Because Sadako had injured several of Martin Hayes’s bodyguards at the Grand Meridian Hotel, Atlas Vance was taken to the police station with her for questioning.
For a while, Atlas had been genuinely worried that the situation would become complicated because Sadako had no driver’s license, passport, Social Security number, birth certificate, or any other legal record proving that she existed.
Fortunately, Sadako only needed one carefully controlled illusion to make the officers believe everything was perfectly normal, and the two of them eventually walked out without exposing anything supernatural.
Although filming on Ring had officially wrapped, the movie was still one major step away from completion: post-production.
The parallel world Atlas had transmigrated into possessed film technology far more advanced than what he remembered from his previous life, and modern theatrical releases commonly used so-called 5D presentation.
On top of stereoscopic visuals, theaters could synchronize moving seats, wind, temperature changes, mist, vibrations, and other environmental effects to make audiences feel as though they had physically entered the movie.
Despite all that technology, truly frightening horror films were still rare.
Atlas understood that Ring wouldn’t succeed merely because the actors had performed well or because Sadako was genuinely supernatural; editing, sound design, color grading, visual effects, and pacing would determine whether the final movie maintained its oppressive atmosphere.
Because of that, he personally participated in almost every stage of post-production.
After obtaining the system’s Top-tier Special Effects Editing talent, Atlas no longer needed to depend entirely on outside VFX artists.
He handled most of the supernatural effects himself, carefully making sure nothing looked overly artificial or flashy.
There was only one major sequence where Atlas deliberately refused to rely on special effects at all.
Sadako crawling out of the television.
The version filmed in front of the crew had used a hollow television shell and green screen.
Atlas had done that solely to convince everyone that Sadako’s emergence was a practical setup that would later be completed digitally.
If the crew had watched her genuinely pass through the screen of a functioning television, half of them probably would have abandoned the production on the spot.
After everyone left the set one night, Atlas secretly returned with Sadako.
He rebuilt the scene exactly as it had appeared during principal photography, adjusted the lighting, prepared the camera, and positioned a genuine television in the room.
Then he told Sadako to do what came naturally.
The television flickered.
Sadako appeared inside the screen.
Her pale hands slowly pushed through the glass before her head and shoulders followed, and this time there was no hidden opening, no green fabric, and no practical trick.
Atlas stood behind the camera and recorded the genuine Sadako Yamamura crawling directly out of a real television through supernatural power.
That was the footage he wanted.
If Atlas intended to give audiences the ultimate horror experience, ordinary visual effects could only take him so far.
A genuine supernatural event possessed details that even the most talented VFX artist might fail to reproduce perfectly.
Authenticity would be the weapon that separated Ring from every cheap horror movie Vance Studios had produced before.
Another two months passed during post-production.
By the time Atlas finally screened a rough cut inside Vance Studios, several executives and crew members ended up instinctively holding onto each other as the movie approached its climax.
Even people who had worked on the production and knew exactly how many scenes had been filmed were shocked by how oppressive the completed edit felt.
“That’s terrifying,” one executive muttered after the lights came back on.
“I can’t believe we actually made this.”
Another pointed toward the screen.
“That television scene looks completely real.
Director Vance, whatever you did with the effects there is insane.”
Someone else laughed nervously.
“If theaters run this in full 5D, half the audience might run out before the credits.”
Atlas leaned back in his chair and nodded with satisfaction.
Nearly five months had passed between filming and post-production, and this was close to the best version of Ring he believed he could create.
At this point, he was no longer worried about whether the movie would make money.
He was beginning to wonder whether it might scare somebody into the hospital.
Atlas had even added one original AU extension to the iconic ending.
After Sadako approached and killed Ryuji Takayama, she didn’t simply remain focused on him.
Instead, she slowly turned her head toward the camera.
Then Sadako looked directly at the audience.
She began approaching the lens one slow step at a time until, with carefully designed 5D effects and perspective work, it appeared as though she were crawling beyond the movie screen itself.
There had always been urban legends surrounding extreme reactions to frightening horror films, especially movies connected to Sadako, and Atlas wanted to create the kind of sequence that would make audiences understand how such rumors started.
In a 5D theater, with moving seats and environmental effects synchronized to Sadako’s approach, the result could become almost unbearably immersive.
Sadako herself was equally satisfied while watching the finished footage on the editing monitor.
