บท 44: Colourful world
Speaking of "Harry Potter", I'm toying with the idea of releasing it as a book here. It'll be interesting to see how people in this world react. Of course, I'll need to tweak a few things - we're already in a fantasy world, after all. But I'm confident I can modify it without losing the charm that made it a hit back on Earth.
I was so lost in thought that the knock on my office door made me jump. I looked up to see Klein poking his head in.
"Boss, someone wants to see you," he said, looking a bit uncertain.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Who is it?"
Before Klein could answer, a familiar figure stepped into the room, all confidence and swagger.
"It's me. Rupert Darkflame."
I blinked, genuinely surprised. Rupert Darkflame, the 30-year-old demon actor who'd famously quit the industry, was standing in my office. This day just got a whole lot more interesting.
"Rupert," I said, standing up and trying to hide my surprise. "This is... unexpected. What brings you to our humble studio?"
Rupert's eyes darted around the room, taking in the posters of "The Demonfather" and the scattered script pages on my desk. "Humble might be underselling it a bit, don't you think? Word on the street is that Hellfire Studios is the place to be these days."
I gestured for him to take a seat, curiosity getting the better of me. "And what does the great Rupert Darkflame want with us? Last I heard, you'd sworn off the film industry."
Rupert sat down, his posture a mix of tension and excitement. "Let's just say I've had a change of heart. Your film... 'The Demonfather'... it made me remember why I got into this business in the first place."
I leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."
"I want in," he said simply. "Whatever your next project is, I want to be a part of it. No star treatment, no ridiculous demands. Just a chance to be part of something... meaningful again."
I leaned back in my chair, studying Rupert. Sure, he was once a rising star, but I wasn't about to hand out roles based on past glory. Hell, the only reason I even knew about him was because of his brother, Damien Darkflame, the current top demon actor. I hadn't even seen any of their films.
"You're interested in being part of my next film?" I chuckled, deciding to test the waters. "Our next project isn't even off the ground yet. We haven't started casting. What makes you so sure it'll be as good as 'The Demonfather'?"
Rupert's eyes flickered to the scripts on my desk, a smile playing on his lips. "Call it demon instinct, but I've got a feeling I don't want to miss out on whatever Hellfire Studios does next." He paused, a hint of regret in his voice. "I'm kicking myself for not accepting the role of Sonny when I had the chance."
Ah, right. I vaguely remembered sending out invitations to some down-on-their-luck actors (rock bottom list). Guess Rupert was on that list.
"Instinct, huh?" I said, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. "Did you know the entire film industry - not just demons, but the whole lot - is scrutinizing me? They're saying 'The Demonfather' was a fluke, a one-hit wonder. That I just got lucky."
Rupert's smile didn't falter. "Mr. Morningstar, I couldn't care less about media speculations. All I know is that I want in on your next project, whatever it is. Even if it's just a bit part, I'll take it."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Here was Rupert Darkflame, part of a renowned acting family, practically begging for any role he could get. It was... unexpected, to say the least.
"That's quite an offer, Rupert," I said, measuring my words carefully. "But I have to ask - why? Why are you so determined to work with us?"
Rupert leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Because you're doing something different. Something real. The big studios, they're all about playing it safe, churning out the same old drivel. But you? You're shaking things up. And I want to be part of that."
I nodded slowly, considering his words. There was a hunger in Rupert's eyes, a desperation almost. It was intriguing, but also a bit concerning.
"Alright, Rupert," I said finally. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. But let's get one thing straight - if you do end up in our next project, there's no star treatment. You'll be part of the team, just like everyone else. Can you handle that?"
Rupert's face broke into a genuine grin. "Handle it? Mr. Morningstar, that's exactly what I'm looking for."
I couldn't help but smile back. "Well then, let's talk details. But remember, nothing's set in stone yet. We've got a long way to go before we start casting."
***
(Vivienne POV)
It's funny how quickly things can change. A few weeks ago, I was just another struggling actress. Now? I can barely walk down the street without being recognized as Apollonia from "The Demonfather."
Managers, agents, directors - suddenly everyone wants a piece of me. My own manager's been relentless, pushing me to accept some high-paying role or another. It's... overwhelming, to say the least.
I should be thrilled. This is what I've always wanted, right? To be in demand, to have my pick of roles. But every time I think about accepting one of these offers, something holds me back.
I can't stop thinking about Hellfire Studios. About their next project. About... Arthur.
It's ridiculous, really. My part in "The Demonfather" was tiny. Just a few scenes. But those few scenes were enough to launch my career into the stratosphere. And working with Arthur, seeing his vision come to life... it was unlike anything I've experienced before.
I catch myself wondering what he's planning next. Will it be another period piece? Something different? Whatever it is, I want to be a part of it.
I know, I know. I should be practical. Take advantage of this momentum while I have it. But the thought of working on some generic blockbuster, no matter how well it pays, just doesn't excite me the way the prospect of another Hellfire Studios production does.
