Thomas Oppie an ordinary man.
A thirty-seven-year-old man who still refused to give up on his dream of becoming an actor.
Yet, at this moment, Thomas had "made a name for himself," though not in the way he'd ever hoped. He was now infamous — the man kneeling outside Ghost Films Production Studio, holding a signboard that made him go viral overnight. Of course, behind his sudden popularity were certain people fanning the flames.
But that, too, was normal. After all, Ghost Films had long been viewed by many in the film industry as a company that shouldn't even exist.
Originally, nobody cared about this tiny studio. Everyone assumed it was just a vanity project — a toy for the heir of the Devon Corporation to practice with while enjoying the carefree life of a rich second-generation heir.
But when Dead Silence was released, everything changed.
The film world suddenly realized that this guy, Edward Stone wasn't joking around.
Then came one successful movie after another. Every release was a hit, and each one shocked the industry further. For years, the horror genre had lacked a true king — but now, they'd found him. Edward was crowned the King of Horror, seated high on his throne, looking down on all.
If things had only stopped there, the industry would've just been surprised, perhaps even impressed. After all, horror films were just one small branch of cinema, and there were always rising stars — geniuses that appeared out of nowhere, dazzling like a bright sun before fading again.
But when Ghost Films introduced its revolutionary new technology, that's when the real trouble began.
The cost of producing films skyrocketed as studios scrambled to acquire the rights to use the technology. To cover these costs, they had only two options: cut spending elsewhere or raise ticket prices.
Naturally, many people began to resent Edward.
Of course, because Edward was the heir and future head of the Devon Corporation, few dared to confront him openly. But there were always people willing to act in the shadows, playing petty tricks just to spite him.
And in this world, there was never any shortage of malicious people — those who could hold grudges over the smallest slight, who could hate you simply because your existence inconvenienced them. With Edward's current fame and influence, this kind of treatment was inevitable.
…
"How's the investigation? What's this Thomas guy's acting ability like?"
Fresh off a flight, Edward sat in the back seat of his company car, rubbing his temples as he asked. He already had some ideas in mind. If Thomas's acting was anywhere near Daniel's level, Edward wouldn't mind giving the man a chance. After all, he had always judged people by ability, not appearance.
If the talent was there, then even a 37-year-old man with an unremarkable face deserved a shot — to see just how far he could go.
But it was hard to gather clips of Thomas's performances on the plane. The man was just a background extra, barely visible in any scene. It had taken all this time to even compile something for review.
"Boss, take a look for yourself," Zoroark said, her tone a little odd.
The moment Edward heard that tone, he knew — it couldn't be good news. If Thomas's acting had impressed Zoroark, he would've been excited, not hesitant. Edward shook his head, amused. "Interesting."
He took the tablet Zoroark handed him and began watching the clips — a compilation of Thomas's appearances across various shows and films. The man's best performance was a minor role in a romance drama, playing a child's father. He had about three or four lines — just a side character used to make the protagonists look better.
"This acting…" Edward murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.
It wasn't terrible, per se — but it certainly wasn't good.
This man, who had struggled in obscurity until the age of 37, had none of Daniel's natural gift. His performances were completely raw — untrained, clumsy, unpolished. Purely "wild-style acting," the kind you pick up after years of scraping by as a background extra.
Sure, compared to a total amateur, Thomas was a little better. But compared to real professionals, he was light-years behind. Against someone like Daniel, he wouldn't even see the taillights.
"How am I supposed to sign this guy?" Edward muttered helplessly.
He felt trapped. Mishandling this situation would be troublesome, especially since it was already blowing up online.
He skimmed through Thomas's background file — his mother was gravely ill. While not in immediate danger, her condition required long-term treatment and an organ transplant. Without it, she wouldn't survive. Treatment costs were exorbitant — far beyond what an ordinary family could afford.
That explained why Thomas had done what he did.
Edward sighed softly. He didn't know whether there were hidden motives behind the man's actions, but he didn't want to assume the worst. Not everyone was rotten inside — even if the world often proved otherwise.
"Thomas's mother's case doesn't qualify for the foundation's assistance," Edward said after reading the medical report, frowning in thought.
The illness wasn't on the list covered by the Prayer Wall Foundation, and he suspected Thomas knew that. That's likely why he had resorted to such desperate measures — kneeling outside Ghost Films, hoping to save his mother by sacrificing his dignity.
The foundation's requirements were strict and bureaucratic. They mainly helped impoverished families and patients in critical condition. While Thomas's mother was indeed sick, her case wasn't considered severe enough for charity aid — not when her condition could still be stabilized through other means.
"Boss, the PR department drafted three possible solutions."
Zoroark parked the car, handed Edward the tablet again, and listed them out:
[1. Sign Thomas as an actor, provide financial assistance for his mother's treatment, and set a reasonable work contract. Future employment to be decided later.]
[2. Don't sign Thomas, but still provide financial assistance for treatment. However, this carries a public relations risk.]
[3. Provide no assistance. Recommend that Thomas apply through the charity foundation. Downplay the issue publicly to divert attention.]
Edward's mouth twitched.
The third option looked the cleanest, but it carried the highest risk — a single misstep could cause a PR disaster. The second was troublesome too. It would look generous on paper, but it set a dangerous precedent.
