The camera sat on the table like a loaded weapon. Adrian stared at it while the rest of the world moved—tricycles passing, the electric fan groaning, a dog barking four doors down. Somewhere in his mind, the System still pulsed like an app running in the background of his thoughts, but it didn't say anything. It was waiting.
His phone buzzed. A text from his dad.
**"\$5,000 wired. Don't spend it all on balut."**
Adrian chuckled dryly, remembering Joms' wisecrack back at the airport. *₱50 to \$1, tanga.* He did the math—₱280,000 and some change, give or take. In LA, that was rent for a couple months and a single therapy session. Here? It was... possibility.
He sat up straighter. Grabbed a notepad and scribbled:
**"SHORT FILM: ₱280,000 BUDGET. VIRAL OR BUST."**
He thought back to what made shorts blow up online—those raw, human pieces that punched people in the chest and left them breathless: the 3-minute breakup at dawn, the single-take scene where a daughter reads her mom's unsent letter, the voicemail from a father who'd died hours later. That one hit like a freight train.
He underlined the idea and circled it.
What stuck with people wasn't spectacle—it was silence. Intimacy. Truth.
A single man. One voicemail. One moment.
He'd act in it himself. No auditions. No diva attitudes. No wasted time.
---
**Title:** *"The Call You Didn't Make"*
**Concept:** A man receives a voicemail from his estranged father—left the night before the man's sudden death.
The camera stays locked as the son listens. One take. No tears, no cheap tricks. Just the moment we all fear: the one where it's too late.
---
He could already picture it. His face in profile, dim lighting, his breathing just slightly off. The message playing in full — the dad's voice kind, maybe even hopeful. "Hey, just checking in. Haven't heard from you in a while…" Then a pause. Then: "Call me back, son."
And Adrian doesn't.
He just sits there. Listens. Breaks. Silently.
He knew this could hit. If shot right, it would haunt people. The kind of short that spreads not because it's trendy, but because it's *true*.
He opened his laptop and Googled: **"where to rent camera gear Metro Manila."**
Prices weren't bad. ₱5,000–₱10,000 a day for a mirrorless Sony or even a used RED Raven if he pulled some strings. He could even buy a second-hand Blackmagic Pocket for around ₱100,000 and still have budget left for lights, audio, a second battery, and post.
Adrian scribbled a quick budget:
* 🎥 Used Blackmagic Pocket Camera: ₱95,000
* 🎙️ Rode Shotgun Mic + Boom: ₱18,000
* 💡 2-Point LED Lighting Kit: ₱12,000
* 🎬 Props (fake phone, wardrobe, furniture tweaks): ₱7,000
* 💻 SSD Storage + Cables: ₱6,000
* 🎧 Basic Audio Recorder (Tascam): ₱9,000
* 🎞 Editing Software (Davinci Resolve free version, upgraded later): ₱0
* ☕ Bribe for Joms' help: ₱1,000 and a bucket meal
→ **Estimated Total: ₱148,000**
Plenty of buffer.
This wasn't a splurge. This was *investment*. In himself. In the film. In the mission.
The System must have agreed, because a notification flickered softly in his peripheral vision:
---
**\[Quest Tracker – Update: Funding Secured]**
→ *User allocated ₱148,000 to pre-production*
→ *Remaining Cash Buffer: ₱132,000*
→ *Short Film Production Status: GREEN*
**\[Optional Side Quest: Convince Joms to Act as Voice of the Father]**
→ Reward: Passive Skill – "Audio Direction (Basic Level)"
→ Relationship Buff Unlocked: +5 Joms Affinity
---
Adrian grinned. The thought of Joms reading voice lines as a loving dad was ridiculous... but not impossible. He had a warm voice when he wasn't yelling at delivery guys or singing Aegis at 1 a.m.
He turned to the mirror. Practiced his look—half grief, half disbelief.
The camera would do the rest.
For the first time since his "resurrection," everything felt aligned: money, memory, mission.
And all he had to do... was make it real.(End chapter)