After spending a day on the set, Ryan left. The entire crew was busy, and Nicole could only exchange a few words with him during breaks in filming. He felt quite bored staying there, so he simply followed the Terminator 2 crew back to Los Angeles.
More than half of the summer vacation had passed. Although the crew was closely watched by reporters after returning to Los Angeles, Ryan stayed holed up in the villa and rarely went out. He had to make the most of the remaining time.
Because he had followed the crew around for promotions, The Lion King still wasn't finished. Fortunately, only the final touches were left. After patching up the recalled versions of "Circle of Life" and "Can You Feel the Love Tonight," he thought of another song, "The Circle of Life." As for the remaining songs, he had written the lyrics according to the scenes in the script, but aside from those three, they didn't have musical scores yet.
After all, those songs were different from the main three—they served more as part of the dialogue in the movie and had to align more closely with the plot and overall score. The composing would be better left to the film's future score master. For Hans Zimmer, this would be a piece of cake.
Not only that, but he also wrote down his suggestions for those three complete songs. For example, for the opening number "Circle of Life," he wrote:
> "As the sun rises from the horizon and night turns into day, Africa awakens. Beasts gather in crowds, cheer with glory, and together celebrate the birth of the young lion king Simba. A wild and primal roar marks the beginning of the whole film!"
Then for "Can You Feel the Love Tonight," he filled the back with suggestions tied closely to the plot:
> "The air over the African savannah is rippling, full of the scent of love. Simba and Nala haven't yet realized it, but the seed of their love has already begun to sprout unnoticed. Simba's hesitation and retreat from the past have left Nala confused, causing uncertainty between them. It's not until the very end that they suddenly awaken—to the fact that this is love!"
To make the original songs better suit the plot and animal characteristics, he even visited the zoo several times. This led some tabloids to speculate whether Ryan Jenkins, after going through years of precociousness, had reverted to a childlike temperament—or perhaps he had some unusual fondness for animals?
After nearly ten days, Ryan completed the final work on The Lion King, but he still couldn't relax.
For the sake of his voice in the future, he had to continue vocal training under professional guidance. However, his singing was so unbearably bad that whenever this part of the day came around, the maids in the villa would find places to hide early to avoid being tortured.
There was also Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire to consider. He had already decided that one volume would be published each year moving forward.
The series was gaining more and more influence over time, and the publisher had invested massively in promotions, eager to hype it up as the greatest children's book of all time.
This was a golden opportunity to make money. Besides, each volume was less than 300,000 words in length, which was nothing for someone like him who was plagiarizing.
Since he wasn't planning to go out anytime soon, he asked George to buy him the most advanced typewriter. It was much faster than handwriting.
A cool breeze swept through, making one involuntarily want to stretch. Ryan sat upright under a tree in the small garden, tapping away at the typewriter's keyboard. Without much thought, line after line appeared on the paper. If outsiders saw it, they would be utterly shocked.
Pat Kingsley sat across from him, sipping red tea. She was already used to this scene and found it unremarkable. At the moment, however, all her attention was focused on the manuscript in her hands.
> "The stained glass windows of the church suddenly lit up. The rumble of a motorcycle engine echoed inside. Amid the clattering noise, shattered glass fell to the ground, and a female rider dressed in a red plaid vest and blue, worn-out jeans burst in with a black motorcycle.
'Move!' With a slick skid, Alice took off her helmet, threw it to the ground, and shouted angrily as she revved the engine.
Jill Valentine and Peyton quickly ducked to the sides of the pews, clearing a path through the church. As the motorcycle charged forward, Alice performed a graceful backflip and landed on the ground. She raised two pistols and aimed at the motorcycle's gas tank, which had collided with a Licker, and pulled the trigger.
Boom~
Flames leapt up, and after the deafening explosion, the motorcycle and the grotesque Licker were blown into pieces.
Another Licker dropped from the church's wall. With its long, sharp tongue and razor-sharp teeth, its red body looked like a demon straight from hell. It leaped onto the altar and let out a deep, guttural roar at Alice.
Alice tossed aside her pistols, reached behind her back, and pulled out two MP5 submachine guns. She sprayed a torrent of bullets at the walls on either side of the church.
Jill was puzzled why she wasn't attacking the monster directly but firing at the empty walls. The heavy fire broke two iron chains, and the large cross behind the altar fell free from its bindings, crashing down and pinning the Licker to the altar.
