Chapter 171: The Butler

The news of "Pulp Fiction" winning the Palme d'Or spread throughout the small town of Cannes, causing a frenzy. Media reporters scattered across the city rushed towards the Palais des Festivals.

Due to the time difference, it was still daytime on both the east and west coasts of North America. The news sparked another commotion, and many evening newspapers hastily changed their layouts to feature the award-winning news of "Pulp Fiction" on their front pages.

After the ceremony, the jury members rushed to attend the closing ceremony press conference, where they traditionally explained the reasons behind the award decisions. Simon and the other winners were also arranged to be at another press conference hall for interviews.

After posing for photographs with the Palme d'Or trophy, everyone sat down on the stage, and the questioning session began. Every reporter in the hall instantly raised their hands.

The host selected a tall, dark-haired reporter who asked without a microphone, "Simon, I'm Mark Winstone from The Hollywood Reporter. As the youngest winner of the Palme d'Or in the history of the Cannes Film Festival, how do you feel right now?"

Simon, smiling, said, "I'm excited and honored. This is the most memorable moment of my life."

After a warm-up question, Mark Winstone continued, "I heard you're preparing 'Batman.' Simon, will you continue to make distinctively personal and genre-defying films like 'Run Lola Run' and 'Pulp Fiction'?"

Simon nodded without hesitation, "Of course. I have many interesting ideas in my mind. It would be a pity not to bring them to the big screen. However, I believe the planned 'Batman' will be an outstanding film, not inferior to 'Run Lola Run' or 'Pulp Fiction' at all."

Another reporter asked, "Simon, I'm Peter Richardson from Screen. You just mentioned you have many other ideas. Can you share one?"

"That wouldn't be right," Simon said with a smile, refusing. "Telling you in advance would spoil the surprise."

Amid light laughter, another reporter was chosen. Taking the microphone, the reporter looked towards the stage and said, "Simon, I'm Arthur Brady from The Guardian. Compared to 'Short Film About Killing' which explores the meaning of life and 'World Apart' which focuses on racial issues, do you think a film filled with swear words, violence, and drugs like 'Pulp Fiction' truly deserves the Palme d'Or?"

The results of the Palme d'Or are often questioned in most years.

Simon was well aware that he couldn't escape this situation. Unsurprised by The Guardian reporter's question, he confidently affirmed, "I believe my film deserves this award."

After saying this, without waiting for a follow-up question, Simon explained, "Firstly, Arthur, you need to understand that the merits of a film are independent of its stance. The criteria should include its script, cinematography, lighting, editing, and other aspects. I don't deny the depth of 'Short Film About Killing' and 'World Apart' in terms of their messages, but in terms of the overall quality of a film, I'm confident 'Pulp Fiction' surpasses them."

Arthur Brady asked, "According to your view, Simon, should film festivals judge films entirely neutrally, regardless of their messages?"

Simon shook his head, "That's an extreme view you're imagining. Films are a medium for ideas, with filmmakers using them to express what they want to convey, and audiences freely choosing what they want to see. As an important bridge facilitating communication between the two, film festivals should be inclusive. Without crossing the line, they need to allow films of various types, themes, and messages onto their platform and give them due recognition. As for 'Pulp Fiction,' I didn't deliberately promote bloodshed and violence. Essentially, it's an absurd black comedy."

With Simon's words, the reporters below showed contemplative expressions.

Seeing this, the host didn't give The Guardian reporter another chance to pick faults and quickly selected the next questioner.

Only a few media outlets were allowed inside the Palais des Festivals for interviews. After the brief press conference ended, Simon and his group were immediately surrounded by a swarm of reporters as they left the Palais. Amidst the dense flashes, reporters with various accents loudly asked questions.

Next, they attended an official celebration dinner.

Simon no longer spent effort dealing with the surrounding reporters, protecting Janet as they squeezed through the crowd and quickly left in a car parked by the roadside.

