Crank In (1)
Charlie Kang was a businessman through and through. In his early forties, he was the head of a household, a second-generation Korean-American immigrant, and a man struggling to support his family while striving for success to leave a comfortable life for his children. The only reason he allowed Sion to take on this "unprofitable" gig was simple. It wasn't because Sion, with his overwhelming star power derived purely from his devastating good looks, held all the cards... but rather because of Charlie's unique philosophy of family-style management: Koreans must help each other in this cold American land.
Even though the party in question, Sion Lee, was mixed-race and only pulled out his "Korean heritage" like a tissue whenever it suited him, Charlie Kang took immense pride in being Korean. He used this shared identity as the anchor to keep Sion from jumping ship to a larger agency—though, of course, the young Sion hadn't really thought about doing so anyway—and went as far as to cherish him like his own son, always trying to clean up after him no matter how massive a mess he made.
...Anyway, it was absolutely not because Sion held all the power.
This indie film gig felt quite similar to his usual routine of cleaning up Sion's recent messes. Since Charlie was well-accustomed to this dynamic, he immediately tacked a condition onto the contract.
"We want a running guarantee."
"..."
Fred Rocks remained silent, studying his opponent. If Charlie cherished Sion as a fellow Korean, Fred deeply cared for Daniel, who was the son of his best friend and practically a nephew to him. While the two young artists sat at an outdoor street cafe, heads huddled together as they passionately discussed the film, the two adults handling the practical side of things were calmly seeking a compromise.
A running guarantee. Additional compensation based on box office performance. Fred had fully expected them to ask for this. After all, an indie film's budget could never cover Sion's standard upfront fee.
An actor of Sion Lee's caliber would command a flat fee ten times this film's entire budget when starring in a Hollywood production.
Indeed, he was a star who could boost a film's revenue to match expectations, which was why major studios willingly paid him such astronomical sums.
And the same will surely happen with our film.
A popular actor who had only ever starred in romances suddenly attempting a dramatic transformation in an indie film. The marketing for Daniel Summit's directorial debut would undoubtedly leverage that exact concept. It was a situation where the actor's name value far eclipsed the project itself. As his agency, it was only natural to demand a corresponding share of the profits. However, Philip Studios also had a line they couldn't cross.
"How much are you looking for?" Fred asked.
Typically, if an actor of Sion's caliber received a running guarantee, they would take about 1 to 2 percent of the net profits. But that was for proper studio-backed Hollywood films, and even then, it wasn't a common arrangement. Since this was an indie film, Charlie had the leverage to boldly demand a high box office percentage right off the bat.
And just as Fred expected, Charlie calmly threw out an absurd figure.
"Ten percent."
"...I was under the impression that only the likes of Jack Nicholson or Tom Cruise command that kind of percentage."
"Sion isn't a top star like them, but this film isn't a blockbuster starring those kinds of people either. Wouldn't it be fair to take that into account?"
"Fair point. Then let's meet in the middle at 7.5%."
"It feels like we skipped the whole song and dance where you offer five, I counter with nine, and we eventually settle."
"We did."
"Haha, I like a man who gets straight to the point."
Charlie, wearing a sharp businessman's smile, extended his hand. "Since this is just a matter of procedure and formality, there's no need for us to get tense."
Mulling over those words, Fred returned the smile.
So the mere fact that Sion is getting a running guarantee is what matters to him.
While they couldn't match his standard market value for an indie film, they would secure what they could through other avenues. Furthermore, this would establish a precedent for Sion to demand running guarantees in his future projects.
He's a decent businessman, this one.
Fred's eyes gleamed with interest as he looked at the curly-haired Asian man in the navy suit.
The contract negotiations wrapped up swiftly. Philip Studios and CK Agency easily ironed out the details of Sion Lee's casting, and within a few days, Sion had signed the contract in the office.
Before boarding his flight back to California to return to his regular duties, Charlie visited the apartment Sion had rented for his stay in Chicago, checking on the place and fussing over him until the very last minute.
Charlie kept pouring out a stream of worries.
"Are you sure you can handle filming on your own?"
"Yeah. All the shooting locations are nearby anyway, so I won't have to travel far. And I have a car."
"Just please don't cause any trouble. You trashed a trailer during your last shoot."
"...I did?"
"Yes, you. You said you wanted to test a prop, swung it around, and shattered the windshield."
"Wow. What kind of absolute trash would do something like that?"
"You. It was you."
Squinting his eyes, Charlie sighed as he watched Sion give an awkward laugh.
