My Life in Hollywood C32 First Steps Abroad (Patreon)

Time moved fast. It was early November now—almost three weeks since the interview controversy had blown up. Studio City was settling into fall.

Mornings started cool, maybe low 60s, but by afternoon the temperature climbed into the mid-70s under clear blue skies. The kind of weather that reminded you why people paid California prices to live here.

Meanwhile, Netflicks had a new lawyer. Diana Stone had resigned from her firm and taken Marcus's offer.

She'd thought about it carefully. Netflicks was new, unproven. It could collapse tomorrow. Her old job had been stable—boring, maybe, but stable. Still, she'd taken the risk. Her younger sister had equity in the company, which meant something. And if Netflicks actually grew the way Marcus seemed to think it would? The upside was enormous.

Now she stood in her new office, looking around. It was significantly smaller than her old one. Basic desk, standard office chair, blank walls. She ran her hand along the desk. "Just needs some personality. I'll fix it up later."

She'd always preferred making spaces feel lived-in anyway. This would be fine.

She'd known what she was getting into before signing on—the company was still scrappy, still building.

"Good morning, Ms. Stone."

She turned. Marcus stood in the doorway holding two coffee cups.

"Good morning," she said.

"Got you coffee from that café down the block," Marcus said, offering her one. "Figured you might need it on your first day."

"Thanks." Diana took it, genuinely appreciative. She took a sip—perfectly made.

Marcus chatted with her for a few minutes, keeping it professional. He asked how she was settling in, mentioned he'd be traveling to Asia soon for business, told her to reach out if she needed anything.

Then he left.

Diana watched him go, slightly impressed. The kid had kept his distance, stayed respectful. Maybe he'd actually listened when she told him to grow up.

---ᕙ⁠[⁠･⁠۝･⁠]⁠ᕗ---

Marcus headed back to his own office. He had work to do—specifically, reviewing new hire applications before his trip with Jefferson.

The company was scaling fast. They'd brought on warehouse staff, customer service reps, a few developers to help Ryan on the tech side. But there were still gaps. Marketing needed people. Operations needed structure. And the engineering team—what Marcus privately called the Technology Department—desperately needed senior talent.

Right now, it was basically just him and Ryan managing the entire platform. That wasn't sustainable, especially with Marcus about to spend weeks in Asia.

He pulled up the stack of resumes, focusing on the engineering positions.

Then he stopped.

"Wait..." He stared at the photo attached to one application. "She looks familiar."

He scanned the resume. Hana Mitchell. Bachelor's in Computer Science. Currently working as a journalist at CineWeekly, but looking to transition into software development. Some coding projects listed—nothing major, but enough to show she hadn't completely abandoned the technical side after graduation.

His eyes widened. "Wait—isn't she that reporter?"

Of course. The CineWeekly journalist who'd asked him about Netflicks during the press junket. The one who'd basically handed him free publicity on a silver platter.

And now she was applying to work here?

He skimmed her qualifications. CS degree, solid coding samples, relevant experience. She was actually qualified.

Marcus smiled. "I'll hire her. We need someone who can take over engineering when I'm gone anyway."

He marked her application for immediate hire. Part gratitude for the interview boost, part genuine need. Either way, she'd be a good fit.

---ᕙ⁠[⁠･⁠۝･⁠]⁠ᕗ---

Meanwhile, at a luxury hotel in downtown Los Angeles, Christopher Doyle sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, waiting.

He licked his lips, anticipation building. Tonight was finally happening. No more playing around.

The door opened. Lana walked in, hesitant.

Christopher stood immediately. "There she is." He grinned. "Took you long enough."

Lana forced a smile, but her stomach twisted. She'd been dreading this all day.

"Come here," Christopher said, his voice dripping with excitement. "We've done enough of that innocent kissing bullshit. Time to move things forward, don't you think?"

He stepped toward her, eyes roaming over her body.

Lana's breath caught. 'Do I really have to do this?'

Her feet wouldn't move.

"What's wrong?" Christopher's grin widened. "Don't be shy now. You've already come this far."

He reached for her, pulling her closer. His hands gripped her waist, sliding lower.

"Wait—" Lana started.

Smack.

