Swing in Chicago (Part 4)

Early morning at CK Agency in Hollywood, the home of Sion Lee. Charlie Kang, the CEO, had been glued to his phone ever since he walked through the door.

"Yes, yes, of course... I'll get back to you as soon as we confirm that detail."

Calls were flooding in from every corner, all demanding to know the truth about Sion Lee.

Is it true Sion Lee auditioned for an indie film in Chicago?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Was this coordinated with the agency, or is he going rogue?

Is he actually starring in it? Is he planning to demand an astronomical salary and bankrupt the production company?

The questions ranged from somewhat professional fact-checking to sensationalist inquiries from bottom-feeding tabloids. Calls poured in from everywhere, but Charlie couldn't give a straight answer to any of them. All he could do was stall, muttering that they were "looking into it" or would "follow up later." The truth was, the agency was completely in the dark.

What on earth have you done, Yi-siony!

All this chaos over a mere rumor that he had taken an audition. Countless media outlets had latched onto the scoop, churning out articles left and right.

If the leak had been about his next romance film, or even if he had gotten into another fistfight, the reaction wouldn't have been this bizarre. In fact, some of the brands sponsoring Sion Lee actually factored his fiery temper into their marketing strategies. For instance, when Sion got into a brawl with a fan, a sponsor had literally commissioned a fashion magazine to run a feature highlighting the clothes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he was wearing during the fight. Ultimately, as long as the public "consumed" him in some shape or form, it translated into cold, hard cash.

But this time was different. The "bizarre rumor" of Sion starring in an indie film certainly piqued the fans' curiosity, but the sponsors were deeply displeased because they saw absolutely no commercial viability in it.

After wrestling with the phone for hours, Charlie finally caught a break around lunchtime. The warm California sunshine bathed the office in a gentle, golden glow.

"Sigh... I miss my mother's soybean paste stew."

As he slumped in his chair, someone approached him. She was a beautiful woman with dark, olive skin characteristic of her Spanish heritage, her black hair tied back tightly in a ponytail. It was Chloe Arietta, CK Agency's sole employee.

"You've worked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard, boss."

"Yeah. Where were you?"

"Out on field business. You gave me the assignment yesterday, remember?"

"...Ah, right."

Remembering belatedly, Charlie pulled out a cigarette and slipped it between his lips. Out of respect for Chloe's presence, he didn't light it, choosing instead to chew on the filter. The unlit tobacco aroma seemed to help him savor this brief moment of peace.

Chloe delivered her report with a characteristically stoic expression and headed back to her desk. Charlie called out to her retreating back.

"Things have gotten incredibly messy out of nowhere. I'm taking an afternoon flight to Chicago, so handle any calls that come in. Especially the sponsors—soothe them, play nice. You know what to do, right?"

"I will do my best."

"...Ah, actually, no. Chloe. If you do it, it'll probably backfire. Just tell them we're looking into it and will get back to them. And for the love of God, don't try to empathize or be too honest with anyone. Don't give them even a millimeter of wiggle room. Got it? Absolutely none!"

"I will do my best."

Chloe resumed her work like a finely tuned machine. Once again, silence descended upon the office.

Despite representing a superstar like Sion Lee, CK Agency was a tiny, struggling operation with no other major clients. With no other staff besides Charlie and Chloe, the two of them had to take turns keeping the office running.

To them, Sion Lee was a precious commodity that had to be handled with extreme care. He was like a wild beast purchased by a failing zoo using every last penny of their budget. The analogy felt even more accurate considering how he occasionally went wild, trying to bite his handlers or the visiting guests. Until recently, Charlie had spent every single day on pins and needles, wondering what kind of disaster Sion would cook up next.

And here I thought he was finally settling down.

He had never imagined Sion would cause trouble in this particular way. Had the kid's sudden change of heart taken a bizarre turn, infecting him with some pretentious artistic phase?

Please, anything but thaaaaat...

Sion was supposed to keep starring in major Hollywood blockbusters and grow alongside CK Agency! Charlie had already mapped out a beautiful future in his head, with Sion dominating the 1990s!

Groaning in agony, Charlie couldn't contain his emotions and began to whine.

"What is going on with you, Sion?! You weren't like this! Just a while ago, you were screaming that money is everything!"

"..."

"Hey, Chloe. Aren't you going to ask for details?"

"Knowing too many internal details increases the risk of making a slip of the tongue."

"Right... Good point."

Though he knew her logic was flawless, Charlie still felt a tiny bit hurt.

"You've got to hand it to Sion Lee, the kid is a walking headline."

The man speaking as he puffed on a cigarette was the editor-in-chief of the gossip magazine Behind the Scene, Michael Mitchum. Even now, he was chuckling as he approved articles that bordered on pure fiction, one by one.

"The whole industry is in an uproar just because he took a single audition for some indie flick in Chicago."

"Exactly. Since the scoop landed in our laps, our circulation numbers have shot up nicely."

"A shame it didn't land only in our laps, though."

