Re:life with Karmic Gacha (Modern Family)

Chapter 290: Chapter 290: Professional.?

(Sorry I'm late. Stuck in a traffic jam)

[Edward POV]

Taylor kept slamming the door for a while, finally giving up when no one came back to unlock it. "Tired already?" I teased.

She glared at me and stomped over to where I was sitting. With her arms crossed, she replied, "Not tired. Slighted. And turn off the music!"

I chuckled and paused the Michael Jackson playlist. "Take a seat," I invited her.

"No," she grumbled, pouting.

"So you're just going to hover around me?" I asked, somewhat flabbergasted.

Taylor smirked and said, "Yeah. Does this bother you?"

"Not really." I shrugged and continued doing the CGI work for the dragon princess to be included in the film.

Taylor got curious and peeked on my screen. The dragon already finished the design development yesterday, now I finally got the chance to do it– since I was unavailable yesterday.

"Is that the dragon girl?" Taylor asked with an annoyed expression as she saw me focusing on Alexandra Daddario's 3D model. What I was focusing on is the transformation from the dragon to a princess.

The description the creatives had for the dragon was this; The dragon princess is a breathtaking creature, her form a stunning blend of majesty and grace. With shimmering blue scales that glisten like the ocean under sunlight, she possesses a crown-like horn atop her head, intricately shaped and glowing with a soft, ethereal light.

This horn is adorned with delicate gold accents that flow down into the thorny ridges along her spine, giving her an air of regal power. Her underbelly is a rich golden hue, contrasting beautifully with the vibrant blues of her scales. Her wings are vast and majestic, showcasing a mesmerizing pattern of gold and blue that resembles a work of art, each feather-like scale capturing the light as she soars through the skies.

After reading the description, I made sure that when she transforms into a beautiful woman, the essence of her dragon form is retained. The horn morphs into a headdress, and the thorny ridges seamlessly transition into a gown, embodying the colors of her dragon form.

"Is this good enough?" I asked Taylor as I switched the tab to show her the full dragon design. When she didn't respond, I turned to see her face, only to find a look of confusion as she stared at me oddly.

"What's wrong? Is it not good?" I asked, a hint of anxiety creeping into my voice. Taylor sighed helplessly and said, "No. Why is it so good? The dress was picked at random. Why did you suddenly make a dragon out of it? I really don't get you!"

Thanks to my Bob Ross skills and Robin's help, I had nailed the entire dragon design to perfection, inspired by the colors of the dress and the headpiece Miss Daddario was wearing.

"The dragon will only show up for half a minute," Taylor grumbled again. "This is way too much effort for a gag scene."

She wasn't wrong. The clip would be featured on TV in the film, where RG's character would show EB his journey as an actor, starting with a fantasy movie about the dragon princess.

Maybe it was because this world severely lacked fantasy—like the isekai stories from my previous life—that I was so excited to create the dragon, spending a bit more time on it than necessary.

I chuckled at Taylor's words. "It may be too much." For just half a minute of dragon creation, we had spent $500,000 of the overall movie budget—1/20 of the total.

But to be honest, our $10 million budget had the same production value as a $100 million movie from other studios. From drone shots to HD cameras that wouldn't hit the market for another decade, the costume designs, creative camera angles, and top-tier audio quality were all exceptional.

Director Judd Apatow had been praising our studio to his friends and in interviews non-stop, so many people were looking forward to seeing this movie. However, with high expectations came the tremendous pressure for the film's success.

Taylor flopped down onto the seat next to me, completely unaware of her casual demeanor. She settled in crassly, one leg crossed over the other, and sat sideways on the couch, her eyes glued to my face.

"Are you ready to talk now?" I shut down the laptop and turned toward her.

"You planned this, didn't you?" she asked accusatorily.

Although I knew she was referring to us being locked up together, I played it cool. "What plan? I have a lot of plans."

She narrowed her eyes at me, scrutinizing my every expression, but found nothing. "Ah!" she gasped, offended, and started to stand up again, but I held her hand to keep her seated.

"It's useless to bang on the door again, and it's giving me a headache. Since they've locked us up here, I have some stuff I want to ask you. Of course, all of them are professional questions."

Taylor looked dissatisfied but accepted it. "Alright. I can try to be professional."

"Good. Now, I want to ask you a few questions about Vanessa...'s image—" My words stopped abruptly as I caught her trying to stand up again. She paused awkwardly and then turned to me sheepishly. "Well, um... I heard Vanessa... so..."

