Chapter 263: Handsome, Gentle, and His Eyes Flirt Without Trying—Could This Be the Perfect Spy Boyfriend
If there's a movie that marks a turning point for Hollywood in the eyes of most film lovers, it's probably either Titanic or Avatar.
The former signaled the rise of Hollywood's groundbreaking visual effects—pushing the industry far beyond what films from other countries could offer at the time.
The latter ignited the 3D movie revolution, officially ushering in the era of immersive blockbuster entertainment.
But if we narrow it down specifically to action films, many fans would say The Matrix was the real game-changer.
Sure, before The Matrix, Hollywood had already begun flirting with kung fu-inspired fight choreography—thanks to the popularity of martial arts films. But The Matrix was the one that fully embraced and refined it. It set a new gold standard for Hollywood action.
Before that? Well, action scenes mostly looked like random brawls on the street—sloppy, chaotic, and totally lacking in finesse.
Take the original Mission: Impossible from 1996. While a step up from the bar-fight style chaos of the '70s and '80s, it still wasn't anything too impressive in terms of hand-to-hand combat.
But the original director, Brian De Palma, was no fool. He cleverly steered away from up-close brawling and leaned into car chases, explosions, and ticking clocks to create tension. It was a smart way to distract the audience from the film's weak points.
Now? With Shinji producing and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne as the lead, there's no need for those kinds of workarounds.
Pulling from the best elements of all six Mission: Impossible movies in his memory, and thanks to Diarmuid's complete dedication to his role, this new Mission: Impossible–Spy Among Spies—blows the original out of the water.
It opens with a classic spy movie setup: the protagonist, Ethan, is part of an elite special ops team interrogating a Russian informant. Each member plays their role perfectly—using disguises, staged deaths, and clever misdirection to extract the truth.
They hardly say a word to each other, yet their teamwork is flawless.
In just one scene, the audience understands: this is what a real elite spy team looks like.
Unlike the 007 series, which leans heavily into elegance and political correctness, this version of Mission: Impossible feels like a realistic version of Fate.
It's fast-paced, suspenseful, and led by a charismatic, unforgettable main character. Everything about it hooks the audience in.
The fight scenes? Sharp, precise, and incredibly realistic. And that's no illusion—they were shot using real choreography. Most of the one-on-one duels were performed directly by Diarmuid and Yan Qing (in disguise).
To female viewers, this was a dream come true. Since the Fate/Zero days, they had longed for a chance to see Diarmuid's face on the big screen as often as possible—and now they finally could.
Shinji even instructed the editors to capture Diarmuid's face from every possible angle, putting extra emphasis on his iconic tear mole.
Don't worry—his charisma magecraft was toned down for the movie. Just enough to make fans swoon, not enough to break up relationships.
Any more, and he'd risk turning into that kind of blond heartbreaker who steals girlfriends.
But this level? Just right. Enough to make every female fan feel like their love for him is pure, loyal, and totally voluntary.
The love of a fan for their star—not the kind that leads to heartbreak.
Most regular moviegoers couldn't tell what was really happening behind the scenes.
To them, Diarmuid was just really, really handsome.
But the magi in the audience?
Many of them saw through the subtle charm spells at play.
Still, none of them said a word—because the movie was just that good.
Compared to the chaotic brawling in the old 007 films, Diarmuid's fight scenes were sharp, technical, and stylish—each one practically a work of art.
Soon, the story hit its turning point:
One by one, the elite agents on Ethan's team started dying under mysterious circumstances.
Someone had betrayed them from the inside.
Now, Ethan—alone and hunted—had to find out who the traitor was, all while staying alive.
"Good thing this is a pseudo Mission: Impossible set and not Detective Conan," Shinji laughed from his seat in the private screening room.
"Otherwise, Ethan might've ended up finding out everyone but him was an undercover agent."
"Hah, yeah right," Cloris scoffed. "Like a story with a twist that dumb would ever be popular."
Shinji's smile turned oddly... thoughtful.
"You never know," he said with a chuckle. "Sometimes, the undercover agents end up even more popular than the main character."
"Seriously? That kind of story exists?"
Cloris, still new to this side of the entertainment business, had picked up a lot under Shinji's tutelage—but she hadn't yet learned about the dark arts of shipping bait and character marketing.
Shinji hadn't taught her. Not yet.
After all, the commercial movie industry was still in its version 1.0 stage. It wasn't time to use those advanced tactics.
A good businessman like Shinji understood the value of long-term profit over short-term gain.
You didn't just squeeze every coin out of your fans in one go.
You let them want to give you their money—little by little, over time—until they handed it over with a smile and said, "Thanks for the masterpiece~"
"But…" Shinji murmured to himself, hearing the excited gasps of the fangirls in the theater.