The tip had traveled from a fellow auditionee in Chicago to a local Chicago paper, and eventually made its way to Hollywood. Since the facts couldn't be properly verified, they couldn't run it as a massive front-page feature, but it didn't matter. People eagerly snatched up the magazine simply because "Sion Lee" was plastered in bold letters on the cover.

"In the end, people just want a thrill. They need that hit of dopamine. The rich folks exploit that to make millions, and cleaner fish like us pick up the crumbs."

The masses were controlled by dopamine, and celebrities were the ultimate sacrifices offered up to feed that hunger. News of their lives injected a burst of excitement into the mundane existence of ordinary citizens. The average Joe, labeled as the general public, was naturally curious about the lives—and even the daily routines—of the larger-than-life figures ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they saw on the silver screen. By consuming the drama surrounding Hollywood superstars, they found a brief escape from their tedious lives, and Behind the Scene cashed in on that exact need. Sometimes, they even made money by taking bribes from companies wanting to sneak product placements into the articles—like casually mentioning the brand of the jacket Sion was wearing in a photo.

Among them, a celebrity like Sion Lee, who possessed both a massive fanbase and an equally passionate army of haters, was a goldmine. He was featured almost daily. Since both sides bought the magazine for entirely different reasons, sales doubled.

"But Chief, why is this causing such a massive stir?"

"What? You call yourself a reporter and you don't even know that?"

"Hey, I'm churning out the articles exactly as ordered. Humor me as a senior colleague, will you?"

"Do you or do you not know that Sion Lee is the absolute favorite to sweep the Golden Raspberry Awards this year?"

"I didn't."

"Well, now you do. Anyway, a guy with zero acting skills who has only starred in commercial trash that makes cinephiles vomit suddenly flies off to Chicago on a 'hiatus' and auditions for an indie film. Of course it's going to make waves! The entire industry is probably losing its mind right now."

"Losing its mind how?"

"Starting with Sion Lee's agency. Since they probably can't reach an actor who claimed he was going on hiatus, they're likely scrambling to contact the source of the leak to find out what movie it is and how to get in touch with the production."

"Shouldn't we be doing the same?"

"Don't be greedy. We've made enough profit from being first to print. Eat too much, and you'll get indigestion."

The editor leaned back in his chair, chuckling.

"Do you know why we're different from those bottom-tier trash tabloids? Because we know when to pull out. The public craves sensation, but they still have a conscience. If you push too far, they'll turn on you. Besides, why do you think Sion Lee auditioned for an indie film anyway? He probably got wasted on vacation and did it as a joke to mess with people."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Of course. He's treated like an actor because of his face, but at the end of the day, he's just a volatile teenager reeling from his parents' deaths. You think he has the mental capacity to think deeply about his career? He ran wild for a while, seemed to sober up briefly, and then immediately took off on a 'hiatus.' That tells you everything you need to know. So, don't dig too deep. He won't get the part anyway, and writing about it will only leave a bad taste in the readers' mouths."

"But why an indie film of all things? Is he not getting any offers?"

"Who knows? I doubt he's hurting for offers. The consensus is that his face is still highly exploitable. Maybe he just got pissed off after being dragged endlessly for his terrible acting."

"Hmm. Well, if he does get the part, he'll be filming in Chicago for a while."

"Him? Bwahaha! With his temper, even if he got cast, wouldn't he throw a tantrum over the pay? If he actually gets the part, I'll wear a dress to work for a whole year. Besides, with his acting skills, he'd be less marketable in the indie scene—which is crawling with pretentious cinephiles—than an AIDS-stricken hooker."

The editor roared with laughter, brimming with absolute certainty. It wouldn't be long before he would bitterly regret those words.

Based in Chicago, Philip Studios had been producing a wide variety of films for nearly a decade. The studio primarily invested in genres like romance, crime, and comedy—projects that could easily leverage the gritty, atmospheric backdrop of Chicago. While their films had a slightly different flavor compared to mainstream Hollywood, they consistently managed to hit solid singles relative to their budget, especially in an era where cinema was the dominant form of American entertainment.

Or perhaps it's more accurate to say they always found a way to get on base, even without hitting a home run.

Though originally established with the backing of its parent company, Philip Media Group, the studio had now successfully stood on its own two feet. Inspired by the massive success of Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Philip Studios had decided to aggressively invest in indie films. And now, that decision was bearing fruit—albeit in a completely unexpected way.

The office phones were ringing off the hook.

Employees throughout the office were desperately fielding the non-stop barrage of incoming calls.

Fred Rocks, the Chief Financial Officer of Philip Studios, exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke and stared at the handsome young man sitting across from him on the sofa. Even for a seasoned executive who had met countless people throughout his life, the sheer, breathtaking beauty of the youth—which he had only heard about in rumors—made his eyes widen in brief astonishment.

Sion Lee. A Korean-American, was it? When Fred had first seen the surname "Lee," he had assumed it was of the Christopher Lee variety, not Bruce Lee. Regardless, the young actor possessed a face that was undeniably marketable—a face that any industry professional would kill to cast as their lead. And now, that very actor was sitting right in front of him.

