There exists a strange curse in the world of filmmaking:
When an exceptional movie receives a sequel, it's incredibly rare for that sequel to satisfy the audience. Even fewer manage to surpass the original.
And in many unfortunate cases, the more sequels are made, the worse the overall quality becomes.
One of the most well-known examples of this phenomenon is the Saw franchise.
The first Saw film was an absolute masterpiece — a brilliantly executed psychological horror thriller.
However, as the series went on, the quality of the films plummeted.
And yet, investors were still willing to pour money into them. Why?
Because as long as it carried the Saw brand name, it would make a fortune regardless of quality.
Then there's the perpetually unlucky Jason.
He dies again and again, only to be resurrected time after time due to his immense popularity — to the point where he was eventually killing people in outer space.
But attentive audiences might notice that the directors and screenwriters of these sequels are rarely the same people.
This is because investors often replace directors and writers between installments.
After all, truly talented directors usually aren't willing to tarnish their names by making bad movies.
Edward, however, didn't have this kind of concern.
That saying "rich and willful" could've been written just for him.
He felt this system suited him well.
At the very least, no one could force him to make a trashy sequel.
After all, the biggest investor in the entire movie was himself.
Who had the power to make him produce something he didn't want to?
There were even people who had tried to buy the rights to Dead Silence,
but Edward flat-out refused.
He didn't want to see someone take his work and turn it into Dead Silence 2, Dead Silence 3, and so on.
Even if some careful viewers might notice the director's name had changed,
there would always be others who would assume Edward had sold out,
that he had started making garbage films.
"Cut! Prepare the next scene at the television station!" Edward stood up.
It was nighttime now.
While the weather team's Pokémon could summon rain or snow upon request,
trying to turn night into day was still a bit much — even for them.
That did, however, raise a problem.
If a battle scene took place at night, wouldn't that render sunny-day teams completely useless?
[Ash orders Charizard to use Sunny Day.]
[But because it's night, Sunny Day failed.]
Ehhhh... The games didn't seem to have this kind of mechanic,
but the more he thought about casting Sunny Day at night, the more it felt off.
Would it intensify moonlight instead?
After all, the moon merely reflects sunlight...
Edward shook his head vigorously, forcing these strange, pseudo-scientific thoughts out of his mind.
Now was not the time to be pondering the physics of light.
The crew had already arrived at the Levincia City TV Station to shoot a night scene.
In theory, indoor sets weren't heavily dependent on weather or time of day —
you could just build the set to match.
But considering the limited energy of both the director and post-production team —
and knowing how some fans practically watched films with magnifying glasses —
Edward decided to be a little more meticulous.
He wasn't about to let his film get roasted in one of those embarrassing "Movie Mistake" exposés.
Though the TV station still had some late-night programming going on,
the crew had already coordinated with them beforehand.
Reserving a small filming area wasn't a big deal.
As the extras took their places, the first real "high-intensity scare" scene of One Missed Call was about to begin.
Edward watched the monitor with laser focus —
and shouted "Cut!" more than ten times in a row.
Every time, the reason was the same: the actress's eyes didn't convey the right emotion.
"Natsumi, your eyes — they need to show more fear, more despair, understand?" Edward said, his voice earnest but stern as he addressed the supporting actress before him.
The girl rubbed her reddened eyes, nodding hard.
After failing repeatedly, she felt incredibly embarrassed, even if no one had directly said anything.
She was also terrified of losing this rare supporting role.
After all, Edward had already become one of the hottest new directors in the industry with just one movie.
Still, Edward was starting to get a bit of a headache from watching her.
This particular scene was meant to be one of the more frightening segments in One Missed Call.
It might not be considered terrifying on its own,
but within the context of the whole film, it was certainly one of the scarier moments.
It was a key moment where the female supporting character dies at the TV station,
in front of a live audience, and under the powerless gaze of an exorcist.
The scene was designed to showcase the overwhelming power of Mimiko —
to show that this ghostly presence was unstoppable.
It was intended to amplify the fear.
This was a classic technique used in many Japanese horror films:
presenting spirits as invincible and irrational killers.
It's the senseless, indiscriminate nature of the violence that often evokes the deepest fear.
But this actress just wasn't getting it.
Her eyes remained dull and lifeless — more confused than terrified.
"Zoroark." Edward called out.
He'd decided to ask Zoroark for help in solving this issue.
After all, what fear could possibly compare to real fear?
If Edward wanted to create the effect he had in mind, he might need to resort to some more... unconventional tactics.
Otherwise, based on this actress's performance, he might be shouting "cut" for hours.
"...Are you sure about this?" Edward explained his idea to Zoroark, who responded with gleaming eyes.
In the next moment, a flicker of dark purple light flashed within Zoroark's gaze, making Edward pause for a second.
"Of course I'm sure! But it'll cost you more," Zoroark said enthusiastically.
Edward nodded.
Extra payment? That was easy.
If a problem could be solved with money, then it wasn't really a problem at all.
Watching Zoroark leave with glee to make preparations, Edward kept his eyes on her back.
He had just seen that dark purple glint again.
That was a signature trait of ghost-type moves.
Whenever Gengar used its abilities, it also emitted that same glow.
But wasn't Zoroark a Dark-type Pokémon?
"Maybe it just learned a Ghost-type move," Edward muttered to himself.
It wasn't too strange.
After all, the Zoroark he trained in game had learned Shadow Claw, too.
Very quickly, Edward refocused his attention on the set.
With everyone in position, filming resumed for the TV station scene.
Natsumi was sitting upright in her chair.
In front of her, the exorcist was chanting some strange incantations,
while further back, the camera panned across the TV station crew.
And yet, a suffocating sense of death clung tightly to Natsumi's heart.
"Cut!" Edward called again, interrupting the tension.
Immediately, a staff member came rushing over, holding a creepy-looking prop doll that made people uneasy just by looking at it.
The actress playing Natsumi recognized the doll — it was the one meant to jump out and scare her later.
Was there a problem with the prop?
Edward didn't look pleased, but still, he reluctantly picked up the loudspeaker.
"There's a small issue with the doll right now," he announced.
"For this take, we'll be shooting without the actual prop. We'll add the effect in post-production. Natsumi, are you okay with that?"
The actress nodded quickly.
Only then did Edward give his approval to proceed with the shoot.
Natsumi, inwardly, let out a sigh of relief.
Honestly, even just looking at that doll had creeped her out.
Filming without it sounded much better to her.
(End of Chapter)
(TN: Names here are confusing so I decided to let the name of the actress and character they're playing the same to be less confusing since they're probably not going to be mentioned in later chapter.)