Kang Ji-yoon only now remembered that the one sitting here drawing had not been Lee's daughter at all. After she killed Lee's daughter, she had obtained the girl's ability—she could see the vengeful spirits and hear them tell their stories. It was actually Kang Ji-yoon herself who had drawn all of these things, sent them out, and then received them as if they came from someone else.
When the police officer arrived at the Happiness Residential Complex, he found the entire place pitch-black. Then he caught sight of Kang Ji-yoon. She even intended to attack him. Although the officer was initially at a disadvantage, he eventually found an opening and counterattacked her. Knowing she could never win against someone armed with a gun, Kang Ji-yoon simply said a few sentences before turning her gaze toward the wall.
The officer, puzzled, also looked at the wall. And the moment his eyes fell upon it, he realized that what appeared there was the truth of what he had done to his assistant earlier.
It turned out his assistant's death had not been a suicide.
Perhaps because the assistant had talked about his soon-to-be-born daughter, the little girl's vengeful spirit had decided not to kill him. Even though the assistant had been holding the gun and had already pulled the trigger halfway, the spirit ultimately did not force it down. The police officer seized the opportunity, wrested the gun away from the assistant, and, overwhelmed with anger, cursed him out while striking him repeatedly.
Then came the ridiculous part.
In the midst of beating him, the officer somehow pulled the trigger—or something of the sort—and shot the assistant in the head, killing him instantly. The assistant collapsed in a pool of blood. Hearing police sirens outside, the officer panicked. In order to protect himself, he deliberately staged the scene to make it look like the assistant had committed suicide. Seeing the gun forced into his own lifeless hand, the assistant shed tears of blood.
So, in truth, the assistant had never taken his own life. The officer desperately tried to explain himself in front of Kang Ji-yoon, even growing furious enough to attempt to kill her. But the moment he raised his hand and aimed the gun at Kang Ji-yoon, another hand closed firmly around his wrist. When the officer turned his head, he saw his assistant, now a ghost, staring at him with an expression of cold indifference. The ghost then controlled the officer's arm and aimed the gun at the officer's own head.
At last, the officer truly knew fear and regret. He repeatedly cried out the assistant's name, but it was useless. The gun fired. The officer, too, was shot in the head.
The movie's final scene then shifted into a comic-book-style frame. Countless vengeful spirits surrounded Kang Ji-yoon, each one telling its own story. With that, the entire movie came to an end.
Edward felt that Killer Toon was actually somewhat interesting, but the twist ending created a strongly polarized reception. Some people believed that the reversal was jarring and difficult to understand. After all, logically speaking, since Kang Ji-yoon saw the truth drawn by Lee's daughter, then by the logic established earlier, Kang Ji-yoon should have died under Lee's daughter's revenge.
But Lee's daughter chose to forgive her. When she saw Kang Ji-yoon crying in remorse, she shed tears as well.
This was where things became delicate. Whether an evil spirit killed someone depended entirely on the spirit's own attitude, which made the whole thing feel a bit frivolous. And the gun "misfire" also seemed a little too intentional—but Edward actually felt it was understandable.
After all, if you carefully analyze Killer Toon and remove those glossed-over scenes, the film's "ghost-seeing" storyline essentially consisted of five segments: the female team leader and her mother; Lee and his wife; the assistant and the little girl; Kang Ji-yoon and Lee's daughter; and lastly, the assistant and the police officer.
The first segment was simple enough—the team leader's mother harbored deep resentment toward her daughter. She gave her no chance at all and immediately slashed her daughter's face, ruining it just as her own had been ruined, and only then killed her.
This connected back to the daughter's resentment toward her mother—her refusal to help when the mother was in danger, even shouting, "Mother, just die already!" at her while turning her back. Her mother had been heartbroken from that moment onward and no longer had any affection for her daughter; thus, she chose such a painful form of vengeance.
The controversy of Lee's storyline lay in one point: he had cared for his bedridden wife for five years. If the film had shown him neglecting her completely, or even abusing her, or if he had only cared for her for a month before wishing for her death, then the controversy would have been much smaller.
The screenwriter clearly understood that caring for a bedridden patient is painful, but did not truly understand the depth of that suffering.
Before Edward transmigrated, he had personally witnessed such a case.
Back then, he lived in his own home, and his neighbor was a gentle, unmarried man who lived with and supported his parents. But there was a period where every time Edward saw him, the man looked pale and mentally unstable. When asked about it, the man, perhaps desperate for someone to confide in, finally revealed the situation.
His mother had issues with her cerebellum and weak legs. It wasn't too serious at first, but she fell one day. Although she didn't break any bones, afterward she developed all sorts of problems. She went to the hospital four or five times, but no clear diagnosis ever came.
Back home, every night her legs would ache unbearably, as if countless insects were crawling within them. She would curse constantly—cursing the doctors, cursing her son. Over a few months, she became skin and bones, and her son was driven nearly insane.
He couldn't sleep at night, yet he still had to work during the day. Since his mother couldn't walk properly, he had to ask his boss for leave frequently. He spent every night being yelled at, listening to his mother say things like "I should just die" or "Maybe dying would be better." For a filial son like him, it was pure torture.
Just three months of this was enough to nearly break him. So, imagine Lee caring for a severely ill wife for five full years, without abandoning her, without abusing her. That practically made him a model husband. This was why the controversy became so significant. After hesitating, Edward decided to add a plot point implying Lee had mistreated his wife, which would make the narrative feel more coherent.
