“Ring took exactly two months and five days to shoot, and today principal photography officially comes to an end!” Atlas Vance raised his glass at the wrap party while looking over the cast and crew gathered inside the hotel banquet room.
“Everyone has worked hard these past two months, especially Daniel Mercer, who nearly scared himself to death finishing his last scene.”
Daniel immediately raised one hand.
“Director Vance, can we please stop bringing that up?” Not long ago, Sadako’s final eye reveal had frightened him so badly that he collapsed on set and had to be rushed to the hospital.
The doctors originally wanted him to remain under observation today, but the moment Daniel heard the crew was holding its wrap party, he checked himself out and hurried over.
Atlas laughed before turning back toward everyone.
“Either way, I won’t forget how hard all of you worked.
Tonight, eat and drink whatever you want.
The bill is mine.”
“Director Vance, Ring is definitely going to be a hit!” someone shouted, immediately followed by another crew member promising to return if Atlas ever made a sequel.
Similar voices filled the banquet room, and although everyone sounded enthusiastic, Atlas knew their loyalty wasn’t entirely based on admiration for his directing.
The real reason was simple.
Atlas paid extremely well.
Meals throughout production had been better than what most independent crews offered, accommodations were arranged in high-end hotels, and wages were noticeably higher than comparable productions.
Even though the Ring set constantly felt unnervingly cold and several people had privately wondered whether the production was haunted, nobody disliked getting paid properly.
Atlas understood their thinking perfectly.
In his view, if he wanted people to work seriously, he had to make sure they were properly compensated.
He intended to create a horror movie good enough to be remembered for years, which meant costumes, sets, cinematography, makeup, actors, sound, props, and post-production all needed to receive the best treatment his budget could reasonably provide.
Money was also the simplest way to motivate a crew to give everything they had.
Compared with what Atlas believed Ring would eventually earn, the additional production spending didn’t concern him at all.
Sadako Yamamura sat quietly beside Atlas wearing ordinary clothes instead of her familiar white ghost costume.
Her long black hair had been styled normally, and the light makeup on her face made her look completely different from the terrifying figure everyone had watched crawling out of the television.
For most crew members, this was the first time they had properly seen what Sadako actually looked like.
“So she’s really that beautiful?” one crew member whispered.
“It’s almost a waste making her play a ghost.”
Another immediately shook his head.
“No way.
Nobody else could’ve made Sadako that terrifying.
I still get goosebumps thinking about her crawling out of that TV.”
A third person suddenly frowned.
“Wait, her real name is Sadako and the ghost she plays is also named Sadako?
That’s a pretty strange coincidence.”
Someone else glanced toward Atlas and grinned.
“She’s always following Director Vance around too.
You think they’re dating?
They’d actually look good together.”
Throughout the banquet, Atlas and Sadako became the subjects of more gossip than almost anyone else.
Both of them seemed mysterious to the crew, especially Sadako, who rarely spoke and had somehow delivered a performance that veteran actors couldn’t stop discussing.
Atlas pretended not to hear any of it.
He poured a small glass of wine and looked toward Sadako.
“Want some?”
Sadako rolled her eyes.
During production, Atlas had been busy almost every day, but he had still made sure Sadako was looked after properly.
That attention had earned him a little more favorability, and Atlas had become increasingly curious about what might happen once her opinion of him finally climbed above zero.
Judging by the merciless look she had just given him, however, reaching positive favorability clearly wasn’t going to happen overnight.
“Don’t like wine?” Atlas asked.
“Want me to order you something sweet instead?”
Before Sadako could react, a young actor approached their table carrying a glass with a broad smile.
“Sadako, I’d like to toast you.
Your performance as the ghost was unbelievable.
Honestly, it felt like you weren’t acting at all.”
Sadako slowly turned her eyes toward him.
The young man’s smile froze.
A chill ran down his back.
He immediately stepped away.
“Actually…
I’ll toast you from over here.”
Atlas nearly laughed.
Sadako’s stare alone was enough to send the poor man retreating without her using any supernatural ability.
Apparently, nobody on the crew questioned why Atlas had cast her anymore.
The party continued with laughter and conversation until Daniel returned from the restroom with an unusually serious expression.
He sat down without saying much and immediately swallowed most of the bourbon in his glass.
Atlas noticed the change in his mood almost at once.
“Daniel, what’s wrong?”
Daniel looked toward him and forced a smile.
“Nothing.
Stomach’s acting up.”
Atlas stared at him.
Daniel looked away.
“Come on,” Atlas said.
“Tell me what happened.
If there’s something I can help with, say it.”
Atlas genuinely respected Daniel after watching him work during production.
The man had usually been the first major actor on set every morning and one of the last to leave at night.
Whenever he wasn’t filming, he was studying the script, rehearsing dialogue, or analyzing his performance with an almost obsessive level of dedication.
Acting didn’t seem like merely a profession to Daniel.
It looked more like the center of his life.
Realizing his excuse wasn’t convincing anyone, Daniel sighed.
“Director Vance, it’s personal.”
“I already know about the divorce,” Atlas replied.
“You told me about that.”
Then Atlas suddenly understood.
“Wait.
Did you run into Claire?
Is she staying at this hotel too?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Atlas frowned.
“I ran into Martin Hayes.”
Atlas immediately remembered the influential director Daniel had beaten after discovering him with Claire.
“So what?
Did he threaten you?” Atlas asked.
“If he’s trying to start something, I can go talk to him right now.”
Daniel opened his mouth to answer.
Before he could speak, the private banquet-room door suddenly swung open.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice called from the entrance.
“Which one of you is Director Atlas Vance?”
The cheerful atmosphere disappeared almost instantly.
Everyone turned toward the doorway.
Several people stood there, led by a bald middle-aged man holding a glass of expensive whiskey.
The moment some of the crew recognized him, quiet whispers spread throughout the room.
“Isn’t that Martin Hayes?”
“He’s one of the biggest horror directors working right now.”
“I heard he’s shooting another horror movie in Atlanta.”
“Don’t tell me his crew is having their wrap party at this hotel too.”
Atlas slowly stood.
“I’m Atlas Vance.
What can I do for you?”
Martin Hayes smiled and walked into the room with several people following behind him.
Although his head was shaved almost completely bald, his hard features and confident posture gave him the imposing presence of someone accustomed to being treated as important.
He stopped directly in front of Atlas and raised his glass slightly.
“So you’re Atlas Vance.” Martin gave him an exaggerated look of surprise.
“I didn’t expect you to be this young.
Impressive.”
Atlas could hear the mockery beneath the compliment.
Martin continued smiling.
“And apparently you’re pretty brave too.”
Seeing that the man clearly hadn’t come here to congratulate anyone, Atlas didn’t bother pretending otherwise.
He calmly picked up his own glass and lightly touched it against Martin’s.
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Martin’s eyes hardened for only a fraction of a second.
The smile remained.
“I’ve heard about your new movie,” he said.
“Ring, right?
Interesting title.
I have high expectations.”
Martin’s gaze slowly shifted toward Daniel Mercer.
“There’s just one problem.”
He looked back at Atlas.
“I think you chose the wrong male lead.”