Urban System in America

Oblivious to Colin's silent schemes, and waves their departure had stirred behind them, Rex leaned back against the smooth leather seat, his posture loose yet steady, the very picture of unhurried confidence, as the city streets blurred past the tinted windows.

He glanced toward Kaelan and gave a simple instruction, his tone calm but carrying the weight of natural authority.

"Head to Northstar Studio."

"Understood," Kaelan replied from the driver's seat,his hands steady on the wheel, as he steered the car onto the main road with practiced ease.

Aren, sitting in the back with Rex, shifted uncomfortably. His head was still buzzing and processing the intensity of what had just happened— back in Colin's office, the weight of the deal, the stares, the handshake, the car, the surreal feeling of stepping into a world he didn't quite understand.

And now, hearing Rex casually mention Northstar Studio, his thoughts scattered further.

Even though Northstar wasn't a giant name in the industry. It was a still a place that most filmmakers could even dream of, as they have their own fair share of good movies. Yet Rex spoke of it so naturally, as if going there was the most obvious thing in the world.

He wanted to ask why, wanted to know what exactly Rex was planning, but the words stuck in his throat. Every time his gaze flicked toward Rex, he felt the same pressure tightening in his chest. That calm smile, the way Rex carried himself, it all screamed of someone far beyond his league. Aren felt like a small boat tossed about in the wake of a great ship. So, he swallowed the curiosity back in his stomach and glanced at Rex from the corner of his eye, curiosity gnawing at him.

Breaking the silence, Rex turned to him with an easy smile, as though none of that tension existed.

"Well, Aren, I suppose this makes us official partners now. Let's work hard together. This film of ours, even if it's small now, from today on, let's give it everything, and make sure this film isn't just good—it's a hit."

His words were light, encouraging even, but they only deepened Aren's conflicted feelings. But the sincerity in his voice drew Aren out of his haze. He straightened slightly, exhaling as though centering himself. "Yeah… partners," Aren said, almost to reassure himself. His lips twitched into a smile of his own, though there was still a trace of nervous energy in it.

"Of course. I… I'll do my best." Aren stammered, forcing a nod.

He tried to match Rex's energy, but his voice faltered halfway. Inside, he couldn't shake the thought: Why me? Why would someone like him even look at me, let alone call me a partner? Why are you so confident in the movie?

And this wasn't just about the film anymore. Sitting across from Rex in this car, where even a single seat is worth more than his entire worth, hearing him speak with such calm assurance—it drove home the difference between them. To Rex, success seemed like something he could reach out and take. For Aren, it was always a desperate scramble uphill, fighting against gravity, against fate, against his own limitations.

Still, he tried to say something useful, something that would make him seem like more than just dead weight. "The script… it's solid for the budget we have. But shooting… even a small horror film will take time. Maybe a month or two if we're lucky. And with only twenty thousand, we'll have to cut corners. Equipment, crew, even the cast… we can't afford big names. Honestly, pulling this off will be… really hard."

He trailed off, glancing at Rex. To his surprise, Rex didn't look worried. If anything, there was an almost imperceptible gleam in his eyes, like he was hearing not problems, but opportunities.

Rex leaned back, resting his elbow against the armrest, voice steady. "Hard doesn't matter. What matters is potential. This isn't about how much we spend, it's about how much people feel when they watch. Horror works differently. You don't need stars, you don't need endless money. You need tension, atmosphere, and timing. Sometimes… the smallest ideas are the ones that shake the world hardest."

Aren raised an eyebrow at the remark, not fully catching the meaning but feeling something unusual in the way Rex spoke.

"Anyway, we'll need to shoot fast—one, maybe two months at most. Locations are cheap, and we're not hiring any big names. Just local talent, fresh faces. But don't underestimate it. Sometimes unknown faces deliver more raw, convincing performances than polished stars."

Aren swallowed. The way Rex spoke… it didn't sound like the enthusiasm of a novice. It sounded like certainty, like someone who already knew the ending.

And that was what unsettled Aren the most.

Because he couldn't shake the feeling that while he was stumbling in the dark, trying to find his footing, Rex was walking a road he had already traveled once before.

Still, he clenched his fists in his lap, the determination in his voice betraying a faint tremor. "I'll complete it, no matter what," he said, his eyes flicking up to Rex with a mixture of courage and uncertainty.

Rex tilted his head slightly, his calm gaze cutting deeper than Aren expected. For a moment, silence filled the car, broken only by the low hum of the engine. Then Rex leaned forward, his eyes locking with Aren's. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?"

The weight of the question made Aren falter. His lips parted, then closed again. The question wasn't just about logistics… it felt like Rex was measuring his very core, stripping away the bravado he'd mustered. He hesitated, eyes darting toward the tinted window before returning to Rex. "…Well… I'll try," he admitted, voice softer now. I know a few people here and there, and there… there shouldn't be a problem." His voice lacked the conviction he wished it carried.

For a moment, Rex just stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, he….

(End of Chapter)