The grand theater dimmed as the final spotlight faded and the awards ceremony reached its end. The air was thick with lingering applause, clinking glasses, and soft laughter. Filmmakers and guests stood, some holding trophies, others still pretending to be okay with not winning anything.
Adrian stood quietly near the back of the auditorium. In his hands were two sleek crystal trophies—**Best Student Short Film** and **Audience Choice Award**. His heart was still pounding, not from nerves, but from the overwhelming rush of it all.
"Damn," Jom whispered, eyes wide as he admired their trophies. "We really did it."
Kai, holding his phone for one last photo, grinned. "Not bad for three guys with a camera and a dream, huh?"
Adrian chuckled softly but his eyes wandered. Across the room, he spotted her—Rina Velasco. She stood alone, holding just one trophy: **Best Cinematography**. She wasn't smiling.
Their eyes met for a brief moment. There was no malice in her gaze. Just intensity. Hunger.
She walked toward him.
"Adrian Rivera," she said, her voice smooth but with a competitive edge. "That short film of yours... *Voicemail*, right?"
Adrian straightened slightly. "Yeah."
"It was good." She paused, scanning his face. "Too good. I wanted to hate it. But I couldn't. You earned those awards."
"Thanks," Adrian replied, surprised by her honesty.
"But next time," Rina added, eyes narrowing slightly, "I'm going to beat you."
Before he could respond, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of filmmakers and producers. Adrian blinked, stunned. Then slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips.
"She's scary," Kai muttered beside him.
"She's driven," Adrian replied. "I respect that."
---
**Later That Night**
Rina stepped into the darkened hallway behind the stage, her single award tucked beneath her arm. A woman in a dark navy pantsuit was waiting for her.
Her boss.
"Well," the woman said, "You didn't win everything. But you impressed the right people."
"I should've won more," Rina muttered.
"Maybe," her boss replied. "But you'll have your shot. I'm greenlighting a feature-length film. I want you as vice director. You've got talent—but you need experience."
Rina's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Pre-production starts next month. I'll handle the producers. You just help me build something worth watching."
Rina nodded slowly, the earlier frustration melting into focus. "I'll do it."
Her boss handed her a file, then walked off with the confidence of someone who controlled entire careers.
Left alone, Rina clutched the folder and turned for one last glance at the celebration behind her. Amid the sea of rising talent, she found Adrian again—laughing, casual, unaware of the war he'd just started in her heart.
"I'll win next time," she murmured. "But for now\... I'll learn everything I can."
---
**Two Days Later**
Adrian sat in his apartment, hunched over his laptop with half a sandwich untouched beside him. The trophies now sat on the small shelf above his desk. The applause was gone. But something inside him hadn't settled. It had only grown louder.
He stared at a blank page. The cursor blinked like a heartbeat.
**"Make a Movie."**
That was the system's latest task. Vague, but weighty.
He had plenty of ideas—but none strong enough to follow *Voicemail*. The next project had to be meaningful. Something personal.
He opened his notebook and flipped through random scribbles. Then, almost absentmindedly, he began humming a familiar tune.
It was a melody from a different life.
From a film that didn't exist here.
*La La Land.*
Back in his old world, it had been a masterpiece—a blend of jazz, love, dreams, and sacrifice. It wasn't just a movie. It was a feeling. A heartbeat. And somehow, it hadn't been made in this world.
He opened his browser and double-checked.
No record. No Damien Chazelle. No Mia and Sebastian. No jazz clubs under starlight. No opening dance sequence on a traffic-jammed highway.
Nothing.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, breath catching slightly.
If *La La Land* didn't exist in this version of Earth—then maybe he could bring it to life himself.
But it couldn't be a direct copy. That was lazy—and risky. He'd need to change the setting, the culture, the music. He'd need to make it *his*.
He typed a new title into the script document:
**"City of Stars."**
It wasn't just a name. It was a promise.
---
**That Evening**
Jom and Kai barged in, carrying takeout and energy drinks.
"You writing the next Oscar-winner yet?" Jom asked, plopping onto the couch.
Adrian turned his laptop toward them. "Maybe."
Kai squinted at the title. "City of Stars?"
"It's a love story," Adrian said. "Two dreamers chasing success. One's a jazz pianist. The other's an aspiring actress. They fall in love, but their dreams pull them in different directions."
Jom furrowed his brows. "That... sounds heavy."
Kai nodded. "Also sounds like something you didn't just make up on the spot."
Adrian smiled. "Let's just say it's *inspired.*"
They didn't press further. After all, Adrian always came up with ideas none of them could think of. Maybe that's what made him different. What made him great.
"So what's the twist?" Kai asked. "We're doing another short film?"
"No," Adrian said firmly. "Feature-length. This time, it's all in. I'm directing. Writing. And... I'm playing the lead."
Jom whistled. "Bro, we haven't even done a full thirty-minute film."
"Then we start now," Adrian replied. "We'll cast the female lead, rehearse, scout locations—Escolta, Cubao, Intramuros. Places that feel romantic, nostalgic, and real."
Kai looked impressed. "You really think we can pull it off?"
Adrian nodded, eyes burning with determination. "We're not making a movie. We're making *the* movie."
Jom raised his soda. "To City of Stars."
Kai bumped his can into it. "To shooting for the moon."
Adrian smiled and looked back at his screen. In his head, he could already hear the music playing. The piano. The trumpet. The soft, aching vocals that echoed what every dreamer had once felt.
