I'm Not A Master, I'm A Director
Chapter 421: Shinji, Was This Also Part of Your Calculation?
The weekend night arrived once again.
As the core of Asia's largest metropolitan area of the era, even late at night, Tokyo remained brightly lit. It felt as though the word rest had been erased from this city's dictionary.
Especially inside the office buildings of major newspapers—racing to meet the deadline for the next morning's print—the night was often the busiest time.
Although print media had been declining in many countries, Japan was an exception.
There was no helping it. Under pressure from media giants, print newspapers in Japan held the uncontested privilege of "first news release." Even if people didn't want to read them, they had little choice.
It was somewhat like Japan's flip phones. It wasn't that Japanese people didn't want smartphones—rather, telecom operators controlled phone distribution channels and didn't allow smartphone companies to sell devices directly. Manufacturers had to change logos and modify software to comply.
In simple terms, operators treated smartphone companies like mere handset suppliers—workers serving the carriers.
Naturally, most smartphone companies refused such absurd demands. It went against the very concept of smartphone platforms.
From the operators' perspective, though: You're rejecting our generosity? Fine, your phones won't be sold in Japan!
The idea that Japanese people "preferred" flip phones was actually a misconception. Smartphones were just expensive and hard to obtain early on.
As for why characters in Japanese dramas enthusiastically used flip phones, it was simply because telecom companies were the sponsors.
Of course, this resistance against technological trends was ultimately futile. Once companies led by Apple found ways to bypass operators and sell devices in Japan, smartphone adoption accelerated rapidly.
Unfortunately, this world was still in 2007. Smartphones hadn't even become widespread elsewhere, let alone in Japan.
So at this time, people couldn't check news via apps, they still had to buy newspapers.
In this era, print media was still king in Japan.
. . .
Inside the entertainment section office of the Yomiuri Shimbun, several editors were worrying about what to write for tomorrow's issue.
For entertainment media—especially in Japan—their feelings toward Shinji Matou were complicated: love and hate.
They loved him because whenever Shinji released a film, the entertainment pages were guaranteed plenty of content. They could simply watch his movies crush records, surge at the box office, and turn those achievements into articles.
They hated him for the same reason. Aside from official promotional material, neither Shinji nor his Type-Moon-affiliated stars ever provided even a single piece of gossip.
The former was big news—but every newspaper reported it. The latter, gossip, was what truly differentiated circulation numbers.
Although the Yomiuri Shimbun was one of Japan's top newspapers, poor readership for the entertainment section could still threaten everyone's salaries.
And why were they so desperate for Shinji's scandals? Because his fame was enormous.
Put an obscure celebrity's cheating scandal next to a world-class director's romantic affairs, and anyone would choose the latter.
"It's all because Shinji Matou is too slippery," one editor complained, chewing on his pen.
For entertainment editors, rumor-mongering and twisting narratives were essential skills.
If a college girl skipped studying to work at a nightclub, that was degenerate. But if you wrote that she squeezed in classes during the day despite working nights, that was motivated.
They could reshape any situation to fit the "truth" they needed.
The problem was—Shinji gave them nothing to work with.
Whether degenerate or hardworking, there at least needed to be a factual base. But with Shinji, aside from work-related appearances, they saw nothing of his daily life.
According to several veteran editors, people who guarded their private lives this tightly definitely had something shady to hide.
As long as they could find even the slightest clue, it would definitely become huge news.
But they just couldn't find anything.
Even talents from Johnny & Associates weren't as mysterious as Shinji.
"Damn it! Where does that Matou guy even spend his private life? Why can't we find anything?!"
One editor slammed his desk, gritting his teeth as he spoke Shinji's name.
Everyone wanted to know about Shinji's private life, but he never gave them the slightest chance.
Just as the editors continued complaining—forced to fabricate gossip unrelated to the Garden of Sinners cast during such a perfect news window—the entertainment section chief suddenly walked in.
"Big news!"
Everyone in the office immediately perked up. If the chief personally called it "big news," something major must have happened today—or within the past couple of days.
"What's the story?" one editor asked.
"The conflict between Garden of Sinners and Pirates of the Caribbean!"
The editors exchanged puzzled glances.
Wasn't that already old news? The box office battle between the two films had been ongoing since last week. They'd already written about it for days, there wasn't much left to say.
The chief didn't let them keep guessing.
"The fans of these two movies are now fighting over ratings on IMDb."
Seeing their blank expressions, the chief rubbed the bridge of his nose helplessly.
Even if the newspaper industry suppressed the internet, that didn't mean employees should avoid it entirely, right? Not knowing the hottest topic online—what were they, Nobita Nobi?
To make them understand the seriousness of the situation, he explained the entire rating war from beginning to end.
