Several days had passed since filming began on British soil, and the scenes covering Jonathan Joestar's childhood and early adolescence were nearly finished. The pace on set was surprisingly efficient-something that, to Alex, felt like a natural aftereffect of the impact caused in the previous chapter. After announcing historic filming locations and throwing half the internet into shock, dealing with schedules and youthful scenes felt almost relaxing.
Still, there had been one important change from the original work-a decision Alex considered not only sensible, but necessary to preserve a minimum level of artistic dignity.
In the original script, Dio was taken in by the Joestar family at the age of twelve.
Alex had simply crossed that out.
Now, Dio was fifteen.
The reason was so obvious it barely deserved discussion. Alex himself was already nearing thirty. Jasper Quin, meanwhile, was marching steadily toward forty. Putting two fully grown men in the roles of twelve-year-old children would be begging the audience to laugh at exactly the wrong moment.
And even then, if he thought about it more carefully, there was no real way around certain realities anyway: two guys over 1.90 meters tall, broad-shouldered, with faces that screamed "mafia boss"-especially after heavy makeup-were never going to pass as fifteen-year-old teenagers. At best, they looked like men with "fifteen years of paying bills," complete with stacked invoices and deep-seated tax-related trauma.
But Alex wasn't going to worry too much about that. After all, this wasn't a school drama or a teen romantic comedy.
They weren't veteran actors stubbornly squeezing into school uniforms and pretending to experience first love with the dead-eyed stare of people who had already argued with accountants.
Alex refused to join that club.
"Makeup, get over here. Let's fix this."
Now it was time for Dio's scenes.
And for the first time since the project began, Alex felt a genuine weight settle on his shoulders. This wasn't ordinary nervousness-it was responsibility.
Playing Sosuke Aizen had been comfortable. That kind of villain-polite, smiling, gentle on the surface and monstrous underneath-fit his image almost too well. It was like slipping into a perfectly tailored suit.
Dio was something else entirely.
As the makeup artists worked, Alex let his gaze drift, sinking into his own thoughts.
Dio Brando wasn't just another villain. He was a symbol.
A raw reminder of an entire era of anime and manga, when villains didn't need justification, trauma, or miserable pasts to exist. They were evil because they were evil. End of story.
Before mangaka like Togashi came along and flipped the table-breaking conventions and creating antagonists layered with complexity, moral dilemmas, and near-philosophical motivations-there was another kind of villain.
A direct villain. An absolute one.
Dio came from that era.
A rougher, simpler, and paradoxically more honest time. There were no shades of gray. No speeches about "the world made me this way." Evil didn't ask for permission or explanations.
Alex couldn't help thinking of villains like Frieza.
That type of antagonist didn't need to be understood-only defeated. The appeal came precisely from the total absence of empathy. They didn't want acceptance. They didn't want understanding.
They wanted to dominate, humiliate, and destroy.
And they smiled while doing it.
Many modern creators were afraid of that kind of character. There was always a compulsion to soften, justify, or explain, as if audiences could no longer handle pure evil.
Dio didn't care.
He was rotten to the core-and he made sure everyone around him knew it.
"No frills," Alex muttered to himself as the makeup was finalized. "No redemption. No excuses."
If Dio was going to be brought to life, he couldn't be diluted.
About an hour later, when Alex returned to the set with blond hair and full costume, the impact was immediate.
Melissa's eyes widened.
Ray stopped mid-sentence.
Some of the extras straightened instinctively.
It wasn't just the appearance.
It was the eyes.
Those eyes carried desire, arrogance, contempt, and an aggressively offensive confidence. There wasn't a trace of moral ambiguity there-no attempt to appear relatable.
The feeling was simple and universal:
"This guy is trouble."
"Everyone ready!" the assistant's voice rang out. "Scene twenty-two, test take… Action!"
...
...
The sun was already beginning to set, bathing the field in golden light and casting long shadows-almost too dramatic for reality itself. The scenery seemed to actively cooperate with the exaggerated aesthetic of the story.
Leaning casually against a tree, Alex-now fully immersed in Dio-watched in silence.
His hand slowly traced the letters carved into the trunk earlier that morning: Jonathan and Erina. A naïve, almost childlike gesture, filled with purity.
"Ha…"
The laugh that slipped from his lips was low, slow, and steeped in contempt.
Dio lifted his gaze and fixed it on Erina, who had just said goodbye to Jonathan and was still smiling, completely unaware of the danger approaching.
"Just looking at that makes my skin crawl."
Outside the set, Deng Chao felt a genuine chill run down his spine.
"This is past acting now…" he muttered. "It's uncomfortable."
"Hey~" Dio's voice sounded light, almost playful. "You're Erina, right? You seem pretty close to JOJO."
Accompanied by the two boys who had bullied her earlier, Dio advanced with a crooked smile-one that promised nothing good.
"I was wondering… that guy looked so depressed, and suddenly he's all happy."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So that's why, huh~?"
Erina's smile vanished instantly.
Fear filled her eyes as she turned to run.
She didn't get far.
Dio grabbed her wrist and yanked her back brutally, his other hand clamping onto her chin, forcing her to face him.
"Ugh!?"
Caught off guard, Erina struggled desperately, but her efforts were meaningless against his strength.
"As expected of Dio!"
"He did what we could never do!"
The two boys cheered with exaggerated, almost cartoonish enthusiasm.
Outside the set, Ray and other crew members exchanged strange looks.
It was exaggerated.
It was absurd.
It was… hypnotic.
Up to that point, the general feeling was clear: JoJo had something dangerously addictive about it-something that didn't need to make sense to work.
On set, Dio suddenly released Erina, letting her fall to the ground. He crossed his arms over his chest, posture heavy with superiority.
"Have you kissed JOJO yet?"
He paused theatrically.
"Not yet, right?"
Then he pointed his thumb at himself, his face twisting into an expression that was grotesque and iconic at the same time.
"Your first kiss won't be JOJO's!"
And with his voice tearing through the air:
"KONO DIO DA!"
The entire set nearly collapsed.
Extras and crew members choked trying to hold back laughter. It was ridiculous. It was exaggerated. It was completely insane.
And precisely because of that-perfect.
"I want to see the footage," Alex said immediately, helping Melissa to her feet.
That scene was a cultural pillar of JoJo. There was no room for mistakes.
After watching the take, Alex stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then he looked up.
"We'll do it again."
"Huh?" Troy blinked, confused. "Is there a problem, Director? I thought it was perfect."
"It's not enough."
In the original work, that scene hadn't even made much of an impact at first. It only became legendary thanks to the utterly unhinged delivery of the animation and voice acting.
Alex knew that better than anyone.
There was still room to push it further.
Dio needed to be pure, absolute, irredeemable.
A villain from an era where evil didn't need justification.
And Alex still hadn't gone far enough.
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