The warm hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet of Adrian Rivera's apartment as he sat at his desk, sketching out notes on a worn, coffee-stained notebook. The screen of his laptop displayed a partially written script, its title glowing at the top in bold letters: *City of Stars*.
He paused, staring at the blinking cursor before his phone buzzed. The name "Lance Villarta" lit up the screen.
Adrian answered immediately. "Hey, Lance."
"Adrian," the scout's voice came through with a blend of curiosity and excitement. "You said you had something big in mind. I'm listening."
Adrian leaned back in his chair, confidence lacing his voice. "I want to make a musical. A romance, but not just that. Something beautiful and tragic. A story about dreams, and how chasing them sometimes means letting go of what you love most."
There was a beat of silence. "That's… ambitious," Lance said. "Not what I expected from you, honestly. Most young directors are chasing thrillers or social dramas. But go on."
Adrian smiled slightly. "It's about two people—an aspiring jazz musician and an actress—who meet, fall in love, and push each other toward their dreams. But success pulls them apart. They inspire each other, change each other's lives, but in the end, they don't end up together."
"Bittersweet," Lance murmured. "But that's… bold. And refreshing. You said you wanted to use ten million pesos for this?"
"Right," Adrian said, tapping his pen against the table. "I've already broken down the preliminary costs. Studio rentals, location permits for some dance scenes—rooftops, roads, parks, theaters. I want that indie yet dreamlike atmosphere. Plus, choreography, music composition, and proper sound design. The visuals and score need to be seamless."
Lance whistled. "That's tight for ₱10 million, but not impossible. If done right, it'll look like it cost twenty. You directing and writing?"
"And starring," Adrian replied. "I'll play the lead male. I already have an outline for the modified script. It's inspired by something I saw in my… previous life," he added cryptically.
"You're insane," Lance laughed. "But maybe the good kind. Honestly, if you pull this off, you might start a whole new wave in local cinema."
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Kai and Jom were walking down a quiet street, cameras hanging from their necks and a printed checklist in Jom's hands. It was a bright afternoon, and the two were scouting for filming locations based on Adrian's meticulous instructions.
"Okay," Kai said, adjusting his cap. "Next on the list: a park that has a view of the skyline and a wide path for a dance scene."
Jom groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Man, you'd think with all this genius planning, Adrian would've invented teleportation too."
Kai chuckled. "It's not that bad. This is the exciting part—building something from scratch. Come on, you're always saying you want to be part of something big."
"I do!" Jom said, then grinned. "But remind me again why I'm the one carrying all the gear like I'm in *Survivor: Metro Manila Edition*?"
"Because you said you wanted to 'look cool for the behind-the-scenes documentary,' remember?" Kai smirked.
Jom rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. When we win another award for this film, you better thank me first."
---
Elsewhere, in an upscale production studio, Rina Velasco was going through a thick stack of production notes. She wore a crisp white blouse and a focused expression as she sat across from her boss, an acclaimed director in the indie scene.
"You ready to take on your first project as vice director?" the man asked.
Rina nodded. "Yes. I want to learn as much as I can. I'm not rushing anything."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's not the Rina Velasco I know."
She smiled faintly. "I used to think I had to win right away. But then I saw Adrian Rivera. He's... different. His short film didn't just beat mine—it *spoke* to people. I hated how much I liked it."
Her boss chuckled. "Healthy rivalry's good. Just don't let it eat you."
As their meeting ended, Rina walked out into the evening light. Her thoughts drifted back to the film festival, and the tall young man in the tailored suit who had taken the spotlight.
She glanced toward the skyline and whispered to herself, "I'll win next time. But for now, I'll learn everything I can. Experience comes first... then I'll make something bigger."
---
Back in Adrian's room, he was now scrolling through the interface of the Director System, its sleek holographic design hovering just above his desk. The words "Create a Movie" pulsed gently at the center of the screen.
He tapped the option.
> **Project Title: City of Stars**
> **Status: Scriptwriting (30%)**
> **Budget Estimate: ₱10,000,000**
> **Estimated Duration: 90–100 minutes**
> **Genre: Musical / Romance / Drama**
He typed into the note field: *He dreams of a jazz club. She dreams of stardom. They meet. They soar. They lose. But they remember.*
He sat back, watching the outline come together, piece by piece. The music, the cinematography, the pacing—it was all forming in his mind.
"Hollywood made so many of these," Adrian murmured. "But this one… this one never existed. Not here."
He had already searched online, triple-checking databases, forums, and streaming platforms. *La La Land* didn't exist in this world. And if no one had made it, then it was fair game—so long as he brought something of his own into it.
His version would have different actors, a unique score, and even some cultural context changes. But the heart of it—the dreams, the beauty, the melancholy—would remain intact.
He looked out the window.
"This time," he whispered, "I'll be the one to bring the stars to life."
---
Unbeknownst to him, far across the sea, in an office lined with film reels and awards, an international festival organizer stared at his computer screen.
The short film *Voicemail* was playing. The man leaned forward, captivated.
He clicked on the profile of the creators.
"Adrian Rivera… Jom Alvarado… Kai Martinez," he read aloud.
He turned to his assistant. "Get in touch with them. I want this film at our next festival."
The assistant nodded, wide-eyed. "Right away, sir."
And just like that, another door began to open.(End chapter)