321-325

Chapter 321: Harvest

Thanks to Takayama’s series of actions before his death, the World Evolution Rate saw a significant increase. Even for Allen, an increase of more than ten percentage points was no small number.

After all, even two Japanese cabinet ministers had died, and the original prime minister had been so terrified that he resigned immediately.

The entire Japanese political scene experienced a major upheaval due to the script.

With such a massive impact, it was only natural that the World Evolution Rate would rise accordingly.

Of course, looking at it from another perspective, if all this effort only raised the World Evolution Rate by about ten percent, then Allen still had a long way to go before reaching one hundred percent.

Shifting his attention away from the World Evolution Rate, Allen quickly focused on the newly available exchangeable items in the system’s backend.

Unlike the previous script, The Circus is Coming, which featured a variety of rewards, this time, most of the items from Kaidan were tools.

Allen speculated that this was related to the nature of the script.

In Kaidan, most of the story development did not revolve around a single protagonist but was instead driven by various supernatural urban legends—such as the time capsule of Keiko, the red thread, and the headless statue.

This approach not only suited Japan’s cultural setting but also reflected Allen’s original intention—not to create a heroic character like Spike or Lin Jiuying to save the day.

In Kaidan, the true protagonists were the eerie and unpredictable ghost stories themselves.

Even Sakai, who seemed to be the “main character,” ultimately perished, turning into a Jibakusha (a bound spirit) as a result of Takayama’s vengeance.

Allen believed this ending aligned perfectly with Japan’s native horror aesthetics.

Of course, even if others disagreed, there was nothing they could do about it—after all, he was the one who wrote the script.

As the creator, why would he let the characters dictate the story? The creator’s will was absolute.

Pulling himself back from his wandering thoughts, Allen’s gaze landed on the Random Evolution Land Card in the system.

He was no stranger to this item.

Previously, he had exchanged for a Random Evolution Land Card, which led him to London.

However, the current Random Evolution Land Card was significantly more expensive than before. Allen wasn’t sure if this was some sort of manipulation by the system.

Despite his deteriorating condition, the system showed no mercy when it came to extracting Plot Points from him.

With a skeptical look, Allen glanced at the shattered and barely functioning system interface before shifting his focus to the first item from Kaidan: Landline Telephone.

This item appeared frequently in the script, and each time, it signaled a major plot twist.

Among all the phones in the story, the most unforgettable one was the telephone held by Keiko when she was unearthed from the time capsule.

Although Allen had already described this scene in detail within the script, watching it play out through the system’s display still left him deeply shaken.

According to the system’s description, the Landline Telephone seemed to possess an unusual ability.

The reference to an “unknown space-time” in its description left Allen uncertain about its true nature.

In Kaidan, Keiko used the phone from the time capsule to contact her classmates who attended the reunion. If he dialed the number, who would he be connected to?

With this thought in mind, Allen turned his attention to the next item—Red Thread.

Unlike the vague description of the Landline Telephone, the details of the Red Thread were much clearer.

The Red Thread was, of course, inspired by the mythical red string of fate from folklore.

However, after undergoing script evolution, this Red Thread had become something far more sinister.

Gone was the romantic notion of soulmates being bound together across distances. Instead, it now represented an unbreakable, inescapable fate.

In the script, Kojima attempted to cut the Red Thread, only to be consumed by the severed strands, transforming into a monstrous entity.

Now that the Red Thread had appeared in the exchangeable items list, it had become a strange and unpredictable object—especially since it involved concepts of fate.

If used wisely, it could be an exceptional tool. But if mishandled, one could end up sharing Kojima’s grim fate.

Recalling Kojima’s terrifying final form, Allen decisively shifted his gaze away from the Red Thread.

If the first two items had effects that were difficult to control, then the Will was probably the simplest of them all.

Once a name was written in the Will, the recipient of the will would soon experience the same fate as Endo and Shimada in Kaidan.

In a way, this was akin to a simplified version of Death Note, controlled entirely by Allen. Without the need for elaborate planning or even lifting a finger, the Will would take care of everything.

Not bad.

Raising an eyebrow, Allen nodded in approval. The Will provided him with another method of self-preservation.

The only question was: who would be the unlucky target?

Skipping past the item exchange list, he finally arrived at a particularly significant item.