Like a walking arsenal, Alice put away the two SMGs, then drew a Remington shotgun from behind her back. Unhurried, she walked up to the pinned Licker and pulled the trigger.
Bang~
Smoke rose, and after the gunshot, the Licker's ugly head exploded like a watermelon. Just then, Jill walked over, and the splattered, rancid blood landed on her knee-high leather boots.
'Who the f*** are you?' Jill Valentine asked angrily."
The story's style was completely different from Ryan's previous works. It was thrilling and terrifying, focusing on intense action and visceral excitement. There wasn't a trace of childlike innocence; it was a fully adult work.
After closing the manuscript, Kingsley looked again at the handwritten, calligraphic title—Resident Evil. She sighed. In her view—no, in Ryan's own words—this was essentially a superhero novel wrapped in a zombie shell.
As Ryan finished typing, stretched, and drained a glass of juice, Kingsley finally spoke.
"Ryan, why do you want to publish it not just in North America, but also in Japan?"
"No reason." Ryan shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Not only do I want it published—Pat, register all the content related to Resident Evil."
Kingsley frowned. Although she didn't quite understand what Ryan meant by this, she still nodded in agreement.
Who knew Ryan would point to the manuscript and add, "Not just those—did you read the last few pages? You'd better register those too."
"What are they?" Kingsley flipped to the last few pages. They were filled with writing, including an outline and setting for something oddly titled Battle Royale.
She thought for a moment—it shouldn't be difficult. A dog is still a dog. Even if it barks occasionally, it can only act subservient in front of its master.
In truth, Ryan had written Resident Evil long ago. But the content was too adult and didn't match his identity at the time, so he shelved it until now. Even though the game had yet to be released, he didn't want to wait any longer. Who knew what changes might occur on the other side?
Although in his previous life, the sequels to this series grew worse and worse—verging on trash at times—they still did well at the box office. The DVD market especially sold like crazy. It was a classic example of a low-cost, high-return franchise. With Ryan's morally bankrupt personality, how could he possibly pass that up?
If handled well, he could even scam the Japanese—why not?
Of course, if the Japanese came knocking to buy the rights, Ryan wouldn't mind. After all, green bills were the thing he lacked most. Without enough funds, his ideas were just pipe dreams.
That said, he'd never played the Resident Evil games or read any tie-in novels. But the films—especially the first three—he'd watched multiple times. The success of the later films was closely tied to the rise of zombie culture. Even though they diverged further and further from the game's storylines, they still yielded considerable returns.
The question was: weren't the games and the movies both major pillars of the zombie genre's rise? Who cares! If need be, he'd just toss the game aside. It didn't matter to him anyway.
Ryan borrowed the storyline from the movies. The main character, of course, was Alice. It's not that he didn't want to create something original, but the first three movies—especially the second—were decent enough. So why bother overexerting his brain?
Thus, he adapted the first two movies into a two-part novel totaling around 200,000 words.
The excerpt Kingsley read aloud was the scene from the second movie where Alice battles a Licker in the church. Ryan also gave Jill Valentine a prominent role and made her a mixed-race character.
Whether the Resident Evil game franchise disappeared or not meant nothing to him. He was a movie fan, not a gamer. And the films would likely be delayed indefinitely anyway—mainly due to special effects and the fact that zombie culture had yet to boom like it would in the 21st century. Maybe he should release The Zombie Survival Guide ahead of schedule too?
If he couldn't fleece the Japanese with this, he could just cancel the movie plans altogether. The person he wanted to promote might not even exist in this world…
By now, he had already taken plenty of things that originally belonged to Americans—and quite a few from the British as well. So why would he feel even a shred of guilt about taking something from the Japanese?
They loved stealing and registering other people's stuff, didn't they? Since he had been reborn, how could he not return the favor? After all, those last few pages didn't contain only Battle Royale.
Of course, Ryan had zero interest in plagiarizing Japanese literature or manga. The only reason he remembered Battle Royale at all was because, in his previous life, many people had joked that The Hunger Games had plagiarized it. That's what made it stick in his memory.
Since that's the case, let Battle Royale disappear.
Japanese people don't need to be doing literature. Their true cultural essence lies in seinen manga and the adult industry. I'm doing them a favor. That was the thought that popped into Ryan's head as he put away the typewriter.