After the celebration dinner, which ended late at night, the media's reaction to "Pulp Fiction" winning the Palme d'Or spread further the following day. Simon, who won the Palme d'Or at twenty, might become a record-setting youngest winner, sparking predictable discussions and controversies.

History always belongs to the victors.

Just like in the original timeline, the 1999 Oscars, where "Shakespeare in Love" won Best Picture and Best Director among other awards, carried many controversies. Yet, it remains the one remembered, with the other four nominated films, except Steven Spielberg's "Saving Private Ryan," struggling to leave a lasting impression on audiences.

As for the awards for "Pulp Fiction," Simon was certain of two things: the quality of the film was sufficient to merit the award, and there would be no scandals of buying awards or bribery. Thus, his Palme d'Or was beyond doubt.

That was enough.

Due to various matters, they stayed in Cannes for another day. On May 25th, early in the morning, as everyone was packing to leave, a business sedan drove into the mansion and stopped at the villa's entrance. Natasha Kinsky, still appearing nonchalant, lazily got out of the car. The driver unloaded three large suitcases from the vehicle and drove off.

As a main competition jury member, the film festival had originally arranged a hotel for Natasha Kinsky.

Now, that arrangement had obviously ended, which was actually the reason the woman forcibly borrowed Simon's house on the award ceremony stage.

Simon and Janet came out to greet her. Natasha Kinsky, seeing Janet, perked up a bit and hugged her. Then she looked at Simon and glanced at her large suitcases.

Simon remained unmoved, pretending not to understand the woman's hint.

Janet, smiling, took Natasha Kinsky's arm and led her inside the villa, saying, "Let's go. I'll have Neil help you move them. You can stay in our master bedroom."

Simon followed the two women into the living room, where Jennifer and the original real estate agent, Sophia Feci, also came to greet Natasha Kinsky. Simon and Janet had to entrust Sophia Feci to look after the house after leaving Cannes.

Hearing Sophia Feci's introduction, Natasha Kinsky bluntly said, "Ms. Feci, could you help me hire a butler? And a chef, a maid, and a driver."

Sophia Feci, puzzled, simply nodded, "Of course, no problem, Ms. Kinsky. I'll bring over some candidate lists tomorrow for you to interview personally. Anything else?"

"For now, that's it," Natasha Kinsky shook her head, calmly signaling Simon and added, "Oh, and put the bills on Westeros."

Sophia Feci paused, glanced inadvertently at Janet, then back at Simon.

Simon, feeling Sophia Feci's suggestive gaze, somewhat resignedly leaned back on the sofa, "They must all be women."

Sophia Feci suppressed a smile, "No problem."

Janet and Jennifer continued laughing and went back to packing, with Natasha Kinsky following them.

Simon had just picked up today's newspaper when he noticed Sophia Feci still standing there, prompting him to give her a look. The real estate agent, exuding charm in her thirties, was wearing a white blouse and black pencil skirt with low heels, looking very appealing.

Noticing Simon's gaze, Sophia Feci stood still for a moment before saying, "Mr. Westeros, any questions?"

Simon put down the newspaper and directly asked, "Sophia, how much have you earned in the past three years?"

Sophia Feci thought for a moment, "Before taxes, around 1.2 million francs."

"Are you married?"

Sophia Feci didn't beat around the bush, "I was married, then divorced. I have custody of a pair of children."

"Then, would you like to work for me? I'll pay you 1.2 million francs a year," Simon said straightforwardly, putting down the newspaper and looking at her, "As for the duration of employment, until your next marriage."

Sophia Feci looked at Simon, "What do you intend for me to do?"

"Housekeeper," Simon said, "Mainly to manage my properties in Europe."

Sophia Feci said, "Mr. Westeros, you don't seem to have many properties in Europe."

"So, your other task is to continue helping me acquire properties until Westeros's assets are spread across all major cities in Europe."

Sophia Feci's eyes flashed with surprise, "That will cost a lot of money."

Simon said, "Earning money is my business."