There's a part of me that wonders if I'm reading too much into "The Demonfather." All those rumors about hidden messages, about it being some kind of elaborate chess game involving the Morningstar royal family... it's probably just gossip. Right?
But then I remember the intensity in Arthur's eyes during filming. Maybe there was more to it than I realized.
I sigh, flopping back onto my bed. My manager would have a fit if he knew what I was thinking. Turning down guaranteed paydays on the off chance that Arthur might have a role for me in his next film? It's madness.
But I can't shake this feeling. This certainty that whatever Hellfire Studios does next, it's going to be big.
And I want to be a part of it again.
I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one from the cast who feels this way.
***
(Firfel POV)
Ugh. Unbelievable. The "Demonfather" becomes a hit even in the Roses Kingdom, and what does Mother do? Sends me a letter full of reprimands. As if my "baseless dream" is something to be ashamed of.
I crumple the paper, channeling my frustration into a burst of wind magic. In seconds, the letter is nothing but ashes. If only I could deal with Mother's disapproval so easily.
"Mother wouldn't understand," I mutter, absently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. How could she? In her world, my greatest achievement should be winning some inane beauty contest. As if that's all I'm good for.
Acting isn't just some fleeting fancy. It's art. It's life. It's... everything. But how can I make her see that? How can I explain the thrill of becoming someone else, of telling stories that matter, to someone who sees the world in black and white?
I shook my head, still reeling from the letter's contents. But as my frustration ebbed, another thought bubbled up. The Demonfather. It's still hard to wrap my mind around it. An exiled prince, the black sheep of the Morningstar family, and he pulls off a film that's raked in 98 million dollars globally. It's... staggering.
And it's not stopping. The film's still screening, still drawing crowds. More countries are just starting to show it. Who knows how high that number will climb?
Arthur. Just thinking about what he's achieved makes me feel a mix of awe and... something else. Admiration? Respect? Maybe a bit of both.
I can't help but wonder what he'll do next. Whatever it is, it's definitely going to be interesting.
Arthur didn't just make a great film or give my career a boost. He brought color to our world – literally, with that ingenious camera of his, and figuratively with his vision.
It's funny. In a way, Arthur is the complete opposite of Mother. Where she sees everything in stark black and white, he sees a world bursting with color.
Like how every person has their own unique shade, their own perspective to offer.
That's what makes the world interesting to me.
บท 45: Is this for real?
(Arthur POV)
After that chat with Rupert Darkflame, I've been knee-deep in negotiations with book publishers. "Harry Potter" is burning a hole in my pocket, and I'm itching to get it out there. But these talks? They're enough to make me want to pull my horns out.
Every publisher I've met has the same song and dance. "You're a new writer," they say, conveniently forgetting about a little film called "The Demonfather." They offer royalties that wouldn't buy a decent cup of coffee, all while claiming they're taking some huge risk.
The last straw was my meeting with Flaming Books. The editor actually had the gall to call me a "one-hit wonder" to my face. As if "The Demonfather" was just some fluke.
That's when it hit me. Why am I letting these short-sighted publishers dictate terms? I've got the means, the vision, and the story. Time to cut out the middleman.
So, I've done it. I've founded Hellfire Stories. My own publishing company. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?
I've sunk about a hundred thousand dollars into a printing factory. It's not much to look at right now - all clanking machinery and the smell of ink and paper. But when I walk through it, I can almost hear the hum of stories waiting to be told.
And I didn't stop there. I've bought up stores all over the city and beyond, shelling out hundreds of thousands more. Each one a potential gateway to the worlds I'm going to create.
Is it a risk? Hell yes. But I've never been one to play it safe. And something tells me "Harry Potter" is going to be just the beginning.
While my team and I have been neck-deep in preparations for "The Lord of the Rings," I've somehow managed to squeeze in time to finish writing "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone." It's amazing what you can accomplish when you don't need to sleep, isn't it?
With the manuscript hot off my typewriter, I headed down to the printing factory. The place is a cacophony of clanking machinery and the sharp smell of ink. It's not exactly high-tech, but it's the best we've got in this world.
I handed the manuscript to Grigori, the demon overseeing the printing. He thumbed through the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"So, how long will it take?" I asked, trying not to sound too impatient.
Grigori scratched his chin, leaving a smudge of ink. "Well, Mr. Morningstar, considering the volume and our current capabilities... I'd say we can have the first batch ready in about three weeks."
I must have looked surprised because he quickly added, "That's if we run the presses day and night, of course. It's not like those fancy human factories, but we'll get it done."
Three weeks. In my old life, that would have seemed glacially slow. But here, with our steam-powered presses and hand-set type, it's practically lightning speed.
I nodded, trying to hide my impatience. "Alright, Grigori. Three weeks it is. Just make sure the quality is top-notch."
