บท 74: I'm back, honey
(Arthur's POV)
As I made my way down the sidewalk, the whispers followed me like a bad smell. They weren't even trying to be subtle about it.
"Is that Arthur Morningstar? The one who supposedly rigged our prestigious film festival?"
"Must be. Despicable demon, isn't he?"
I kept my face neutral, pushing down the urge to roll my eyes. Then an elf nearby decided to get bold.
"Go back to your kingdom, demon," he spat.
I turned, meeting his gaze coolly. "That's the plan."
Their words didn't really get under my skin. After all, they were just parroting what they'd heard, dancing to Titan Pictures' tune like good little puppets. Obviously, none of them had actually seen "Lord of the Rings." Their loss.
But soon enough, when the film hit cinemas across the Moonlight Kingdom, they'd see for themselves. For now, Titan Pictures was doing my marketing for me, free of charge. Couldn't ask for better publicity, really.
As I approached the airport, I couldn't help but smile, thinking about my latest reward from the system.
[Heartstrings: A rare and powerful emotional manipulation skill that enables the director to subtly shape the emotions of their actors, drawing out deeply authentic and captivating performances.]
It was still at level one, only affecting three actors at a time for five shoots a day before exhaustion set in. But with practice, who knew how far I could push it? I was no stranger to leveling up skills, after all. {Nether Surge} had taught me patience.
The moment I stepped into the airport, I was swarmed by reporters. Their questions hit me like a wave.
"How do you respond to the accusations of rigging the film festival?"
I kept my cool, my voice level as I responded, "How could a demon like me possibly influence the festival? Only good films can sway the MFF. And my film? It's a damn good film."
As the reporters scribbled furiously, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. Let them write their hit pieces. In the end, the film would speak for itself.
***
After weathering a storm of accusations from journalists in Moon City, I finally boarded an airship back to the Morningstar Kingdom. Two days and several layovers later, I touched down in Ferland Airport. No surprise, a swarm of demon reporters was waiting for me like vultures circling a carcass.
The moment I stepped into view, they descended en masse.
"Mr. Morningstar! We've heard about your film dominating the MFF!"
"How does it feel to make history for demon entertainment?"
I plastered on my best media smile. "Pretty damn good, if I'm being honest." I reached into my bag, pulling out the Lunar Laurel trophy. Might as well give them a show. "Being the first demon to snag this prestigious award? It's an honor, and yeah, I'm proud as hell."
The reporters' eyes bulged as they gawked at the award. You'd think I was holding the keys to the kingdom or something.
Then, predictably, came the question I'd been asked a hundred times back in Moon City: "What's your response to the controversy about rigging the MFF?"
The crowd went quiet, all eyes on me. I glanced at the reporter who'd asked, noting the "BM Newspaper" logo on his jacket. Ah, Bobby's rag. No wonder.
I sighed, not bothering to hide my exasperation. "Look, I've answered this question more times than I can count back in Moon City. If you're that curious, wait for the elf newspapers to hit the stands. They've got all my responses in black and white."
As I pushed past the stunned reporters, I couldn't help but smirk. Let them chew on that for a while. I had bigger fish to fry.
***
(3rd Person POV)
News of Arthur Morningstar's "Lord of the Rings" dominating the prestigious MFF spread like wildfire through the Morningstar Kingdom. The demon populace was torn. Pride in their race's achievement warred with their dislike of the "weak" ex-prince. Some basked in the reflected glory, while others, fueled by rumors of rigging, spat disgust at Arthur's name.
Among the latter group, none burned with more fury than Bobby Morningstar. In the BM Newspaper office, he paced like a caged animal, his face twisted in a snarl.
"This is unacceptable!" Bobby roared, slamming his fist on the desk. He whirled on Ashen Gray, CEO of Demon Pictures. "How is my worthless brother getting all this attention? And why isn't my colored film, screening for two weeks now, producing better sales? Explain yourself, Gray!"
Ashen maintained his composure, though a muscle twitched in his jaw. "With all due respect, Your Highness, it's not our studio's fault. We poured everything into making your film the best it could be-"
"Then why isn't it popular yet?" Bobby cut in, his voice rising to a shout.
Ashen fell silent, internally kicking himself. He regretted agreeing to Bobby's vanity project, but even more, he cursed himself for turning down Arthur's proposal. That film had raked in millions upon millions. The thought made Ashen want to bang his head against the wall.
Noticing Ashen's silence, Bobby pressed on. "And my brother's second film is getting all this buzz? How do you explain that?"
