• If I give examples, editors and readers will throw a fit and this book will get Then


  

  again… with all the crap in here already, it’s a miracle we’re still on the shelf. Whatever. Just don’t drag me down that rabbit hole, okay?

  This is lowbrow entertainment, not a TED talk. Don’t drag me into your precious morality arc.

  

  
• What are you talking about? Who are you even talking to? I don’t get you. — Flora squinted, genuinely concerned for Copy’s mental health.


  
• Eh, just breaking the fourth Old trick, I know — but sometimes it works. Anyway, whatever. Did I answer your question?


  
• No! — Flora reloaded, voice — How can you diss the idea of equality... when you’re a woman?! Don’t you feel ashamed?


  
• First and foremost, I am a And we’re talking strictly about cinema here. — Copy’s voice turned ice- cold. She splashed some water on Flora’s shirt. — And unlike a pathetic amateur like you, I actually know what the hell I’m doing.


  

  This whole production’s still running for one reason only. — She pointed toward Evelyn with her camera gear slung over one shoulder, at Manu fiddling with the gate’s pulley system, at Peyota dancing a chaotic C- Walk while quoting Somerset Maugham and kicking sand at people like some philosophical tornado. — You managed to assemble the most deranged- yet- spiritually- rich crew of weirdos the universe had to offer. And, apparently, you’ve got a knack for talent scouting.

  You’ve got an eye for characters.

  

  
• No .. — something fluttered in Flora’s chest. — Was that... a compliment? Your first one?


  

  

  
• Don’t count on a — Copy half- smirked and silence fell.


  

  Right after that, Flora’s phone rang. She lifted it to her ear and heard Lorenzo’s enthusiastic voice. He was wondering where the love of his life had gone and why she wasn’t picking up — they were already back home.

  Indeed, the phone showed several missed calls, and Flora apologized for missing them amidst the chaos of shooting. When Lorenzo found out the film was already in production, he nearly exploded with joy and insisted on coming over. Flora tried to talk him out of it — told him he’d just flown in and had to be tired — but it was useless. She sent him the GPS coordinates and ended the call.

  The cast just kept growing.

  The gates to the underworld creaked open, and Manu courteously informed the group that he was welcoming them into his humble art- laboratory (as he called it). Peyota was the first to charge in, practically shoving the host aside, and her voice rang out with delight:

  

  
• Gawd DAYUM, what tha fuck? Y’all gotta get in here — this shit’s bananas!!


  

  The rest of the crew barreled in behind her, curiosity fully lit — and yeah, it was absolutely worth it.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Beneath the cavern’s towering arches lay a true treasure — either unearthed or, more likely, handcrafted by Manu himself. The cave, a wild natural formation, looked untouched by human hands — and Manu had done his best to preserve that primal vibe. Still, he’d packed it with all kinds of workbenches, rigs, and tools.

  Scattered around were instruments, empty barrels, and, yep — an actual medieval guillotine, thankfully pristine and bloodless.

  

  
• Did you scrub off all the blood? — Evelyn asked with a


  

  Manu waved her off like it was nothing but a decor piece — and gestured toward what really deserved their attention. And he was right.

  In the very center of the cave stood a pirate ship. Or, well, the skeletal beginning of one.

  It wasn’t much yet — just the frame and a sad cloth flag with a painted Jolly Roger flapping lazily. But still, it was something. Everyone lit up, firing off questions at the Hawaiian craftsman, who answered each one in his usual measured, professorial tone.

  

  
• You’re absolutely correct. These are all replicas of historical objects, which I construct here in my Sadly, I don’t work on them as often as I’d like. My... former profession still weighs heavily on me, and I find it difficult to focus on hobbies that I truly enjoy.


  

  

  
• Poor — Vanna gently stroked his arm. He gave her a warm nod:


  

  

  
• Thank you. But I This art therapy helps me cope with stress. And who knows — maybe one day I’ll figure out what to do with all the finished pieces, once the collection gets large enough.


  
• You should open a museum, Manu. — Flora rarely gave advice — she always felt it wasn’t her place to meddle in other people’s But this one slipped out before she could stop herself. Manu turned to her with a mix of surprise and genuine joy in his eyes.


  
• .. you’re right. You’re absolutely right! It’s such an obvious solution — and yet it never crossed my mind. I just kept imagining I’d leave it all as- is, and one day, when I knew it was time to go... I’d simply disappear. Leave it as a time capsule for future generations. But this... this way, I could actually bring joy to children and their parents. Real historical immersion.


  

  

  
• That’s some straight bullshit, man. Stop cryin’ on You got mad skills — crank out some heavy artillery and we’ll hit a few juicy spots. — Peyota offered her professional opinion while pointing a finger- gun at him and making a loud pop sound.


  

  

  
• Or finish the damn ship and we’ll sail the fuck outta here, only robbing pirate ships off Somalia


  
• imagine the cognitive dissonance, baby! (Damn, how do I even know that word?) Plus, we’ll flirt with mermaids and look for their G- spots in the tails! — Campus shouted, already perched on deck with his ventriloquist riding shotgun, preaching like an unhinged ocean prophet.


  

  Manu gave a soft chuckle and gently dismissed their - tempting- ideas.

  

  
• No need to be so radical, my For now, let’s head over to that big ol’ beechwood table and discuss the next scene of the film. I’m sure our director has much to share.


  

  Avoiding the curious gazes aimed at her, Flora was the first to shuffle over to the massive, elongated table resting in the cave’s corner. It looked like something out of an epic fantasy saga — easily worthy of King Arthur’s Round Table, if only it weren’t... well, long.

  The chairs around it matched the same medieval- chic vibe, ornate and carved like museum pieces. The crew settled in happily, chatting and giggling — the setting was perfect.

  Except... their stomachs were growling like wild animals.

  Manu bolted toward the far end of his mystical workshop, chased by Campus’s voice echoing after him:

  

  
• And don’t forget the booze!


  

  

  
• This ain’t a — Evelyn snorted, gratefully accepting a basket from their host, who was lugging food supplies to the table. Each one contained canned goods, frozen fruit in jars, plastic forks, and a couple cans of beer.


  
• This is it? — Copy asked, eyeing the feast. — Then again, it’s not about the food — it’s about the presentation. And this Manu- lair is... sufficiently intriguing.


  

  Not everyone agreed. Peyota loudly protested:

  

  
• Man, if I knew this party gon’ be this weak, I woulda stayed my ass


  

  But her complaints were cut off by a voice — deep, disembodied, and riding the breeze like a haunted whisper of autumn.

  It was the Costume.