"Once I get back, I'll send Chloe over to assist you..."
"No, really, I'm fine. And why Chloe? She shouldn't come here. She's only barely thawed out because she's in warm California right now. If she comes to Chicago, she'll freeze into a popsicle instantly."
Sion waved off the offer, thinking of the cold and rigid Chloe.
"It's a small shoot. I want to get back to basics and work hard, so you don't need to treat me like a prince. Besides, we're a small agency. If you send Chloe here, you'll never be able to leave the office."
"You get treated like a prince because you are a prince... Well, fine."
Deciding to trust Sion, who had recently started acting like a remarkably normal human being, Charlie nodded.
"Can you feed yourself properly?"
"Ah, don't worry. There are plenty of taco joints nearby."
"A Korean needs to eat rice, rice! Is there no Koreatown around here?"
"Sure, there is. Just a short trip away. If you take a plane to a place called Los Angeles."
"My mother made some kimchi. I'll send some over later."
Charlie continued to nag Sion, who felt a bit embarrassed by the excessive mothering, as he did a final check of the refrigerator.
At that moment, Charlie's head stiffly jerked to the side.
"...What is this?"
"What's what?"
"Why is there so much whipped cream in the fridge?"
Staring suspiciously at the cans of whipped cream spray, Charlie turned around, his face pale.
"Are you... by any chance..."
"Charlie, I can explain."
"Are you doing drugs?"
"...How on earth did you leap to that conclusion?"
"Did you fry your brain cells doing something crazy?"
"No..." Sion replied, completely deflated by the wildly unexpected misunderstanding.
Charlie remained suspicious up until the very moment he boarded his flight. Sion, having given up on explaining, had to promise multiple times that he wouldn't do anything that could cause a scandal before he could finally send his agent off and return.
...Damn it, drugs? Seriously?
Even in his previous life, when he had lived like absolute trash, he had never touched drugs. It wasn't out of any noble principle, though. It was simply because his face had been ruined, forcing him to retreat into his shell like a turtle before he could fall into the typical Hollywood star routine of transitioning from alcohol and cigarettes to hard drugs.
If not for that accident... he might have succumbed to the temptation eventually.
When I think about it that way, I suppose I can understand why Charlie would jump to conclusions.
In a place like Hollywood, where such downfalls were a dime a dozen, Charlie must have heard countless rumors and truths.
Deciding he would have to gradually rebuild his agent's trust, Sion Lee opened the refrigerator. He pulled out one of the cans of whipped cream spray he had swept off the shelves of a nearby supermarket, popped the cap off, shoved the nozzle into his mouth, and pressed the button.
With a sharp, gas-hissing psshhh!, an aggressively smooth and sweet wave of cream flooded his mouth. The sensation was so mind-meltingly rich that a smile naturally spread across Sion's face.
"Incredible."
A flavor that felt as if it were pickling his very brain in sugar. Whipped cream spray. It was the snack he had eaten most frequently during the ten years he spent holed up in his house after his face was ruined. The sweet taste that filled his mouth when he pressed down on the aerosol nozzle was exquisite, and it was back then that Sion realized just how much he loved sweets. At his worst, he had emptied nearly three cans a day.
I completely cut it out once I started acting again, though.
There were blood sugar concerns, and he couldn't exactly go around auditioning while carrying a massive amount of excess fat.
But now, the situation was the exact opposite. He needed to put on weight.
Because I need a drastic physical transformation to fit the role.
Sion sprayed another burst of whipped cream into his mouth and sat down on the sofa.
Daniel Summit was right.
He was simply too handsome to play a wide variety of roles. Even if he possessed the acting chops to overcome it, breaking free from the first impression his appearance gave was no easy feat. Acting was a profession where one exposed their physical form on screen to portray someone else, and naturally, every actor carried a certain image that matched their innate looks. No one expected a rugged, character-actor type to play a romantic lead.
Of course, some films utilized that gap, but they were the exception. They were usually films where a plot twist was crucial, or those relying heavily on a specific actor's fame.
A star who was incredibly handsome but a dreadful actor, rising to fame solely on his looks. Because of that reputation, people wouldn't easily accept him playing a role that deviated from his established image.
Especially the snobby cinephiles.
Just as important as analyzing the script was tailoring his physical appearance to match the character. In the past, he would have wondered why he even needed to bother, but not anymore.
It's an absolute necessity if I want to survive as a real actor.
Even if it took a toll on his body, it was a sacrifice any professional film actor would make.
Sion squeezed another long stream of whipped cream into his mouth and picked up the script. It was the screenplay that director Daniel Summit had eagerly handed him the moment the contract was signed.