Ashen's face screamed 'how should I know?', but he kept his tone measured. "Your Highness, even before the ex-prince's second film was made, it was under intense scrutiny. I believe it's a domino effect from 'The Demonfather's' success. That film created such a stir, it naturally drummed up interest in his next project."
Bobby listened, nodding reluctantly. "I suppose that makes sense." But the sour expression never left his face.
***
(Arthur POV)
"Honey, I'm home," I called out as I strolled into the studio, unable to keep the grin off my face.
The crew's heads snapped up, a chorus of grins breaking out across the room.
"Welcome back, boss!" George bellowed, though the knowing glint in his eye reminded me of our little portal secret. The computer team and I had been playing a bit of interdimensional hopscotch lately.
Lilith practically bounced over. "We heard about the MFF success! Is it true?"
"Can we see the hardware?" Klein chimed in, eyes wide with anticipation.
A chorus of "Yeah!" and "Show us!" erupted from the group.
I couldn't help but chuckle. These guys, most of them fresh out of the Infernal Institute of Cinematic Arts, were practically salivating at the thought of seeing a real MFF award up close. Can't say I blamed them.
"Alright, alright," I said, reaching into my bag. "Feast your eyes on these beauties."
The moment the awards came out, I was swarmed. Again. Felt like déjà vu after all those reporter mobs. But this? This felt good.
They oohed and aahed over the trophies, particularly the Lunar Laurel for Best Director and the Celestial Crown for Best Film.
Just as I was basking in the team's excitement, a familiar gravelly voice cut through the chatter. "Congratulations, Your Highness."
We all turned to see Rocky, decked out in a suit that actually fit him for once, a warm smile on his weathered face.
I couldn't help but grin back. "Rocky, you old dog. Looking sharp. Come to join the celebration?"
Rocky's smile widened as he sauntered over. "The moment I heard your second flick was sweeping the MFF, I hightailed it over here. Seems you've gone and made another masterpiece." He raised an eyebrow, a hint of mock accusation in his voice. "Without me, I might add."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, come on, Rocky. You're a bonafide superstar now. Didn't think you'd need little old me anymore."
Rocky rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He leaned in to get a better look at the awards. "Next time, don't leave me out of the fun, yeah? Thanks to you, I can't exactly go back to hawking tickets at my old theater without causing a riot. Need something to keep me from going stir-crazy."
I clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Alright, alright. Next time we cook up some movie, you'll be my first call. Can't have our resident celebrity wasting away from boredom, can we?"
Rocky's eyes lit up, though he tried to play it cool. "Well, if you insist. Someone's got to keep you young whippersnappers in line."
บท 75: Agency?
(Arthur POV)
Seeing Rocky, I couldn't help but think about the other cast of "The Demonfather" - Johnny Devilkin, Charles Flirt, Vivienne Westwood, Richard, and the rest. Word on the street was that they were all riding high on the film's success, their schedules packed with new projects.
Oddly enough, Rocky was the only one I hadn't heard much about since the film blew up. I'd just assumed he was cashing in like the others, enjoying his newfound fame and fortune.
As I poured Rocky a cup of the popular Morningstar Tea, curiosity got the better of me. "So, old timer, how's life been treating you since 'The Demonfather' hit it big?"
Rocky let out a long-suffering sigh, taking a sip of his tea. "Terrible, if I'm being honest."
I blinked, caught off guard. Looking at his fancy new threads, I couldn't help but be skeptical. "Terrible? You're dressed like you own half the city. What gives?"
He shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. "Looks can be deceiving, kid. Had to hire someone to run the theater - can't even show my face there without causing a riot. Been cooped up at home most days, dodging fans like they're debt collectors."
I winced, starting to get the picture. "That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea," Rocky continued, warming to his tale of woe. "Went to my cousin's birthday celebration a few weeks back. By the end of it, my hand was cramping from all the autographs, and my face felt like it might crack from all the smiling for pictures. Exhausting doesn't even begin to cover it."
I felt a pang of guilt. I'd been so caught up in my own whirlwind, I hadn't stopped to think about how Rocky's life might have changed.
"Sounds rough," I offered lamely, not sure what else to say.
Rocky nodded, a hint of his old self peeking through. "Only recently, now that the 'Demonfather' hype has died down a bit, have I been able to poke my head out without being mobbed. It's a relief, let me tell you."
I nodded, trying to piece things together. "Huh. I figured you'd be drowning in acting projects by now."
Rocky let out a dry chuckle. "Hard to get project when you're not signed with an agency, kid."
