[Owen POV]
Ten days had passed since the opening of the movie.
It had strong word of mouth and a lot of repeat viewing, as people wanted to see if they could catch the twist before it happened.
Summer was a good time for blockbuster movies—people had plenty of free time on their hands. Even though The Sixth Sense was prestige horror, it still made an impact as a blockbuster.
Over the past ten days, I went on a couple of interviews, even appearing on Letterman to promote the movie.
During the interview, I demonstrated my drawing skills by sketching David Letterman's face on a blank piece of paper, which wowed the audience.
The show was short and scripted, yet it worked, drawing viewers further into the movie.
Owen Chase wasn't a household name yet, but I was on the path to getting there. People had started talking about me as someone who could carry both chills and charm, and some critics even hinted at Oscar potential.
Still, they said that about every movie.
At the same time, as Jack Kennedy, I was seeing the early ripple effects of the investment side.
Theater chains were reporting strong numbers, and the buzz created a sense of prestige around 4CLOVER.
Distributors and other filmmakers had started taking the company seriously, recognizing that we could turn mid-budget films into cultural phenomena.
We kept getting more theater contracts for them to show the film, and it has expanded to 2000 theatres now. The connection wasn't only beneficial now, it would also pay off in the future when releasing our next film.
Even if 'The Rock', an action movie starring Sean Connery and Nicholas Cage dropped in theatres, the Sixth Sense still remained at the top stop, beating out Mission Impossible and Twister.
This week, a dark comedy starring Jim Carrey called The Cable Guy will drop, so there might be a little drop off from that.
Sitting in the Executive Chairman's office at 4CLOVER, I wore thin, circular-framed glasses as I reviewed the box office reports, appearing as the tall, fat yet muscular Jack Kennedy.
Claire sat across from me, explaining the situation with an uncomfortable expression. "So, on the opening weekend, we made thirty-two million dollars domestically."
"That's good, right?" I asked, not entirely grasping the matter.
She nodded and smiled. "Yes. It's really good. The movie has strong word of mouth, and last week the theaters reported an additional seventy million in box office revenue."
I raised an eyebrow. "But when will the money come?"
She sighed. "It will take at least three weeks after the end of each week's collection."
"But the money is already there?" I asked, confused again.
Claire rubbed her sore temple and muttered, "I thought you went to Harvard!"
"I dropped out. Now explain it to me like I'm five!" I said.
"All right," she said. "First, people watch the movie. The theaters count the tickets and report to our accountant. Then they send us a check after everything is verified. Both sides have to agree, and the accountant needs to make sure the theaters aren't screwing us, so it takes some time."
"I understand now, but that's not how you should talk to a five-year-old," I joked, my eyes glittering with understanding.
Because there was no centralized ticketing software in the '90s, it took time for the money to reach us—and it came in batches.
After three weeks, I would finally receive the opening weekend checks. The deal with the theater chain stipulated that in the first ten days, they took only a 40% cut, leaving us with 60%. Then it would be a 50-50 split for the following ten weeks.
It was standard Hollywood practice at the time, so Claire was stupefied that I struggled to understand it.
I guessed it was because, in the future, box office tracking was routine; people could see daily updates online. Here, the 103 million we had made was only a projection, not the exact number yet.
The figures were also reported in Variety, which called the movie a huge success.
International screenings had opened last week, and they had already earned over twenty million dollars abroad.
"Are you out of money? Is that why you're worried?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No. I actually have fifty million more in my account. I'm going to need you to find some interesting projects for me to inve—"
"YES!" She jolted out of her chair, yelling with her whole body.
Taken aback, I was speechless and could only stare at her.
My current wealth came from the L'Oréal deal and the thirty million I had taken from Adrian Cross for his 'Dojo' fee. That guy actually had talent—he broke through Foundation Stage Four in just ten days.
In my wuxia world, he was blessed with a martial arts body. I guessed the showdown with his stepmother would happen sooner than expected.
After a pause, Claire acted as if nothing had happened. "I've been waiting for this. I've been researching and connecting with directors while waiting for you to say that."
"That's… taking initiative?" I said, unsure how to compliment her.
BAAM.
She slammed a thick stack of documents onto my desk.