The slap came out of nowhere. Her head snapped to the side, cheek stinging. She stumbled backward, landing hard on the bed.

Christopher stood over her, breathing heavily. His eyes were wild, excited. "That's better. I like it when they fight a little."

Lana's hand flew to her cheek, shock freezing her in place.

Then reality crashed down.

'What the hell am I doing?' The role didn't matter. Nothing was worth this.

"I—I can't do this," she stammered, scrambling backward on the bed. "I'm sorry, I need to leave—"

Christopher's expression darkened instantly. "What do you mean you can't? I already got you the role! You can't back out now!"

"I'm sorry!" Lana pulled the robe tighter around herself, trying to get off the bed.

"Get back here!" Christopher lunged forward, grabbing her arm.

Lana screamed, twisting away. She shoved him hard—not expecting it to work, but Christopher stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of the coffee table.

He went down hard, cursing.

Lana didn't wait. She bolted for the door, yanked it open, and ran into the hallway in nothing but the hotel robe.

Behind her, Christopher's voice roared through the suite.

"LANA!!!"

He slammed his fist against the floor, face twisted with rage.

---

Marcus had no idea Christopher was dealing with his own mess. He was too focused on preparing for the Asia trip with Jefferson.

The school had approved his leave of absence. Principal Green had signed off pretty quickly—honestly, she was still riding high from the Paranormal Activity buzz. NoHo High's prestige had shot up, and she'd been bragging about having the director as a student to anyone who'd listen.

At the Crown house, Nathan stood with Arya and Ryan, watching Marcus and Jefferson prepare to leave.

"You're really going to Asia? Where exactly?" Nathan still couldn't quite wrap his head around it. His son had grown wings—now he was flying across the world to close business deals.

"Japan first," Marcus said.

"Japan?!" Ryan's eyes lit up immediately. As a hardcore anime fan, this was basically his dream. "You're actually going there?"

Marcus smiled at his reaction. Anime wasn't mainstream yet—not even close. People like Ryan, true otaku, were rare. Sure, some people claimed to be into it, but it wasn't the same as it would be in the future. Right now, anime was still niche, mostly underground. A few shows had broken through, but it was nothing like the cultural force it would become in a decade.

"I'm planning to license content over there," Marcus said. "Anime's at the top of the list."

"Dude, you're awesome!" Ryan gave him a thumbs up. "Can I recommend some shows I've been watching? Stuff you should license?"

"Sure. As long as they're not the super popular ones that'll cost a fortune."

Ryan's shoulders sagged. "Oh. Then I guess I can only recommend a few."

Marcus chuckled. Of course Ryan was a fan of the expensive hits.

"Have a safe trip," Arya said, her tone more serious.

"Thanks." Marcus nodded.

"Be safe out there, man." Nathan's expression was complicated—pride mixed with worry.

"I will."

Marcus hugged each of them. Jefferson chatted with Nathan for a few minutes before checking his watch.

"Alright, we need to go or we'll miss our flight," Jefferson said. "Even if the plane doesn't leave for another hour, show up late to the airport and they'll deny you boarding. Airline policy."

Marcus waved goodbye one last time, then climbed into Jefferson's car.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was nervous.

He'd bought [Language: Japanese] from the Quest Search Engine after searching for Asian languages. The results had shown Chinese, Korean, Thai, and others. Japanese had cost him 20 points.

But since he'd bought it from the search results instead of the system shop, he had to slowly absorb the knowledge through the Questclopedia—piece by piece. Right now, he was still at the basics. If he'd bought it directly from the shop, he'd have professional-level fluency instantly. But this way was cheaper.

Still, broken Japanese was better than no Japanese.

---ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ---

After a long flight and navigating customs, they finally arrived in Tokyo.

The city hit Marcus immediately—the noise, the energy, the sheer density of people. November in Tokyo was cool but not cold, temperatures hovering in the mid-50s. The streets were packed, businessmen in suits rushing past, trains rumbling beneath the pavement.

Shibuya Crossing looked exactly like he remembered from his previous life—thousands of people crossing in perfect chaos.

Tokyo Tower stood tall in the distance. A billboard for Dinsely Land caught his eye as their taxi passed through Shinjuku. The city wasn't that different from what he'd known before.

