"What are you thinking, Lauren?! Am I really that kind of person?"
"Yes."
"..."
"Fine, whatever. Just spit it out. Are you short on cash again?"
"Sis, you really are a regular Sherlock Holmes... I do need money. Fifty million. But it's not a handout; it's a loan. In five months, I'll pay you back one hundred million. That'll settle everything I've ever owed you!"
"Deal. When do you want the wire transfer?"
To Leo's surprise, Lauren Vance agreed without a second thought. But then, her tone shifted. "However, you have to agree to one condition."
Leo hesitated. "What condition?"
"Quit the industry. Go back to New York, apologize to Dad, and take a permanent seat at the company."
Leo was silent for two seconds. Then, he said with uncharacteristic gravity, "Lauren, I'm planning to use this money to produce a TV series. But I promise you this: if this show doesn't blow the roof off the industry, I'll pack my bags and head home immediately."
Lauren was stunned.
How many times had her younger brother screamed and fought with the family over this? And now he was actually agreeing to a "one strike and you're out" deal?
"Fine. Anything else you need?" she asked, her business instincts kicking in. "But let's be clear—you said one hundred million in five months. If you don't deliver, you're on the first flight to JFK."
One hundred million? she thought. The kid probably just let his ego do the talking.
"I'm good for it," Leo continued. "Besides the funds, I need a world-class production team."
Lauren hesitated. Money was one thing, she had plenty of that. But assembling a top-tier crew for her brother, whose reputation was currently radioactive in Hollywood, would be a challenge.
Leo sensed her predicament. "How about this? I'll bring the script to your office tomorrow. You read it, then you decide."
"Are you serious? Fine. See you tomorrow."
...
Leo hung up and let out a long breath.
This world was fundamentally different from his previous one. For instance, centuries ago, a Western expansionist surge had essentially annexed the East, turning what was once Japan into a small, protectorate territory known as "Sakura Village," inhabited by a nearly extinct minority group.
More importantly, the entertainment industry here had a robust, transparent rating system. In his previous life, creative works were often censored or banned for the slightest "negative influence." Here? As long as it was rated correctly, you could film anything.
However, despite the freedom, the Hollywood market here was surprisingly stagnant. It was dominated by a never-ending cycle of "safe" romance projects: Urban Romances, Teen Dramas, Fantasy Rom-Coms, and "Bromance" (BL) stories.
Leo didn't know if the audience was sick of them yet, but he certainly was. He wasn't about to waste his transmigration filming the same tired tropes.
Plus, many of the masterpieces from his old world simply didn't exist here. No Jujutsu Kaisen, no Bleach, no Naruto. Not even the "healing" masterpieces like Anohana or Your Lie in April.
There were two reasons Leo hadn't just chosen to live a life of leisure as a billionaire's son. First, the original Leo's obsession; the kid had died wanting to prove he wasn't just a "nepo baby." Second, Leo himself was a "drama addict." His dream had always been to stand on the stage of the Dolby Theatre with an Oscar in his hand.
"Time to be a productive member of society," Leo muttered.
He walked backstage to the show's Executive Producer, wearing his most charming, non-threatening smile. "Director, sorry to bother you. I'd like to officially withdraw from the competition."
Director Miller looked at the handsome young man and swallowed hard. He had heard the legends of the "Hollywood Hellraiser." Before the show started, the network heads had given him explicit orders: Don't provoke Leo. Give him the best lighting, the most screen time, and the best edit. Ensure he makes the final group.
"Director Miller? Is that a problem?" Leo raised an eyebrow.
"No! No problem at all! Leo, you're... uh, very polite today. Haha," Miller stammered. He remembered a colleague who had reportedly been beaten for two hours by this kid, and his mouth twitched.
As Leo walked out, he looked back at the stage with a playful glint in his eyes. He saw a boy with a middle-part hairstyle and a mesh shirt introducing himself.
"Yo, what's up, America? I'm trainee K-Zane. I've been training for two and a half years. I like to sing, dance, rap, and play basketball..."
Leo smirked. From this moment on, the gears of destiny were turning.
The next afternoon. Vance Media Group, Century City.
A woman with a commanding presence sat behind a mahogany desk. She was dressed in a sharp, white Alexander McQueen power suit, exuding the aura of a high-powered executive.
Knock, knock.
Lauren Vance looked up, her legs, encased in sheer black tights shifting slightly under the desk. "Come in!"
Leo pushed the door open, grinning. He dropped a thick stack of A4 paper, bound into a professional script, onto her desk.
"Sis! I stayed up all night finishing this. Take a look."
Lauren looked at the cover.
"Jujutsu Kaisen?"
She looked at Leo skeptically. "Last night? You wrote an entire script in one night? Is this even English?"
Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, Lauren's heart softened slightly. "Fine. I'll give it a look."
Ten minutes passed.
Lauren became silent. Her indifferent gaze gradually sharpened.
"Curses? Sorcerers? Gojo Satoru? Sukuna?"
As she flipped through the pages, the world-building and the visceral descriptions of the battles took hold. Her eyes flashed with genuine interest.
"Action, Supernatural, Shonen-style... 'Healing'?" She read the tags at the end and let out a long breath. It had been thirty minutes, and she hadn't looked at her email once.
Leo smiled, seeing her reaction. He had localized the script for a Western audience. In the first episode, instead of a "fox spirit" game, the students were messing with an Ouija board. Yuta's weapon was a custom-forged Tang Sword, a nod to the "ancestor of the blade."
As for the settings: Shibuya was now Times Square, Tokyo was New York City, and the old-school Kyoto branch was set in a mystical hidden campus in Salem, Massachusetts.
"Did you actually write this?" Lauren asked, leaning back. "You didn't buy this off some starving writer in a coffee shop?"
"I got hit with a bolt of inspiration while I was in the shower," Leo lied effortlessly.
"Okay, fine," Lauren said, her mind already running through casting possibilities. She hesitated before adding, "Leo, you want to play Gojo Satoru? This role looks simple, but it's the anchor of the whole show. If you nail it, it's iconic. If you don't, you'll ruin the entire series."
Leo nodded humbly. "I know. I'll do my best."
The moment Lauren heard "do my best," her heart sank. Whenever her brother "did his best," he usually ended up doing his best to ruin everything he touched.