"Boss, what do you think the rating will be?" After watching Buried, Zoroark took a deep breath. Its strongest impression from the film was the tightness in its chest and the feeling of not getting enough air.
"No idea," Edward replied, not overly concerned. The movie had gone through a lot of adaptations, so even he wasn't sure what score it would get. But he was confident it wasn't a bad film. The overall atmosphere had been well-executed—he estimated it could probably land around a 9.
After all, Buried had a clear and powerful message, and the despair that came from the crushed hope at the end, paired with Daniel's performance, gave the film a unique and haunting quality.
If he were to rate it himself, Edward would give it a 9.8. Especially considering how Daniel insisted on performing the final scenes under actual low-oxygen conditions to simulate suffocation. That scene alone had taken a lot of time and effort to shoot safely. Otherwise, the film's production could've wrapped up even faster.
Since low-oxygen environments can be dangerous, Edward had no choice but to repeatedly call for cuts and reshoots, prioritizing safety.
Even though he acted indifferent about the score on the surface, the moment he got back to his room, Edward immediately checked online reviews on his phone.
They were overwhelmingly positive, with just a few negative ones scattered throughout. Most of the negative feedback came from people who couldn't finish the film—viewers who found the oppressive atmosphere too much to handle and had to leave halfway through.
[Who else can relate to watching this as a claustrophobia sufferer?]
[I started having physical symptoms from rapid breathing. First time a movie has had such a strong offline effect!]
[No joke, someone in our theater had to go to the hospital from hyperventilation.]
"Is this too effective?" Edward couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. Thinking back on the suffocating sensation he himself had felt while watching the movie, he could understand why audiences reacted that way. But in truth, if people didn't focus too intently while watching, they wouldn't be affected so strongly.
That said, Edward remembered one of his passive abilities: it forced audiences to concentrate on his films.
"…Ah, that's probably why," he sighed, rubbing his face.
It really wasn't the viewers' fault.
His passive skill had already done the work of grabbing the audience's attention and immersing them fully into the experience. Naturally, the more focused you were, the more likely you were to be affected by the oppressive atmosphere.
The human psyche is mysterious. If your brain believes you're suffocating, your body may actually start to manifest symptoms. There are even cases of people fearing they have AIDS and developing early-stage symptoms just from psychological stress.
That's why some hospitals purposefully withhold certain information from patients—it's the placebo effect in action.
"If this keeps going, maybe one day my movies will fully pull the audience into the protagonist's point of view." Edward shook his head.
The current results were already outrageous. If his abilities improved further, he didn't even want to imagine how immersive things could become.
[Buried Fear Points: 21,384]
Seeing the number, Edward nodded in satisfaction. That was a great result for a thriller. He was curious to see how much more fear value it could accumulate by the end of its theatrical run.
The next morning, after waking up and heading out for breakfast, Edward saw that Buried's first-day rating had been released:
9.3.
Not the highest ever—but absolutely excellent.
"Hmm, seventy million in nine hours?" Edward sipped his drink while checking the data on his phone.
Though the full 24-hour box office data hadn't been tallied yet, the movie had already raked in a staggering amount. Media outlets were all jumping on the story.
Seventy million in nine hours
Projected to break One hundred million today
Edward's most commercially successful film yet
Final earnings could reach one billion
Most people don't go out to watch movies at midnight. The real wave would hit during the day.
[Buried: A film disguised as a thriller, but actually a historical drama]
[Buried buries all its viewers on opening day]
[Organic hype? Buried's online search trends are skyrocketing!]
"What are these people thinking? Even this turned into an organic hype wave?" Edward muttered, staring at his screen, where he saw one particularly absurd news piece:
Buried had been hit by a wave of "self-motivated fan hype"—a phenomenon known as "natural water".
"Natural water" is internet slang in contrast to "paid water armies" (fake review bots). It refers to genuine fans spontaneously recommending a product without being paid to do so.
Reading the passionate fan reviews made Edward feel like his soul was leaving his body.
[Buried is amazing! You'll regret not seeing it! Best film of the year! Go watch it, AAAHHH!]
[Here's a screenshot from a fan on RottenBerries Movie Ratings. As of 1:50 AM, they hadn't deleted their post yet.]
[Buried almost buried me in the theater. My whole body felt awful—breathing got heavier and heavier. Edward kept giving the protagonist hope, then tore it all away. I felt like my own breathing stopped.]
"I get it now. These viewers just don't want to suffer alone, so they want to drag everyone else down with them." Edward couldn't help but laugh, patting Q on the head and feeding a fear candy to the Mimikyu.
It reminded him of those scammy mobile games from his past life—awful to play, but filled with glowing five-star reviews because people didn't want to be the only ones who fell for the trap. That culture had now spilled into the film industry.
"Should I ask the PR department to add a warning?" Edward mused.
