The Mob's Dream

(Anubis Flameworth POV)

Five days. That's all it took for the exiled prince's "Lord of the Rings" to turn the kingdom on its head.

The numbers were staggering - 31 million dollars in just five days, blowing "The Demonfather's" success clean out of the water. Even for a hardened mob boss like me, those figures made my eyes bulge.

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. After all, I'd lent a hand when the prince set up his talent agency. But Arthur and I both knew my help wasn't charity. We had an agreement - a favor for a favor. What I wanted wasn't outrageous, just a little boost in the entertainment world.

As my driver pulled up to Hellfire Studios, I straightened my tie. "We're here, boss," he announced.

I nodded, stepping out with my two men flanking me. The receptionist greeted us with a plastic smile. "I'm here to see Mr. Morningstar," I said smoothly.

"Do you have an appointment?" she chirped.

"Indeed I do. The prince and I have a little chat scheduled."

After confirming, she led us to Arthur's office, but stopped my men short. "I'm afraid only you have clearance, sir."

I waved off my guys' frowns. "It's fine, boys. Wait here."

Stepping into Arthur's office was like entering another world. Posters plastered the walls - "Lord of the Rings" dominated one wall, but what caught my eye was this weird drawing with spiky hair.

It reminded me of something I'd seen in Empirica, this new thing they call "comics." They're growing in popularity over there - colored drawings telling a story, starting to give novels a run for their money.

Interesting stuff, though not really my taste. But the "Demonfather" poster? Now that was my absolute favorite.

And there he was, ex-prince Arthur. A chill ran down my spine as I took him in - his posture, his expression, those eyes that seemed both indifferent and intensely emotional at once. It was like looking at Michael Corleone in the flesh.

He sat there like he owned the world - and maybe he did. After watching "Lord of the Rings," I couldn't shake the feeling that Arthur was sitting on a throne, not just an office chair. The ambition to be king someday radiated off him like heat from a furnace.

Even as a seasoned mob boss, I felt a twinge of discomfort, a flicker of fear. But I couldn't show weakness. Squaring my shoulders, I approached. "How are you doing, Mr. Morningstar?"

Arthur's smile was warm, but his eyes remained calculating. "Everything's fine, Mr. Flameworth," he replied smoothly. With a gesture, he added, "Why don't you have a seat?"

I nodded, settling into the chair across from him. Time to get down to business. "As I mentioned two weeks ago, I'm a huge fan of 'The Demonfather.' I've lost count of how many times I've rewatched it."

"Yes," Arthur's smile widened a fraction. "And you expressed interest in being part of the sequel, correct?"

I nodded eagerly, leaning forward. "That's right. Ever since you mentioned a part two, it's all I can think about. It's why I helped with your talent agency." I paused, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind. "So, when do you plan to start filming the sequel?"

***

(Arthur POV)

I let Anubis's question hang in the air, taking a moment to sip my tea. Truth be told, "The Demonfather Part 2" was far from my immediate plans. I had my sights set on opening manga stores across the kingdom, maybe starting a record label. And my next film? That would be "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly."

But I couldn't tell Anubis that. Instead, I channeled my inner Michael Corleone, projecting that "final boss" aura. Yet I knew that act alone wouldn't be enough to keep a mob boss like Anubis on his toes.

So I reached for my ace in the hole - {Heartstring}.

This skill, meant for directing actors, was about to serve a very different purpose. There were no cameras, no mics, no crew around us. Just two actors. No, that wasn't quite right. One actor and one director.

Anubis was my unwitting performer, and I was the puppet master pulling his emotional strings.

I'd used {Heartstring} on him before, during our first meeting. The revelation that I could wield this power outside of film projects had caught me off guard then. Now, I felt more in control, less nervous about sharing space with a notorious mob boss.

But the limits of {Heartstrings} were still a mystery to me. Cockiness could be my downfall, so I treaded carefully, weighing each word like a jeweler examining precious stones.

After a full minute of contemplation, I finally spoke. "Mr. Flameworth, let me ask you something." I paused, letting the tension build. "Would you prefer an unripe cherry, snatched too soon by an impatient farmer, or a perfectly ripe one, thoughtfully picked by a patient hand?"

Confusion clouded Anubis's face. My penchant for odd metaphors was clearly throwing him for a loop.

"I... I suppose I'd choose the ripe cherry from the patient farmer," he replied, uncertainty lacing his words.

A calm smile played on my lips. "So you'd rather wait patiently for something good than rush into something subpar?"

Anubis nodded slowly, then furrowed his brow. "No offense, Mr. Morningstar, but... what exactly does this have to do with the Demonfather sequel? I'm not seeing the connection."

I took a deliberate sip of tea, savoring the moment. "It's quite simple, really. To create a truly great film, we must exercise patience. Rush the process, and we risk producing something... less than satisfactory."

Understanding dawned in Anubis's eyes. My message had finally hit home.

"So, regarding the Demonfather sequel," I said, leaning forward slightly, "it's going to take time to plan everything out properly. Rush it, and we risk a subpar product." I paused, letting my words sink in. "I understand your eagerness, Mr. Flameworth, and I intend to honor our agreement. You'll have your role when the time comes. But the question is: will you be the impatient farmer, or the patient one?"

Anubis fell silent, clearly mulling over my words.

"If you insist on starting now, we can," I continued, my tone measured. "It's the least I can do to repay your help. But I can't guarantee it'll be the ripe cherry we both want it to be."

After a long moment, Anubis let out a disappointed sigh. "I understand, Mr. Morningstar," he said, his voice heavy with reluctant acceptance. "I'll choose to wait. Wait for you to get everything just right."

I smiled, genuine gratitude in my expression. "That's a wise decision, Mr. Flameworth," I said, inwardly relieved. "Give me time, and I promise, when I contact you about the Demonfather sequel, it'll be worth the wait."

"I'll hold you to that," Anubis nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Morningstar. I hope I haven't taken up too much of it."

"Not at all," I assured him, still smiling. I could feel the {Heartstrings} effect lingering, a testament to my careful handling of the situation.

Whether a careless response would have shattered the spell remained a mystery, but I was glad I hadn't had to find out.

As Anubis and his men disappeared down the hallway, I slumped back in my chair, exhaling deeply. "Thank hell that's over," I muttered, glancing at my watch. Dealing with mob bosses was not how I'd planned to spend my morning.

But before I could even think about relaxing, Lilith poked her head through the door. "Boss, there's someone here to see you. It's the head of Demonic Talent Agency!"

I frowned, my mind racing. Demonic Talent Agency? Firfel and Shafel's old outfit? What could they want? Were they here to complain now that their former stars had skyrocketed to fame with "Lord of the Rings"?

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