Seeing her terrifying image spread across the screen clearly pleased her, although Atlas had no idea that she had secretly done something far more dangerous during production.
Hidden inside the film was a supernatural trace of her curse.
Sadako had quietly embedded part of her curse into the finished movie.
Her plan was simple.
Once enough people around the world watched Ring, she could use her supernatural abilities and endless manifestations to spread fear far beyond the limits of a single cursed videotape.
In Sadako’s mind, if everything worked perfectly, humanity itself could eventually become her victim.
There was only one major obstacle.
Atlas Vance.
Sadako glanced toward him from beside the editing desk before silently returning her attention to the screen.
Atlas, completely unaware of what she was thinking, opened his phone and checked Vance Studios’ official social-media accounts.
The latest promotional post for Ring had gained only a handful of new comments, and most were sarcastic, hostile, or openly predicting another disaster from the company formerly known for A Hand Reaching Out of the Toilet.
Atlas had actually begun promoting the movie two months earlier, but so far the campaign had barely created any attention.
The biggest horror topic online belonged to another production.
The Haunted Bridge.
Martin Hayes’s new movie had become a surprisingly hot topic even though filming wasn’t finished yet.
Part of that attention came from Martin himself, because entertainment sites had reported that the well-known horror director had been involved in a serious limousine accident during production and hospitalized afterward.
Atlas scrolled through the comments beneath the movie’s official page.
“I heard Director Hayes crashed his car while shooting this horror movie and spent weeks in the hospital,” one user wrote.
Another replied, “Maybe the production attracted something supernatural.
If filming itself is cursed, the movie has to be terrifying.”
A third comment read, “Okay, now I actually want to see this.
Imagine making a horror movie so scary that even the director gets haunted.”
Atlas knew exactly what had really happened.
Sadako had told him that she only intended to frighten Martin a little after leaving the wrap party.
Apparently, Martin had panicked so badly after seeing her repeatedly appear inside the limousine that the vehicle ultimately crashed into a roadside tree.
Atlas stopped thinking about it.
Martin’s accidental publicity wasn’t his immediate concern.
His real problem was promoting Ring.
No matter how good a movie was, weak marketing could still severely limit its opening weekend.
Strong word of mouth might eventually save it, but Atlas didn’t want to depend entirely on audiences discovering the film by accident after release.
He needed something that could immediately show people that Vance Studios wasn’t making another cheap horror disaster.
Then his eyes lit up.
“The trailer.”
Atlas sat upright.
He had been so focused on perfecting the feature that he still hadn’t cut a proper theatrical trailer.
The problem suddenly became much easier.
Atlas had added several original horror moments to Ring, and Sadako’s genuine supernatural performance gave him more than enough disturbing footage to work with.
He didn’t need to reveal the entire story; a few carefully selected sequences could establish the cursed videotape, the well, Sadako’s silhouette, and the oppressive atmosphere without spoiling the television climax.
Several days later, the official Ring trailer quietly appeared online.
An experienced American horror fan happened to be browsing upcoming theatrical trailers that evening when the title caught his attention.
He moved his cursor over the thumbnail and frowned after noticing that the movie had been produced by Vance Studios.
“Vance Studios?
Never heard of them.”
He opened another tab and searched the company.
A few seconds later, his expression changed.
“What?
They used to be Vance Horror Pictures?”
He immediately remembered the name.
“That garbage studio?”
The company’s previous movies had been torn apart by critics for years, with A Hand Reaching Out of the Toilet becoming the most recent embarrassment.
The horror fan leaned back in his chair and shook his head in disbelief.
“How is this company still alive?”
He didn’t even bother playing the trailer at first because he assumed it would be another cheap production filled with predictable jump scares and terrible CGI.
Instead, he checked the early user score beside the trailer and suddenly frowned.
The rating was surprisingly high.
“What the hell?”
He refreshed the page.
Still high.
“Buying fake reviews already?”
The man scoffed and moved his cursor toward the trailer.
“Fine.
I’ll watch it and give you one star myself.”
He clicked play.
The screen faded to black.
A gloomy forest gradually appeared.
In the middle of it stood an old stone well.
The horror fan rested one hand on his mouse and gave a knowing smile.
“Let me guess.
Someone walks toward the well, then a ghost suddenly jumps into the camera.
Same old garbage.”
His cursor was already hovering over the one-star rating.
Then the trailer cut to its next shot.
The man’s hand froze.