Chapter 75: Agency?

Chapter 75: Agency?

(Arthur POV)

Seeing Rocky, I couldn't help but think about the other cast of "The Demonfather" - Johnny Devilkin, Charles Flirt, Vivienne Westwood, Richard, and the rest. Word on the street was that they were all riding high on the film's success, their schedules packed with new projects.

Oddly enough, Rocky was the only one I hadn't heard much about since the film blew up. I'd just assumed he was cashing in like the others, enjoying his newfound fame and fortune.

As I poured Rocky a cup of the popular Morningstar Tea, curiosity got the better of me. "So, old timer, how's life been treating you since 'The Demonfather' hit it big?"

Rocky let out a long-suffering sigh, taking a sip of his tea. "Terrible, if I'm being honest."

I blinked, caught off guard. Looking at his fancy new threads, I couldn't help but be skeptical. "Terrible? You're dressed like you own half the city. What gives?"

He shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. "Looks can be deceiving, kid. Had to hire someone to run the theater - can't even show my face there without causing a riot. Been cooped up at home most days, dodging fans like they're debt collectors."

I winced, starting to get the picture. "That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea," Rocky continued, warming to his tale of woe. "Went to my cousin's birthday celebration a few weeks back. By the end of it, my hand was cramping from all the autographs, and my face felt like it might crack from all the smiling for pictures. Exhausting doesn't even begin to cover it."

I felt a pang of guilt. I'd been so caught up in my own whirlwind, I hadn't stopped to think about how Rocky's life might have changed.

"Sounds rough," I offered lamely, not sure what else to say.

Rocky nodded, a hint of his old self peeking through. "Only recently, now that the 'Demonfather' hype has died down a bit, have I been able to poke my head out without being mobbed. It's a relief, let me tell you."

I nodded, trying to piece things together. "Huh. I figured you'd be drowning in acting projects by now."

Rocky let out a dry chuckle. "Hard to get project when you're not signed with an agency, kid."

I nearly choked on my tea. "Wait, what? You haven't signed with anyone yet?"

"Nope," Rocky shrugged. Then, with a sly grin, "Why? You offering?"

"Me? Nah, I don't... I mean, I don't have an agency," I stammered, not wanting to overstep.

"Then you can wait," she cut me off, reaching for the telephone. "I'll call her office."

I slumped into a chair in the lobby, watching as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. After what felt like an eternity of bureaucratic purgatory, she called out, "Mr. Arthur?"

I perked up. "Yes?"

"The princess will see you now. Follow me."

As we trudged down the hallway, I couldn't help but gawk at the propaganda plastered on the walls. "Morningstar - the Hope of all Demons," one poster proclaimed. Another assured, "We Care for all Demons. We don't judge you for how evil you are." My personal favorite? "Let's support our king's plan of reunification!" Yeah, because that's going so well.

It was surreal, my first time in this bastion of bureaucracy. I'd spent my whole life avoiding places like this. We finally reached a red door, and the receptionist gave it a perfunctory knock.

"Enter," Lucy's voice rang out, crisp and authoritative.

The receptionist gestured at the golden doorknob, clearly done with playing tour guide. I took the hint and let myself in.

Lucy's office was... well, "opulent" doesn't quite cover it. It looked like a dragon's hoard had mated with a luxury hotel suite. 'So this is where the people's tax money goes,' I thought, trying not to roll my eyes.

"What brings you here?" Lucy asked, barely looking up from her desk. Her name tag, all fancy demon calligraphy on gold, probably cost more than most demons make in a month.

I plopped down in the chair across from her, abandoning any pretense of formality. "Just here to ask for a few favors, sis."

That got her attention. "Favors?" she echoed, eyebrow raised.

I laid it out for her - my plans for the agency, the red tape I was facing, the whole nine yards.

"You want to start your own talent agency?" Lucy's surprise was almost comical. "Why in the nine hells would you want to deal with all that oversight and regulation?"

I paused, mulling it over. She had a point. This wasn't like starting Hellfire Stories, a book publishing company - this was a whole new level of bureaucratic nightmare. But I'd come too far to back down now.

"Look," I said, leaning forward, "having my own stable of actors just makes sense. It'll streamline everything for my future projects." It sounded weak even to my own ears, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Lucy's skeptical look told me she wasn't buying it, but hey, at least I was trying. Now came the real challenge - convincing my by-the-book sister to bend those rules just a little bit for her black sheep brother.