Tycoon Actor C538 (Patreon)

"There's also Vinland Saga," Lucas said. "Vikings, early medieval England. Jennifer and I watched it recently — it's good. The kind of story that works better in live-action than most people would expect." He paused. "I think it's worth a serious look."

Tobias and the executives took note before he'd even finished the sentence. They'd learned by now not to let a Lucas suggestion pass without following up on it.

The conversation wound down naturally after that. By the time Lucas set his fork across the empty plate, the coffee cup drained, they had covered everything worth covering.

"Thank you for this," Lucas said, nodding at the plate. He meant it. He hadn't asked for a meal — they'd simply put one in front of him — and if Tobias and the others hadn't been eating their own steaks and coffee simultaneously, he'd have been genuinely too embarrassed to touch it.

"Of course." Tobias waved it off. "We'll start reaching out to the IP holders for both properties this week — get the rights conversations moving before anyone else sniffs around them."

"That would be the right move."

"With Mr. Knight advising us," one of the executives said, leaning back with a grin, "I genuinely believe it's only a matter of time before we overtake Netflix entirely."

"Number one, here we come!" another said, raising his coffee cup.

"We should just rename the platform. Call it Lucas Max and be done with it."

Light laughter moved around the table. Tobias shook his head, smiling.

Lucas chuckled — dry, brief. He appreciated the warmth behind it, even if the flattery was slightly absurd.

The truth was simpler than they were making it sound. He had foreknowledge, yes, but that aside — the IPs he was pointing them toward weren't hidden treasures. Fullmetal Alchemist, Vinland Saga — and the ones he was keeping back for later, Vagabond, Golden Kamuy, Blue Giant, ReLife, and more — any reasonably attentive person with a decent eye could find them.

And separately, there were novels worth adapting too: Lord of Mysteries, Release That Witch, Eighty-Six, Three Days of Happiness, Zaregoto. The material was out there. It just required someone willing to look past the obvious.

In his previous life, FMA had gotten a live-action. It had failed — not because the source material was unworkable, but because the production had cast Japanese actors in roles of characters who were explicitly European in appearance and cultural context. The disconnect had been jarring enough to undermine everything else. A fixable problem, if anyone had been willing to acknowledge it.

WB had done Game of Thrones. They understood how to build a world with European historical textures and make it feel real. That was exactly why he trusted them with FMA and Vinland Saga over the alternatives. It wasn't flattery — it was the honest calculation.

The rest of the IPs he was sitting on — the novels, the longer list — he'd meter out depending on which platform he thought could actually do each one justice. Some of them felt like Netflix material. Others he wasn't sure yet. No point flooding one table when the other was hungry.

...

After some more talking, Lucas finally said, "Well, I think that's everything from my end. I'll get out of your hair."

Tobias rose immediately. "I'll see you out."

They walked the corridor together, the others staying behind. The building was quieter out here — just footsteps and the distant hum of the lot outside.

"About Geoffrey," Tobias said, his voice dropping slightly. "I want you to know we're not going anywhere on this. The documentary stands." He hesitated. "But the man has powerful friends. Real ones. I've heard names connected to him that gave me pause. Despite everything he's showing the public — the philanthropy, the foundation — there's something off underneath it."

"I know," Lucas said simply.

"And you're not worried?"

"Not particularly." Lucas kept walking, hands in his pockets. "Men like Geoffrey eventually produce enough evidence against themselves that no amount of money or connections can contain it. Our job is to make sure the right people are paying attention when that happens. Which they are." He glanced at Tobias briefly. "The documentaries did that. Keep them up."

Tobias let out a slow breath. "You're right. I suppose that's what this is for." He smiled quietly. "Alright. I'll hold the line."

They reached the entrance. Lucas shook his hand once, clean and unhurried, then stepped out into the lot.

Shawn had the car waiting. Lucas climbed in, caught Tobias's nod through the window, and they pulled away.

"Netflix next," Lucas said.

