Urban System in America
Chapter 241 - 240: You’re Absolutely Replaceable

Chapter 241: Chapter 240: You’re Absolutely Replaceable

So, what’s the budget of this movie?" Rex asked, tilting his glass slightly.

Hearing the question, Aren’s eyes lit up. He stared at Rex with a mix of shock, excitement and elation, his mouth slightly agape as if unable to believe what he’d just heard. It was as if someone had just handed him a golden ticket, which he didn’t even expect. Still, he managed to rein in his eagerness with a sheepish grin.

"A hundred grand," he said in low voice.

Rex nearly spat out his wine. He choked, coughing, blinking at Aren as if he’d just grown a second head.

"A hundred thousand?" he repeated, incredulous.

Aren blinked innocently. "Yeah..."

Rex coughed, laughing under his breath. Honestly, as much as he didn’t want to boast, a hundred grand wasn’t much for him now, but context mattered. And if his memory serves right, Paranormal in his past life was filmed with fifteen thousand dollars. Total. And had gone on to gross nearly two hundred million.

’This kid? Is he trying to take me for a fool?’ Rex thought so.

So he coughed and said, "Looking at the script, it doesn’t seem like it requires such a big budget," Rex said, tone deliberately casual as he swirled his glass. He studied Aren carefully, his gaze sharpening."Are you trying to fool me after telling a teary story?" Saying this, he stared straight into Aren’s eyes.

But instead of feeling embarrassed,Aren met his gaze, not even flinching. Instead, he grinned and shrugged, utterly shameless.

"You looked rich," he said with disarming honesty. "I thought why not try to increase the budget? Anyway, you rich people don’t lack a hundred grand—and better the budget, better the movie."

Rex stared at him, momentarily speechless. He couldn’t decide whether to be offended or impressed. This kid had guts. Shameless guts, but guts nonetheless.

And oddly enough, Rex wasn’t annoyed. Because even though Aren’s logic was audacious, there was a raw honesty to it. No pretense. Just a kid swinging for the fences.

Still, Rex didn’t call him out. Instead, he leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

"And if you’re such a sure hit, why are you here dressed like a waiter?"

Aren flushed, caught, but didn’t skip a beat. He tugged at the tight vest and crooked bowtie with a theatrical grimace. "Because no one gives nobodies a chance. I volunteered for this gig just to get inside. Figured I could pass around my script. Maybe find someone willing to take a risk."

Rex shook his head slowly, caught between admiration and disbelief. This kid wasn’t just gutsy—he was certifiable.

"You’ve got nerve," Rex muttered, lips twitching.

"I’ve got rent due," Aren countered, deadpan.

"So... what do you think?" he added, his expression suddenly earnest, scanning Rex’s face for any sign of hope.

Rex chuckled despite himself. "Alright, genius. Let’s say I take your bait. What makes you think I won’t just steal the idea?"

"You could," Aren said without missing a beat, "but if you liked it enough to steal it, you’d still need someone to make it sing on screen. I wrote it to direct it. You’d have to pry it out of my cold, coffee-stained hands."

Rex leaned in slightly. "And if I tell you it’s garbage?"

Aren smiled sweetly. "Then I’ll thank you for reading and stalk around you until you change your mind."

Rex chuckled hearing his response and thumbed through a few pages again. The pacing was solid. The tension, believable. The dialogue, a bit rough, but not bad. And the twist? Still gave him chills, even knowing it in advance.

He didn’t show his reaction. Just closed the folder and tapped it thoughtfully.

"Alright," he said. "Let’s say I fund this movie. But I’m not just giving you a check. I want the copyright and complete control of the process—creative and otherwise. Every decision goes through me. Script edits, casting, music, marketing, everything."

Aren’s smile faltered.

"And if it somehow—by pure chance—makes it big after launch," Rex continued, "all the profits go to me. You’ll get your due share as the director, of course... but how much that is, well—that depends entirely on me."

The words hit Aren like a slap, and for the first time since he’d walked up to Rex, he hesitated. His mouth opened slightly, then shut. Because even though he was desperate—desperate enough to lie, sneak into an elite party, and hawk his script like a door-to-door salesman—giving up creative control? That was...

He didn’t speak. He just looked down at the ground, fingers tightening around the edges. That script was everything to him. His voice. His vision. His shot. His everything.

Rex noticed the hesitation and gave a light shrug, like he didn’t have time for sentiment.

"You can think about it carefully," he said, rising from the bench with fluid grace. "I don’t have much time—I’ve got other stuff to deal with."

"But don’t forget—you’re absolutely replaceable."

He added, his voice low but sharp.

"In Hollywood, no one’s really irreplaceable. It’s not just you who has passion or insanity. Just down the street, you’ll find thousands with the same hunger, the same dreams. And some of them?" He let out a quiet laugh. "Some are even crazier than you."

Aren blinked, confused.

"There are people who didn’t just sneak into a party," Rex continued. "They kidnapped executives. Broke into their homes. Begged, threatened, blackmailed—whatever it took. Every single one of them failed. Every one. Most ended up blacklisted from Hollywood... or spent a long time in jail."

"So, think carefully, opportunities like these don’t come daily. And who knows, whether you’ll ever get another opportunity like this."

Saying this, he turned slightly, as if ready to leave, the unspoken offer dangling between them like a guillotine blade.

Aren didn’t respond. He just sat there, pale and still.

The choice was his—sell the soul of his work for a shot, or walk away with nothing but integrity and a tray of half-melted profiteroles.

Seeing that Rex was actually turning to leave, Aren bolted upright like he’d been shocked.

"Wait!" he blurted, louder than intended.

Rex stopped mid-step. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—sharp and knowing—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Of course he wasn’t really going to leave. There was no way he’d walk away from a potential goldmine worth hundreds of millions, especially one this promising and this easy to control.

But still, he kept his expression unreadable as he slowly turned back to face Aren, the barest trace of amusement glinting behind his eyes.

"Yes?" he said coolly, as if he hadn’t been waiting for exactly that reaction.

(End of Chapter)