[Owen POV]
April 14th. Over two weeks had passed since my Circuit City episode aired.
I wrapped my scenes for The Sixth Sense today. The crew applauded me after the director yelled the final cut.
"Good job Owen! You did really well too, Scarlett."
The little girl who played a ghost in the story beamed up. The 12 years old Scarlet J Jameson wasn't someone I expected to stumble into in this life.
I saw her in a lot of Marvel projects in my original world, but she was already fully grown by then.
Right now, she is still starting out as an actress. She wanted to be friends at first, but was shocked to learn I was four years older than her.
"But you're so tiny?" She commented at that time. I almost hit the future Black Widow in the head.
"You're really awesome sensei." Ralph Macchio said as he shook my hand.
Ralph Macchio—the ghost psychiatrist—looked gaunt, with stress lines etched on his face, like he'd really gone through a lot for the role.
He absolutely did go through a lot, just because of a mistake.
He complained that he looked too youthful—a lot of the director's comments were the same during his audition—and I offered to stress him out in his dreams to make him look more mature.
He aged ten years in just a few days. I sent him nightmares, opened his sixth sense whenever ghosts were nearby, and even stressed him with night paralysis—which was basically paralysis poison while he tried to sleep.
He finally begged me to stop after four days. On the surface, it looked like a method acting technique as he underwent tremendous change. Underneath it all, he was barely keeping sane.
Jenny Ortega was overwhelmed when we shot the final scene together—a heart-to-heart inside the car. Despite that, she used the emotions to tie the entire scene together. She could definitely carry herself in a movie.
Both she and Macchio realized the film had a strong chance of box-office success after looking at the storyboard, plus George's passionate and creative directing process.
They did everything they could to make it their career breakthrough.
And then there was Circuit City. I had forgotten that part of my life even existed until the calls started coming in.
"You're really great Owen. You got some great publicity for yourself before becoming a movie lead." George complimented.
The episode had aired two weeks prior. Ratings had spiked from 17–20 million to 24 million viewers for that particular episode.
I wasn't saying the numbers came from me, but there seemed to be a correlation after the executives ran a survey—calling a focus group to ask why this episode was so popular.
The audience said my character "popped" on the screen. They also loved the natural feeling and relatability I brought to the role.
"But, the effect took too long to come." I sighed.
After the episode aired, there weren't any calls at all. It was only two weeks afterward that the offers started trickling in—well, not guaranteed offers, but auditions.
Calls from producers, casting agents, and even directors came in. Some offered tiny day-player parts, others hinted at bigger arcs.
The same producers who screwed me over in Circuit City wanted me to appear again in different episodes. The audacity of those people.
I asked George about the attention I was getting, and it turned out he had something to do with it.
Before the show aired, he called everyone he knew in the industry and urged them to watch it—to watch me.
I now had an ER episode—a TV prestige drama—and an NYPD Blue episode waiting for me when I returned to California.
My acting career, which I reluctantly dip my toe in from someone's request, was slightly taking off.
On a personal level, my strength had soared after the ginseng wine, which helped me break through the spirit realm. I was a low-level spirit now, and I would be breaking into a mid-tier realm soon.
In this realm, epiphanies were more important than internal energy. It was a place to focus on skill development after laying a solid foundation.
I was progressing fast since I already had a lot of skills and had experienced epiphanies in my previous life. I only slowed down slightly to consolidate my growth and keep it balanced while helping the others around me.
My pets finally emerged from their shells. Two snake beasts—black and white—came out after a long gestation period. Showered with demon core energy, they evolved into spiritual beasts.
Both were currently at level 3 foundation-stage strength and would grow stronger as I fed them cores, ginseng, and other items.
I also found a lot of spirit grass in Philadelphia since it was just after winter there. Yin energy helped the spirit grass to grow abundantly in the no-human region in this state.
Ralph showed me where he bought his supplies, and I managed to ship some ginseng and mushrooms from Korea and China for myself.
I created some cultivation pills, but it was all gone as I used it on Elena, Micheal, and my snakes.
Cultivation was expensive and time-consuming. Only two weeks, but I had to spend almost half a million just to grow part of my sect.
"If I found a spirit messenger or a demon next time, I would try to refine them instead– inside the refining cauldron I am going to build when I get home."