The Horicawa Municipal High School scene card.

Originally, Allen expected this card to be no more than Bronze rank.

However, the system surprised him.

The Horicawa Municipal High School scene card was ranked Silver—Allen’s second Silver-level scene card after The Spirit Realm.

He speculated that the system assigned Horicawa Municipal High School such a high ranking due to the extensive lore he had built around it in Kaidan.

The school served as the origin point of the entire supernatural story, significantly boosting its potential value.

After all, aside from Takayama’s unexpected fate, the events of Kaidan unfolded primarily in Kyoto.

However, this didn’t mean that future scripts wouldn’t introduce new ghost stories elsewhere in Japan.

Indeed, Kaidan had just concluded.

But with the Horicawa Municipal High School card appearing in the exchange list, it was clear that its influence was far from over.

After all, a place called Horicawa Municipal High School couldn’t just be relocated to the United States for evolution.

These kinds of Japanese horror stories were best suited to their homeland.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 322: Recommendation

Aside from the Municipal Horikawa High School card, the second Silver card in the exchange list, Keiko, was also far from ordinary.

Originally, in Allen's script design, Keiko might not have been at the Silver level, but due to a series of actions taken after Takayama, he was forced to adjust the script accordingly. To maintain Keiko’s character setting, he had no choice but to consume plot points to revise the script, making an already powerful urban legend even more eerie and unpredictable.

In the Horror Stories script, Keiko was not an independent entity but more like a rule-based curse.

This explains why, while the Cabinet faced a life-threatening situation, Sakai was still able to contact Keiko over the phone.

Of course, in a way, this was an intentional flaw left by Allen. Keiko was already so powerful within the curse mechanics that even the system classified her as a Silver card.

A card of this level, theoretically speaking, meant that even if Sai Gong received the call, while he might not die directly from the curse, he would still suffer greatly.

Thus, exploiting loopholes in the rules became the only way to counter Keiko’s curse and survive.

In fact, not just Keiko, but other urban legends—including Red Thread, Suicide Note, and even Earthbound Spirit—all followed specific rules. As long as one could figure out the pattern, even an ordinary person could navigate through danger and survive.

This design was implemented to prevent any one urban legend from becoming overwhelmingly powerful, which could lead to total annihilation within the Japan setting.

After all, sustainable development was the best way to earn plot points.

Allen examined the exchange list and fell into deep thought.

The Horror Stories script contained many items, but most were tied to curses.

They were undeniably powerful, but they held little practical use in daily life.

At the moment, Allen was quite satisfied with his standard of living.

As a renowned Hollywood director, he was beginning to experience the many conveniences that fame and fortune brought.

In a capitalist society like America, once you have money, many problems cease to be problems.

After some consideration, Allen decided not to exchange for the seemingly powerful curse-related items from Horror Stories. Instead, he chose what appeared to be the simplest option—Random Evolution Card.

Spending 30,000 plot points would have made Allen hesitate in the past.

However, now, it barely made him blink.

"Ding! Would you like to use the Random Evolution Card?"

Faced with the system’s crookedly displayed prompt, Allen didn’t hesitate and confirmed his decision immediately.

As soon as he made his choice, the Random Evolution Card transformed into a massive map within the system. A red dot began moving across it. Just as it was about to land on an indescribable eastern country, it suddenly veered at the last moment, seemingly using its last bit of strength, and landed on an axe-shaped icon.

"Thailand, Bangkok?"

Seeing the final location determined by the Random Evolution Card, Allen let out a sigh of relief.

To be honest, for a split second, he thought the card was going to select the one country he had been meticulously avoiding. Fortunately, it was just a false alarm.

Although he had dodged the worst-case scenario, Allen still frowned slightly while looking at the system’s display.

He didn’t know much about Thailand—only that it was a Buddhist-majority country famous for its kathoey (ladyboys).

But these two facts alone were hardly enough for him to craft a well-localized Thai script.

Thankfully, the Random Evolution Card wasn’t a locked selection; it merely provided an evolution location. This meant Allen had plenty of time to brainstorm ideas for a Thailand-based script. In fact, he could even ignore it entirely and work on other projects, only returning to this one when he felt ready.

With that thought, Allen shelved the idea for now and decided to take a break.

