every profession had its own odd little superstitions and strange coincidences.
Like hospitals, for example—medical staff hated hearing someone say, "It's quiet today." They also avoided eating mangoes or drinking certain brands of milk that sounded like "busy" or "prosperous" due to wordplay superstitions. If you ever planned to send snacks to doctors as thanks, you had to avoid those items, or the doctors might give you a strained smile.
None of these things had real scientific basis—they were superstitions. But people found them oddly accurate, so they avoided tempting fate.
Their movie review department had its own taboos too, though fewer in number. After all, watching movies at work wasn't the worst duty. And with enough time, even terrible films could become a form of entertainment.
Meanwhile, Corey had no idea his coworkers were gossiping about his "cursed luck." He had already entered the screening room, sat down, accepted his fate, and begun watching The Grudge 3.
The screening room quickly grew lively. Other reviewers could hear faint screams from inside and exchanged sympathetic looks. They all knew how terrifying Edward's films were. They were relieved—deeply relieved that they weren't chosen this time.
But they were also undeniably curious. Just how scary was The Grudge 3?
Humans were contradictory creatures. Even knowing something was terrifying, they couldn't help but want to know just how terrifying it was.
But when Corey and the others finished watching, no one approached them to ask questions. Everyone understood that spoilers were extremely dangerous—fatally so for one's career. Someone in the past had spoiled a movie, lost their job, and was sued into bankruptcy for leaking trade secrets that damaged box office performance.
Ever since then, movie reviewers learned to seal their lips.
In this industry, saying the wrong thing could ruin your life.
So no one dared ask.
No one dared hint.
Because if something leaked, even accidentally, whoever asked would also become a suspect. No one wanted that trouble.
"So… what do you two think of the movie?"
Corey's hands trembled as he picked up his cup and took a sip, finally calming his nerves just a bit.
"It was very good… but the ending wasn't a happy ending. Hard to comment."
The girl's face was pale. The movie was simply too intense.
Corey silently agreed. This was the final installment—he expected Kayako to be destroyed, sealed away, or at least exorcised. But instead, Edward presented that ending.
Kayako, now returned to human form, but still harboring her evil power, walking alone into the bustling city…
It left viewers feeling like Kayako could appear beside them at any moment.
"I think there's symbolism here—like a metaphor suggesting that evils like Kayako still exist within our society."
The uncle voiced a new interpretation. Maybe it was true. Maybe not. Only Edward knew for sure. And given Edward's style, it was entirely possible.
Regardless of interpretation, the rating was unanimously agreed upon:
Adults Only.
Edward wasn't surprised when he saw the rating.
The Grudge 3 was filled with high-intensity scenes and deeply unsettling moments. An adult-only rating was perfectly reasonable.
"So… the problem is solved for now?"
Edward looked at the Zoroark in front of him with interest.
Zoroark nodded. Most of the online attacks had faded, and they had even sued quite a few people.
Edward nodded with satisfaction. It was enough. The attacks didn't bother him much—he never cared about those people's opinions. But their constant buzzing was annoying. So he decided to swat a few flies.
Now they just had to wait for the results.
"Boss, because of what happened earlier, a lot of people say they want to go to the theater to support us."
Zoroark grinned.
Edward laughed. That was good. The audience paid for tickets, and he collected fear value. But he didn't expect too much—people often said they would support something, but reality was another story.
Besides, this was a horror film. Horror movies naturally had a limited audience.
Even though Edward aimed for ten billion box office revenue, he knew The Grudge 3 alone could never achieve that. The genre simply didn't allow for it.
"Just post a thank-you announcement. Also publish our earnings and donate them to hospital construction."
Edward waved lightly. The distribution and box office division percentages were complicated, but usually the film company received around 33%.
However, because Edward was a big-name director, his share was 45%.
A very generous percentage.
As the release date of The Grudge 3 approached, Edward wasn't stressed at all. He even found time to work on the script for One Missed Call 2.
But while he was busy writing, a piece of shocking news suddenly went viral online.
[Thank you, Director Edward, for allowing me to keep living in this world.]
It was an article with no technique, no literary polish—just pure emotion.
It told a simple but heartbreaking story.
The author had fallen terribly ill. Their family was poor; they didn't know whether they should continue treatment and risk leaving their wife and child with nothing, or stop treatment and leave them with some savings.
The wife was devastated.
Then the doctor recommended the charity foundation.
The man qualified and received assistance. He survived.
He could continue living with his wife and daughter.
The story touched countless people.
Of course, trolls immediately accused it of being a marketing ploy for The Grudge 3.
But after multiple insiders angrily provided evidence that it was true, the trolls went silent—terrified of Edward's lawyers. Edward was wealthy and had plenty of time. No one wanted to pick a fight with him.
With the article blowing up, more attention fell on the charity foundation and the network of affordable hospitals.
Everyone could get sick.
Humans and even Pokémon.
Naturally, people wished for more affordable medical care. But donating was hard—most people struggled just to take care of themselves.
Then Ghost Films released a statement that shocked the entire internet:
They would donate all of their box office earnings from the film to build affordable hospitals.
Instantly, the movie surged in popularity.
For many people, buying a movie ticket was expensive… but still manageable.
And it counted as charity.
"Honey, I want to watch it."
In Viridian City, a man looked at his wife with hopeful eyes. He was nervous—his wife hated horror movies.
"Let's watch it. I'll go too."
She kissed him lightly.
The man froze—she wanted to watch The Grudge? Impossible! She couldn't even sleep after watching Edward's earliest film, Dead Silence, let alone the terrifying The Grudge.
"Hmph. I want to do something charitable too."
She snorted softly.
Seeing her husband's weird expression, she immediately understood what he was thinking.
But this time, she was serious. She had read that article, and she wanted to contribute in her own way.
They couldn't donate—they still had mortgage and car payments but buying movie tickets was doable.
Similar scenes played out across the country.
So, when The Grudge 3 finally premiered…
Cinema managers were stunned.
"What?! Every single show sold out? The entire day?!"
A manager stared wide-eyed at his employee.
"And… not just today. Even the day after tomorrow is sold out."
The employee sighed helplessly.
They had increased screenings—many, many extra screenings but still everything was sold out.
It was unbelievable.
(End of Chapter)