November 13.
The feeling from the first Star Wars movie was still alive—fans bought every tape, from the standard edition to the special edition colorized by Billy. It was a different way of making films, with every detail carefully crafted and cherished by Billy, who poured his love for artistic composition into the project. He devoted himself to creating great works of art that spoke for themselves.
George was already thinking about his next film, Attack of the Clones. The first thing he asked of Billy was to shave off his beard completely—no trace of facial hair—and to change his hairstyle to something more youthful. Meanwhile, another actor, sporting a thick beard and long hair, would take on a contrasting role, his features accentuated with heavy makeup.
–I'm not that picky, but you look like an adult.– George said, eyeing Billy's outfit.
–It's no big deal... I just hope it's worth it.– replied Billy, who at the time was juggling a variety of roles—some much younger, others significantly older. He always seemed to miss the mark. In this role, he was supposed to be two years younger than he looked, and older than the actress who was meant to be several years his senior... the opposite of when she played the role of a queen at her real age. She wasn't quite as good an actress as she had been years ago, but Spielberg's magic in bringing characters to life always hit the right notes.
–C'mon, you wrote the script yourself. I have faith in this... we've invested so much in all of it.– Lucas said, brushing off Billy's doubts.
–But not the money. We need at least $300 million in box office revenue just to break even. Everything else is just a forgotten notion—we're deep in the red.– Billy pointed out, though he knew it wasn't true. His calculations had long since moved past the breakeven point. The expenses had been absorbed months ago. It was an expensive venture, but one that would pay off in the upcoming films.
–There are still two more movies to go—they'll hit even harder than the first, I'm sure of it. This one has more action, and I've thrown in some slower transitions. Plus, Pixar delivering the promised animated series by the end of the year helps.– Lucas replied.
–They will, they will... Pixar's been growing at an unstoppable pace. Recently, they developed new explosion software and other special effects. When they go into full production, it'll be a marvel.– said Billy. The software was an early version of what would one day be considered top-tier special effects. It was a masterpiece, using cutting-edge 3D technology and segment layering to blend into the film. It was expensive... slow... but worth every frame. Each one was painted with a mouse, and the samples exceeded expectations. Now all they had to do was wait until better technology arrived. For the moment, they were relying on a near-military-grade supercomputer that could process data in seconds—something from the future, embedded in mega servers. It was the clearest path forward.
–It's good doing business with you.– Lucas said.
–The best is yet to come.– Billy replied, flipping through scripts for upcoming series. He would use every Star Wars character to build massive shows. By 2006, they'd released Episode Three: Part One, followed the next year by Episode Three: Part Two.
Over the next ten years, they would fully explore the Clone Wars and reimagine the birth of the characters, from animated features, miniseries, series, spin-offs, and animated films... an ambitious project that would define the decade—until the eventual pause and then revival with episodes seven to nine, along with miniseries about a young Han Solo. But everything hinged on one thing:
That the project be crafted with meticulous care. Billy had the future at his fingertips. George had imagination within reach and a legacy as a producer. If they could, with help from others like Steven Spielberg, pull off what seemed impossible, they'd set a new standard, one so high it would slip under the radar.
–I wish I could open your head—someday I'll find out what's in there. But I fear by then I'll be too old... and maybe a little jealous.– The words were calm, though laced with a touch of envy. Perhaps jealousy... but George was more a businessman than an idealist. He always observed closely what served best and adapted quickly. Always with money in his pocket—a quality many envied.
–It's nothing... you're just imagining things. I'm just curious to see the movie finish. I had the pleasure of seeing the first one on VHS, but I wish I could've seen it on the big screen. There's something nostalgic about Star Wars that even as an actor, you carry close to your heart.– the young man said, stirring his coffee, quietly waiting for filming to begin—maybe even hoping to skip ahead in time and see himself there.
–Award season's coming up soon. I hope you'll keep this period discreet—we don't want to ruffle any feathers among the more finicky members.– Lucas replied.
Volume 32 of Real wrapped up what could truly be called the first arc of a major series, covering the first five volumes. Each book contained 50 to 60 pages and would later be compiled into three omnibuses, nearly 900 pages each.
It told the story of a troubled young man, Afro. His demeanor was rough, aggressive... but he fell for a woman who, because of him, ended up in a wheelchair. That moment changed him. He realized just how wrong he had been. Billy didn't just capture the emotion of love—he also brought in a different, deeper tone: the tragedy of regret. Nomiya, considered a thug, a criminal, a man with no future, hit rock bottom.
When he did, even cigarettes and alcohol became meaningless habits. The story turned heartbreakingly somber, infecting readers with a profound sense of loneliness.
The desire to change, to move forward, with a heart trying to forget the past and turn to hope... but that past haunts him again and again. He hits bottom, truly, when he finally understands the words of his elders and realizes the mistakes he once thought were triumphs.
This series made waves across the U.S.—the best-selling comic series in history, surpassing Superman, Batman, and the X-Men, with 10 to 13 million readers per issue. The artwork was top-tier—what others could only dream of creating. Countless companies wanted to make a film or series out of it. Offers poured in. But Real was simply the reigning champion.
With 343 million copies sold, Billy decided to take a break in December, while launching new series that were already fresh in his mind and ready to debut. A much-anticipated Digimon mini-series of 30 chapters, a 10-part run of The Boys, Eyeshield 21, and Naruto—at least the first three arcs.
He submitted drafts for Monsters, Inc., Madagascar, Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Happy Feet, Meet the Robinsons, and Cars. Each series or film took no more than three days to produce. Nothing compared to Real, which consumed six hours a day, thirty hours a week, just to complete a volume, without color.
Then came the colorists—three of them—a letterer, a proofreader, all polishing the work to perfection. The extra three days... so much time... too much. Time that could be used to push ahead on dozens of other projects that now seemed more urgent.
One Piece took only a quarter of that time. And he even had time to do the coloring himself. All he had to do was write and draw it however he pleased.
...
–Nominated for twelve categories.– Anne whispered beside Billy. They were in bed, wrapped in each other's arms. Anne had longed for this moment with such intensity that she forgot everything else—everything but closeness-as she gave in to the warmth and silkiness of desire.
–I love this series for everything it represents to the company.– Anne said. She couldn't stop feeling how deliciously she was being taken. She clung to Billy, wanting it to be all toaster.
She curled her legs around him, not wanting to let go. She loved being held like that, craving his lips, kissing him deeply. Was it wrong? It was. But she didn't care. Her reason faded with his words. To feel that adoration... it was the way to make something so filthy feel so perfect.
Later, lying in bed, she curled up with a little peace.
–Have you thought about the consequences of stopping?– Anne asked.
–I have. But honestly, I want to move on to other series and then come back to it. People already have plenty to read. It gives them time to catch up. More time for sales. More time for purchases.– Billy answered, climbing on top of her, gripping her from behind as he pulled her hair and pressed their bodies together.
–I'm going to be late for the meeting.– Anne whispered.
Sin, when a relationship is born from prohibition, there's something almost supernatural about it—a spark of madness, of crossing lines. Something intoxicating. Power complicates everything, blending decisions with difficult shades and blurring limits.
Billy bit her shoulder hard as he pulled her tighter against him. She pressed her chest to his.
–I'll finish in your mouth.–
Anne didn't think. She just obeyed every word.
...