"I understand. Sit back down." I nodded politely, which only made her feel more awkward. She thought I was going to ask her about Vanessa in a relationship context, which almost made her blow her top off.

Her cheek became flushed and she blinked rapidly without looking into my direction to play off her embarrassment. "H-her image, what's with her image?" Taylor asked to get into the topic without giving me any chance to make fun of her.

"Well, I could take some time to explain it, but there's someone who actually did a deep dive on this on Entertain videos, so just watch that first." I reopened my laptop and showed the video.

It was a video essay from a journalist that showed Vanessa's height of stardom, her Disney days, her fall, the impact, and so on. It covered up most of the things that happened with Vanessa, even her relationship with Zac Efron was being dissected there.

Taylor looked at me suspiciously again, "Did you make this video...that currently has 100,9oo views?"

I shook my head and smiled, "Honestly? No, it wasn't me." Nor was it Robin. I explained to her a bit, "This guy, he used to be a journalist for Vice, but he was not paid for months for his articles. So he quit and changed his career."

Taylor rolled her eyes and said, "How much can he possibly earn here?" I smirked and said, "1000 views earns him around 10 bucks if he allows ads on this video. Vice paid 60 bucks per article."

Taylor widened her eyes a bit and mumbled, "So, 100,000...Um, 100 bucks?"

"It's a thousand bucks." I tried to hold back my laughter, but even then, she got angry. "SORRY I'm not a math nerd!"

In the early 2010s, if a YouTube video received 100,000 views, the earnings could vary significantly based on several factors, primarily the CPM (Cost Per Mille) rate, which refers to the earnings per 1,000 ad views. That insight was what I used to attract individuals with unrewarding jobs, hoping to inspire them to change their professions.

The journalist who created the video did an excellent job remaining unbiased, presenting only the facts. He capitalized on the opportunity to cover this topic, causing his video to explode in popularity. Many backstories emerged, prompting netizens to quote the video extensively in their tweets, which drew extra attention to the issue at hand.

Taylor watched the video for a while while I switched to my mobile and worked on some tasks with Robin. Once Taylor finished, I put away my phone, and we began discussing Vanessa's image—primarily, what should be done next. I could handle it all on my own, but Taylor's perspective was invaluable.

"I can create several songs that she can use to take control of her narrative," I declared. Taylor rolled her eyes mockingly, but before she could respond, she realized something. "Given that you're a song vending machine, that might actually work."

"Thanks," I replied curtly. "But what kind of persona should she adopt for her album? Revenge?"

"Strong Woman, Vengeful, Broken Love, Loser, Positivity, Rebel, Romantic, Nostalgic, Mystical, Party Girl, Survivor, Introspective," Taylor listed various personas as references.

"We can discuss all of that, but just before we dive in, does Vanessa know about your plans for her? What did she have to say?" Taylor asked.

"She's in therapy, so I haven't asked her yet," I replied.

"She has a song she's been practicing for, right? I saw her dance videos."

"Oh yeah, this." I played "I'm a Mess (Baby Rexha)," the song I had planned for Vanessa's comeback, even though she hadn't heard the lyrics yet. I had given her the beats, and Lia Kim had choreographed the dance; she was almost mastering it.

As the song played, Taylor looked at me oddly. Despite its catchiness, she couldn't help but think about Vanessa. As soon as we reached the chorus, she pressed pause.

"I'm a mess, I'm a loser, I'm a hater, I'm a user... You're targeting her with precision, aren't you? What kind of grudge do you have against her?" Taylor asked, disbelief evident in her voice.

After we talked for about two hours, I looked at my watch and said, "Alright, Pepper will open the door in about 20 minutes, so I guess we should talk about ourselves now that we've settled on the professional part—"

"NOW?!" she insinuated angrily, then sarcastically added, "Now we're going to do this? Oh my god, thank you so much, 'Your Highness,' for giving me 20 minutes of your time to talk about something other than work!"

Before I could reply, my phone rang. Taylor jumped on it immediately and mocked, "Oh no! Now we're not even going to get 20 minutes? Who's that? Your new girlfriend? Your fuck buddy of the week? Or is it buddies?"

I checked the screen and replied with a steady tone, "It's Judd, so I guess it is work. Maybe Booty Call? I'm not sure yet. He did look at me weirdly sometimes. But I'll call him back." I disconnected the call and turned to Taylor. "Before we get back into it, I have something to show you."

Taylor grunted and calmed herself down. "What is it?"

I opened my laptop and showed her my future plans in Excel. "This is my schedule. You know, I'm going on a world tour."