Sophia Feci thought for a moment, "In that case, Mr. Westeros, 1.2 million francs a year won't be enough."

Simon shrugged, "You'll need to prove your worth for more."

Without much hesitation, Sophia Feci asked, "What should I do next?"

"Draft an employment contract for me," Simon pulled out a checkbook, quickly signed a check, and handed it to Sophia Feci, "This is your salary for the first year. How much it will be next year depends on your performance. You know what I want. If you're loyal, I'll give you everything you desire. If you deceive me, I'll leave you with nothing."

Sophia Feci carefully accepted the check, "You won't be disappointed, Mr. Westeros."

Simon nodded, indicating upstairs, "No need for a housekeeper then. From now on, you're the housekeeper. Take care of this place and that woman."

Sophia Feci nodded, "Understood."

Simon leaned back on the sofa and picked up the newspaper again, noticing the woman hadn't left. He asked, "Anything else?"

"Mr. Westeros, you just said," Sophia Feci hesitated, "the employment period is until my next marriage."

Simon shrugged, "Yes, clearly, that's a bit of male possessiveness."

"Huh, Mr. Westeros, you're quite straightforward."

"So?"

"I'm a normal woman, Mr. Westeros. I already have a decent partner. He is..."

"Co-habitation counts."

"Hmm?"

"I mean, if you plan to live with him long-term, that counts as marriage. Then you'll lose your job."

Sophia Feci pressed her lips together, "You're quite a domineering boss."

Simon said, "Obviously, 1.2 million francs a year isn't easy to earn. You can also deceive me."

"What if I get caught?"

"I've said before, I might spend 12 million francs to let you know you shouldn't have deceived me." Simon looked up at her, "So, do you still want the job?"

Sophia Feci looked at the check in her hand again, "In that case, 1.2 million francs really isn't much."

1.2 million francs, around 180,000 dollars at the current exchange rate, was equivalent to the annual salary of a vice president at a Fortune 500 company in the 1980s, definitely considered a high income.

Simon noticed Sophia Feci's obvious hints since her arrival, coupled with his immediate need, which led to the spontaneous job offer. He said, "Sophia, like feeding cats, you can't always overfeed them. This way, they'll depend more on their owner."

"Mr. Westeros, do you think women are cats?"

"Yes, as the most fickle and untamable creatures in the world, I never set my expectations too high," Simon nodded, "So, the first year is only 1.2 million francs. However, if you satisfy me, maybe in 10 years, you could earn 12 million francs, or even 12 million dollars."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

"I suddenly feel, Mr. Westeros, with your current spending rate, you might not be able to afford this payment in ten years."

"That's not a problem, because before then, you might have already decisively left."

Sophia Feci hesitated before saying, "I wouldn't do that."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I still can't give you a raise right away."

Sophia Feci's face showed a knowledgeable smile, "What if one day I want to resign?"

"You might be responsible for a very large asset next, so, inform me six months in advance."

Sophia Feci nodded, "Then, Mr. Westeros, I have no more questions."

"But I have one," Simon looked at the woman before him, "I need to know what kind of woman I've hired."

Sophia Feci said, "I'll prepare a resume for you."

"No, I mean, do you have any pasts you absolutely don't want others to know about?"

Sophia Feci thought for a moment, then shook her head, "No."

"In that case, I'll hire a detective agency to create a 'resume' for you. I hope you don't mind."

Sophia Feci said, "I mind very much."

Simon said, "You can stop me, and I can only say it's a pity, but I must ensure the person I hire has no history of violence, mental illness, criminal records, etc."

Sophia Feci looked at Simon peculiarly, "Violence and mental illness?"

Simon paused, then smiled and spread his hands, "Yes, this might also be a very dangerous job. You can think it over again and tell me the result before I leave Cannes."

"Mr. Westeros, but you're leaving in an hour."

"Opportunities are fleeting."

Sophia Feci hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'll draft my own employment contract as soon as possible."

Simon snapped his fingers, "Wise decision."

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