At this time, I had forgotten how hard it was to build a refining cauldron. Maybe I would get lucky and find one available for sale?
"It's highly unlikely."
Lastly, financial growth. My lotion formula was finally reverse-engineered. Jessica showed the effects to Mrs. Ortega, who immediately asked me for some.
Even Ralph's character's widowed wife– the actress Olivia Williams, wanted it and was prepared to pay handsomely to get her hands on the lotion.
How could they not when they saw Jessica's transformation with their own eyes. Like, that woman looked to be in her twenties now.
I contacted my Harvard Law roommate—his dad was a lawyer who worked with L'Oréal. He wasn't thrilled about the call, but he knew who my family was.
With my Kennedy backing, they didn't try to screw me over like the producers had. Or at least, they thought I still had one.
The Kennedy's usually kept their relationship underwraps and NDAs so as to not besmirch the family name, so no one knew that I had left the family.
Which was a good thing when dealing with these high level conglomerates.
I licensed the lotion formula for $25 million plus 10% royalties over the next ten years on an exclusive contract with L'Oréal. The money would come in a week later.
It was really jarring to see the difference in treatment between a nobody in Hollywood and the son of the Kennedy dynasty. The L'Oréal representative was basically kissing David's butt in the negotiation.
Other products I had been developing—like foundations, concealers, and eye creams designed for the 90s lighting and skin needs—still needed some time.
Once that was finished, there would be no cakey makeup anymore on the TV screen once the HD tv arrived.
L'Oréal expressed strong interest but hadn't finalized deals yet. So I contacted another brand for the others.
Based on initial discussions, I could reasonably expect another $35 million once all of them were licensed. That would take around 5-6 more months to finish.
This meant my cosmetic ventures alone could potentially earn $60 million upfront, not counting the ongoing royalties. All without stepping into the studio for a single scene.
All of these, were thanks to my yandere ex-wife who made me learn all of this stuff obsessively in order for me to pamper her.
Elena commented on my easy gain of wealth. "Your entire soul beckons it since you have been coddled in it for a while."
I didn't know where she learned it, but she was right. My yandere ex-wife was a really wealthy Imperial Princess.
Our bed frame was cast in pure gold, its edges adorned with jade. The house itself glittered with ornaments, each corner whispering of wealth.
I slept on the softest silk sheets, on a mattress stuffed with goose feathers. Our Prince Consort mansion sprawled across a million square feet, with lakes carved into its courtyard like mirrors of the sky.
I didn't have to dress myself. I didn't have to cook. My ex spoiled me in ways I never imagined.
Her fortune alone rivaled the top ten billionaires in my original world, and that didn't include her family wealth.
Elena said the aura of gold clings to my soul. I had never fully believed her, but the thought lingered, half making sense.
Still, I couldn't shake my curiosity about Elena. Prophet, seer, fortune-teller—Elena felt like all of them at once, yet none of them entirely. She remained a mystery to me for now.
After the filming was over, I went back home with Elena and Michael.
The filming was finishing up in Philadelphia, so everyone would be back in two or three days. I returned early since I didn't have anything else to do there.
It felt unlikely that I might return for the reshoot, so I was thinking about spending one month in my house, just sleeping the whole day as I wanted to let my body grow bigger.
I had already suppressed my growth long enough. I had it with being the shortest guy in the room.
We took a taxi to the airport that evening. It would be an overnight flight since it would take 5 and a half hours to get to LA from Philly.
"Owen, you're the one who caused this." Michael shook his head in disbelief as we stepped into the airport.
I pressed my lips together and stayed quiet. Elena tilted her head. "Why? What did he do?"
"He's the one who planted the idea in George's head to premiere the movie on June 1, to get that J01 name." Michael explained.
He added,"The film isn't even in pre-production. No distributor. No trailer. And June 1 is six weeks away. George is doing this in a mad rush."
"He didn't need to go wide," I muttered with a pursed lip. "Just renting out one theater will satisfy the condition."
"Oh, you know George would never settle for that," Michael teased. I pricked him with a needle, which made him yelp.
"Ah— I won't bring it up again. Please don't prick me anymore." He whined, even though he was almost 2 meters tall.
We moved through the terminal, the kind of ease only possible in 1996.