"Here. I've listed thirty upcoming projects that are still in financing stages, and some are mid-production needing a distributor. We'll go through them one by one until we find the perfect fit for 4CLOVER—"
"Here. Scream by Wes Craven. I'm going to fund that." I said, taking the first title. The name felt familiar, so I picked it.
Claire was flabbergasted. "It-It's a good choice, but there's still—"
"The second one is this: My Best Friend's Wedding."
"That one's quite expensive—you won't be able to afford both—"
"Partial financing. I'm investing fifteen million there as well."
For Scream, I would cover the full fifteen million for the film's rights. For My Best Friend's Wedding, I could secure partial rights and distribution rights.
"This one is good. We don't have any competition yet. There's only a script. Good Will Hunting– I'll allocate ten million to get it. You can hear their pitch. I'm done," I said, standing from my chair.
"I'll still review the rest of the projects, but we'll focus on these three first."
"A-Aight," Claire muttered, barely able to speak.
"Aight?" I said, confused by her response. I'd only been at the company for forty-five minutes before leaving for an audition.
Scream, Good Will Hunting, and My Best Friend's Wedding were movies I had researched during my short-lived YouTube movie review era—Gen Z Kids React to Old Movies.
I didn't remember their box office hits exactly, but I knew they had earned major money and some even won Oscars.
Two of these were distributed by Miramax or its subsidiaries; My Best Friend's Wedding was under TriStar Production—both big names in the '90s.
I planned to use Scream and Good Will Hunting to build 4CLOVER's prestige and mainstream recognition, so The Sixth Sense wouldn't be our only hit.
"I only have about five million in liquid cash right now," I muttered, changing into a 165-cm teen form in Micheal's car.
He had bought a comfortable SUV with dark windows to drive me around as Jack Kennedy. We drove a few streets over, got into a parking lot and then changed the plate number.
My Jack Kenney and my Owen Chase persona shouldn't mix. Adrian Cross also didn't know my Owen Chase identity.
My white snake slithered to my hand, and then changed into a ring on my middle finger.
"It still creeps me out no matter how many times I've seen it." Micheal shuddered exaggeratedly.
"Shut it. Did she come by?" I asked, changing the subject as I fixed my hair. He drove out of the parking lot and said, "Jessica? Yup, I saw her. Thank goodness you guys didn't cross paths. How much longer do you think you can do this?"
"Until she gave up." I muttered. Jessica was trying to ambush me at the 4CLOVER office, after befriending a friendly receptionist to get a notification when I was at the office.
Jessica told her plans, to bring 'Jack Kennedy'--me to meet 'Owen Chase'-- also me, to… me, when I was showing my first novel to her.
She wanted to make sure Jack Kennedy was alright.
"Why don't you put me into your snake, let me become Jack Kennedy, and then appear at the same time in front of her. You can solve this right away." Micheal suggested with a grin.
My white ring shuddered.
"That's a great plan. However, Shiryu is disgusted with the idea, so there's no way that's happening." I replied, slightly shaking my head.
Micheal furrowed his brows, almost offended by the snake's preferences.
"Maybe Elena could do it. Shiryu is quite comfortable around her." I muttered.
"Too bad Elena has a lot of schooling to do." Micheal teased.
"Most of them do." I muttered with a sigh before turning to him, "You too need some lessons. Don't skip them, and get your GED soon."
At the Montecito building, I changed one of the 16 apartment units into a hangout spot and another unit into a gym.
The kids were studying from a Caltech university student I hired to be a tutor for everyone there.
Micheal brought me to Burbank, where the meeting with the newbie director and writer was held.
After the Sixth Sense became a hit, I was offered multiple roles, but this one, coming from a director with only a college short film on his filmography and a newbie writer, intrigued me.
They didn't have a crew, no budget, no connection, nothing. But they have the guts to send the entire script to Micheal, my manager, to tempt me into the project.
This was after they saw my new height, and the role was for a 16 years old character.
Once I put on the shoe lift, I could be around Tom Cruise's height, so I could pass for the role.
It felt insulting to wear a shoe lift, but I had to do it.
In a small café in the Burbank area, I met with the two people: Alexander Payne and Stephen Chbosky.
(A/N: Chbosky—Writer and Director of The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Payne—Directed Election, The Holdovers, Downsizing.)