The Horror Stories script had consumed far more time and energy than he had expected.

Now that it was finally wrapped up, he deserved some well-earned rest.

"Hey, Allen! Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in a while!"

Hawaii.

On a beach with clear blue skies and turquoise waters, Allen was basking in the sun and enjoying a leisurely break when he received a call from James Wan, all the way from Los Angeles.

"Hawaii. I’m on vacation."

Under a beach umbrella, Allen shifted his body, revealing his well-defined muscles, which caught the attention of many nearby beachgoers. But he paid them no mind and continued speaking with James Wan on the other end of the line.

"Man, you’re living the dream."

Hearing that Allen was soaking up the sun in Hawaii while he was stuck in a Los Angeles studio, tirelessly editing his new film, James Wan couldn’t help but feel a tinge of envy.

"If you want, you could hop on a plane and be here the same day. In fact, I already booked a restaurant for tonight—I wouldn’t mind having an extra guest…"

After all, James Wan was a well-established name in Hollywood. The success of the Saw series and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre had cemented his status as a top-tier horror director.

"Nah, I’ll pass."

Although James Wan was tempted by the invitation, he ultimately shook his head and declined with great reluctance.

"I’m right in the middle of editing my new film, and this is a critical stage."

Between spending days cooped up in an editing room and basking on a Hawaiian beach, the choice was obvious. If not for the importance of his project, he would have already booked his flight.

"Alright then."

Allen wasn’t particularly concerned about James Wan’s decision.

It was just a casual invitation—whether James Wan accepted or not had no impact on his vacation plans.

"By the way, Allen…"

James Wan’s tone shifted slightly, hesitating before continuing.

"I heard you turned down Universal’s offer to direct the Fast & Furious franchise… and that you recommended me as your replacement."

Clearly, James Wan hadn’t called just to check in on Allen’s vacation.

Not long ago, he had received an offer from Universal to direct the next installment of the Fast & Furious series.

After digging a little deeper, he discovered that he wasn’t Universal’s first choice.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 323: Oscar Nomination*

"Oh, you mean that?"

Hearing the movie title from James Wan's mouth, Allen raised an eyebrow beneath his sunglasses.

"Universal did approach me about it, asking if I was interested in taking over Fast & Furious."

As one of Universal's most well-known franchises, Fast & Furious had already released four films, with the fifth installment set to hit theaters next year.

As a pure popcorn movie, Fast & Furious had a straightforward plot, with its core appeal centered around high-speed car chases.

Perhaps it was this simplicity that allowed the franchise to last far beyond what most would expect. Although, as far as Allen knew, the series had only reached its fifth installment at that time, it would continue for many more years—even if the plots became increasingly outlandish.

In the end, the franchise produced more than ten films.

Even most American TV shows didn't manage to have as many sequels as Fast & Furious.

This was proof of how much Americans loved car racing movies.

Of course, popularity was one thing, but Allen had little personal interest in directing a Fast & Furious film.

After all, he wasn’t just any ordinary director. His Hollywood career was more of a cover, a way to blend into reality through various scripted scenarios.

So while he might continue writing scripts and making films he wanted, he had far more choices than others.

"That said, I wasn’t particularly interested in Fast & Furious, so I turned down Universal’s offer and recommended you instead."

After all, back when James Wan was directing The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, he had helped Allen. If not for the success of that film, Allen might never have unlocked his system and could very well have ended up homeless.

Moreover, in the original timeline, a few of the later Fast & Furious films were indeed directed by James Wan. Allen was simply returning the favor, handing Universal's offer to James Wan as a gesture of goodwill.

"Regardless, thank you, Allen."

To Allen, it was merely a small, casual gesture.

With his current reputation in Hollywood, he didn’t need Fast & Furious to guarantee box office success.

But for James Wan, it was a different story.

Though he had gained considerable fame through a series of successful horror films, horror was still a niche genre—not mainstream in commercial filmmaking.

For him, an offer to direct Fast & Furious was a critical opportunity.

If he took over the franchise and achieved success, it would mean successfully transitioning from a horror director to a commercial filmmaker.

That would open countless doors for his future career.

"You don’t need to thank me, James."

Calling him by his English name, Allen could hear the gratitude in his voice.

