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CHAPTER 4 — In the End
A month had passed.
Thirty days of grinding. Thirty days of isolation. Thirty days of working double shifts, skipping weekends, burning every spare second into writing. What began as a crazy impulse had become a finished mission — the screenplay, the novel manuscript, and the song.
For the first time since waking up in this unfamiliar world, he felt genuinely proud of himself.
But the moment the final word was typed, the excitement didn't come — anxiety did.
In his past life, dreams like this died because he never protected them. Ideas were stolen, credits lost, and talent drowned under poverty and responsibility.
Not this time.
He placed a blank A4 sheet on the table and picked up a pen. His hands trembled, but not from fear — from emotion.
He wrote slowly, line after line:
… One thing, I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme to explain in due time
All I know time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down to the end of the day, the clock ticks life away
… It's so unreal, didn't look out below
Watch the time go right out the window
Tryna hold on, d-didn't even know
I wasted it all just to watch you go
… I kept everything inside
And even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when
… I tried so hard and got so far
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
I had to fall to lose it all
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
… One thing, I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme to remind myself how I tried so hard
In spite of the way you were mockin' me
Actin' like I was part of your property
Rememberin' all the times you fought with me
… I'm surprised it got so far
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then, but it all comes back to me in the end
… You kept everything inside
And even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when
… I tried so hard and got so far
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
I had to fall to lose it all
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
… I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this, there's only one thing you should know
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this, there's only one thing you should know
… I tried so hard and got so far
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
I had to fall to lose it all
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
"I tried so hard, and got so far…
But in the end… it doesn't even matter."
The words hit him harder now than ever. It wasn't just a song — it was the story of his previous life. Every failure, every humiliation, every time he was told he wasn't good enough… all of it sharpened him into who he was now.
He sat silently, staring at the sheet, then carefully folded it and put it with the screenplay and the manuscript.
Time for the next step.
Copyrighting
He walked into the Copyright Office with every page stacked neatly inside a polythene folder. The air-conditioned room smelled like files and bureaucracy.
"Three works," he said at the counter. "One novel manuscript, one screenplay, and one original song lyrics."
The officer nodded.
"Price per application is $45. So three applications = $135. Processing time is 90 days on average. But you'll receive acknowledgment today, and priority protection begins immediately."
His heart pounded, but he paid the amount without hesitation. $135 was almost three weeks of rent — but it was worth it.
He handed over the documents, filled the forms, and signed where told.
When the stamped Acknowledgment of Copyright Filing was placed in his hand, he felt a weight lift off his chest. For the first time in two lives, his work was protected.
He stepped outside and exhaled sharply into the cold air.
"Now nobody can take it from me," he whispered.
Investing Everything
He didn't go home. He rushed directly to a photocopy center — a dusty shop with a humming Xerox machine and a bored man behind the counter scrolling on his phone.
"How much for one black-and-white copy?" he asked.
"$0.05 per page."
He did a quick calculation.
The screenplay: 118 pages
The novel manuscript: 274 pages
Total: 392 pages
With $425 saved after tax, rent, and food, he could afford:
$425 ÷ $0.05 = 8,500 pages of photocopy
Divide by 392 pages per full set → about 21 full sets (with a few pages extra).
He sorted the sets:
1 copy for Writers Guild (registration)
12 copies for production companies
8 copies for publishing houses
For the first time since arriving in this world, he was broke on purpose — by choice, not helplessness. He had $11 left in his pocket, barely enough for food.
But he didn't care.
Writers Guild Submission
Standing at the Writers Guild entrance gave him chills. This place was the gateway to the big leagues.
He filled out the form and submitted one copy of his screenplay.
Registration cost: $35.
Processing Time: 4–6 weeks.
The clerk stamped his documents and said, "Congratulations. Your work is now officially listed and protected under Guild registry."
He walked out smiling.
Sending to Studios and Publishers
He spent the rest of the day moving across the city like a courier driver — even though he was the creator.
At each production company reception, he placed a crisp envelope with the screenplay and his contact information. Some smiled politely, others didn't even look up. Still… he left them there.
At publishing houses, he submitted the printed manuscript — the first chapter hooked every receptionist who skimmed it.
One of them even looked up at him with widened eyes.
"This is… actually good."
That compliment alone warmed him for the next two hours.
By late evening, he was exhausted. His legs hurt, his wallet was empty, and hunger made his stomach twist. He bought the cheapest sandwich he could find and ate it while sitting on a cold stairway outside a closed café.
But that night, something inside him felt fierce.
He had protected his work, invested in his dream, and bet everything on himself.
Even if nothing came from it… he could live with himself, because for once he didn't quit halfway.
He lay back and stared at the sky.
"Past life… you gave me a lifetime of hardship," he murmured. "But that suffering also gave me the fire to do this."
The wind was cold, the stars distant, the city loud.
But his heart was warm.
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End of Chapter 4