"Ah! You're here!" Chbosky greeted me happily, gripping my hand, though his palm was slick with sweat.
Payne offered a polite smile, his expression more serious, though his eyes betrayed a nervous flicker.
After a brief introduction, we dove right into the discussion.
"I don't mind using my name to help get funding for the project," I said, "but I want something in exchange for that."
They both looked a little helpless, but they understood. They didn't have any reputation yet, and in Hollywood there's a saying: Keep the famous actors happy, no matter what.
"We're prepared to give you twenty percent backend on the profits—" Payne began, but I cut him off.
"Twenty is too much. I'll only take five. What I want is some say in the casting process. I don't want to work with jerks or people hiding scandals that will explode later."
"Oh…" Both Payne and Chbosky were taken aback. They exchanged a glance before Payne said, "I guess that's fine. We don't want that in our film either."
"Then we're good," Micheal finally spoke up. "We've drafted a temporary contract you can use to chase funding. Although, there's a much easier way."
"Hmm?" I turned to Micheal, and so did Payne and Chbosky.
"Just go to 4CLOVER and get the funding there. Then, use JOI Productions to produce the movie. They've got a rental clause—you can hire their crew when they're not tied up on a major project." Micheal grinned.
His words caught me off guard. I could do that, sure—but if every project of mine was tied to 4CLOVER and JOI, I'd risk being labeled "difficult to work with" in Hollywood.
I didn't scold Micheal, though. He was being helpful, and if I was going to act in the project, why shouldn't I invest? The real issue was whether I trusted the movie.
After signing the temporary contract David drafted, I glanced at the cast list.
"You want Robin Williams for the dad role? That's… ambitious."
Chbosky smiled wryly. "Sorry. We don't want Robin Williams. We want someone like him. Someone who can balance comedy and heartfelt moments."
"Oh." I deadpanned. "Someone like Steve Carell?"
"Huh? Who's Steve Carell?" Payne asked, frowning. "I've never heard of him."
"Wait—is that the guy from The Dana Carvey Show?" Chbosky squinted in thought.
I blinked slowly, just remembering that Steve Carell wasn't anyone yet. He wouldn't have his big break until years later. Now he's just a hustling comic in sketches and small TV spots.
Micheal jumped in, casual but firm. "Owen's got a good eye for talent. Believe me, if he says Steve Carell fits, he fits. He vouched for Ralph Macchio and Jenny Ortega too when the director was not confident in hiring them."
"Really?" Payne and Chbosky were stunned. The two actors had been phenomenal in the last movie, so my credibility shot up immediately, although Micheal has been lying about it.
"Also," Micheal added teasingly, "Robin Williams is making twenty million per movie now. Unless you've got a personal connection, he won't be cutting that fee down for you."
Chbosky leaned forward, excited. "How about the girl? Your girlfriend in the movie. Who should we approach for that?"
"I think you should secure funding first," I tried to deflect, but Payne pressed, "Come on. Just for reference."
"You're the director. You do the reference." I gave him a look, but since they were insistent, I finally said, "I don't know. Sarah M. Geller is good. Brittany Murphy, too."
I chose them because they were both shorter than me—and because they were excellent actresses. But height was the biggest factor in my picking them.
Buffy wasn't produced yet—they had only shot one pilot episode, and filming wouldn't start until the following year.
Payne and Chbosky planned to do principal photography for the movie in just one month.
Most of the film would take place inside a car. The story followed a father and son who became homeless after their house burned down.
Together they had to work to sell the dad's inventions—boards and other contraptions—to big companies to earn enough money to rebuild their home.
The working title was My Dad Is Stupid. It was told from the son's point of view; he saw his father's decisions—being kind and respectful to others—as "stupid."
He watched how his dad had been pushed around his entire life. The son was a realist; the father was a dreamer.
His mother had died when he was young, so he was raised only by his dad.
The script had many heartwarming moments where the son eventually understood his father and the "stupid" choices he made.
The girlfriend character would only appear in the first and third acts. Her scenes highlighted how the main character was just as clueless—always missing the signals she gave him.
Like the time she asked him to share her bed after his house burned down and he chose to sleep on the floor instead.
Or when she tried to create a romantic moment and he assumed she was picking a fight—normal teenage stuff.
