Paul, the man Yukima Azuma had reached out to before his trip, was a fixer of sorts on Wall Street.
With his slicked-back hair and a face that looked like it had talked its way out of more than a few messes, Paul didn't exactly radiate trustworthiness. But underneath that streetwise exterior, he was a seasoned operator—an insider at a headhunting firm that specialized in investment banking.
He wasn't a high-profile figure by any means, but if you needed to know who held the power in which circles, Paul was your guy.
The kind of person who always knew the backdoor.
Azuma's goal was simple: find a partner.
And for that, he needed a guide.
Their arrangement was straightforward: Azuma would pay Paul a finder's fee, and in return, Paul would help him meet top-tier investors.
Whether those connections led anywhere wasn't Paul's concern.
He was just the middleman. Introductions only.
If the talks fell through, well… the invoice still got paid.
Azuma didn't mind that. In fact, he welcomed it. Time was too valuable to waste wandering aimlessly through a financial jungle like Wall Street.
Paying a little for faster access? Worth it.
The plane had landed early in the morning.
By the time they got to the city, it was already noon.
From there, the afternoon was a grind.
Paul brought Azuma to meet three prominent investors back-to-back.
And one after another—
They all rejected him.
Two of them didn't even try to hide their disdain the moment they saw him.
Whether it was because of his age, or his ethnicity, Azuma didn't know. But their eyes made it clear what they thought of him:
A kid.
A joke.
Not worth their time.
The conversations were short, forced, and ended awkwardly.
Azuma didn't try to win them over. He didn't want partners who couldn't treat him as an equal.
The third investor was more professional—but had their own demands.
They wanted full control over all investment decisions.
Azuma's money, their rules.
That was a no-go.
In short, the entire afternoon had been a complete waste of time.
"Boss, let's just get something to eat," Paul groaned, dragging his feet. "Even a burger would do."
Azuma sighed and nodded. "Sure."
But as they passed through a nearby plaza, he suddenly stopped.
"What's going on over there?" he asked, pointing at the banners and colorful posters in the distance.
Paul followed his gaze.
"Oh, that? Some kind of… Film Market Festival, or whatever. Bunch of producers and studios trying to convince idiots to throw money at their vanity projects."
His tone was sour. Clearly, Paul had been burned in the film business before.
But Azuma's eyes lit up.
"Let's check it out."
Paul groaned. "Boss, c'mon—food first!"
But Azuma was already walking.
With a helpless shake of his head, Paul followed.
The plaza was packed.
Posters for upcoming films were everywhere. Booths were set up with teasers, trailers, and sample scripts. Some even had actors in costume trying to draw attention.
Azuma wandered through the crowd, taking it all in.
This world wasn't exactly the same as the one from his past life—it felt like a parallel timeline. Some famous works he remembered didn't exist here… while others did, almost exactly as he remembered them.
There were even brilliant pieces he'd never heard of before.
But the broad strokes of history remained intact.
That meant, as someone reborn with future knowledge, he had a distinct edge—especially in this industry.
He knew what kind of stories would resonate.
He knew what kind of narratives people were spiritually starving for in this era.
And that meant…
Film was a viable investment path.
Maybe even the best one.
If he played it right, it would be almost impossible to lose money.
As he was thinking that, his eyes landed on a large poster:
"TITANIC"
Azuma's eyebrow twitched.
So it's already in development…
Suddenly, he no longer felt like the day had been a waste.
At that moment, a conversation nearby caught his ear.
"You're actually investing in Titanic? The whole industry's against it."
"I have full control over this round, remember?"
"Have you even looked at the cast list? Leonardo DiCaprio? And the female lead's a total nobody! Not a single big name!"
"It's the story that matters. A luxury ship full of billionaires sinking into the sea—it's got drama, tragedy, romance. What's not to love?"
"You're insane."
"Shut up and follow my lead."
The voices were speaking Japanese.
Azuma turned toward them.
He saw a stunning blonde woman standing near the railing, locked in a tense exchange with her assistant.
The woman's presence was commanding, and her eyes were cold.
After a few seconds, the assistant stormed off in frustration—probably to handle paperwork or call someone to complain.
Now alone, the woman leaned on the railing.
Azuma's instincts kicked in.
It felt like a perfect opening had just appeared on the shogi board—one that could flip the entire game.
"Paul," he said, "do you know who that is?"
Paul glanced over, then did a double take.
"Oh hey, what a coincidence—I do know her. New investor. Just entered the international circuit. From your hometown, actually."
He fumbled for his phone to pull up more info.
Azuma waved him off.
"No need."
He was already moving.
Walking up to the woman, Azuma extended his hand.
"Hello, miss. I'm Yukima Azuma."
The woman didn't even look at his hand.
Didn't move. Didn't respond.
Just ignored him entirely.
Azuma didn't let that faze him.
He kept his hand out and smiled slightly.
"I overheard your conversation earlier. Sorry about that. But it seems like things aren't going too smoothly between you and your assistant."
His eyes gleamed.
"So, miss… have you ever thought about changing jobs?"
That made her blink.
Azuma continued, voice calm but confident:
"You could work with me. Build your own team. No power struggles. No drama. Just real support. Wouldn't that be more comfortable?"
That finally got her attention.
She turned slowly, really looking at him for the first time.
Her gaze lingered—not just on his words, but on his face.
Despite her experience, and her discipline in not judging people by appearance, she couldn't help but note:
This young man was handsome.
Striking, even.
And more than that… there was something unusual about him.
Something hard to define.
Like he knew something no one else did.