"Maybe it's time to move on to the next phase."
On screen, the story marched forward.
Ethan, determined to expose the traitor, came up with a daring plan:
He'd steal a highly classified list of agents and offer it to a weapons dealer, hoping to bait the enemy into revealing themselves.
This, of course, led to that scene.
The most iconic moment in the entire Mission: Impossible franchise:
The ceiling drop.
The list was stored in one of the most secure rooms in the world—tightly guarded with temperature, pressure, and motion sensors, plus multi-layered security: iris scans, passwords, and more.
No way to just walk in.
So Ethan—like in the original—chose to enter through the air ducts.
In the original Mission: Impossible, Tom Cruise's daring midair drop into the room became one of the most legendary moments in spy film history.
But in this world?
With Diarmuid playing Ethan?
He took it to a whole new level.
Sure, Tom Cruise was amazing—but he was still just human.
There were limits to what a human body could do.
Diarmuid, on the other hand?
Blessed with a heroic spirit's physique, he could handle far more demanding choreography with ease.
In the original, Tom had to stuff coins into his shoes to shift his center of gravity during the ceiling drop.
Diarmuid didn't need any tricks. His perfect balance handled everything effortlessly.
But just getting into the room wasn't the challenge.
The real tension came from what came next.
Diarmuid had to silently pull off a series of precise operations—every move measured in millimeters.
Even the smallest mistake would set off alarms and doom the mission.
From an action perspective, it wasn't a brawl.
There were no punches, no shootouts.
This was a battle of minds.
A standoff between invisible opponents.
And the audience couldn't tear their eyes away.
There were no dramatic sound effects.
No intense, anxiety-inducing background music.
Not even a trace of flashy CGI.
Yet, as the scene played out on the big screen, the audience was on the edge of their seats.
Breaths shortened.
Adrenaline surged.
Palms grew slick with sweat.
Still, no one dared make a sound.
It was as if even the faintest noise from the audience might alert Diarmuid—suspended silently in that impossibly tense scene—to their presence and ruin the mission.
"...Truly impressive," Milo Johnson muttered under his breath, voice tinged with genuine admiration.
"It's been years since we've seen a spy movie this intense. This is what a real espionage thriller should feel like."
A fellow critic, seated nearby and from the same reviewers' circle, nodded.
"Handheld camera work, tight choreography, clever narrative pacing, vivid character portrayal, sharp cinematography… All textbook-perfect choices. At least, from the average moviegoer's perspective."
Milo shot him a sidelong glare.
"Obviously. Since when has he ever cared about critics' opinions?"
That "he," of course, referred to Matou Shinji.
Only Shinji could have such unwavering focus on appealing directly to the audience, critics be damned.
And even Milo had to admit, if you didn't bother with things like philosophical depth or auteur symbolism… Shinji's movies were unbeatable.
This one, Spy Among Spies, wasn't even directed by Shinji himself—but everything from the script to the cast to the editing carried his unmistakable fingerprint.
Especially the choice of lead actor—Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.
The most loyal and recognizable face in Shinji's cinematic arsenal.
Before this film, Milo had never thought much of Diarmuid.
Sure, he was good-looking—absurdly so—but in Fate/Zero's chaotic, overstuffed script, he'd felt… underwhelming.
Other than looking tragic and dying messily, Diarmuid hadn't made much of an impression.
But here?
This performance was something else entirely.
Unlike James Bond—the perfect, unflappable agent with plot armor for skin—Diarmuid's Ethan was flawed.
He made mistakes.
He lost control.
He got into trouble because of those flaws.
And that was what made him feel human.
Not a machine. Not a fantasy.
A person.
And for that reason, audiences—especially female audiences—found him easier to relate to than any Bond.
Past Bonds had always been handsome, but their gentlemanly aloofness often made them feel emotionally distant—like talking to a porcelain statue in a tuxedo.
Diarmuid's Ethan, though?
He was warm.
His gentleness toward women didn't feel like the cold formality of etiquette—it felt genuine. Like the care of a kind, protective older brother next door. Like… he might actually care about you.
If one had to name a light novel to capture the feeling in the theater, it would be something like:
"Handsome, Gentle, and His Eyes Flirt Without Trying—Could This Be the Perfect Spy Boyfriend?"
Milo Johnson let out a soft sigh, hearing the faint "kya kya~" sounds of fangirls thirsting in the rows behind him.
On the screen, Diarmuid—sweat dripping down his face, eyes sharp and focused—looked impossibly handsome even while dangling from a wire.
Another win for Matou Shinji.
"…Another day, another flawless victory for the Shinji Empire," Milo declared, nodding to himself with grim certainty.
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