The third segment was one where no one died. It demonstrated that after seeing the comic and gaining the ability to see ghosts, people still had the chance to atone. For example, when the assistant mentioned his unborn daughter, that bit of humanity softened the little girl's spirit, which allowed the police officer to seize the gun.
Kang Ji-yoon was similar. Because she desperately helped Lee's daughter earlier, she earned the girl's forgiveness. The relationship between Lee and his daughter was strained, but Kang Ji-yoon was practically the only person who cared for the girl—closer than a real relative. That was the reason she survived. Had Kang Ji-yoon been the type to exploit or beat Lee's daughter to force her into drawing comics, she would've been dead long ago.
As for the police officer, had he not staged the assistant's death as suicide, had he cried and sincerely admitted his wrongdoing and turned himself in, the assistant's resentment wouldn't have become so immense. But once blood-tears fell from the assistant's eyes, it was clear he no longer intended to let the officer live.
In the end, the film still adhered to the basic moral code common in Confucian cultural spheres—good is rewarded, evil is punished. The twist was simply that the "evil being punished" was filtered through the personal will of each ghost. The little girl and Lee's daughter both chose to abandon their revenge for certain reasons. Moreover, although these ghosts existed, they still operated through illusion-based mechanisms.
This was evident from Lee's death scene—although the sudden surge of power was undeniably exaggerated.
"I remember someone analyzed the film and claimed that none of them were actually ghosts, but manifestations of human nature, and that the one killing them wasn't a ghost but Kang Ji-yoon herself—her second personality committing the crimes." Edward recalled another interpretation and found it somewhat amusing.
This theory was based on certain scenes—for example, when the team leader died, a camera captured Kang Ji-yoon appearing nearby, but the film intentionally made the sequence vague and never explained what she was doing there.
Furthermore, Kang Ji-yoon indeed had two personalities. One was her normal self, who only remembered fragmented details and couldn't recall the past clearly. The second personality was the one who could hear the spirits tell their stories, draw the comics, and send them to the first personality. It was not impossible that she had done other things as well.
Since both the team leader and Lee died at her hands, the theory seemed plausible—until the assistant's death entered the picture. Why would the assistant be manipulated into "suicide" by an evil spirit? This point became the fatal flaw that the theory could not explain.
So, strictly speaking, the film should just be treated as a conventional horror movie.
"Still, Killer Toon was quite interesting. The pacing, atmosphere, music—they were all well-done. And compared to Whispering Corridors, the filming style and image quality here are better." Edward had his own thoughts. The subject matter was also fresh, so overall it was pretty good.
Although the movie did include a few jump scares, they were relatively sparse. The film focused more on building atmosphere, which matched Edward's vision for the future direction of horror cinema.
Jump scares were simple and effective, but overusing them would make them lose their impact. The audience would only be startled for a second and would not come away impressed.
But Edward wasn't bothered by such things. He had already finished writing his script. As for Coming Soon, he had handed it to a director under a subsidiary branch so that it wouldn't affect Ghost Film's current reputation for excellence.
Maintaining a consistently high reputation in the film industry was extremely difficult, but Edward still wanted to try. If he succeeded, then Ghost Films would truly make history.
With nothing to do, Edward yawned, lay on his bed, and scrolled through his phone.
"A brand-new film format is about to debut! New super-technology may break Ghost Film's absolute technical monopoly?"
A news alert popped up. Curious, Edward tapped on it. He saw that an unusual film company claimed to have developed a brand-new filming technology—one supposedly twice as effective as Edward's cheat-like filming system, cheaper, and capable of giving audiences a full, immersive experience.
That immediately sparked widespread curiosity. Everyone wondered what kind of technology could surpass Edward's. After all, Edward's filming mode had become the global benchmark for the movie industry. No one had been able to produce anything better—yet now someone was trying to challenge him, naturally attracting attention.
"Interesting," Edward murmured. He was intrigued, but more amused than anything else. He didn't believe anyone could surpass him. After all, his filming system came from a literal system cheat. Without such a plug-in, this kind of technology would be impossible in such a short time.
In his previous world, similar technology was limited to VR. Through VR headsets, one could achieve something resembling immersion, but it required special chairs and other equipment. It was also easy to notice flaws. Some VR-themed movies gained a niche audience, but there were heavy limitations.
Those so-called "super immersive films" usually relied on gimmicks, and the film's content had to meet extremely high standards. Balancing these problems was always a major challenge.
If the audience wanted to immerse themselves in the film, what identity should they take? The protagonist? But as the protagonist, they couldn't move freely or act on their own. And being only a passive observer caused other problems.
Movie sets differed greatly from finished films. Some scenes required heavy special effects. Some exposed staff and equipment. How were these issues to be resolved?
The Pokémon world was no different in this regard. That was why Edward found the claim of "surpassing his system" absurd—especially since there had been no prior hints. But he was still interested. If it truly worked, the film industry would enter a whole new era.
Though Edward doubted it, future cinema, if it progressed to his current level, would basically turn movies into video-game-like worlds where viewers could freely explore—something that would be somewhat more realistic.
"Let's see… what's this company called? Pizza Pictures?" Edward stared at the name, his expression becoming strange.
(End of Chapter)