"Honestly, even without my recommendation, I believe Universal would have chosen you to direct Fast & Furious sooner or later."

Allen was simply stating what he knew as fact, but James Wan clearly didn't see it that way.

After expressing his gratitude, James Wan shifted the conversation to the upcoming Academy Awards.

From the list of nominees announced this year, Allen's film Heroes Unleashed had received several nominations.

"So, Allen, what do you think about the Oscars?"

James Wan’s voice carried a clear sense of aspiration.

At the same time, he knew that superhero films had never been popular at the Oscars.

The Academy Awards were ultimately a game of dividing the pie—who got a slice and who went home empty-handed depended on their influence and PR efforts. In this battle for recognition, everything was a tool.

Take Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, for example. If it hadn’t been for Heath Ledger’s tragic passing, winning an Oscar wouldn’t have been so easy.

Of course, there were alternative paths to winning—by waving the flag of political correctness. As long as a film checked the right diversity boxes, the Academy would yield, even if the story was mediocre. After all, no one wanted to be accused of racism. While Black filmmakers might not always make great films, they made sure their voices were loud enough to be heard.

Unfortunately, Heroes Unleashed fit neither of these criteria.

A superhero movie shot in a "found footage" style?

It was already a miracle that Universal had managed to secure even a nomination. Without their lobbying efforts, Heroes Unleashed probably wouldn’t have even made the list.

Universal had already made their stance clear to Allen—they were pushing hard for Best Adapted Screenplay. If Heroes Unleashed managed to win, it would significantly boost its overseas distribution and DVD sales.

Film studios were never charitable organizations.

They cared about the Oscars because the award’s prestige meant more money.

Actors who won Oscars also saw their market value skyrocket.

That’s why the Oscars had always been a battleground for PR campaigns.

"I’d love to win, but realistically, the chances aren’t great," Allen admitted over the phone.

However, in truth, he didn’t care about the Oscars as much as most people did.

Hollywood directors, actors, and studios valued the Oscars because of the benefits they provided.

But for Allen, even if he somehow won every single Oscar in one night, it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

After all, his system didn’t care about golden statues.

With or without the Academy’s recognition, his box office earnings were already impressive enough.

Of course, if he did win an Oscar, he wouldn’t refuse it.

In fact, using an Oscar statue as *"material"* to fuel his script evolution sounded like an interesting experiment.

"Regardless, just being nominated for an Oscar is already an incredible achievement."

"Hollywood releases four to five hundred films a year, and only a handful make it to the Oscars."

Unaware of Allen’s true thoughts, James Wan tried to offer some words of encouragement.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 324: The Awards Ceremony*

March in Los Angeles brings pleasant weather.

The lingering rainy season of February had finally begun to clear, making way for the upcoming Oscars without any disruptions.

Due to traffic restrictions, Allen had no choice but to walk to the Kodak Theatre.

As the ceremony's opening drew near, the crowds on the Hollywood Walk of Fame became increasingly dense. Fans from around the world gathered, eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite stars on their way to the Oscars.

Along the way, Allen encountered several fans who recognized him and greeted him.

As a screenwriter and director, his popularity wasn’t as instantly recognizable as that of movie stars. However, thanks to extensive film promotions—especially his appearances on talk shows—he had at least managed to become a familiar face among moviegoers.

Navigating through the throngs of people, Allen finally arrived at the venue for this year’s Academy Awards—the Kodak Theatre.

Since the 75th Academy Awards in 2002, the Kodak Theatre had become the Oscars' first permanent venue.

Built in 2001, the Kodak Theatre was chosen as the Academy Awards' official home the following year. Eastman Kodak invested a significant sum to secure the naming rights for 20 years, theoretically ensuring that the Oscars would be held there until 2023.

However, in an unfortunate turn of events, just a year or two after this Oscars ceremony, Kodak would file for bankruptcy due to poor financial management. Naturally, they could no longer afford to pay for the expensive naming rights.

Of course, at this moment, Kodak had yet to foresee the financial crisis that awaited them.

For now, the company still basked in the prestige of hosting Hollywood’s biggest night, making the Kodak Theatre the epicenter of American cinema.

As the crowds surged forward, Allen drew closer to the theater.