I nearly choked on my tea. "Wait, what? You haven't signed with anyone yet?"
"Nope," Rocky shrugged. Then, with a sly grin, "Why? You offering?"
"Me? Nah, I don't... I mean, I don't have an agency," I stammered, not wanting to overstep.
Rocky leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. "You know, Your Highness, with your studio on the rise, ever consider starting your own agency?"
The question caught me off guard. "My own agency?" I muttered, the wheels in my head starting to turn.
"Yeah," Rocky nodded. "Look, I've had offers, but I don't trust 'em. But you? If you started something, I'd sign in a heartbeat."
I stroked my chin, the idea taking root. "You know, that's not half bad. Could bring Firfel, Imkrag, Kurt, Vivienne, the whole gang under one roof."
Rocky's eyes lit up. "So, you're gonna do it?"
I chuckled, the possibilities unfolding. "Why not? It'd be good for the studio. Plus, I wouldn't have to shell out a fortune every time I want to cast Firfel or the others."
"Well, well," Rocky grinned, "looks like someone's learned to play the game. I suggest it 'cause I want representation, but you were more interested in saving money."
"Hey, someone's got to watch the bottom line," I shot back with a grin. "Especially with the kingdom's new 'films tax' taking a bite out of my profits."
Rocky nodded, his expression turning serious. "Yeah, read about that. Tough break, kid."
***
No sooner had I decided to start an agency than I was knee-deep in legal jargon. I'd hired a legal team from the well-known demon law firm, to get "Hellfire Agency" off the ground. Their job? Navigate the bureaucratic nightmare of obtaining a license from the Morningstar Kingdom's local government.
This wasn't going to be like starting Hellfire Studios, where my princely status had greased the wheels. Now, as an exiled prince, I was just another schmuck with a dream - albeit one with a famous last name.
To speed things up, I decided to pay a visit to my dear sister, Lucy Morningstar. Sure, she was just the "Minister of Economic Development and Tourism," but she was still a princess with government connections. Time to cash in on some family favors.
I strolled into the imposing Chamber of Infernal Commerce, watching the government drones do a double-take. You'd think they'd never seen an exiled prince before.
"I'm here to see Lucy Morningstar," I announced to the receptionist, trying to sound important.
She barely looked up from her hellphone. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but-"
"Then you can wait," she cut me off, reaching for the telephone. "I'll call her office."
I slumped into a chair in the lobby, watching as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. After what felt like an eternity of bureaucratic purgatory, she called out, "Mr. Arthur?"
I perked up. "Yes?"
"The princess will see you now. Follow me."
As we trudged down the hallway, I couldn't help but gawk at the propaganda plastered on the walls. "Morningstar - the Hope of all Demons," one poster proclaimed. Another assured, "We Care for all Demons. We don't judge you for how evil you are." My personal favorite? "Let's support our king's plan of reunification!" Yeah, because that's going so well.
It was surreal, my first time in this bastion of bureaucracy. I'd spent my whole life avoiding places like this. We finally reached a red door, and the receptionist gave it a perfunctory knock.
"Enter," Lucy's voice rang out, crisp and authoritative.
The receptionist gestured at the golden doorknob, clearly done with playing tour guide. I took the hint and let myself in.
Lucy's office was... well, "opulent" doesn't quite cover it. It looked like a dragon's hoard had mated with a luxury hotel suite. 'So this is where the people's tax money goes,' I thought, trying not to roll my eyes.
"What brings you here?" Lucy asked, barely looking up from her desk. Her name tag, all fancy demon calligraphy on gold, probably cost more than most demons make in a month.
I plopped down in the chair across from her, abandoning any pretense of formality. "Just here to ask for a few favors, sis."
That got her attention. "Favors?" she echoed, eyebrow raised.
I laid it out for her - my plans for the agency, the red tape I was facing, the whole nine yards.
"You want to start your own talent agency?" Lucy's surprise was almost comical. "Why in the nine hells would you want to deal with all that oversight and regulation?"
I paused, mulling it over. She had a point. This wasn't like starting Hellfire Stories, a book publishing company - this was a whole new level of bureaucratic nightmare. But I'd come too far to back down now.
"Look," I said, leaning forward, "having my own stable of actors just makes sense. It'll streamline everything for my future projects." It sounded weak even to my own ears, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.
Lucy's skeptical look told me she wasn't buying it, but hey, at least I was trying. Now came the real challenge - convincing my by-the-book sister to bend those rules just a little bit for her black sheep brother.
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