But they didn't jump straight into business. Not after a thirteen-hour flight.

Jefferson checked them into a hotel in Shinjuku—nothing fancy, but clean and centrally located. After dropping off their bags, they headed out to explore.

They wandered through the narrow alleys near their hotel, the smell of grilled meat and savory sauces filling the air. Marcus stopped at a yakitori stand, ordering skewers of chicken and vegetables. Jefferson tried takoyaki from another vendor—fried octopus balls drizzled with sauce and topped with bonito flakes that danced in the steam.

"This tastes amazing," Jefferson admitted, mouth full.

Marcus grinned, biting into his skewer. The chicken was perfectly grilled, smoky and tender. He grabbed another one before Jefferson could claim it.

"We should get some rest," Jefferson said, checking his watch. "Meeting's at ten tomorrow morning."

"Yeah." Marcus nodded, finishing his food. "Let's head back."

---ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ---

The next morning, Marcus and Jefferson walked into a modest office building in Nerima Ward, heading to the fourth floor.

They were here to meet the head of a mid-sized animation studio—Studio Shaft (a decent-sized studio known for producing solid work, though not quite at the level of the industry giants).

They'd only managed to secure this meeting because Jefferson knew someone who'd relocated to Tokyo years ago and still had connections in the entertainment industry. And honestly, the studio needed them just as much. They had a new anime that wasn't getting much attention domestically and were looking for international licensing opportunities.

After a few minutes of waiting in a small conference room, the door opened.

A middle-aged Japanese man stepped inside. He looked polished, professional—sharp suit, graying hair neatly combed.

His eyes immediately landed on Marcus. Surprise flickered across his face as Marcus stood and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Tanaka," Marcus said smoothly, his tone professional despite his age.

Tanaka blinked, then glanced at Jefferson. "You are?" he asked in accented English, clearly confused.

He'd only been told about Jefferson.

"I'm Marcus Crown," Marcus said patiently. "I'm the owner of Netflicks. The one interested in licensing your studio's work."

Tanaka's eyes widened. He looked at Jefferson for confirmation.

Jefferson nodded.

Tanaka composed himself quickly, bowing slightly. "Ah. My apologies. I am Tanaka Hiroshi, head of Studio Shaft. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Then, to both Jefferson and Tanaka's surprise, Marcus spoke in halting, heavily accented Japanese: "お会いできて光栄です。" (It's an honor to meet you.)

Jefferson's eyebrows shot up. The kid spoke Japanese?

Tanaka's expression softened immediately, clearly impressed that this young American had at least tried to learn the language.

Marcus's attempt at Japanese—broken as it was—made a strong impression. Tanaka's expression warmed immediately.

"Your Japanese is very good for a beginner," Tanaka said in English, clearly pleased. Then, without hesitation, he laid out licensing terms for Studio Shaft's anime library—titles that hadn't been picked up internationally yet.

Marcus and Jefferson exchanged glances. The price was already reasonable. But then Tanaka offered an additional discount.

"For a young businessman who respects our culture enough to learn the language," Tanaka said with a slight bow, "I can offer better terms."

Jefferson looked genuinely surprised. Marcus kept his expression neutral, but inside he was thrilled.

"I heard you have a new anime that's struggling domestically," Marcus said. "Can I see it?"

Tanaka nodded. "Of course. You should watch before deciding if you want to license it." He gestured for them to follow him.

They walked through the studio's hallways. Employees glanced up from their desks, curious about the visitors. A couple of young women near the break room whispered to each other in Japanese.

"あの外国人、すごくかっこいい!" (That foreigner is really handsome!)

"ハリウッド俳優みたい!" (He looks like a Hollywood actor!)

Tanaka's jaw tightened slightly. 'These fools don't realize this kid can understand them...' He shot them a disapproving look and kept walking.

Marcus pretended not to hear, though he caught every word.

They entered a small screening room. Tanaka had someone cue up the first episode of the anime.

The moment it started playing, Marcus's expression shifted.

'Wait... why does this look like that ninja anime from my previous life?'

He wasn't a huge anime fan, but he'd definitely heard of that show. Everyone had. It was massive.

Without drawing attention, he accessed the Quest Search Engine and typed: popular ninja anime.

