Chapter 048: A Return of Twenty Thousand Times?

The lives of Tuvalu's citizens remained unchanged. While Burns and other representatives of the Tuvaluan government were overwhelmed with work, for the people still living in Tuvalu, none of these matters concerned them. Whether it was the purchase of new territory or preparations for building a new Tuvalu, all of it seemed far removed from their daily existence.

Those who could leave had already emigrated; those who stayed were the ones wishing to spend their remaining years in their homeland. To call them their final years, though, perhaps wasn’t quite accurate, for so few in Tuvalu lived past forty-five. The national life expectancy had only just reached forty. No one paid much attention to Tuvalu; their king, Daniel Lee, had gone abroad and returned with a tiny film crew of three and two minor Hollywood actors whom no one in Tuvalu recognized—all for the sake of making a movie.

Daniel Lee once believed that life in Tuvalu was tranquil. Even if the people lacked ambition, at least they had little to worry about. But now he understood: it wasn’t tranquility, but rather utter desolation of the spirit. They were people abandoned by the world, even by God Himself. Guarding a lonely island doomed to be swallowed by the sea, they could not bear to leave, waiting for some day when God might glance their way. Unwilling to embrace death, they waited for hope instead. As for everything else, they were entirely indifferent.

The people of Tuvalu cared nothing for Daniel Lee’s activities, and for the moment, he had no intention of concerning himself with their thoughts either—for he was about to begin filming.

“Boss, about this script...” Douglas, the male lead, stared at the three-page script, at a loss for words.

“Your Majesty, if I may speak frankly, I’ve never seen a script so... simplistic.” Even Liz, who had been batting her lashes at Daniel Lee with greater enthusiasm since learning he was the King of Tuvalu, couldn’t help but voice her concerns when it came to the film. She felt it her duty to prevent her future husband from squandering their fortune.

Had Daniel Lee realized Liz already considered him her future husband, he would have immediately asked Fiji to send a plane to take her away—film or no film, she’d have to go.

“I understand your thoughts. To be honest, I wrote this script at the last minute. Previously, I’d only constructed some scenes in my mind, but I believe that, once filmed, the result will be truly terrifying.”

Recalling the movie he once saw, Daniel Lee shuddered. The faux-documentary style gave it a sense of realism, and with horror films, realism breeds terror. If the audience can tell at a glance that what they’re seeing could only happen in a movie, no one will find it frightening. But if you make them believe that what happens in the film could just as easily occur to them, that perhaps, as they sleep, unspeakable horrors might unfold beside them... who wouldn’t be chilled to the bone?

“This story, I think, is rather frightening—strange things happening while one sleeps.” Now in Tuvalu, Daniel Lee’s own country, Douglas dared not contradict him outright. On the plane, he had joked freely with the king, but after setting foot here and witnessing the reality, he became much more subdued.

“But...” Douglas hesitated, then spoke up. “Boss, are you sure this film can actually be released? And once it is, will anyone come to watch it?”

“There’s no problem with distribution,” Daniel Lee replied confidently. He had already spoken with Louis at Sunshine Publishing, who promised to introduce him to the distribution company under Sunshine Group. With his soon-to-be-arriving fame and the quality of this film, Daniel Lee was certain it would have its chance.

“As for whether people will come to watch,” he added with a sheepish smile, “that depends on your performance.”

“Our performance?” Douglas and Liz exchanged glances. “You mean our acting? But, from what I’ve seen in the script, it doesn’t seem to require much in the way of acting skills.”

Of course not—if it did, would I have hired you two? Daniel Lee thought, but simply replied, “Not your performance in the film, but your performance in reality.”

As the two leads looked puzzled—and even the crew members nearby appeared bewildered—Daniel Lee began to unfold his plan.

“We’re going to package this film as a true story, something that genuinely happened in Tuvalu. And it just so happened that you encountered it while traveling here...”

After he finished, silence fell. After a long moment, the stage manager, Helena, finally managed to open her dry lips.

“Boss, was all this your idea?”

Of course not, I copied it, Daniel Lee thought. He remembered the reports about that kind of film—made on a shoestring budget of a few thousand dollars, yet grossing over a hundred million. Their secret was hype and marketing. They’d spent nearly ten million dollars solely on marketing. Daniel Lee certainly didn’t have ten million to throw around, nor would he know how to spend it effectively even if he pulled it from Tuvalu’s strained treasury. The company that had distributed that film, Phantom Pictures, were masters of the craft. How many films squandered fortunes on promotion only to lose everything?

Naturally, Daniel Lee didn’t reveal the truth. He lied, “Yes, I took marketing as an elective at Harvard.”

“You graduated from Harvard?” Liz exclaimed. Harvard, one of the world’s most prestigious universities, had produced countless brilliant graduates.

“Not yet—I had to take a leave of absence to return and inherit the throne.” Daniel Lee had actually wanted to experience life at Harvard, but circumstances left him no choice; a country needed his stewardship.

“Boss, do you think this will really work?” Douglas truly wanted to express that it wasn’t his intention to disagree with His Majesty, but that his ideas were simply too far-fetched.

“How will we know if it works unless we try? In any case, it doesn’t require much effort from us, nor will it take much time, right?”

With Daniel Lee’s words, no one raised further objections. For the crew, this film was simplicity itself—no technical difficulty whatsoever, not even the need to haul around heavy camera equipment. With such an easy job, food and lodging provided, and a travel allowance to boot, who could complain?

As for the two leads, landing any role was a stroke of luck—and this one was so easy, with no pressure at all, and only a few days of filming before they’d receive their paychecks and return home. Why not go along with it?

And so the first film of Daniel Lee’s life began production.

Unfortunately, Daniel Lee barely had time to savor the experience of being a director before shooting wrapped up. The film was just too simple—especially since he had a clear vision in his mind. He even improved certain scenes using highly praised techniques he’d seen online in his previous life, making the film even more terrifying.

No wonder so many time-travelers before him had chosen to make this film—it was simply too easy. Inspiration always trumps sweat. Many directors possess more skill than the original director of this film, but lack the originality to conceive such a story.

Once filming was complete, Daniel Lee sat down with the cameraman, Curry, to begin editing. He was in a hurry to get it approved and released—this was a movie that could yield a return of over twenty thousand times the investment.

All the while, Daniel Lee remained oblivious to the two internet storms he had already unleashed, which were spreading like wildfire.