"…So, tell me—what exactly have you been up to lately?"
The day after Steven went off to handle the Team Aqua incident, Edward found himself sitting across from his father at home. His father's expression was dark, his stern gaze heavy enough to make Edward swallow nervously.
How… how did his father even find out?
Beside them, the family's old butler, Robert, quietly poured two cups of tea before retreating from the room. He closed the door behind him with practiced silence, leaving the father and son alone in the enclosed space.
Edward's face turned even paler—he knew his father's temper all too well. Just from this setup, he could tell his father was very angry. If the old man wasn't furious, he wouldn't have staged the conversation like this.
Edward didn't suspect his older brother of selling him out, of course. That was impossible. His big brother had always been a man of principle, someone who kept his word. Even if his brother had mentioned something to their father, he would've told Edward about it afterward. But since he hadn't, it could only mean that his brother wasn't the source of the leak.
"Ahem… I just, you know, kind of… saved the world a little," Edward confessed weakly.
He didn't know how his father had found out, but since the man was already confronting him about it, trying to deny anything was pointless. At a time like this, the more he tried to dodge, the angrier his father would get. Honesty, painful as it might be, was the safer route.
But his father's expression only grew darker.
The old man had never really paid close attention to what his sons were doing. Their family had always been rather hands-off in that regard. And given that Edward was a film director, constantly juggling one project after another and often away on shoots for months at a time, his father had long gotten used to not keeping tabs on him.
However, the League had recently publicized Edward's receipt of the Medal of Valor—albeit only on a small scale. But unfortunately, his father, Joseph, happened to be part of that "small audience," and the moment he saw the announcement, he'd immediately realized something was wrong.
Joseph knew just how incredibly difficult it was to earn that medal. For his son to suddenly receive one? There was only one explanation: Edward must have done something outrageous behind his family's back. So, fuming with suspicion and worry, the old man had come home to demand answers.
"Well, well, Edward!" Joseph thundered. "Have I gotten too old to control you now? You dare hide this kind of thing from me?"
Edward's mouth twitched bitterly. Yeah… today was not going to end well for him.
…
While Edward was being scolded at home, Zoroark was on her way to the movie review department in Rustboro, carrying a film reel under her arm. She was there to submit the original cut of RULE#1 for review.
The movie had wrapped up filming, but it hadn't yet gone through the official review process. When Edward returned home yesterday, he had reminded Zoroark about it—so today, the task fell to her.
Zoroark had originally planned to discuss some recent company updates with Edward as well, but before she could do so, the director had abruptly left for home, clearly in a rush. With no other choice, Zoroark went alone to submit the reel.
Still, she didn't really mind. Delivering the film for review meant she could take it easy for a bit. After all, reviewing a movie required sitting through the entire runtime, followed by discussions among the staff—a process that could easily take a few hours.
For most directors, the reviewers didn't bother watching the entire film. But when it came to Edward's works? They always did. His reputation demanded it. Which meant that for Zoroark, it was a rare opportunity to relax—she could use the downtime to play games or do a bit of casual research for his boss.
"Eh? Isn't that Zoroark? You're here to deliver a new film for review?"
As soon as Zoroark stepped into the building, a few employees greeted her warmly—but their expressions were all over the place. Some looked awkward, others amused, and a few downright miserable.
"Yes," Zoroark replied politely, handing over the reel. "This is our company's new film, RULE#1. We forgot to submit it earlier."
The staff members paled at once, though they still accepted the film with resigned looks.
Zoroark blinked. She'd been here before, and while people always acted a bit odd when it came to Edward's movies, today's reactions were particularly strange. Curiosity got the better of her, so she asked about it—and learned of an unusual "tradition" within the Rustboro Film Review Department.
"…You probably already know this," one of the staff explained awkwardly. "But your company's horror films—especially the ones involving Director Edward—are really terrifying. So… people here consider it a kind of torture whenever we have to review one of his movies."
Zoroark couldn't help chuckling. "Well… that's not exactly wrong." His boss's horror films were indeed nightmare fuel.
"But this one actually wasn't directed by him," Zoroark added quickly. "He only wrote the script."
That didn't seem to reassure the staffer. His face grew even more complex.
"Yeah, we know," he said gloomily. "But Director Edward is an excellent screenwriter too. One Missed Call, Dead Silence, The Grudge—all of those were written by him, right?"
Zoroark paused. That… was true. Every script Edward had ever written was a masterpiece in its own way.
Even his award-oriented "arthouse" films had been massive successes. When Director Kirk made his big comeback recently, his film had certainly stirred audiences with both fear and brilliance—but compared to Edward's The Truman Show, it still fell a little short. Edward's film was practically a guaranteed Best Picture contender.