We could show up barely thirty minutes before departure, hand over our paper ticket at the counter, and stroll to the gate.
Security was just a single metal detector. No shoes off. No little bags for toothpaste. Families could even walk right up to the gate to wave goodbye. No one was checking any arses.
As we reached the waiting area, a ripple of murmurs stirred around us.
"Hmm? People already recognize you, Owen?" Michael asked, smirking.
"No. That attention isn't on me." My eyes followed the crowd's.
A young man with snow-white hair strode toward the gate in a tailored business suit, trailed by older executives hurrying to keep pace. Our eyes met slightly, and he smiled politely at me.
"Who's that?" I asked.
None of us knew—our grip on current affairs was thin at best. None of us grew up with the TV. Two of them were basically slaves, and I was a newbie in this universe.
My predecessor didn't even watch tv so I have no prior knowledge about this world.
Michael leaned toward a woman nearby, flashed a smile, and returned with the answer.
"Adrian Cross. CEO of Skylance Airlines—the one we're flying today. Looks like he's headed to L.A. too."
"Really?" I raised a brow. "A CEO flying commercial?"
"Doesn't he have a private jet?" Elena asked, also in disbelief.
"I heard he only just took over after his father died," Michael said. "Stress turned his hair white. He's twenty-six, inherited the company stock, the estate—everything. Now he's the most eligible bachelor around."
I looked at Micheal weirdly, secretly thinking, 'You went to talk for 3 minutes. How did you know so much?'
"Ah. So he's basically Bruce Wayne." I studied him from afar, my eyes narrowing on the claw-shaped pendant at his throat.
"That's… interesting," I murmured.
A sudden shudder ran through me. My head snapped around, scanning the terminal.
An Asian man approached with a cane and a tilted hat, walking straight toward Adrian.
The two greeted each other before boarding the plane together.
Behind the old man followed two burly men in berets and sunglasses, their bodies swathed in bandages, no skin could be seen. They moved sluggishly, yet with strength in their steps.
"What is it?" Elena whispered, her voice tight as she saw the shift in my face.
"Elena…" My words turned heavy. "I think we'd better not board this flight today."
…
Inside the plane, an hour into the flight to LA, everything felt ordinary. The cabin lights were dimmed, the steady hum of the engines filling the background.
Flight attendants moved smoothly up and down the aisles, serving drinks and collecting trays.
Economy class was only half full—families scattered here and there, a pair of businessmen already asleep, a mother rocking her baby.
Business class had about a dozen passengers, each sunk into wider seats, reading newspapers or sipping wine.
First class, as expected on a weekday flight, was nearly empty except for two men who kept to themselves. Around one-third of the seats were filled, so it wasn't a very full flight.
The aisle to first class was guarded by the bandaged men; not even the flight attendants could go there.
I curled inside a blanket, pulled on an eye cover, and went to sleep in the two-seat row on the left side of the plane. I sat near the aisle while Elena sat by the window. Michael sat in front of me, with an empty seat beside him.
He smiled and flirted with the blonde flight attendant in a short skirt and tight blouse. "See that guy? He's the talent I'm managing."
"Really?" The flight attendant sounded skeptical. "I've never seen him before."
"That's because this is his breakout movie. He was on the Circuit City episode two weeks ago. Did you see it?"
The flight attendant shook her head. "I don't watch TV much. I have to fly all over the world, so…"
"That must be amazing." He shifted the topic smoothly. "Do you enjoy visiting new places?"
She beamed slightly. "Yeah. I love it."
"What's the best place you've visited?" he asked, giving her his full attention, letting her linger on her memories.
In only a short while, he managed to flip her impression of him—from a vain prick to a surprisingly good listener and conversationalist.
The flight attendant even slipped him extra peanuts, charmed despite herself. After she moved on to serve the others, Michael leaned over his seat and whispered to me, "What do you think? Is she the one?"
"No. She's clean," I replied, not even bothering to lift my eye cover.
"Alright. Then I'm going to sleep with her on this flight," he vowed.
"Shut up a moment. I'm trying to listen to what they're saying in first class," I scolded him.
My black snake had the ability to share its senses. Through it, I heard the conversation between the Asian old man and the CEO.
