Gotanda Taishi’s words came without the slightest hesitation.
From this alone, you could see just how seriously he took his work.
If that koyaku named Minami Yuji’s performance turned out to be unsatisfactory, then he really was planning to kick him out and swap in someone else.
After all, although Aqua Hoshino’s role wasn’t as important as the lead, it was still a significant supporting role with actual lines.
Those were heavy words.
Even Saito Miyako could sense just how serious the other party was being.
She couldn’t help taking a step back.
But very quickly she realized this move of hers wasn’t quite appropriate — after all, she was Minami Yuji’s recommender, and at a moment like this, she absolutely could not afford to show weakness no matter what she said.
So she drew in a deep breath, took a step forward, and lifted up that lovely face of hers.
“Please rest assured, Director Gotanda — Yuji-kun absolutely won’t let you down!”
Just as she said this—
Her voice paused for a beat, but she steeled her resolve and continued on.
“Because going off my years of experience running an agency, his potential is enough to rival Ai!”
“?” Gotanda Taishi couldn’t help raising his head.
He was so taken aback—
—that he didn’t even notice his cigarette was on the verge of burning his hand.
Wait, no…
What did she just say?
Rival Ai Hoshino…?
As a director of genuine skill, Gotanda Taishi possessed a pair of eyes capable of discovering stars.
From the very first instant he laid eyes on Ai Hoshino, he had already been certain — the woman in front of him, despite occupying the very lowest position in the industry as an ‘idol,’ was without question the kind of person who could ‘sell.’
The facts that followed proved it too — she really did sell, and she sold massively at that, even securing a spot to perform at the Tokyo Dome.
The Tokyo Dome…
a lot of people probably don’t have a clear sense of what that means.
To put it roughly, it’s a stage that only national-level figures get to step onto — the legitimate, top-of-the-mountain stage of the Japanese music industry.
Without exception, those who had managed to step onto this stage in the past were basically the very best of Japan’s music scene.
For example, AKB48, Nogizaka46, and other national-level idol groups of Japan.
And as for Ai Hoshino?
Practically by her own efforts alone, she’d led the utterly unknown B-Komachi to fight their way out of the pack and secure performance rights at the Dome — qualifications like that would seem unrealistic even if you dropped them into a novel or anime.
But what was Saito Miyako saying right now?
Rival Ai Hoshino?
Tsk…
seriously…
did she really think people like Ai Hoshino were wholesale cabbages, the kind you could just casually yank up out of the dirt one at a time?
“Miss Miyako, it’s not that I don’t trust your judgment…
but rivaling Ai…
isn’t that statement a bit on the exaggerated side?”
Gotanda Taishi’s lips twitched, and he couldn’t help speaking up.
“Whether or not it’s an exaggeration — once he actually gets out there next, Director Gotanda, you’ll know.”
Saito Miyako knew that with a genuinely skilled director like Gotanda Taishi, the only way to convince him was, likewise, through actual skill.
But—
Once she turned around, and once she could no longer feel Gotanda Taishi’s gaze at all—
—Saito Miyako could no longer maintain that put-on, awe-inspiringly confident expression from a moment ago.
In a spot where Gotanda Taishi couldn’t see her, her mouth twitched at the corners; she rubbed her hands together hard a few times, then pressed her palms together and started to pray.
Please, oh great Yuji-deity, I’ve already talked things up that big — whatever you do, don’t let me down later, okay?!
Whatever you do…
whatever you do, don’t let me down!
Just as she was preparing to offer up another sincere round of prayer—
A voice came drifting over.
“What are you doing?”
It was none other than Minami Yuji.
At this moment, he was flipping through the script in his hand while looking at her with a thoroughly puzzled expression.
“Yuji-kun—!
You absolutely have to give it your all, okay?!
Auntie…
Auntie has staked everything on you, you know!”
Saito Miyako’s hands gripped Minami Yuji’s shoulders tightly.
Not only had she handed her own foster son’s role over to Minami Yuji, she’d also gone and made grand declarations right in front of Gotanda Taishi.
The pressure on her right now could only be described as enormous.
“I see…
rival Ai Hoshino…?
That’s probably going to be pretty difficult.”
After hearing her words, Minami Yuji spoke up.
“Eh?” That unexpected statement drew a sound of surprise even from Saito Miyako.
After all, she clearly remembered that yesterday’s Minami Yuji had been quite confident — how had he suddenly lost his confidence today?
But very quickly, he gave her the answer.
“Because it’s not ‘rival.'”