That pure smile of his was amusingly more naive than the future version of him I knew.
Though the process was a bit unconventional, even that gave it a charming "indie film" vibe that he liked.
"Let's see..."
The title was Swing in Chicago. A crime drama about an ordinary factory worker who accidentally gets caught up in a drug-drop scheme. The protagonist was a completely average, run-of-the-mill white laborer of this era. A so-called "white trash" character.
Like Rocky Balboa in the first Rocky, or Eminem in 8 Mile.
Picturing that archetype in his mind, Sion began to read the script, continuously washing it down with mouthfuls of whipped cream.
Two weeks flew by after Sion signed the contract.
During that time, the production crew pushed forward with preparations for the shoot. Location scouting, concept art creation, securing wardrobe rentals, and so on. Although many steps were skipped due to the film's small scale, they steadily wrapped up pre-production, striving to translate the director's vision onto the screen.
With the start of filming just around the corner, the schedule was grueling. Daniel Summit, who hadn't been able to go home from the studio and had remained holed up alone in his tiny office, was now as pale as a vampire from the lack of sunlight.
Having finally stepped outside for the first time in ages, he was now standing in front of a run-down apartment building in Uptown. It was Sion Lee's temporary residence.
Is he really staying in a place like this?
He had felt a sense of disbelief the entire way here. A superstar like Sion Lee, living in an apartment like this?
No, if he's a true actor, it makes sense that he'd stay here.
Everyone agreed that artists possessed eccentric temperaments. If they didn't, they wouldn't spend their entire lives engaging in the adolescent act of projecting their inner worlds outward. And a director's job was to provide a stage for an artist with such a diverse inner world, bringing it all together into a unified vision.
...Daniel Summit recalled the lesson he had once learned from his mentor back in film school.
"Alright. Let's do this."
Steeling his resolve, Daniel entered the building. He stepped into the creaky elevator, which groaned as it carried him upward. He felt a flutter of excitement.
During the pre-production phase, Sion must have been reading the script on his own. He was curious to know what his lead actor thought of the character and the story he had created. In fact, that was the very reason for his visit today. He wanted to hear the actor's thoughts before they started rehearsals.
Ever since their meeting at the audition, Daniel had placed absolute trust in Sion. It had been a brief performance, but he had felt a distinct spark. He was certain Sion would pull off the role of Alex in Swing in Chicago beautifully.
After casting him, his former classmates had somehow caught wind of the news and bombarded him with calls, nagging him with questions like, Did you really cast Sion Lee? and Are you seriously putting that idiot in the lead role? But Daniel didn't care in the slightest. If anything, he felt a sense of respect for Sion, who had endured such unfair prejudice and steadily continued his acting career despite being "forced" to give those terrible performances in the past.
...With his "misunderstanding" firmly cemented, Daniel pressed the apartment's doorbell.
I wonder what he thinks.
How did Sion view the script of Swing in Chicago?
With a mix of anticipation and anxiety, Daniel waited for the door to open.
A moment later, the door swung open, and someone stepped out.
"...?"
"Ah, welcome."
Daniel thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
"Huh?"
"Yes?"
The two men stood at the doorway, tilting their heads at each other. Sion wondered why Daniel was reacting like that, while Daniel...
"Uh... Sion?"
"Yeah, Danny."
Sion spoke first, addressing the speechless director. "It's really me. Did I gain too much weight?"
"Uh, wha, uh...?"
Daniel couldn't bring himself to say, It's not just the weight!
Sion Lee was currently one of the most beautiful men in Hollywood. His pale skin, dark eyebrows, and large green eyes held a depth that stirred the hearts of many whenever he looked down. It triggered a protective maternal instinct in viewers while making him look like a man with a tragic story, earning him the absolute devotion of female fans.
But right now, the handsome youth of the century was "slightly" ruined.
True, even a ruined noble retains their class; his handsome features were still there, but the vibe had completely shifted.
A protruding belly. A slight double chin. His model-like physique, which had possessed an exceptional bone structure and natural muscle even without strict maintenance, had softened with layers of fat, making him look thick and bulky overall. A rough, two-week-old stubble covered his lower face, and his hair, which he usually kept slightly long and neatly styled with pomade, was completely unkempt, spilling down to his cheeks.
After staring blankly at him for a long moment, Daniel finally managed to squeeze out a word.
"A-Alex...!"
Standing right before him was a textbook "white trash" character straight out of the media.
Albeit a slightly too handsome version of one.