There was also a subplot where he tried to set his dad up with a scary widow. I even thought Jenny could cameo in that role.
In a way, I loved the script because it focused on the relationship between a son and his father. It explored masculinity, respect, and how a realist needs a dreamer—and how a dreamer needs a realist.
I recommended two movie titles for the project: A Dad Like Mine and The Man Who Tried.
They loved the suggestions and said they'd choose between the two after the project was done.
Micheal brought me to David's office afterward. The poor man was swamped by legal work from 4CLOVER and sometimes worked sixteen- to eighteen-hour days.
"Here." I tossed him an invigorating pill — an energy pill, but with a nourishing quality that eased tiredness.
He closed his eyes as he swallowed, digested it, and then slowly opened his eyes again. "Thank you. I needed that," he muttered.
"You know, Elena said something weird yesterday." I sat in front of him; Micheal waited outside, guarding the door.
"I didn't do anything wrong," David said defensively.
I shook my head. "I'm not accusing you of anything. Elena said you could use some help in your firm."
"Oh. Yeah, I'm applying for some interns right now—"
I stopped him. "That's not enough. And it's a huge information-leak risk."
David was silent for a moment before he asked, "What did Elena say?"
"She told me that you have potential, David. I'm going to ask you only one question. Do you want to have an ability?"
David's eyes widened, his breathing quickened. "Like yours?"
"Not like mine. Mine needs training. This would be more like a special human ability I can help guide out. It can be strong or weak, depending on your potential."
He was quiet for a while, then chuckled. As I gave him a look, he waved me off. "Sorry. I just imagined having the ability to split myself into ten and have ten lawyers working together in this firm."
I laughed. "Sorry. The ability isn't going to be that great. Maybe enhanced memory or a lie detector. But nothing too powerful."
"That's—" His eyes widened. "That's actually perfect for me. It will help a lot with my job."
"All right then. Close your eyes. I'm going to inject something."
I didn't teach David any foundational skill. The pills I usually gave him had already opened a small channel of spiritual qi inside his body.
Elena had told me David could be an esper a long time ago.
She'd also warned me that he shouldn't be dragged into the upcoming war with us.
David was strictly a supporting member of the sect– he didn't need a fighting ability. He only needed something that would make him better at his work.
I injected half a dose of the green fluid into the back of his neck in his office and guided the energy to nourish his brain.
Unlike with Elena or Micheal, who had foundations building in their bodies, David's transformation was quick and simple. He didn't pass out from the pain, though he felt it throughout the change.
He breathed heavily and sagged against the table, his eyes red, his cheeks sunken.
"What—what did I get?" he asked, forcing a grin.
I smiled and wiped the sweat on my forehead. "You have to check it yourself. What feels different?"
He closed his eyes, concentrating.
David breathed heavily, his palms pressed flat against his desk. His pupils dilated for a moment, and then a strange light flickered in his eyes.
He blinked rapidly, staring at the stack of documents piled high on his desk. Then his gaze froze.
"…Glowing," he whispered. His hand hovered above the papers like he was afraid to touch them. "Certain lines… they're glowing."
I raised an eyebrow. "Show me."
He picked up one contract and flipped through it, page after page. Every so often, he would stop, his fingers trembling over a line or clause.
"These… These are the dangerous parts. The traps. The ones people would skim over or misunderstand. I can see them now—clear as day." He shut his eyes and opened them again, his breath catching.
"And I… I remember them. Every single word I've read feels like it's burned into my mind. I don't need to re-check. I just know."
A grin broke across his exhausted face. "Not only that, I can recall most of the things I've read perfectly."
"You've given me something terrifyingly useful," he muttered, almost to himself. "I won't miss a loophole again. Not ever."
"I hope that you can build up your legal firm with this ability." I muttered as I sat back in front of him.
"I need you to be the terrifying legal shield that everyone is scared to mess with." I added. "That way, I can just do what I want without having to worry."
David smiled and said, "I'll make sure to do that. And also, I need to rewrite a lot of the contracts for your 4CLOVER company, so get the hell out of here."
He chased me away quickly. I told him to get some rest in order to stabilize the transformation, but he didn't want to do it. He was too excited to use his new ability.
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