"…These guys are really something else. Dropping a movie review and managing to squeeze in a product placement at the same time. But putting a phone ad into a horror film review—don't you think that's a little unwise?" Edward couldn't help but chuckle as he scrolled through his phone, reading the latest review by the well-known reviewer "Detective Pikachu."
After the film's premiere, Edward had been actively searching for reviews online, and Detective Pikachu turned out to be one of the earliest to post his.
What caught Edward off guard, though, was that the guy didn't miss the chance to "earn a bite"—casually slipping in some paid promotion while publishing his reaction to the movie. It was, Edward had to admit, impressively smooth.
He continued reading through the latest feedback when another review caught his attention:
[One Missed Call: A Horror Film Disguised as an Educational Piece About Childhood Mental Health]
"Huh?" Edward blinked in surprise. While he'd long come to accept that critics often had uncanny levels of reading comprehension, this particular angle actually struck a bit of truth.
If you stripped away the horror elements of One Missed Call, it could indeed be seen as a film centered on childhood psychological trauma. That aspect was admittedly a personal touch from him—though only briefly referenced in the story, it had mostly been buried beneath layers of terrifying visuals.
Then came another review:
[One Missed Call: 50 Hidden Details You Might've Missed]
Yep, this was expected. These kinds of breakdowns had become a recurring tradition. Audiences always seemed capable of identifying nuances that even Edward, as the director and screenwriter, hadn't consciously inserted.
After reading for a while, Edward finally put down his phone with a satisfied expression. So far, the reception to One Missed Call had been pretty positive.
Most of the negative reviews were along the lines of "Too scary!", "I broke my phone!", or "Now I'm afraid of using my mobile!".
None of which particularly surprised him. After all, the very concept behind One Missed Call revolved around a malicious spirit inhabiting phones—an idea that, even in the world he came from, would have been considered novel.
All the more so in this world, where the horror genre hadn't yet fully developed.
[Even though your movie was great and terrifying—I loved it—I'm still giving it a bad review, because life isn't always fair.]
Edward's mouth twitched slightly when he saw that one. Indeed, the internet remained as chaotic as ever.
"Boss, it's Kode. He's on the line," came a voice as Zoroark walked into the room, a visible sense of joy lighting up his face.
Edward looked up. Kode was calling? After all this time, Edward had begun to think that Kode had turned down the offer. But here he was, finally reaching out.
"What did Kode say?" Edward asked. Although he'd been preoccupied with the film's release lately, he hadn't forgotten about the foundation he wanted to establish.
The only reason it had been on hold was that he hadn't found the right person to take charge.
"Kode said he's willing to give it a try," Zoroark replied, smiling broadly.
Though Kode had said he'd "think about it" previously, Zoroark had always believed that, deep down, he was still the same kind-hearted and justice-driven man.
Edward agreed. For the foundation to work, they needed someone not only competent, but also deeply committed to justice and empathy—someone who would ensure that the foundation's funds were used for the right causes.
"So, boss, what are we going to name this foundation?" Zoroark asked. He would need to file paperwork with the League to get everything started, and he was clearly taking this task seriously, his whole demeanor radiating enthusiasm.
Edward hesitated for a moment. He couldn't use the name he'd used in his previous life. He wasn't a big believer in fate, but since he had reincarnated into a new world, if reusing that name ended up bringing corruption or scandal, he would genuinely begin to question the logic of the universe.
"…They say the prayers whispered in hospital walls are more sincere than those uttered in churches. Let's call it the Prayer Wall Foundation" Edward said after a moment's thought.
A memory surfaced in his mind—of his past life, when he had taken his mother to the hospital for chronic pharyngitis.
While they were there, he had seen a middle-aged man at the emergency wing. The man was in slippers, his eyes bloodshot, the veins in his arms bulging. He was kneeling on the ground, praying over and over again. A nurse tried to help him up, but he refused to move.
Edward believed that, in that moment, the man's prayer had been profoundly sincere.
"Got it," Zoroark nodded, his expression softening. He quickly turned and rushed out, eager to speak with Kode about the plan. Edward would provide the initial funds and open public donation channels. Once the foundation was officially established, it would be linked to their company's official accounts.
Watching Zoroark's hurried retreat, Edward scratched his head. It seemed the incident with Auntie Hanai had left a deep impression on Zoroark.
"That said, in today's world, calling for donations could easily spark public skepticism. I might as well shoot a short public-service video—something straightforward—and introduce the Prayer Wall Foundation in it," Edward muttered to himself.
He didn't need to micromanage the foundation; his job was just to fund it. As for Kode's actual ability to run it, time would tell.
What was making him more uneasy now was that threatening letter from Zinnia. While game lore didn't show Zinnia doing anything truly malicious, this was reality, not a scripted story.
He still had no idea how closely this world followed the game's plotline. It would be wise to stay cautious.
"Let me think…" Edward absentmindedly stroked Q's head, then reached out and patted Fortune, who was sitting off to the side reading a book.
To his surprise, Fortune was reading The Wealth of Nations—a book Edward had left on the table, not expecting anyone to pick it up.
The storyline involving Zinnia centered around Rayquaza and a looming meteor crisis.
However, the previous arc had already involved the awakening of Groudon and Kyogre. That meant Edward now had two potential disasters to deal with.
If Zinnia were involved, it was highly likely that this time the awakened forms would be Groudon and Kyogre in their Primal Reversion states.
Primal Groudon and Primal Kyogre were absurdly powerful.
In the games, their weather effects were so dominant that they couldn't be overridden by other weather conditions. That meant a sunny-day strategy was useless against Kyogre's torrential rains—unless Primal Groudon appeared, in which case the sunlight would return.
The reverse held true as well.
If those two showed up in Hoenn now, it would likely lead to an epic-scale natural disaster. Super droughts and floods would wreak havoc. Temperatures might skyrocket to 53°C or even higher.
"…If I remember right, Primal Reversion requires the use of the Red and Blue Orbs, which are currently enshrined atop Mt. Pyre. Couldn't we just destroy them? Or at least move them somewhere safer?" Edward thought of a critical plot element.
The Red and Blue Orbs were essential for awakening and controlling Groudon and Kyogre. Without those, the Team Magma and Team Aqua wouldn't be able to do anything, no matter what they planned.
Edward stood up. He had made his decision.
He was going to Mt. Pyre—to investigate the two orbs with his own eyes, and see what exactly was going on with them.
(End of Chapter)