The Oscars' atmosphere was palpable, with golden statuettes and Academy Awards posters adorning every corner, reminding everyone that tonight was the grandest night in Hollywood.

Then, Allen caught sight of the towering golden Oscar statue standing at the theater’s entrance.

As he gazed up at this iconic figure, the surrounding crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

For most movie fans, this place was nothing short of sacred.

At the theater's main entrance, the red carpet had long since been rolled out, flanked by eager spectators and reporters.

Although Allen wasn’t as emotionally invested in the Oscars as the passionate fans around him, standing at the heart of the global film industry still stirred something within him.

He wondered—what if reality suddenly transformed into a screenplay at this moment?

That fleeting thought sparked his imagination: if the magic of cinema clashed with reality on Oscar night, what kind of story would unfold?

And what about the dazzling stars walking the red carpet? If they were suddenly faced with supernatural forces, could they still maintain their effortless grace in front of the cameras?

Fortunately, such a mischievous twist from a behind-the-scenes force didn’t actually happen.

Allen, who had been vacationing in Hawaii for the past few months, hadn’t written any screenplay involving the Oscars.

As these musings played out in his mind, his attention was drawn to the red carpet, where one of the nominees for Best Actor, Morgan Freeman, was being interviewed by red carpet host Kathy Ireland.

"Morgan, as one of this year’s Best Actor nominees, do you have anything to say about your competition?"

Dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt, Morgan Freeman responded with his signature deep, velvety voice and a warm smile, "I just do my best—the rest is up to the Academy voters to worry about."

As a seasoned Oscars veteran, Morgan Freeman was well aware of how the awards process worked. He also knew that his chances of winning Best Actor this year were slim. In fact, he had already given up on lobbying for votes. Of course, outwardly, he still maintained an expression of anticipation.

As an outstanding actor, Morgan Freeman was undeniably captivating.

At least, Kathy Ireland, standing in front of him, failed to pick up on any deeper subtext in his words. She simply offered her best wishes with enthusiasm.

"Thank you for the interview, Morgan! Wishing you the best of luck at the Oscars once again!"

"Thank you for your kind words."

After graciously accepting the host's well-wishes, Morgan Freeman turned and headed toward the Kodak Theatre’s entrance, cameras flashing around him.

As he walked, his gaze briefly landed on Allen. He paused for a moment and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment to the rising Hollywood director and screenwriter.

Allen returned the nod politely.

In the years to come, Morgan Freeman would be embroiled in sexual misconduct allegations, leading to public controversy. However, these accusations didn’t seem to significantly impact his career. As Allen recalled, Freeman resumed acting shortly after the scandal broke, continuing to appear in films.

The scandal may have slightly damaged his carefully maintained public image, but it did not shake his standing in Hollywood.

With that thought, Allen shifted his attention back to the flashing cameras around him as he stepped onto the red carpet and entered the media photo zone.

After the photographers finished capturing their shots, Kathy Ireland approached him for an interview.

"Hey, Allen! This is your first time at the Oscars—how does it feel?"

"Exciting," Allen replied.

As someone who had witnessed far grander spectacles in his creative career, the Oscars barely stirred any real emotion in him.

However, on the surface, he still maintained an enthusiastic expression, responding appropriately for the cameras.

"This year, you’ve received three Oscar nominations. Any thoughts on that?"

"It’s a great honor and a recognition from the Academy," Allen replied smoothly.

In reality, when the Oscar nominations were announced, Allen had still been on vacation in Hawaii.

Universal Pictures had handled all the film’s publicity efforts. If they hadn’t pressured him, he probably wouldn’t have cut his vacation short to fly to Los Angeles for the ceremony.

Of course, that was just his personal sentiment.

On camera, he maintained the demeanor of a proper nominee.

"Being part of this global celebration of cinema, alongside so many incredible talents, is truly an unforgettable experience…"

"Well, I hope tonight’s Oscars bring you a fantastic experience," Kathy Ireland said with a smile.

As she spoke, her attention shifted to George Clooney, who had just stepped onto the red carpet. Wasting no time, she quickly wrapped up the interview and turned to greet him.

---

Chapter 325: Winning an Award

After finishing the red carpet interviews, Allen followed the guidance of the Oscars staff and entered the theater.

