Laila looked at him, and a quiet trace of a smile rose in her eyes.
Of course, she hadn't seriously considered modifying the script in those ridiculous ways.
She had only been joking to help him forget his earlier unhappiness.
She didn't know exactly what had upset him after he came back, but she knew she liked his sunny, cheerful side the best.
So she used the script to divert his attention, keeping him too busy to dwell on the bad memories.
Still, she thought maybe she should find out what exactly had happened.
As for who to ask — she already had a clear target in mind.
The next day, while Roy left the room to contact Dong-ge and the others, Laila made her way to Flander's residence.
This entire mountain, along with the large slum area below, was Martin's turf — his direct base for training his loyal men.
The locals all relied on him for their livelihoods, making their loyalty extremely high.
This was why Martin didn't bother to heavily guard Laila and Roy — he simply wasn't worried about them escaping.
Although they seemed free to move around, any sign of an escape attempt would immediately draw countless eyes watching their every move, reporting back to Martin.
Before they could even run far, they would already be surrounded.
Roy had realized this when he first arrived, which was why he never considered trying to rescue Laila alone.
As for Laila, she wasn't going to gamble their lives — there was food, water, and even a script; it was smarter to wait for a rescue.
Besides, she knew her grandfather would never give up on her.
When she arrived at Flander's door, she found him looking as impeccable as ever — dressed like someone ready to walk into a major corporation at any moment.
If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you'd never guess he was working as a strategist for someone like Martin.
"Is there something you need, Director Moran?" he asked, not at all surprised to see her.
"Won't you invite me in?"
Laila smiled sweetly at him, her icy-blue eyes seemingly able to peer into one's soul — enough to make anyone instinctively look away.
Flander did the same, immediately realizing his mistake.
When he looked back, he saw a faint, meaningful smile on her face.
Annoyed with himself, he mentally scolded his slip.
He had known from the start that Laila wasn't simple — but today he finally realized just how not simple she was.
Since being brought here, she had behaved obediently, complying with almost everything Martin asked.
Yet if you recalled her words carefully, she hadn't done a single useful thing for Martin.
And still, no one could find any fault with her.
She agreed to shoot a movie — but only if they found her a suitable script.
Once they did, she demanded filming equipment, famous actors, and so on…
Even if they fulfilled all that, Flander knew she would continue to find new demands.
Meanwhile, Martin remained lost in his dream of lying back and collecting hundreds of millions through movies.
Flander had once wondered whether this female director would ever come looking for him.
Most of the time, he had dismissed the idea — he thought she might not understand the stakes, or simply lacked the nerve.
Reality proved him wrong — it hadn't taken long at all for her to show up.
Now, he was curious:
Did she know something?
Or had Roy's arrival given her the courage?
Either way, losing the initiative right at the start left him very frustrated.
Why had he instinctively dodged her gaze?
Now he had lost the upper hand and needed to find a way to take it back.
"Please, come in," he said, opening the door wide.
Laila walked in without hesitation, surveying the room as she entered.
The decor was simple — mostly pale whites and dark greys, with only the bookshelves adding a splash of color.
No one expected stylish decoration in such a place, but Laila, with her past life experience in psychology — essential for scriptwriting, directing, and coaching actors — instantly read the room's meaning.
The impression it gave was: "In this lonely world, I exist alone."
She understood it well.
Reborn into this world as a down-and-out director — different face, different language, different nationality, even different family — she had long harbored the same feeling.
She couldn't fully integrate; she lived as an outsider, a bystander.
It was a terrifying feeling, like death could come at any moment without stirring a ripple.
That was why she could smile through things that would have broken others — because, deep down, she didn't see this world as truly her own.
Many mistook her composure for elegance, thinking she was a naturally poised, noble lady.
In truth, she simply didn't care about "outsiders."
It wasn't strange for her to feel this way — but why did Flander seem to carry the same feeling?
She didn't believe he was reborn too — after all, who would choose to be a strategist for a bandit leader?
With his intelligence, he could have done so much more in a bigger world.
"What do you want?" Flander asked expressionlessly.
Without waiting for an invitation, Laila chose a seat directly opposite him and sat down.
"What did Roy and Martin talk about yesterday?" she asked calmly.
"Why should I tell you?"
For the first time, Flander's face showed a trace of mockery.
"Have you forgotten where you are?
You're no longer the all-powerful director, nor the acting CEO of the Moran Group."
Laila raised an eyebrow, unsurprised he knew about her former corporate position.
"You know," she said lightly,
"From the moment I first met you, I knew you were very, very smart."