Buried's popularity and success matched his expectations, especially after the massive online debates. But he was still concerned about the growing number of reports of viewers experiencing hyperventilation after watching.
Medically, this was called respiratory alkalosis, caused by a drop in CO₂ levels from rapid breathing. Viewers, caught up in the film's suffocating atmosphere, panicked and began breathing faster—only worsening the symptoms.
Though not particularly dangerous, if too many people were affected, Edward would inevitably be held responsible.
So before the premiere, he'd already issued a reminder: Don't breathe too fast during the movie. But people still fell into the trap. He figured it was time to remind them again.
He immediately contacted Ghost Film Pictures's publicity team and asked them to push out another public service warning.
…
"Boss, that guy called Kendall didn't quit the internet!" Zoroark stormed into the room, fuming.
Edward raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't he say he'd quit if the film scored over 9?" Edward didn't pay much attention to clowns like Kendall, but he was still vaguely aware of him, since Buried's origin was indirectly tied to this guy.
Kendall had been a loud critic—streaming all day and even selling merch during his live broadcasts. All just to milk controversy for money… and it had actually worked.
This guy had even said publicly: If Buried scores above 9, I'll quit the internet forever!
"Well, now he's saying he'll wait until the film's off the charts before checking the final score," Zoroark said bitterly. "If he had the guts to quit immediately, I'd at least respect him a little. But this…? Disgusting."
Edward calmly wiped his mouth and nodded. Honestly, he had predicted this. With the kind of income Kendall was making from all this drama, it wasn't surprising he'd try to weasel out of his own promise.
"Alright, I got it," Edward said, taking out his phone and messaging Secretary Kennedy.
Since Kendall didn't want to back out with dignity, Edward would help him do it.
It wouldn't take much. A person like Kendall surely had skeletons in his closet—and if they checked his taxes, who knows what they'd find?
If any tax evasion turned up, the platform could ban him outright. And when that happens, Kendall would have to cough up a massive breach-of-contract penalty. Many banned influencers lose almost everything they gained.
Given how crazily he'd been livestreaming and pushing merchandise, Edward suspected Kendall's earnings might not even cover the penalty.
…
"Alright, let's go. We still have to continue filming Alien today." Edward yawned. With Buried now in theaters and doing well, the Alien shoot could resume, though he wasn't in a rush.
After all, with Buried's box office growth so strong, it would likely dominate theaters for a month or two. That gave him plenty of breathing room.
"Is the Ditto ready?" Edward asked, suddenly remembering something as he glanced at Zoroark.
Zoroark made a conflicted face. "Boss… you'd better come see for yourself."
Confused, Edward followed Zoroark to the set. Inside the actors' lounge, he found Ditto.
Ditto—one of the most unique Pokémon in the world—can transform into any Pokémon it's seen. However, most Dittos retain their trademark beady eyes even in transformed form, making them easy to identify.
Only a rare few can perfectly mimic appearances without that giveaway.
According to the Pokémon League's Ditto Identification Regulations, Dittos transforming in public must retain their beady eyes to avoid fraud. Violations could be charged as impersonation or even criminal fraud.
This rule existed to prevent people from having Dittos impersonate celebrities or, worse, commit more serious offenses—some of which had even made legal drama headlines.
"Hissss!" A black, snarling Alien creature roared in front of Edward. He nodded thoughtfully.
This Ditto's transformation was excellent. Since the Alien was already jet black, its beady eyes were nearly invisible. The size, proportions, and presence were spot-on—visually, it had an uncanny beauty.
So why did Zoroark make that weird face?
"What's wrong with it?" Edward asked, puzzled.
Zoroark silently pointed at a certain spot.
Edward looked—and fell into silence.
The Ditto had given its transformed Alien a heart-shaped tail.
"…You can't change that?" Edward asked, visibly annoyed.
A terrifying alien impaling someone with its tail… only for the camera to pan over and reveal a giant heart shape?
That was just asking for internet jokers to start drawing sexy fanart and Alien-girl variants.
Edward never underestimated the internet's power to turn anything into a meme.
Looking at the heart-shaped tail, he had just one thought:
"What the hell is this? An alien or a succubus?"
"Do I need to slap a mature rating on this movie?"
"Sorry, Director Edward," Ditto's trainer said awkwardly. "Ditto just finished a shoot for a TV drama before this, so…"
"Replace it," Edward said without hesitation.
Shooting a drama was fine—but not if it messed with his production schedule.
Zoroark coughed awkwardly.
"What now?" Edward asked.
"Boss… this trainer said he used to be your classmate."
Edward turned back to the trainer. The man mentioned they'd gone to the same junior high. Edward racked his memory but couldn't recall him at all. Probably just another forgettable background character from the same class.
Still, he gave him one last chance.
They tried again… and the Alien still had a heart-shaped tail.
Edward didn't hesitate.
He told the long-lost classmate to pack up and leave.
(End of Chapter)