If they helped every person who knelt outside their doors, Ghost Films would become a charity center, not a film studio. And there were plenty of desperate people already waiting outside the Foundation's gates.
If they opened that door once, they'd never be able to close it again.
That left only one real choice — the first option.
"What a pain," Edward sighed.
Still, the situation had already gone viral. Ignoring it would only worsen things. Realistically, the first plan was the most balanced — help the man, sign him temporarily, and see where things went.
The only question was: what kind of role could Thomas even play?
Certainly not a leading role — his acting simply wasn't up to par. But his slightly comedic face… perhaps he could try a lighthearted or comic supporting role instead.
…
Once Edward decided, the PR department quickly took over.
Under their skilled management, the issue was neatly resolved. Ghost Films released an official statement soon after:
"We encourage those facing hardships to seek help from social organizations and charitable individuals. As a film company, we cannot take on every personal case."
The statement drew mixed reactions. Some mocked it as hypocritical; others accused Ghost Films of staging the entire thing for publicity.
But there were also many who understood. After all, it was a film company — not a government agency or charity. Even if the boss was Edward, there were limits to what one person could do. If everyone copied Thomas's stunt, the company would collapse under moral blackmail.
When Edward finally arrived at Ghost Films, he saw Thomas waiting in the lobby — a modest, awkward middle-aged man sitting stiffly on a chair, face red with shame.
Around him, employees whispered quietly, most of them looking at him with thinly veiled disdain.
It wasn't hard to understand why. There were countless people who dreamed of joining Ghost Films, but none had ever stooped to this level.
In an era where people would do anything for attention, Thomas had simply taken it one step further.
After all, Ghost Films had a reputation for making stars. Many once-unknown actors had become household names after Edward took notice of them.
That's why the company's gates were always crowded with hopefuls — handsome men, beautiful women — all waiting for their chance.
And now, Thomas had become the first man to succeed through sheer desperation.
Edward glanced at him briefly. Thomas's face flushed even deeper, guilt and shame written all over his expression. It wasn't the look of a manipulative schemer — just a man cornered by life.
That impression softened Edward's attitude toward him.
Judging from his raw, unrefined acting and his current embarrassment, Edward could tell this wasn't an act. If Thomas were truly that good at pretending, he wouldn't have stayed a nobody for this long.
"Thomas, right? Come with me to the office," Edward said calmly.
Thomas immediately jumped up and followed.
Meanwhile, Edward instructed Zoroark to call over one of the company's agents.
Ghost Films now had several professional managers overseeing its talent. The most prominent one handled Daniel, followed by the agents for Tom and Jerry.
Yes — Tom and Jerry.
Ever since Edward's Tom and Jerry became a hit, two clever trainers had renamed their Meowth and Rattata after the characters, riding the wave of popularity. Edward didn't mind — as long as they maintained their professional image and didn't interfere with filming, he allowed his actors to make side income through streaming.
Under the meticulous contract drawn up by Ms. Shirai, things had been running smoothly — no disputes, no drama. It was one less headache for Edward.
He sat down behind his desk, watching Thomas stand stiffly before him, head bowed, full of shame and unease.
"Thomas, right?" Edward began. "You've gotten quite famous lately. Have you thought about what you'll do next?"
Thomas didn't hesitate. His answer came instantly, firm but humble:
"I'll do whatever you tell me to, Boss! Anything you ask!"
He clenched his pants tightly, voice trembling slightly.
Thomas wasn't someone chasing fame or luxury. He understood his limits. He wasn't particularly talented, not especially handsome, and not young anymore. But he had nowhere else to go.
His youthful dreams had trapped him in a cycle of bit parts and background roles. The longer it went on, the harder it became to change. Other jobs required experience, and even training programs favored the young.
At thirty-seven, Thomas had no advantage left.
He realized with bitter irony that the jobs he once scorned in his youth were now the ones he couldn't even dream of getting.
No one wanted to hire him. So, he kept acting — not out of ambition, but because there was simply nowhere else to go.
Then, one day, after finishing yet another forgettable day on set, eating a cold boxed meal in the corner, he got a phone call from his father.
The moment he saw the name flash on the screen, a sense of dread hit him.
Anyone working far from home knew what it meant when parents called unexpectedly — it was never good news.
And sure enough, his father's tired, weary voice told him: "Your mother is sick… seriously sick. She needs weekly treatment. I've spent all our savings. I can't hold on anymore."
Thomas dropped everything and rushed home.
He emptied the modest savings he'd accumulated over years of acting and discovered it could barely cover two years of his mother's life.
If she was to live without constant pain, she needed an organ transplant something far beyond his means.
That night, for the first time in his life, Thomas lit a cigarette. He smoked the whole night through, making call after call, begging everyone he knew for help.
But in this era, borrowing money was almost impossible.
He scraped together 50,000 pokedollars — all he could manage — and then hit a wall.
Desperation consumed him.
He read through the charity foundation's rules again, hoping for a loophole. There wasn't one. His family didn't qualify.
Then, while staring blankly at the foundation's name, another thought crossed his mind — Edward Stone.
And an idea took root.
"Sell myself. Sell my life. Save my mother."
That was the only path left for a middle-aged man named Thomas.
(End of Chapter)