Shawn adjusted the mirror. "Already on the route, boss."

---

The drive from Burbank to Los Gatos ran about forty minutes. Shawn found the private entrance without needing directions, and a Netflix escort walked them through to the conference room.

It was quieter than WB's had been — fewer people around the table, less formal in its arrangement. Reed and Ted were already inside when Lucas walked in, and both stood immediately.

Reed pulled him into a hug first. "It's been a long while."

"Honestly, Geoffrey doing us a favor getting us all in the same room again." Ted grinned, hugging him after.

Lucas laughed. "I'll pass that on to him."

They settled into their seats. Someone offered Lucas a drink — he waved it off. He'd already had enough at WB.

The lawsuit conversation ran about an hour. Netflix's position was firm — the documentary stays, the sourcing holds, they weren't moving an inch. Their legal team was already flagging points of coordination with Lucas's people. All of it clean and straightforward.

Then Ted leaned back. "By the way — word's gotten around about HBO Max lately." He sighed with theatrical weight. "As our creative advisor, I have to say — we're growing a little jealous over here."

Light laughter moved around the table.

Lucas smiled. He knew it was a joke. Partly. Ted and Reed weren't the type to lose sleep over a competitor gaining ground — but underneath the humor there was a real nudge. A reminder of where his primary loyalty was supposed to sit.

Not that it mattered right now. He hadn't come here just for the lawsuits.

"I'm thinking of producing an anime," Lucas said. "If we find the right studio behind it, it'll really blow up."

Everyone at the table perked up. Reed and Ted included.

"An anime?" Reed looked surprised. Most of what Lucas had steered their way had been live-action — Squid Game, shows that put working actors on a global stage. This was a different lane. "What kind?"

"There's a manhwa I've been reading," Lucas said. "Korean comics — like manga, but from Korea." He caught the unfamiliar expressions and didn't slow down. "It's called Solo Leveling. Been reading it at home during downtime. It's addicting." He paused. "The studio matters a lot for this one though. It needs to be the right fit."

Most of the room had never heard the word manhwa before today. Solo Leveling even less so.

'If it caught Lucas's attention enough to bring it here...' Ted thought, watching him.

"We have relationships with Japanese animation studios," Reed said, already leaning forward. "We can work with you on the production side — whatever it needs."

"Financing too," Ted added. "That's not a question."

Neither of them knew a single thing about Solo Leveling. But they'd learned by now not to second-guess Lucas on these things. Squid Game had looked like a strange bet at the time — they'd had doubts, and it became one of the biggest shows on the platform. And then there was K-Pop: Demon Hunters — Lucas had produced that one himself alongside Kobe Bryant, out of a studio nobody had taken seriously, and it had just landed an Oscar nomination. The track record was hard to argue with.

"The most important thing is reaching the author directly," Lucas said. "Getting him properly on board before anything else moves. Can you handle that?"

"Leave it to us," Ted said without hesitation. Reed nodded alongside him.

Lucas was satisfied with that. He'd brought Solo Leveling here rather than to WB for a reason — Netflix had demonstrated more than once that they knew how to give foreign IP the room it needed. WB had their strengths, and he'd already pointed them toward the right material. This one belonged here.

The meeting had moved considerably faster than WB's. Lucas stood not long after, and they walked him out themselves.

---

Back in Bel Air, Lucas settled onto the sofa with a quiet exhale. The meetings had run longer than expected, and his shoulders were carrying it.

Jennifer came around behind him without a word and started working on them.

"Did you handle everything?"

"Mostly." He let his head drop slightly. "My legal team will coordinate directly with WB and Netflix from here. They mainly wanted me there in person to align on the messaging — make sure everyone's saying the same thing publicly."

Jennifer nodded, working out a knot near his shoulder blade.

They sat in comfortable quiet for a moment.

"Actually —" Lucas straightened slightly. "I want to start rehearsing soon. The Brutalist production is moving. Can you run lines with me? I want to see what you think of the performance."