The old man had a thin beard, gray hair, and a fisherman's cap perched on his head. His striped clothes gave him the look of a wandering mystic.
He said, "Few are chosen to stand against the darkness. You are one of them. Fate marked you the day your family fell"
"What should I do, Sifu?" Adrian asked with a sharp, unrelenting gaze. I rolled my eyes inwardly, knowing he'd already taken the bait.
"If a shadow could claim your father and mother, then it will not rest until your bloodline is gone. Its hunger is endless." The old man's words dug deeper into Adrian's fear.
'Is it another greedy demon?' I thought.
"Can you fight against it?" Adrian asked.
The old man puffed himself up. "Fight it? It would flee before my gaze. But I am bound to many realms. I cannot remain at your side"
I rolled my eyes again. That old man was barely foundation level 3. Even Elena outclassed him.
The bandaged men in the aisle, however, were another matter. Both were at level 5 in the foundation realm—and I sensed something foul in them. Not demonic energy, but something darker. Rotting.
'Jiangshi? (Undead Warrior)' I guessed.
From that short exchange, I pieced together the story: Adrian Cross, billionaire heir, had become the target of dark forces.
After his father's death, someone attempted a hostile takeover of his company.
He barely fought them off, only to face constant assassination attempts afterward—poison slipped into his tea, brakes cut on his car, a truck swerving to crush him.
He grew wary of moving anywhere alone, which was why he boarded a commercial plane instead of flying private.
The stress turned his hair white, stripped twenty pounds from his frame, and drove him to train in martial arts just to feel less helpless.
Now, he was meeting this so-called Sifu to learn how to protect himself—but the old man was only trying to sell him the undead warriors.
"You can rent them. A million dollars a day for both. A bargain for you," the Sifu said smugly.
"What?" Adrian's eyes nearly bulged from his head. I almost lost my composure at the old man's audacity.
A million a day—thirty million a month, three hundred sixty-five million a year.
"Scammer. That old man's definitely a scammer," I muttered.
Suddenly, turbulence shook the plane again. The flight attendant Michael had been flirting with fell onto his lap.
She blushed, and Michael grinned, saying, "Seems like fate is trying to get us together."
"Fate's a bitch. It'll interrupt you before you can even pick up a girl." I stood, calling Michael up. My face was covered with a mask, and my white snake had replaced my body as it slept on the chair where I slept before.
Micheal's eyes flickered, and he immediately stood, forcing the flight attendant back onto her feet.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Get everyone back to economy. Now!" I barked at the flight attendants. "BLOCK!" I shouted at Micheal.
Michael crossed his arms and caught the punch from one of the bandaged men head-on.
The other attacked further down the aisle, driving its hand straight into a flight attendant's chest. Her heart was pierced in an instant, blood splattering across the aisle. The Jiangshi ripped off the bandages from his mouth, and began biting the woman's dead corpse.
The flight attendant we'd saved screamed in horror. Passengers jolted awake, panic flooding business class as they took in the carnage.
"Murd—Murderer!" someone shouted.
"Take this—!" I summoned my spirit weapon and tossed it to him so he could defend himself, while I charged to the other side to protect the remaining passengers.
"Elena, get everyone back!" I ordered. The Jiangshi had gone berserk after their master's death.
Elena understood her mission and carried my snake– who was disguised as me, and then left the compartment with the other passengers.
I kicked the murderer in the head, sending it flying into first class. Its head was caved in, but he didn't die. However, it stopped moving when I cut off his head with a thin fishing line.
I stepped into the aisle, leaving Micheal to handle the other Jiangshi. They moved slowly, so it would be good training for Micheal since he had learned sword techniques from me before.
In the first class, a towering woman whose head reached the ceiling of the plane, held Adrian by the throat. The old man lay in pieces at her feet, carved apart by her long, razor-sharp nails.
The brunette, voluptuous with black hair trailing down to the floor and crimson heels, smiled at Adrian and purred, "My love. At last—nothing stands between us."
My black snake suddenly attacked her arm, biting it and inserting venom into her muscles, causing her to scream and release the CEO.
"Fuck– Where did this snake come from?!" She asked, looking at her pale gray skin that had turned green where the snake had bitten.
Adrian coughed as he could finally breathe again, and he looked at the woman in fear.
"Anna?" He asked in shock.
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