(3rd Person POV)
Star Wars had been screening for three weeks and already raked in 640 million global dollars. While its daily box office was beginning to slow, the film still dominated theaters across multiple countries—consistently outpacing new releases and holding its place at the top of the charts.
Millions had already become fans. Star Wars merchandise, sold exclusively by Hellfire in select nations, brought in an additional 30 million dollars. Combined with box office revenue, total profits were quickly approaching the 700 million mark—an astonishing figure for such a short run.
The success further solidified Arthur's growing mythos in the global film industry.
Titles like "Demon King of Movies," "Emperor Pendragon," "Miracle Director," and "Number One Filmmaker" were being tossed around by the media like confetti. Journalists scribbled dramatic honorifics in headlines, and the public eagerly echoed them.
The attention reached far and wide—even to the quiet woods of the Eden Continent, within the Lunar Kingdom, where Lady Velmira resided. Her tree villa exuded natural elegance—the air smelled of fine wood, the interior was carved entirely from a living tree, and even the tables and seats were shaped from its trunk.
Despite the seemingly stiff appearance, the wooden armchair Velmira sat on was soft as moss, providing comfort without pretense.
With her silver-white hair flowing gently and her forearms resting lightly on the chair's carved arms, Velmira listened intently. Across from her sat Caedan Aegis, aged 182, but appearing no older than forty—a testament to elven longevity.
"You mean to tell me that the so-called Demon King of Movies wants me in his next picture?" Velmira's voice was gentle, touched with age but steady as ever. She eyed Caedan with the faintest glimmer of amusement. "Little Caedan, I've known you since you were a boy. You've built quite the name as a respected film critic. But you, of all people, should know—I've only ever performed on stage. I've never once had interest in those movies you adore so much."
Caedan, who had been contacted by Hellfire to personally invite Lady Velmira to their next project, looked visibly conflicted.
'If I weren't so curious about Arthur's current movie… I wouldn't be here. Falmer Velmira has resisted cinema for decades—even turned down massive offers from other studios. Her devotion to classic theatre is unshakable.'
He gripped his handkerchief tightly, eyes showing a hint of fear before the elderly elf—but a flicker of determination rose in him as he tried to reason with her.
"I'm telling you, Falmer… working on a film is a completely different experience. It's just as rich as theatre—maybe even more. Being part of a movie production opens you to a whole new world. It's not lesser—it's expansive."
Velmira offered a faint, amused smile. "You're a film critic, Caedan. And you claim movie-making surpasses the stage?"
Caedan stiffened. "I—I didn't mean to disrespect theatre," he said quickly. "That wasn't my intention." He fidgeted. "But you have to believe me, Falmer. Especially if it's Arthur directing—he turns every project into something unforgettable."
"Even if it's that famous demon behind it, I'm not interested," she replied coolly. "Titan Pictures once offered me two million global dollars, and I refused. I'm not stepping into any film."
Caedan exhaled deeply. "Falmer, this isn't for my benefit. I'm here because I know this film won't shame your legacy. Please… just consider it."
Velmira said nothing.
Just then, a young elf woman entered the room. Dressed casually, she carried herself with quiet grace—her golden hair flowing, and her ocean-deep eyes calm. She carried a wooden tray with two cups of tea, which she gently set on the table before sitting nearby, watching the conversation with interest.
"Thank you for the tea, Eilsha," Caedan said with a nod, offering a smile. "You're as radiant as Lady Velmira in her younger years."
Eilsha smiled politely. "Thank you," she replied. She was Velmira's granddaughter. "I perform in theatre too, just like her. I hope to be as great as she is one day."
Caedan glanced at her and whispered with a playful grin, "You should give movies a try—"
But before he could finish, Falmer cut in sharply. "That's enough, little Caedan." She rose from her seat, her voice firm. "You should go now. I've already made it clear—I have no interest in films. And I certainly won't let my granddaughter step into that world. I won't allow it."
Caedan rubbed his temples, frustration bleeding into his tone. "You're really stubborn, Falmer…" He exhaled. "Why do you keep confining yourself to the theatre? There's a bigger stage out there. Can't you see that?"
Falmer turned her gaze to him, then to Eilsha, then finally to the window, where the soft breeze swayed the leaves beyond the other tree villas. Her voice grew quiet. "You wouldn't understand, even if I tried to explain. The difference between theatre and this new generation of storytelling—movies—is deeper than you know."
Caedan raised a brow. "Wouldn't understand? Try me."
