Chapter 499 - 316: Hogwarts Public Open Day

Chapter 499: Chapter 316: Hogwarts Public Open Day

Zog had to think for a moment before he remembered who Lavin was.

After filming *Silence of the Lambs*, Zog had Lavin booked solid with endorsement deals and all sorts of other gigs. As a result, his income far exceeded his level of fame.

However, Zog took most of the money he earned as aggressive debt repayment.

That is, until he was sent to a refugee camp to act as a sort of mascot.

After lying low for a while, he had somehow managed to produce a script.

’Looks like his schedule wasn’t packed tightly enough...’

That was just a little joke. The perks at Zog Group were actually outstanding compared to its competitors.

Many employees had time to develop their own side hustles.

Zog decided to take a close look at Lavin’s script. He was getting tired of watching dailies anyway; reading some text would be a nice change of pace.

"*Old Clothes*. A strange name."

Zog opened the script.

It was in standard script format. ’Lavin must have specifically studied how to write one.’

Screenwriting and novel writing are two different professions, precisely because scripts have a specific format that requires a period of study to master.

*Scene 1. The alley behind the house. Evening. An older brother and his younger brother.*

*After school, the younger brother turns down his classmates’ invitation to play and hurries home to tell his older brother about his day...*

Twenty minutes later, Zog put the script down.

It was surprisingly good. A very competent story—no, it was excellent.

It was the kind of solid script where, as long as the actors and crew didn’t completely mess up, the final product was guaranteed to be decent.

The plot was simple. A pair of orphaned brothers in the Augustine City State were so poor that they only owned one good set of clothes between them.

So they could both attend school, they had to take turns wearing it, pretending to be the same person.

The premise was ripe with dramatic conflict.

The trope of twins pretending to be a single person had never appeared in Feilin before.

In the story, the brothers’ daily switch led to many funny yet sad situations. They were eventually found out, and just when they thought they would be expelled, they received help from a kind person. They were not only able to continue their studies but were also given enough new clothes to last a long time.

The kind person was from Zog Group.

A proactive bit of product placement from Lavin.

’Nice one.’

It was practically a no-brainer; the script was worth filming.

And so, Lavin, who had grown accustomed to being surrounded by ruins, was suddenly summoned back to Deepwater City.

The abrupt change in environment left him dazed, making him feel for a moment as if he’d crossed between two worlds.

"Your script is good. It’s worth filming," Zog said, getting straight to the point. "It might even be enough to pay off the compensation you owe."

"Really?"

For Lavin, this was absolutely fantastic news.

"Are you thinking of screening it at the Demon Shadow Festival?"

"Yes. I don’t think this is the kind of script that’s suited for a massive promotional campaign. It needs to spread little by little through word of mouth, so the Demon Shadow Festival should be a great platform for building a good reputation."

Zog nodded. "You’ve even thought about the marketing and distribution aspect. Very good. Do you want to direct this script yourself, or should we find a suitable director?"

Lavin opened his mouth but didn’t answer immediately.

Zog seemed to understand. "You want to direct it yourself, but you’re afraid you don’t have the experience and will end up ruining the final film."

"That’s right."

Lavin felt this was the best script he was currently capable of writing. He couldn’t bear to hand it over to someone else, yet he wasn’t confident enough to direct it himself.

Zog smiled. "Do you know what a director’s job entails?"

"I’ve taken online courses, and I tried shooting some short documentaries about the area when I was at the refugee camp."

"That settles it. You have theory and you have practice. This is the perfect opportunity to try your hand at a feature film. You’ll be the writer and director, and maybe you can even act in it. That’ll cut down on a lot of communication hassles. You’ll never learn if you don’t do it."

"Alright, I’ll give it a try."

"I won’t be providing a huge investment. This script isn’t a big-budget production anyway."

"So, how much is the investment?" Lavin asked cautiously.

His best-case scenario was two hundred Gold Coins; if he had to, he could probably make do and shoot it with just a few dozen.

"Five hundred Gold Coins. That’s the most I’ll invest."

Zog’s plan was to offer a relatively low number first, haggle for a bit, and finally arrive at a reasonable investment. It was an effective way to curb the tendency of artistic types to ask for the moon.

This was a lesson the studios had learned from experience: at least nine out of ten directors had no idea how to control costs once the money started flowing.

Thus, the directors most popular with investors weren’t necessarily the famous ones whose work was exceptionally brilliant.

It was common for a famous director to run out of money halfway through filming and start clamoring for a bigger budget. And because so much had already been invested, the backers would have no choice but to add more funds.

What investors loved most were the less famous directors who could work within a limited budget and still deliver results that exceeded expectations.

To put it simply: they wanted the horse to run without eating any grass.

But Lavin had underestimated Zog’s current wealth.

And Zog had underestimated Lavin’s current poverty.

"That’s fantastic!"

Faced with a budget more than double his own estimate, Lavin immediately agreed.

"Huh? How about we add some more?" Zog seriously doubted if that amount of money was even enough to get the film made.

"Then... how much more?"

"Another... two hundred?"

"That should be fine. Thank you, Mr. Zhuoge."

Lavin honestly had no idea how he would use such a large budget. He planned to use local Augustine actors, so the talent fees—which accounted for a considerable portion of other Shadow of Evil productions’ costs—would be practically a rounding error for him.

"If you want to make it in time for the Demon Shadow Festival, the production schedule will be very tight. You’ll have less than twenty days for filming, then you’ll need to complete the edit within a few days. You’ll need at least a rough cut to screen at the festival, won’t you?"