"Some fans are even pushing the movies offline now. They're persuading people around them to give high scores, even ordering takeout just to ask delivery workers to rate the films."
The editors finally understood.
Online arguments weren't news. Who didn't run into trolls on the internet?
But when the conflict spilled into real life—that was worth reporting.
"If nothing unexpected happens, the number of ratings for these two films could break site records, far exceeding other movies. This is a rare opportunity!"
"And this rating dispute can be tied back to box office performance— No, I'll write the box office flash myself!"
The fired-up chief picked up a pen and, after years away, personally returned to the front lines of journalism.
For media outlets everywhere, it became another sleepless night—especially for entertainment editors, who stayed up brainstorming fresh ways to praise Shinji and his new film.
Under such circumstances, newspapers like the Yomiuri Shimbun and The New York Times—which had privately received hints from Type-Moon—produced especially detailed coverage.
The Yomiuri Shimbun even went further. It created a rating column analyzing the strengths and weaknesses of both films, comparing which currently held the advantage.
Of course, the answer was obvious. Whether in ratings or box office, Garden of Sinners was still suppressing Pirates of the Caribbean.
However, over the past two days, Pirates of the Caribbean had drawn very close. It still lagged in total revenue due to earlier gaps, but momentum-wise the difference was shrinking.
Meanwhile, the dispute on IMDb was far fiercer than the box office battle.
The first sign? The scores for both Garden of Sinners and Pirates of the Caribbean were steadily dropping.
But this outcome was inevitable. Each side's fanatic fans were deliberately dumping huge numbers of low scores onto the opposing film.
By the time the Yomiuri Shimbun finished writing its column, more than 15% of the votes for Pirates of the Caribbean were actually 0.1 scores.
Of course, Garden of Sinners wasn't doing much better either—its 0.1 score ratio had reached 13%.
Fan behavior was often spontaneous and fervent, especially online. When people hid behind keyboards, crossing moral lines was far easier than in real life.
Review-bombing the opposing film was just the beginning. Soon, fans from both camps began attacking each other in the comment sections of their respective movies. Unsurprisingly, the arguments quickly escalated into outright insults.
However, Shinji's fanbase was ultimately larger. If things continued like this, Pirates of the Caribbean would inevitably lose.
So some of its fans decided to expand the battlefield. They began posing as Shinji supporters and Garden of Sinners fans, attacking other movies in an attempt to drag clueless bystanders into the conflict.
Within half a day, classic films like The Godfather suddenly received a flood of 0.1 ratings.
The tactic resembled an incident during the old "B Moe" popularity contests—someone burned an Arturia Pendragon figure during a match involving Mash Kyrielight to provoke Arturia fans into joining the fight.
At the time, people even speculated that it might have been fans of Fate/Grand Order pretending to stir trouble, deliberately dragging in those who didn't play the game.
In truth, which side the figure-burning culprit belonged to no longer mattered. The moment Arturia fans entered the battlefield, the objective had already been achieved.
This rating war followed the same logic. Once fans of other movies were drawn in, the conflict inevitably spiraled further out of control.
In the past, although Shinji frequently used hired reviewers, the overall order on the site remained relatively stable.
This time, however, fans from both sides had severely disrupted the order of IMDb.
The internet was a place where emotions were easily amplified. With only the slightest lack of restraint, arguments breaking out was practically routine.
In fact, by the time the Yomiuri Shimbun prepared to report on the matter, the conflict had already spread across numerous film forums and social media sites.
Even Shinji's public social accounts weren't spared. Countless users flooded his page with comments, trying to pressure him into giving a statement.
But Shinji had no intention of stepping into that mess. He simply ignored the demands.
Of course, Shinji's silence didn't mean other media outlets would stay quiet.
The Yomiuri Shimbun laid out the entire sequence of events in detail—and even offered predictions.
After a night of frantic work, dawn finally broke.
Stacks of newspapers were delivered to kiosks and paperboys. Major publications like the Yomiuri Shimbun quickly appeared in every corner of Japan.
By the time sunlight reached the Type-Moon office, Shiki Ryougi walked in.
She brewed herself a cup of morning coffee, then leisurely read the newspaper while sipping—looking exactly like a retired bureaucrat enjoying her routine.
Recently, her favorite pastime had been flipping through newspapers in search of news related to her movie.
"Let me see… Pirates of the Caribbean launches a sneaky attack, Garden of Sinners refuses to respond… What kind of headline is that?!"
She almost spat out her coffee.
After reading the entire "Highlights of Fans' Bizarre Behavior" section, Shiki had to admit—netizens truly were the gods of chaos.
"I wonder what Shinji would think if he saw this…"
Thinking of the director—currently absent from the office while preparing a new project—she felt a faint sense of loneliness.
"…Was this all part of your plan too, Shinji-kun?"