"You guys really have it rough," Zoroark sighed sincerely.
The staffer shook his head. "I got lucky today. I watched a movie yesterday, so I'm exempt from today's draw. But… poor Corey. His luck's been absolute garbage."
Apparently, Corey had swapped shifts the day before because his girlfriend had come to visit. That meant his review slot got pushed to today. And wouldn't you know it—today just happened to be the day RULE#1 was submitted.
Some of the employees were even joking that Corey had some kind of "Director Edward's Film Magnetism" aura—because every time one of Edward's horror movies came up for review, Corey always ended up being on duty.
The others were already planning to avoid drawing lots near him next time.
It might sound like superstition, but then again, superstition had a funny way of proving itself right. Hospitals avoided words like "busy" or "fire" because people believed saying them would make business too good—something no hospital actually wanted.
…
"…Corey, you sure your luck hasn't been cursed lately?"
In the familiar dimness of the screening room, a middle-aged colleague gave Corey a helpless look. Corey could only smile bitterly.
Yesterday, his girlfriend had asked him to take a day off for a family matter. He'd swapped shifts with another reviewer—and somehow landed right in front of another Edward horror movie today. It was enough to make him question whether the universe had it out for him.
Edward didn't even make that many films. Each one's review schedule was unpredictable and randomly assigned. Yet somehow, every single time, Corey ended up in that dark room with one of them.
"…Let's just get it over with," the team leader sighed. "Oh, and since Director Edward received the Medal of Valor, we're allowed to be a little more lenient in our critique."
Everyone froze.
The Medal of Valor?
Of course, they all knew what that was—and how incredibly difficult it was to earn. The realization that someone they regularly reviewed films for had one was surreal.
"What on earth did Director Edward do to earn that?" many of them thought silently.
The lights dimmed, and RULE#1 began to play.
The story opened on a man in a police uniform. Corey blinked in mild surprise. In the Pokémon world, "police officer" was almost synonymous with Officer Jenny. But here was a male cop? Then again, Edward loved to set his stories in alternate worlds, so it wasn't too strange.
The protagonist was Detective Lee Kwok-keung—an odd name, but somehow fitting.
While patrolling an underground parking lot, Lee Kwok-keung accidentally stumbled upon a serial killer, Siu-man. Just as Siu-man was about to strike, the corpse of a woman he had murdered suddenly came back to life.
That scene alone made Corey sit upright.
There it was—the familiar, eerie flavor of a Edward horror script. Even without Edward behind the camera, his presence was unmistakable.
As the story unfolded, Lee Kwok-keung killed Siu-man, but his testimony mentioned certain "unscientific" phenomena. Because of that, he was reassigned to a special department dedicated to "miscellaneous supernatural cases."
There, he met Inspector Wong, who told him the department's First Rule:
"There are no ghosts in this world."
Lee Kwok-keung didn't fully believe it, but he followed along.
Their first case involved strange noises in a swimming pool—where a young girl had drowned years ago. When they investigated, they found a huge clump of hair clogging the drain, causing the eerie sounds. At first, it seemed explainable.
But then things got worse.
They encountered a grandmother's TV that turned on by itself, showing disturbing static images. In another case, a theater manager's Pokémon started acting violently. It turned out the Pokémon had been possessed by an evil spirit—and Inspector Huang had to shoot it dead to stop the haunting.
Lee Kwok-keung couldn't understand this cold-blooded logic.
Later, he discovered that Siu-man's vengeful spirit had not vanished at all—it had instead begun possessing students, causing a string of mysterious suicides among schoolgirls.
Their twisted smiles, their uncanny movements—it all made Corey's skin crawl.
The film wasn't jump-scare terrifying, but it left a deep, gnawing unease that words couldn't capture.
Eventually, Lee Kwok-keung learned that Siu-man's soul could inhabit anyone, manipulating their bodies at will.
And then came the final revelation: Inspector Wong himself was hiding a dark secret. He revealed that RULE#1—"there are no ghosts"—was a lie. Ghosts did exist, and once they touched a living being, they could possess it—or even Pokémon—completely.
No exorcism could save them. The only solution was to kill the host, trapping the spirit inside the corpse forever.
In the end, both men tried to end Siu-man's curse. Huang died in the attempt. Lee Kwok-keung survived… but something about him wasn't right.
The last scene showed his superior eating lunch casually, asking, "So, do you think ghosts really exist?"
Lee Kwok-keung smiled faintly. "There are no ghosts in this world," he said.
The screen went black.
Corey sat there in silence.
The film hadn't been that frightening, but an indescribable chill lingered deep inside him—like something unseen had followed him out of the theater.
(End of Chapter)