"More work?" Taylor asked, disbelief and dissatisfaction in her voice. "Why did you even make me watch this?"

"Just see it first. I labeled the green boxes as my off days, yellow for light work, and red for busy days."

Taylor slapped my hand away from the touchpad and scrolled on it herself. As she scrolled down, her anger dissipated a bit, replaced by confusion.

"There are basically no green days for the next three months. Most of them are yellow and red." She turned to me in shock. I nodded and confessed, "This has been going on for two years. The longest break I have in the timeline is 10 days next summer, and 5 days in April 2011."

"What kind of life are you living?" Taylor asked, flabbergasted by my schedule.

"You know how many ventures I have right now?" I replied.

"Many," Taylor guessed. "But you have people to handle it, right?"

I nodded. "Pepper is the CEO, but do you think he has what it takes to manage all of that? I'm taking care of all of it. We have to plan the world's first e-sport championship. My social media apps and websites need oversight daily."

I prattled on, "The movie studio is backed up in the production plan. We have two series and one movie in production right now, along with many more waiting. I also need to provide Microsoft with results for the research grant they gave me. The telecommunications tower requires a lot of negotiation and politics, which is what most of my world tour will involve. That's why it'll take so long."

Taylor's brow furrowed more as she listened to my schedule. She stopped me with her hand and asked, "Wait, why are you telling me all of this?"

"I want you to understand me," I said, which took her aback. "For me, right now, it's better not to have a relationship if I can't actually... be in one. You get what I'm saying?"

"So you're rejecting me again?" she asked, disbelief in her voice. "Ask yourself this: do you really want to be in a relationship where you only have 15 days with the guy in the span of two years?"

Flabbergasted, she tried to argue, "Love can make everything possible."

"Will it be love, though?" I pressed. She fell into deep thought before standing up from her seat. "So you're saying the reason we're not together is because you're too busy? What will I do if I see you dating another girl during those two years you're away—"

"Before you spiral, I'm not going to date anyone."

Her face lit up. "Great."

I added, "But I'm not going to keep myself chaste, either. Also, two years is a really long time."

"I can wait!" she declared.

I shook my head. "You're going to move on after three months."

"I won't!" she protested.

I nodded slightly. "You will."

She pointed a finger at me and yelled, "I won't! You know what? You don't even know what love is! And don't you dare sing that song!"

"Awww," I exclaimed in mock disappointment. We ended up arguing again, but this time it wasn't as intense as before. I was being honest—I wouldn't be seeing anyone in those two years. That was the time it would take for me to overcome the two cursed talents I had.

(There will be a major timeskip, but I won't skip it all. I will show all major events in those two years, like concerts, interviews, song performances, etc. I plan to provide 20 Chapters to illustrate those two years.)

When Taylor left, Pepper entered the room. He asked, "Did you guys work it out yet?"

"We did a little. Not that we're back to being friends, but at least I think we won't fight anymore when we meet." I replied, unaware that after Taylor went home, she decided to throw out the songs she had prepared in response to my reply song and create a new one.

After Pepper left, I asked Robin to show the schedule again. "Robin, remove the facade."

Most of the yellow boxes turned red, and Robin chimed in, "Sir, this schedule is not humanly possible.."

"I can make it Robin." I muttered dismissively. "It's all about planning.."

...

Days passed, and I had to go to court for my case. Luckily, the juvenile court acted quickly compared to the regular court system. It was only Wednesday now, just four days since the punch happened.

As I entered the courtroom, the air was heavy with tension. The room was smaller than I had expected, with wooden paneling and a few rows of benches for spectators.

To my left, behind a low barrier, sat a handful of reporters, their cameras poised to capture the proceedings. In some juvie cases, the reporters were allowed to be in there with the judge's permission and the defendant's willingness. I didn't reject it though, and the victim wasn't here to say anything.

Directly across from me, the prosecutor stood at a table, ready to present the case. The judge presided from her elevated bench at the front of the room, her position commanding authority.

She was an African American woman known for being merciless to rich privileged kids, celebrities, trust fund babies, etc. However, instead of anxiety, I was more curious to see her as I recognized her in my past life from instagram reels. It's Judge Hatchett.

"Court is now in session," she declared, her voice firm and echoing in the quiet room. "You are here today to plead guilty to the charge of assault against Mr. Phil Cuntrell?" She asked with a slight confusion. "You're not trying to defend yourself?"

"Your honor, it's Phil Cantrell," the prosecutor corrected her, clearing his throat.