"Mr. Lee. May I speak frankly with you?"

"Of course. Go ahead."

Sion crossed his legs with effortless confidence, prompting Fred to break the ice with a light joke.

"When your audition application first arrived, I honestly thought it was a prank. Even when Director Summit here called to tell me he was casting you, I figured it was a lookalike actor. You know, those copycat actors that were so common back in the 1950s. ...But yet, here you are, the real deal, sitting right in front of me."

"Should I sign an autograph for you?"

"I'll ask for that once we're done with business and on personal time. My granddaughter is a huge fan of yours. In fact, I suppose most American girls are your fans right now. But do you know what kind of problem that creates?"

Fred stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward.

"You are simply too big of an actor for a production of this scale to handle."

"If you're talking about the terms, I'm willing to follow the studio's standard guidelines. ...Though I never thought I'd hear myself say those words."

Sion glanced sideways at Daniel Summit, who was sitting next to him. The director, whom he was meeting for the second time today, looked completely smitten. Every time their eyes met, Daniel would grin like a mischievous schoolboy. He had even mentioned earlier that he was counting down the days until filming began. To Sion, this mutual enthusiasm was the most critical factor for a shoot that would span several weeks. Sion himself had deeply admired this director's work in his past life and was determined to work with him. ...Though the director's sudden, complete 180-degree turn in attitude was a tiny bit unsettling.

Sion leaned back comfortably and asked Fred,

"Are you worried about the media frenzy?"

"Precisely. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on that, Mr. Lee."

"I don't see why we should care."

"...Excuse me?"

Fred couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the audacious reply. Sion Lee was a name constantly dragged through the Hollywood gossip rags. The rumors whispered among industry insiders weren't much different from the public tabloids: he was an immature brat who frequently threw tantrums, completely oblivious to his own limitations, and was entirely ruled by his emotions. While Sion's current attitude certainly carried a trace of that rumored arrogance... there was something fundamentally different about him.

"I know major studios spend astronomical amounts on marketing every year. If the public is willing to do that work for us for free, isn't that a good thing? Besides, those tabloid writers would run a front-page story even if I just stayed home and mowed my lawn. If I let every little rumor get to me, I wouldn't be able to survive in this industry."

"You make a fair point."

Fred conceded without argument. It was hard to deny the logic.

"But it's also true that public expectations will skyrocket because of this. Are you prepared for that?"

It was a loaded question, carrying multiple layers of meaning.

"Yes, I am."

Sion remained utterly unfazed.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I believe the golden age of indie cinema is just around the corner."

"And why is that?"

"When people are depressed, depressing movies sell. Just look at how kids are dressing these days. Everything is pitch black and gloomy."

"...Ho."

Fred's eyes narrowed slightly. He had been testing the waters, but this was precisely the kind of answer he had hoped to hear. He had wanted to understand Sion's true motivation for doing this film, and the young actor had delivered a surprisingly simple yet profound response. Indeed, the era was reaching a tipping point. The glitzy, prosperous 1980s under the Reagan administration had come to an end, leaving behind a yawning wealth gap. The public was beginning to doubt George H.W. Bush, and the strategic push of "patriotism" to keep the masses in line was losing its grip as the Soviet Union showed signs of collapse. Consequently, audiences were slowly growing tired of movies where a generic "American hero" solved every problem with a gun.

He might be a far deeper actor than I gave him credit for.

Sion's words had captured that exact cultural shift perfectly.

"Ultimately, there's only one thing I can do: deliver the absolute best performance on set. That is, if you and the director decide to finalize my casting. In fact, I'd like to ask you instead—has your opinion changed at all after seeing this media circus, Director?"

"I-I actually like it even more now."

Sensing the slight tension in the air, Daniel chimed in eagerly.

"Seeing Mr. Lee's audition made me absolutely certain. I know you were forced to deliver such garbage performances under the constraints of the Hollywood studio system, but your true acting caliber is aiming for a much higher artistic plane. If my film can serve as the vessel to showcase that talent... and if I can use this momentum to get my work out there, isn't that a win-win for both of us? Don't you think?"

"Haha, Director Summit. Calling his past acting 'garbage' right to his face?"

Fred let out a hearty laugh, while Sion kept his mouth shut, offering only a sheepish smile.

...Well, he took the words right out of my mouth.

While Daniel's belief that the Hollywood system was solely responsible for his past "garbage acting" was a complete misunderstanding, the fact remained that his past self's acting was indeed garbage. Sion had no choice but to stay quiet and accept the excuse.

"If you two young artists are in such agreement, I see no reason to object. I'll get in touch with Mr. Lee's agency and start planning how we can channel this current media storm into ticket sales and public interest."

Fred extended his hand, and Sion shook it, flashing a brilliant smile.

"I look forward to working with you."

Now, the only thing left to do was to soothe Charlie—who was undoubtedly flying over with steam blowing out of his ears—and sign the contract. Of course, even if Charlie's anger didn't subside, backing out was never an option.