Two days had gone by since Arwin sent out the animation test to the applicants. Diana, Eden, and the other 36 hopefuls were hard at work, pouring everything they had into their five-minute clips. They wanted that job at Vault Studios more than anything, and they weren't holding back.
Meanwhile, their future boss was just as busy, but for a different reason entirely.
Arwin sat in his home office, juggling two big tasks. One minute, he was animating the latest *Doraemon* episodes for the weekly release. The next, he was hunched over his holo-screen, typing out scripts for future episodes. He wanted to get ahead so he could focus on other stuff later. It was a smart plan—but man, was it tiring.
Every script he wrote came straight from his system's archive, full of episodes he'd watched a million years ago. As he typed, memories flooded back—sitting on the couch as a kid, laughing at Nobita's mess-ups, or rewatching as an adult, grinning at Doraemon's gadgets. It was a warm feeling, but it didn't make the work any less of a grind.
"This is so damn tedious," Arwin muttered, cracking his knuckles. He stared at the screen, where hundreds of scripts still waited. "I swear, if I have to type one more line, I'm gonna lose it."
Right then, Leah's calm voice cut through the air. "Arwin, why don't you use the neurological control function?"
Arwin stopped cold. "The what?"
"The neurological control function," Leah said again, her hologram glowing softly nearby. "Your bracelet can track your brain activity. You can think what you want to write, and it'll show up on the screen. No typing needed."
The room went silent. Arwin turned slowly to face her hologram, his eyes wide. For a second, he just stared.
Then he exploded. "WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS SOONER?!"
Leah didn't even flinch. "It's a basic feature of your device. I thought you knew."
Arwin groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Oh, right. Of course you'd think that. Everyone here's born with this fancy tech." He took a deep breath and muttered, "Guess I forgot I'm a million-year-old relic in this world."
He shook it off and clapped his hands. "Okay, my bad. Let's fix this. Leah, turn that function on for me, please."
"Activating now," she replied. A tiny tingle ran through his head, like a switch flipping on. Suddenly, everything felt… clearer.
Arwin glanced at the screen and thought, *"This better work."* The words popped up instantly, neat and perfect.
"Whoa!" he said, his jaw dropping. "This is amazing!"
He tested it again, picturing a *Doraemon* scene—Nobita whining about homework, Doraemon pulling out a goofy tool. The script flowed onto the screen as fast as he could think it. "No way!" he laughed. "This cuts my work in half!"
Grinning, he leaned back. "Leah, I take back all my yelling. You're the best AI ever."
"I know," she said smoothly.
Arwin chuckled and dove back in. With his thoughts doing the typing, the work flew by. He could finish scripts in minutes now, not hours. "Why didn't I ask about this sooner?" he mumbled. "I could've been chilling by now."
Then, out of nowhere, a wild idea hit him. He sat up straight, tapping his desk. "Hold on… if I can write with my thoughts, could I do *more* with this?"
His mind raced. Back in his old world, there was this one series—a total monster. It took over everything: TV, stores, conversations. People went crazy for it, buying stuff, quoting it, living it. If he could use this tech to bring *that* here, fast and big… "Oh man," he whispered, a sly smile creeping up. "This galaxy wouldn't know what hit it."
He pictured it—fans losing their minds, Vault Studios at the top. "If I pull this off," he said to himself, "I'll be running this place."
But he snapped out of it. "Later," he muttered. "Focus on now."
He kept working, the scripts piling up effortlessly. He only stopped when Leah spoke again.
"Arwin, you've got a reply from FAMD about the film fest."
"Sweet!" he said, spinning his chair. "Show me, Leah!"
A big holo-screen popped up, filled with text. It started with the usual boring stuff—greetings, rules, deadlines. Arwin skimmed it, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, get to the point." Then he found it—the theme for his movie.
"Humanity's First Planetary Exploration," he read out loud. His face fell. "Space? Are you kidding me?"
He slumped back, groaning. "Space?! I wanted fantasy! Dragons and wands! Or romance—big boats, sad endings! Not another dumb space thing!"
He glared at the screen. "This universe is obsessed with space already. Every movie's the same—boring planets, boring ships. Why me?"
But as he kept reading, he spotted something. The rules said it could be fiction—not real history. A made-up story about humans exploring space.
"Huh," he said, sitting up a bit. "Okay, that's not the worst."
If it had to be factual, he'd be toast—his system didn't have dry history lessons. But fiction? He could use his cheat. One movie jumped to mind—a huge hit from his old life. It fit the theme, and it was awesome. "Fine," he said, nodding. "I can make this work."
The message also said his A-level directing course would arrive in two weeks for his education pod, paid by FAMD. "Nice," he muttered. "That'll help."
He sighed, still bummed. "Space isn't what I wanted, but I'll roll with it."
---
Meanwhile, at FAMD Headquarters, a young committee member sat in his shiny office, chatting with a senior colleague on a video call. Stars sparkled outside the window, lighting up the sleek room.
"So, how'd you pick the themes?" the senior member asked, his voice buzzing through the call.
The young guy smirked. "For the big studios, we gave 'em tough ones—stuff to push them. Make it interesting."
"And the little guys?" the senior pressed.
"Oh, we went easy on them," the young member said. "Like Vault Studios. The kid's young, no real experience. I figured I'd toss him something simple."
The senior nodded. "What'd you give him?"
"Humanity's First Planetary Exploration," the young guy said, grinning.
"Smart!" the senior laughed. "That's a cakewalk. Tons of movies out there like that—he's got plenty to work with."
"Right?" the young member said. "He's just starting out, so I thought, 'Let's help him.' He's probably thrilled with how easy this is."
"Great call," the senior said. "A newbie like him? He'll love it."
The young guy leaned back, smug. "Yeah, I bet he's over the moon right now."
They laughed, totally clueless that Arwin was back in his apartment, muttering complaints into his desk.
To him, space was a letdown. To them, it was a gift—an easy win for a young guy like him.
---
A/N: Hey guys, the story is kind of at a standstill at the moment but don't worry, soon we will pick up the pace, also do you want a chapter explaining about the hiring of new people in his company or not, cause I will most likely skip that part and just make them join. Also it seems like nobody has been able guess the movie until now, but with this chapter, I basically gave it away to you guys. Anyways Enjoy and leave a comment.