Leaving the printing factory behind, I head back towards the studio. It's funny how things change. These days, the place is swarming with actors - mostly the ones who couldn't get the time of day from big studios before. Now they're lining up to audition for our next project.
The crowds got so bad we had to move auditions to that big warehouse I snagged in the cheap district. Who would've thought we'd outgrow our space so quickly?
As I stroll down the streets, I can't help but notice the change in how people look at me. Gone are the sneers and whispers of "trashy prince". Now, I see admiration in their eyes. It's... different. Not unwelcome, but definitely going to take some getting used to.
Don't get me wrong, there are still plenty of demons who'd love to see me fall flat on my face. Can't please everyone, I suppose. But the shift is undeniable.
What really throws me for a loop is the reaction from other races. I overhear an elf whispering to his dwarf buddy, "That's Michael Corleone!" as I pass by. It takes everything in me not to turn around and correct them. I'm not Michael, I just played him. But then again, maybe that's the point of good acting.
A group of young humans actually stops me, asking for autographs. Me. The demon they probably would've crossed the street to avoid a few months ago. I sign their papers, trying to keep my hand from shaking. It's surreal.
Before I know it, I'm actually starting to feel like a superstar. It's a far cry from the "trashy prince" label I'd been stuck with for so long.
As I finally make it back to the studio, dodging another group of autograph seekers, I can't help but shake my head. Fame is a fickle thing. One minute you're the laughingstock of the kingdom, the next you're everyone's favorite demon.
I just hope I can keep this momentum going. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that in this business, you're only as good as your last hit.
And I've got no intention of being a one-hit wonder.
I step into the warehouse, and it's like walking into a beehive. Actors are everywhere, all buzzing with nervous energy, hoping to land a role. But my attention is immediately drawn to my team huddled in the corner, looking like they're about to draw swords on each other.
"How're you doing, guys? Auditions going alright?" I call out, making my presence known. "You all look like you're about to start a brawl."
Mercy, one of our casting team members, is quick to respond. "No, Your Highness. We're not fighting, but... we've got a bit of a disagreement with the casting director."
Mart nods, pointing at two actor profiles. "Klein says this guy performed better, but we think it's the other one."
I take the profiles, eyeing them carefully. One's an imp demon, the other a dwarf. Neither screams 'Gollum' to me, but I keep that thought to myself for now.
"Alright, what's the story here?" I ask, bracing myself for the drama.
Klein jumps in, explaining how the imp demon nailed the performance, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. But before he can finish, Mercy cuts in.
"See, boss? He's clearly biased. I bet that imp's his cousin or something."
Mart nods vigorously. "The dwarf was definitely better. No contest."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. They're arguing over Gollum, of all roles? Neither of these guys looks remotely like the character I have in mind.
Before things can escalate further, I hold up my hands. "Alright, guys, let's pump the brakes here. To be honest, I don't think either of them is quite right for Gollum."
The looks on their faces are priceless. You'd think I'd just announced we're making a romantic comedy instead of "Lord of the Rings."
"What? Why?" Klein sputters.
Mercy chimes in, "Don't you want to see their performances first, boss?"
"Yeah, how can you know they're not right without even seeing them act?" Mart adds, looking perplexed.
I sigh internally. If I tell them it's because neither actor looks the part, they'll probably accuse me of being shallow. But the truth is, Gollum is such a unique character, we need someone who can embody him physically as well as dramatically.
"Look, I just know, alright?" I say, trying to sound confident rather than dismissive. "Sometimes you've got to trust your gut in this business."
They don't look convinced, but they're not arguing either. Small victories, I suppose.
"Alright, let's put a pin in this argument for now," I say, gesturing towards the line of increasingly antsy actors. "We've got a warehouse full of people waiting. We can duke it out later."
Klein nods, looking properly chastised. "Yes, boss."
I make my way to the center of the judging table, settling into the slightly taller chair reserved for me. It's a bit much, if you ask me, but apparently it's expected. Image and all that.
With a nod to the crew, I signal for the auditions to begin. One by one, actors step forward, each hoping to be the next big thing in Hellfire Studios' upcoming blockbuster.
I put on my best "serious director" face, pen poised over my notepad. To anyone watching, I probably look like I'm jotting down detailed critiques of each performance. The reality? Most of my notes consist of "average" or "bad", with the occasional "good" thrown in when someone actually impresses me.
It's not that I'm being harsh. It's just... well, when you've got the original performances etched into your memory, it's hard not to compare.
As I'm contemplating whether "mediocre" is too mean to write down, the next actor steps up. I barely glance up at first, expecting more of the same.
But then I do a double-take so hard I nearly give myself whiplash.
Holy hellfire. The... being standing in front of me looks like Gollum's long-lost twin. Or cousin. Or whatever the equivalent would be for a creature that's meant to be one-of-a-kind.
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