Jennifer stopped. "Lucas, you're a better actor than me. Do you actually need my help or are you just being sweet?"

"I need a second pair of eyes. Yours specifically."

She gave him a look. "Flattery."

"Is it working?"

She sighed with theatrical resignation. "Fine. Let me see the script."

Lucas stood up with noticeably more energy than he'd had thirty seconds ago. "I'll get it."

He was back quickly. Jennifer settled with the script in her lap, flipping through it, while Lucas took a breath and stepped back.

Then something shifted in him.

His posture changed — a subtle straightening, shoulders carrying a different kind of weight. The ease that was so distinctly Lucas quietly left his face, replaced by something older, more weathered.

His eyes took on a different quality entirely, like a man who had seen too much and was still trying to build something from the wreckage of it.

Jennifer watched him make the transition and felt that familiar pull of quiet amazement. She'd seen him do this many times. She could do it herself — she had her own craft, her Oscar on the shelf to prove it — but what Lucas did was something she couldn't fully explain.

Not a performance you could see him entering. Just a man, and then a different man, the seam between them invisible.

She began reading from the script.

They went back and forth for about twenty minutes. When it was done, Jennifer set the pages down and clapped — not politely, but genuinely.

Lucas smiled and gave a slow, exaggerated bow as though she were seated in the front row of a theater.

"Well?" he asked.

Jennifer considered for a moment. "You're almost annoyingly good, you know that." She tilted her head. "But — and I mean this constructively — there are moments where László's exhaustion tips into something too controlled. The man has been broken down by this country for decades. Some of that needs to come through messier. Less composed. Let him slip a little more."

Lucas nodded slowly, turning it over. "The long break probably didn't help."

"Honestly?" Jennifer said. "The fact that you can do what you just did after months away from any set and make it look effortless is slightly infuriating." She smiled. "So don't complain."

He laughed. He trusted her eye completely — she'd earned that long before the Oscar.

---

Days settled into a rhythm after that. Lucas rehearsed with Jennifer when Seraphina allowed it, working through the material steadily, letting László sit more naturally in his body each time.

Then Neil showed up one afternoon.

"Lucas."

Lucas nodded at him from the armchair. Martha brought Neil a drink without being asked, and he thanked her as he sat down.

"Brady wants to meet with you soon. Things are moving on The Brutalist."

"You could've just called me for that," Lucas said.

"I could've." Neil set his glass down. "But I came here for a few things. First — the Super Bowl. Not this year, 2024. They want to lock you in now. Fifteen minutes, full production budget on their side, seven million."

Lucas thought about it for a second. By 2024 The Brutalist would be wrapped, the Geoffrey situation would be well past wherever it was heading, and his calendar would be open. "Tell them yes."

Neil looked at him. "Just like that?"

"I'll be free. Why not."

Neil made a note. Lucas looked at him. "What else?"

"Formula 1 made an offer," Neil said. "They want you as their global ambassador. Full season — your name attached to the championship, shows up in their broadcasts, their marketing, all of it. You'd only need to physically be at maybe six or seven races the whole year." He picked up his glass. "A hundred million."

Lucas looked at him. "Formula 1? The racing?"

"Yeah."

"You're the biggest name on the planet right now. Of course they want you." Neil shrugged. "It's not that much commitment either — six or seven race weekends spread across the whole year. That's it."

Lucas sat with that for a moment. He didn't know much about Formula 1 beyond the basic idea of it — fast cars, European circuits, the kind of sport that showed up in the background of luxury brand advertisements. He couldn't name a current driver off the top of his head.

"A hundred million to show up to a few races."

"And let them use your name for a season," Neil added. "Which is doing them the bigger favor, honestly."

---

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AN: Aiming for one chapter a day for Tycoon Actor going forward, though they might run a bit shorter than the longer wordcount chapters I've put out before. Two chapters a day for LoE. Wish me luck keeping up with it alongside everything else going on.