Top result: Naruto.

He bought the entry for 10 points. Information flooded into his mind immediately.

While the episode played on screen, Marcus absorbed everything—plot structure, character arcs, cultural impact, merchandise sales, international success.

His eyes widened.

This was it. This was this world's version of Naruto.

Sure, there were differences. The title wasn't the same—it was called "The Shinobi Chronicles: Path of the Nine-Tailed Warrior" or some overly long nonsense like that. Character names were different too, though their appearances were nearly identical.

When the episode ended, Marcus spoke up. "This anime is really doing poorly here?"

He couldn't wrap his head around it. This should be a hit.

Tanaka mistook his tone for disappointment in the quality. "Unfortunately, yes. Five episodes have aired so far. The ratings have been... underwhelming."

Five episodes. Five weeks. One episode per week.

Marcus's mind raced. This was his world's version of Naruto—it should be huge. Why wasn't it working?

Tanaka sighed, breaking the silence. "To be honest, the network is already threatening to cancel it. They want to see improvement in ratings by episode ten, or they'll pull the plug entirely." His voice carried real frustration. "That's why we're desperately seeking international licensing. We believe in this project, but without additional revenue, we can't justify continuing production."

In Japan, anime production was tied directly to TV networks. If a show didn't perform well in its initial broadcast slot, the network could cancel it before the season even finished. Studios often scrambled to find international licensing deals or merchandise partnerships to justify continuing production. Without that revenue, shows got axed halfway through.

"I understand." Marcus nodded slowly. "If we license it, you'll keep producing episodes?"

"Absolutely. With proper funding, we can finish at least the first season."

"Good." Marcus leaned forward slightly. "But I don't just want to license it. I want to acquire the full rights—domestic and international. Complete ownership, with creative control over the project."

"What?!" Tanaka's eyes went wide.

Even Jefferson turned sharply to look at Marcus.

Complete ownership. Not just international distribution—everything. Japan, America, Europe, everywhere. Full authority to rebrand, re-edit, change marketing strategies, control all distribution channels.

"You mean... even here in Japan?" Tanaka's voice rose slightly. "You want the domestic rights as well?"

"Yes," Marcus said calmly. "But don't worry—I'm offering a deal that makes it worth your while."

Tanaka looked at Jefferson, who seemed just as stunned but stayed silent.

"I need full ownership because I want to change the names—not just for international audiences, but here in Japan too," Marcus explained. "The title's too long. The character names are too complicated. That's part of why it's failing. People need something simple, something they can actually remember and talk about. Right now, you're making them work too hard just to follow who's who."

Tanaka opened his mouth, then closed it. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I won't micromanage the story or animation," Marcus continued. "But I do want creative input—the ability to guide certain story decisions if needed. Your team stays in charge of production, but I need the flexibility to steer things if I see opportunities. And in return, I'll fund the entire production—full costs for however many episodes you need to complete the series. Plus, your studio gets backend participation. If this becomes a hit, you profit directly from its success."

Tanaka sat back, his mind clearly racing. This wasn't a licensing deal anymore. Marcus was essentially buying the anime outright while keeping Studio Shaft as the production partner.

It was risky. But the alternative was cancellation at episode ten.

Jefferson stayed quiet, watching Marcus work. The kid was going all in.

"One more question," Marcus said. "Is this based on a manga, or is it an original anime?"

Tanaka blinked at the shift in topic. "It's original. One of our in-house artists created it—character designs, story concepts, everything. We built the anime from scratch."

Marcus's eyebrows rose. "Really? It's not adapted from anything?"

"No. Completely original work."

Marcus nodded slowly, his mind already spinning. "I'd like to meet this artist. If we're going to move forward, I want to talk to the creator directly."

Tanaka hesitated, then nodded. "I can arrange that."

Marcus leaned back in his chair, thinking.

If this was an original anime, that meant there was no manga yet. But there could be. In his previous world, successful anime often spawned manga adaptations—sometimes even more popular than the shows themselves. If he owned the full rights, he could commission a manga version, serialize it in magazines, build hype across multiple platforms.

This wasn't just about streaming an anime. This was about building a franchise.

He kept his expression neutral, but inside, his mind was already working three steps ahead.