“Director Matou, the magical effects in your fantasy film looked incredibly realistic! How did you pull them off?”

“They were real magic,” Shinji replied without missing a beat.

“Director Matou, your historical drama was praised for its uncanny accuracy. How did you manage that?”

“I had direct consultation from the people who lived in that era.”

“Director, in your tokusatsu films, why does the Ultraman-like hero always use Bajiquan in combat?”

“Well, that’s because the actor playing him is none other than the founder of Bajiquan himself.”

“Director Matou, why do the female leads in all your films look so… similar? Especially all those Arturia actresses with the same name and face?”

“That, my friend, is a long story. And it all begins with a certain mushroom-headed man—”

“……”

. . . . .

Shinji Matou.

A prodigious talent in the world of film, a renegade magi who defied the orthodoxy of the Clock Tower, and an eccentric summoner who had long since stopped pretending to get along with his own Servant.

A director who blended modern cinema with ancient magecraft. A magus who saw the silver screen as a new kind of reality marble.

He stood boldly before a press conference filled with journalists, film critics, and confused magi alike.

“I am the greatest Master among Directors—and the greatest Director among Masters!”

He declared it like a line straight out of his own movie, with all the pomp and confidence of a man who had rewritten the rules of both cinema and sorcery.

The hall fell into an awkward silence.

And then, in perfect unison, a thunderous cry echoed from behind the curtains—

“SHUT UP AND GET LOST!” ×N

A chorus of exasperated Servants, all fed up with his antics.

Shinji didn’t flinch. He simply smirked, adjusted his director’s beret, and turned back to the flashing cameras.

“Good! Now let’s roll the cameras! Scene one—reality itself.”

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