The judge waved a hand dismissively and continued to address me. "Very well. You are admitting to having struck Mr. Cantrell. Is that correct?"

"Yes, your honor. I punched that guy," I replied, standing tall despite the weight of the situation.

"Let the record reflect the defendant's admission," she stated, then glanced at the evidence before her. "The court has reviewed the video footage submitted by both the prosecution and the defense. It is clear that you issued a warning when Mr. Cantrell first insulted your friend and attempted to de-escalate the situation by distancing yourself."

"Unfortunately, he misinterpreted that as a sign of weakness and chose to provoke you further," she added.

She paused, her gaze piercing as she studied me. "While you have accepted responsibility for your actions, which is commendable, I believe you were aware of the public sentiment regarding your case prior to your plea. I have received numerous letters advocating for leniency on your behalf."

Harvey and I exchanged bewildered glances. "Really?" I blurted out, not expecting her to bring up the letters.

The judge allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. While there were many letters from your fans, I took care to filter those out. However, a few stood out to me: organizations dedicated to aiding the homeless, children in a terminally ill ward, and a veterans' group all spoke highly of your character. They told me everything that you had done for them. It's highly praiseworthy Mr Newgate."

The courtroom was hushed, the weight of her words hanging in the air. I could feel the eyes of the spectators on me, reporters typing about the information in a hurry. The judge continued speaking despite my discomfort.

"The Brooklyn 99 Police District Captain, Raymond Holt, as well as numerous other detectives, also wrote to me. Various Academic professionals; Caltech University Dean Gabblehouser, Dr. Sheldon Cooper, Dr. Leonard Hofstadter, Dr. Rajesh Koothrappali, Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler—even government officials, FBI agents, and the CIA Director. I must admit, I was taken aback by the extent of your connections."

"Which made me wonder what kind of life you have lived. You're only 14 years and 8 months old, but your moral character is evident when you have so many people writing in your support," she added with a slight smile before reaching for her gavel.

Embarrassment washed over me as I hadn't expected her to reveal all of that, especially my age. Luckily, that information was protected, so the reporters couldn't publish it.

"So, I have decided to give you a formal warning and assign you 15 days of community service as punishment."

Harvey and I smiled at this news. A formal warning for a juvenile meant that the record would be expunged if I stayed out of trouble when I reached adulthood. Even the prosecutor remained silent. Some spectators began to clap, but courthouse police quickly warned them to remain silent and not interfere with the proceedings.

"However, there is another matter." The judge took out a letter. "Here is a note from Detective Chloe Decker, who handled this case before Captain Holt took over. She mentioned that you helped her close 5 open cases during your time at the police station taking your statement. Is that true?"

"Yes, your honor," I replied, a bad feeling emerging in my heart.

The judge nodded and continued, "Alright, since your skills are commendable, I have another proposal."

"Oh no," I mumbled under my breath.

"Instead of community service, you could help her as an intern at the police station to assist in solving cases. Given that you were able to close 5 cases in one night, I believe this is a fitting punishment. If you can solve 20 cases, you'll be exempt from community service. There's no time limit, so you can do this on your own schedule. Do you accept this arrangement? Not that you have much of a choice..."

I sighed and said, "I accept."

"Great. Court is adjourned!" She banged her gavel, signaling the end of the case.

As I left the courthouse, the crowd cheered and applauded as soon as they saw me. I thanked everyone for their support, did a few interviews with the reporters, and then headed back home to celebrate.

"Ah Ed, your school principal called. Even if you're not going to school anymore, he had to follow the rules and suspend you for 5 days." My dad said casually before patting my shoulder and massaging it, "You did great Ed. I'm proud of you."

I groaned and brushed his hand away, "I guess I should go empty my locker. It's going to be the holidays anyway."

My dad asked with disbelief, "You have something in your locker?"

"Just some text books." I replied with a heavy sigh. "I'll go pick them up tomorrow before going to the police station."

My dad looked at Frankie and whispered, "He's so depressed. This case must've bothered him more than he let on."

Frankie shook her head and said, "No. He didn't care about it. I think he's upset that the judge told everyone what he was doing behind the scenes."

My dad was confused, "But he did some of them publicly. The homeless charity concert for example."

Frankie shrugged and said, "I'm not clear about it. But he thought people had already forgotten about it. It's confusing."

I mumbled depressingly as I slumped to my bedroom, "It's not my persona to be the good guy... I'm not Keanu Reeves...Ahhhhh~ The haughty judge screwed me."