Chapter 98: Music at Twilight

Chapter 98: Chapter 98: Music at Twilight

The morning mist in Venice had not yet lifted, and the wind off the Adriatic swept across the canal with a damp chill.

Irene stood by the drone control console and looked up at the sky. The morning sun was rising slowly from behind St. Mark’s Campanile, golden rays piercing the clouds and spilling shimmering light onto the blue-green water. "Now," she said quietly into the walkie-talkie. "Drone launch. Scene one, canal panoramic. Action."

The soft whir of propellers broke the silence as the drone climbed. The camera pushed in from the mouth of a narrow waterway, sweeping past the ancient buildings on both banks, capturing the winding canal, the swaying gondolas, and the distant cross-sea bridge in a single frame.

Irene stared intently at the monitor, walkie-talkie in hand. "Drop another five meters. Catch the reflection on the water and hold a constant speed." Martin, the director of photography, nodded beside her, syncing the camera data in real time. "Lighting is perfect. No interference. Image clarity is up to standard."

By the time the panoramic was in the can, the mist had dissipated completely.

In the temporary setup area on the canal bank, the actors were already in costume and ready.

Matt Damon wore a dark casual suit, silently mouthing lines as he glanced at his script. His fingers absently combed through the stray hair on his forehead. He played Charlie Crowe, a calm and strategic figure at the team’s core. The usual gentleness had faded from his eyes, replaced by a sharpness that spoke of tactical precision.

"Charlie, slow your pace when you board the boat. Add a sense of vigilance, like you’re scanning your surroundings," Irene said as she walked over. Matt nodded immediately, stood, and headed for the yacht at the dock. "Understood. I’ll run the blocking again."

Seth Green was crouched by the yacht’s console, a laptop balanced on his knees. His fingers flew across the keyboard as complex code scrolled on the screen. He played a top-tier hacker, though his character skewed a little erratic.

Edward Norton leaned against the railing of another modified yacht, his black racing gloves rubbing the steering wheel, eagerness in his eyes.

As a standard wealthy second-generation heir, he was adept with cars and yachts alike. He was tracing the route with his hand, pointing toward the markers on the water. "Director, for the sharp turn in the chase later, I want to try cutting close to the bridge pier. The visual impact will be stronger."

Irene raised an eyebrow, noting the excitement in his eyes. It matched his character’s rebellious streak perfectly. "You can try it, but stay within the safety lines. The stunt team has protective rigs near the piers. Stick to the rehearsed route. Don’t play the hero." Edward grinned and gave a salute. "Don’t worry. I’m a professional."

Meanwhile, on a spare yacht not far away, Johnny Depp was adjusting his tie alone. His character, the villain Steve, kept a low profile in the early stages.

At ten in the morning, all the actors boarded their assigned yachts and began test runs to learn the route.

Matt Damon piloted the lead yacht, moving steadily through the canal, occasionally going over positioning details with Seth Green.

Edward Norton drove the stunt yacht, practicing sharp turns and acceleration along the preset route, the boat leaving long wakes behind it.

Johnny Depp waited in the distance, looking detached, as if he had nothing to do with any of it.

Irene sat in front of the monitors on the command boat, watching each performance, and spoke into the walkie-talkie.

"Matt, hold this rhythm. Charlie’s calm has to be consistent from start to finish. Seth, when you hack the surveillance, speed up your hand movements. Sell the hacker’s professionalism. Edward, watch your distance from the other boats in the turn. Safety first. Johnny, deepen your gaze. Don’t tip your hand too early."

A chorus of "Copy that" came back through the walkie-talkies.

The sun climbed higher, and the light on the water grew richer.

Irene closed the script, stood, and walked to the bow, watching the actors pilot their yachts as they wove through the canal.

The distant buildings, the passing boats, and the actors’ performances blended into a single, vivid scene.

"All departments, prepare. Scene two, yacht fleet assembly. Action." Her voice carried through the walkie-talkies to everyone on set. The Venice shoot had officially entered its core phase.

After wrapping for the evening, Edward Norton wanted to take a spare yacht and cruise the other parts of the canal, but Irene still had to review the day’s footage and plan tomorrow’s shoot, so she refused directly.

Edward shrugged, then extended the invitation to the others.

In the end, Johnny Depp agreed. He told Edward to wait, grabbed a guitar from the lounge, and boarded Edward’s boat.

The yacht pulled away from the dock. For a moment, there was only the soft sound of the engine and the lapping of water.

Edward leaned against the gunwale, watching the setting sun in the distance, when he heard music beside him.

He turned and saw Johnny Depp sitting on the yacht’s cushions, fingertips gently plucking the guitar strings as a soothing melody drifted through the twilight.

"I didn’t expect you to have that hidden up your sleeve," Edward said with a smile, walking over and sitting down beside him. The evening breeze, carrying the humid scent of the canal, blew past and dispelled the day’s exhaustion.

Johnny curved the corner of his mouth, his fingers never stopping as the melody grew lighter. "I played in a band before. Haven’t touched it in a long time. Good chance to get the feel back on your yacht."

He glanced toward the temporary office tent in the distance where Irene was. The lights were still on, and her figure was faintly visible as she leaned over paperwork. "Speaking of which, you’ve worked with Irene on several films. What kind of person do you think she is?"

"The boss?" At the mention of Irene, Edward’s tone lifted. "She’s a ’phenomenal’ person."

"Excuse me? What did you say? ’Phenomenal’?" Depp looked puzzled. What kind of description was that?

"Yeah, don’t you think our boss is phenomenal? She shot Legally Blonde at seventeen, and when it released the following year it kicked off a pink storm, with a North American box office of one hundred thirty-six million.

She shot Mean Girls at eighteen, and although it’s still in theaters, the box office has already crossed a hundred million, and beating Legally Blonde is only a matter of time. This year, at nineteen, she’s shooting The Italian Job. Whether it’s the script structure or the cast, everything points to next year’s box office charts. With achievements like that, even Steven Spielberg at her age probably couldn’t catch up."

Depp listened, stunned. He thought it over, and it was true. Irene Coppola was one of a kind in Hollywood right now.

Only two films had been released—one with a ten-million-dollar budget and the other with a twenty-million-dollar budget—and both had successfully grossed over a hundred million. That return on investment had shocked all of Hollywood.