Minami Yuji closed the script completely, his expression serious.
“I’m going to surpass Ai Hoshino.”
…
“The set and the camera positioning are all ready, Director — should we run through it once in rehearsal before officially starting?”
“Let’s do one rehearsal first.”
Many film crews will run through a rehearsal once before shooting an important scene — mainly to let the actors get used to the rhythm of being on set.
After roughly confirming the layout of the surrounding set and equipment, Gotanda Taishi sat down in front of the monitor.
Honestly, even up to this moment, he was still somewhat hung up on that ‘rival Ai Hoshino’ line from Saito Miyako.
Still…
“He’s about to go on for real now…
whether or not he’s actually got those qualifications…
let me take a good, long look.”
Narrowing his eyes, Gotanda Taishi watched the monitor in front of him with rapt attention.
The movie that Gotanda Taishi was currently shooting was titled “The Uninhabitable House.”
Just as the title suggested—
—it was a horror film.
So, how does an excellent horror film go about filming a sense of ‘horror’?
The trick was actually quite simple.
The actors’ performances!
Control of facial expressions, the movement of body language, foundational skill with line delivery, and so on.
The most important thing was how to use these to silently stir up the audience’s emotions.
“‘The Uninhabitable House,’ Take One, Scene Nine!
Action!”
The clapboard cracked.
Good!
Let me see what you’ve got!
Gotanda Taishi perked up.
“The Uninhabitable House” was being shot in the very common horror anthology format.
The previous tenant, under the bewitching influence of the ‘defilement’ lingering inside the apartment, had killed his own child, then committed suicide.
And the murdered child remained forever fixed on the day he was killed, becoming a new ‘defilement’ himself — killing every tenant who moved in afterward. Follow the newest chapters on novelping(.)com.
The scene right now was the very first scene of the victim, Kana, moving into the apartment.
The incandescent light was clicked on, signaling that a character had entered the room.
The gap between the vase and the photo frame formed a small little frame, wrapping around the actress who appeared on camera playing Kana.
This was a technique commonly used in many horror film shoots.
Environment greater than character — letting the viewer get the sensation of being wrapped up by the surroundings, and of being secretly watched by someone.
Kana, having just finished work, was sitting at the table chatting and laughing with her boyfriend.
Combined with the bright glow of the incandescent lamp overhead, everything looked so warm and kindly.
“Not bad…” Gotanda Taishi nodded inwardly.
The pacing was good, and the foundational line delivery from the actress playing Kana was solid too.
So next up, the one set to appear should be Minami Yuji, playing the murdered child’s vengeful spirit, right?
A flicker of interest stirred in his heart; with a touch of ease in his gaze, he looked toward the doorway of the room.
Then—
—he realized something was off.
The relaxed and pleasant mood he’d had just a second ago—
—was, almost the very instant the camera on the monitor swung toward the doorway, enveloped by an indescribable kind of terror.
There, inside that small little monitor—
—a white humanoid figure…
no…
a white humanoid ‘mass’ was slowly squirming its way upward from the very bottom edge of the screen.
A suffocating shadow began to slowly erode the brightly-lit interior.
Taking its place was the sound from the moment of a child being killed — the hoarse, dry-heaving swallowing sounds of fresh blood continuously seeping from a torn-open throat…
That white mass — that twisted, child-like body — was still continuing upward, squirming with an utterly bizarre, terrifying posture…
“Gulp…”
The actress playing Kana had, by this point, gone completely rigid — at this moment, she’d even forgotten her lines.
Wait, what…?
Hold on a second…?
I…
we’re shooting a scene here, right?
You…
this…
how does this not look like acting at all?!
The actress had forgotten her lines.
On a film set, that in itself was already a fairly serious mistake.
And yet, at this moment, not a single person actually called cut.
Because the entire set had, in that instant, fallen silent.
Every single person was staring without blinking at this scene.
And the sounds coming from the monitor — the thin, delicate horror of a child’s voice, struggling and in pain from having his throat pierced through, along with that twisted, freakish writhing-and-crawling posture—
—made even Gotanda Taishi, watching from off-set in front of the monitor, feel a piercing chill come surging up his spine.
It was at this point that he finally remembered Saito Miyako’s words — said with extreme seriousness, without the slightest hint of being perfunctory.
“His potential is enough to rival Ai!”
He’d originally taken that line for nothing more than a flippant joke.
But looking at things now…
“Forget ‘rival’…”
“Going off this acting, this is already surpassing her.”
He murmured to himself.
____
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