Falmer sighed—long, heavy, and touched with memory. "You always were persistent," she murmured. "Fine. I'll tell you."
A silence fell. Caedan and Eilsha exchanged a glance, waiting.
"I was just fifteen when I joined my first theatre company," she began, her voice soft with remembrance. "I still remember that stage. My hands trembled. My knees barely held. Stage fright gripped me so tightly I could hardly breathe."
They listened, wordless.
Falmer's eyes grew distant. "It was easy during rehearsals. The seats were empty, the lights warm, and my heart—calm. I could move, speak, act… without fear. But once those seats filled, once I felt those eyes watching—judging—everything changed."
She chuckled faintly, shaking her head. "We learned to fight through it. Not because we were brave, but because we didn't want to waste the weeks we'd spent preparing. So I pushed through. I became the character. And when the curtain fell and the applause came…" Her voice grew softer, warmer. "It was like tasting sugar for the first time. Sweet. Addictive. The more I performed, the more I craved that taste."
She looked at Caedan, eyes resolute. "That feeling—that communion with a live audience, the risk, the fragility, the realness of it all... you can't capture that on a screen. Not truly. And that's why I stayed."
"Theatre is my life. My blood. My everything," she said softly. "Even when my parents were furious I chose this path over becoming a great mage… I still believed the stage, the audience, and the art itself mattered more than any spell."
"I wouldn't trade my passion for anything," she added, shaking her head. "Not even for the silver screen."
Caedan raised a brow. After a pause, he said, "I don't get it. Cinema's not so different from theatre. Why not do both?"
Falmer smiled, as if expecting the question. "And that's exactly why you wouldn't understand."
"But you haven't really explained it," Caedan pushed gently.
Falmer sighed and walked toward the window. "I've never been in a film, so I can't speak from experience," she admitted. "But I've observed movie sets before. And frankly, I found them… dull."
"What?" Caedan blinked, confused.
Falmer moved to Eilsha's side, gently brushing a hand along her cheek. "I know cinema reaches farther than any stage play. Once a film is done, it can move millions. But I don't like that."
"Why not?" Caedan asked.
"Because theatre is alive," she said, her voice growing quiet. "There's no room for mistakes. No retakes. When we perform, it's real. The audience breathes with us. I feel their joy, sorrow, tension—everything—as I act. That spontaneity... it fuels me."
"On stage, you get instant emotion—laughter, tears, anger, awe. And for a performer, that's the most flattering gift."
She smiled faintly, then added, "But a movie? Other than the cast, crew, and the director—who's there? No audience. No connection. Just retakes and cuts. It loses something… it loses charm."
Listening to her words, Caedan realized just how difficult it would be to change her mind. He sighed and nodded. "Okay… I think I understand now."
He reached into his suitcase and pulled out a script. "But please—at least consider this. It's the screenplay Hellfire wants you for. Read it. Tell me what you think." He nodded politely to Eilsha, then quietly made his exit.
After Caedan left, Eilsha looked at her grandmother, then slowly turned her gaze to the script resting on the table. She reached out to pick it up, but Velmira stopped her with a firm voice.
"Don't touch that. We have nothing to do with cinema."
Eilsha hesitated, her fingers frozen mid-air. "Grandma… I've always been curious about films. Can't you give Mr. Aegis a chance? Just this once?"
Falmer let out a quiet sigh, then sat beside her granddaughter. "Alright," she murmured. "I suppose there's no harm in reading it. Come, let's take a look together."
They sat shoulder to shoulder, the parchment spread between them. At first, Velmira's expression remained unchanged—distant, guarded, uninterested.
But when the script reached the part about the Old Rose—a character recalling her lost love at sea—Velmira's eyes softened. A single tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it.
"Grandma?" Eilsha asked gently. "Are you alright?"
Falmer quickly wiped it away and shook her head. "It's nothing," she whispered, brushing it off. But her heart stirred with buried memories.
Long ago, she had loved a man who adored the sea. He was her first husband—a sailor enchanted by ships and the endless horizon. They had spent years in quiet happiness until the day he boarded a grand vessel, never to return. The ship had sunk. She'd received no body, only a message that shattered her world.
For twenty silent minutes, they continued reading. Though the script wasn't complete, it struck something in both of them.
Especially Falmer.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached the end, where a note was printed: "Inspired by a true ship — the Titan Ship, which sank ninety years ago."
Her breath caught.
'Titan Ship...' she thought, stunned. 'Isn't that… the very ship my husband was on?'
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