Product placement—
It's a topic that neither television dramas nor films can avoid.
And the quality of product placement can significantly affect a film or drama's reputation. In turn, it also influences how the advertising company is perceived.
Just like when Detective Chinatown 3 was released in his previous life, Edward had gone in hoping for a movie—and ended up getting walloped in the face with overwhelming ads.
Edward didn't oppose product placement itself. After all, the funding available for a film or drama often depended on advertisers. The more sponsors, the more flexibility in budgeting—naturally leading to a better viewing experience for the audience. In that sense, product placement and entertainment productions were mutually beneficial.
But there were cautionary tales.
Energy drinks being sipped at every dramatic pause by action stars...
Nurses in a country famous for its own instant noodles suddenly fighting over imported ramen...
Those were still within Edward's acceptable range.
But then came the abrupt insertion of a so-called "Four Heavenly Kings" from a shooter game, and a random sports car parked in the middle of the street—that was where Edward drew the line.
That film was instantly blacklisted in his mind. He had no interest in watching a movie that felt like one giant commercial.
"This foundation ad placement…" Edward rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Embedding the Heart Foundatiom into Episode 2's storyline wouldn't be hard. He could simply have a little girl appear, hugging a donation box and asking for help.
So, Edward decided to modify the script slightly.
He would have the behind-the-scenes villain of Season 1—Malamar—stage a dramatic scene where he forces an uncooperative crime syndicate to donate all their illicit funds to the Heart Foundation.
This would not only flesh out Malamar's character, but also serve as an ad for Edward's foundation. However, it would require reshoots. Edward immediately called Zoroark over to arrange it, asking him to contact Galar's Actors' Guild and coordinate a small reshoot. The new scene would be edited quickly and inserted into Episode 2.
Once the episode aired, curious viewers would search the name and discover the foundation actually existed. When they saw the real case files on the website, donations would surely follow.
"Got it, boss," Zoroark replied, planning to get to work immediately—Edward was clearly in a hurry.
After Zoroark left, Edward picked up his phone and checked again.
Still no reply from Mewtwo.
Not even a read notification. What had happened?
Should he organize a team and check out New Island?
But Mewtwo hadn't been able to figure out its own location. The minds of the Rocket scientists it had scanned didn't include coordinates—the island's location was unknown.
Team Rocket had done an excellent job concealing it.
All personnel and researchers were secretly transported there with no opportunity to observe their surroundings. The only thing they knew was: they were on an island.
Worse still, Rocket had set up signal-blocking devices around the island to prevent detection. Mewtwo had tried using its psychic powers to scan the surroundings but nearly triggered an alarm in the process. So psychic detection was also off the table.
They'd even gone as far as faking the night sky using an artificial dome.
So using star positions to determine latitude and longitude was impossible too.
Edward had to admit—Team Rocket had taken their defense measures to the extreme.
They had effectively closed off every possibility of being discovered.
Even the phones issued inside the facility had their GPS functions disabled or destroyed.
After all his chats with Mewtwo, Edward still had no clue where it truly was.
…
New Island.
"There's something off with the test subject's neural data. Its brainwave activity just doesn't seem right."
The head researcher frowned as he listened to the lab assistant's report, flipping through the latest file.
The EEG charts looked smooth and regular—almost identical to previous readings.
"Yes, the brainwave patterns match the previous records. But the problem is, in this test, we introduced a large amount of informational stimuli and even used scent and hormone triggers. There should have been a reaction."
Now the director understood.
This particular group was responsible for testing reproductive functionality.
Their task was to determine if the test subject was biologically capable of reproduction, using pheromonal and hormonal stimuli.
But despite administering a heavy dose of these triggers, the test subject's brainwaves remained completely flat. No changes—same as always.
At this concentration, the pheromones would normally have an entire Pokémon breeding center going into "spring mode." Yet the subject didn't even flinch.
Even if the subject were some kind of ascetic saint or emotionless golem, as long as it had hormone receptors, there should have been some physiological response.
"I understand. I'll have someone take a look. You're dismissed," said the director, pinching the bridge of his nose.
If this were any other Pokémon, he could easily declare there was something wrong with the subject.
But this was a species that had never existed in the world before.
He had no baseline for what was "normal."
On top of that, the organization had invested heavily in this subject.
So caution was paramount—every move had to be made with the utmost care.
To prevent any unforeseen issues, the director had even recently installed signal jammers in the lab—to eliminate any chance of external interference.
As he left the room, he absentmindedly rubbed his brow.
But just as he opened the door, something caught his eye.
Out of the corner of his vision, he thought he saw a figure sitting in his chair—the very spot where he'd just been seated.
He whipped his head around. Nothing.
The room was empty.
"Must be the stress getting to me," the director muttered.
But just as the door was about to close, in that final sliver of open space—he saw it again.
A shadow, sitting in his chair.
Its form and features… oddly similar to his own.
The director slammed the door open—
The room was still empty.
Only silence echoed through the vacant office.
(End of Chapter)