Since Heroes Unleashed had been nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay, the Oscars had arranged for Allen to be seated near Neill Blomkamp of District 9 and Nick Hornby of An Education. These individuals, like Allen, were writer-directors with experience in both screenwriting and filmmaking.

However, when facing Allen, their expressions were somewhat uneasy. Although they were also writer-directors, they were nowhere near his level in terms of commercial success.

Allen was a well-known dark horse in Hollywood, and not just because of a single hit—every one of his films had achieved astonishing box office numbers.

Any movie he directed could easily surpass the combined earnings of the others seated nearby.

Fortunately, the Oscars did not favor commercial films. On the contrary, the more successful a film was at the box office, the less appealing it tended to be in the eyes of the Academy voters.

Even James Cameron was no exception to this.

His new film, Avatar, was taking the world by storm, shattering box office records.

Yet, at this year's Oscars, it was clear he would be left out in the cold.

Allen glanced at Cameron, who was seated not far away. The legendary director also seemed well aware of his role in this year’s Academy Awards, showing little excitement.

And so, with great anticipation from the audience, the 82nd Academy Awards officially began.

On stage, How I Met Your Mother star Neil Patrick Harris performed the opening act, delivering a musical number that humorously referenced the nominated films.

During the performance, the cameras frequently panned across the audience.

When Harris sang about Heroes Unleashed, the broadcast cut to a close-up of Allen.

In the shot, Allen clapped along, showing an amused but slightly helpless reaction to his film being teased in the lyrics.

However, the opening act had only a limited effect in energizing the audience.

As soon as the performance ended, the ceremony swiftly moved to the main event: presenting the awards.

Unlike later Oscar ceremonies that became increasingly political, this year’s event was relatively restrained.

At least, there were no overt political statements dominating the proceedings.

The tension in the room was palpable as the first award of the night was announced.

To Allen, the entire event was rather dull.

Despite the host’s efforts to lighten the mood with jokes, it was easy to sense the nervousness among the attendees.

Honestly, if given a choice between attending the Oscars or continuing his vacation in Hawaii, Allen would have picked the latter without hesitation.

After all, sun, sand, and the ocean were far more appealing than the stiff seats at the Kodak Theatre.

Unfortunately, as the director and screenwriter of Heroes Unleashed, he was contractually obligated to participate in its promotion.

And the Oscars provided the best possible publicity—whether the film won or not, even just being nominated would give its box office earnings a small boost.

Moreover, according to Universal’s inside information, while Heroes Unleashed was unlikely to win in the major categories, it seemed poised to receive a minor award.

Even the smallest Oscar was still an Oscar, and the prestige alone made it worthwhile.

That was why Allen had rushed back from his Hawaiian vacation to attend the ceremony.

The entire event lasted two and a half hours—excluding the red carpet and commercial breaks.

By the halfway point, Allen had already lost interest.

In fact, he wasn’t the only one. Many Hollywood stars in the audience seemed distracted, only putting on their best expressions when the cameras swept over them.

Compared to the others, Allen had an advantage.

After all, not everyone had a system to keep them company.

Even though his system panel was cracked and worn, it was still more entertaining than sitting through a ceremony that had little to do with him.

He opened the system panel and pretended to watch the stage attentively, though most of his focus was on the interface in front of him.

Over the course of multiple screenplay simulations, he had accumulated a variety of props and items, some of which he had even forgotten about.

For example, the Blank Character Card from the Strange Tales script.

Allen had been pondering how best to use it.

So far, he had designed many characters through his scripts, but he had only ever observed their evolution.

The Blank Character Card allowed him to insert an avatar of himself into a future script, essentially giving him a personal role in the simulation.

To put it in film terms, it would be like giving himself a cameo appearance.

Of course, if used wisely, it could be more than just a cameo.

As he considered how to maximize the card’s potential, a sudden round of applause snapped him out of his thoughts.

Neill Blomkamp patted him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

Allen looked up and saw that everyone around him was clapping and smiling at him, congratulating him on something.

On stage, the award presenter smiled and nodded in his direction.

“…Did I just win?”

Although Allen had barely been paying attention, the enthusiastic reaction of the audience made the situation clear.

Heroes Unleashed had won an Oscar.

The only problem was—since he had been so lost in thought—he had no idea which award he had actually won.

(End of Chapter)