This Year's Winners (1)

And then, the upset of the night occurred.

January 18, 1998. The Golden Globe Awards, where countless industry insiders gathered to celebrate the films of the past year. During one of the night's highly anticipated highlights, the winner for Best Actress was announced.

With a loud bang!, confetti exploded into the air.

As the celebratory music began to play, Elena Asimov looked around. It was only when she saw the surrounding actors turning to look at her that she finally realized this moment was not a dream.

It was an entirely unexpected win. She had been deeply grateful just to be nominated alongside such legendary actresses. And even in a moment like this, there was one person who immediately came to mind.

"What's with the modesty? Just enjoy it. You won!"

If Sion Lee had heard her thoughts, he undoubtedly would have said exactly that. Chuckling softly as she imagined his reaction, Elena composed herself and stood up with poise.

"Congratulations!"

"Congratulations, Elena!"

"Thank you so much."

Elena acknowledged the applause of her peers with a graceful, almost regal nod. After sharing warm hugs with her mother, Olga Asimov, and her co-star, Leo Walker, she gathered the hem of her dress and slowly made her way up to the stage.

The crowd showered the night's protagonist with thunderous applause. Accepting the heavy trophy, Elena stood before the microphone and began her acceptance speech.

"I deserved this."

It was a surprisingly bold statement, quite unlike her usual reserved self, but the audience received it with delighted laughter. Elena had always been perceived as somewhat straight-laced, almost obsessively 'proper,' which occasionally led critics to call her a bit dull as an actress. The paparazzi, in particular, lamented that she was one of the most boring subjects to tail; she rarely left her house, preferring to spend her days reading the Bible or classic literature in a sunlit corner of her garden.

Yet here she was, speaking with a touch of arrogance—very much like a certain 'someone' she knew. Because it was so unexpected, the crowd took it as a charming joke rather than genuine conceit.

"And I will do my best to ensure everyone keeps thinking that way in the future."

Sure enough, she immediately softened her tone with a quick follow-up. No matter how much she changed, her personality simply wouldn't allow her to boldly declare that everyone would be 'following her by the end of the year' the way that certain someone had.

After delivering a few more customary remarks, Elena finally began to thank those who had helped her. Her mother, Olga Asimov, who was a constant source of inspiration; her co-star, Leo Walker; Director Daniel Summit; and the production crew. After listing several names, she paused before uttering the final one.

"And lastly, Sion Lee, who made it possible for this film to be produced."

A warm smile spread across the faces of the audience members.

If you were here, you'd probably shamelessly claim you predicted my win. So, I won't offer you my gratitude. Instead, I'll say the most special words I can offer you. I still...

"I hate you."

Contrary to the harsh words that seemed so out of place for the occasion, Elena's cheeks flushed with a soft pink as she beamed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a radiant smile.

It was the iconic line that had sparked the playful, antagonistic dynamic between Sion Lee and Elena Asimov during the filming of Deadly Summer Camp, right before Sion's sudden transformation. Watching the satellite broadcast from the other side of the world, Sion chuckled, finding her speech far more entertaining than he had anticipated, and clapped along.

"She's actually getting pretty good at this."

It was the perfect quote. The Hollywood reporters would have an absolute field day writing articles about it.

So many things had changed compared to his past life. It wasn't just the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠career and life of an actor named Sion Lee; the entire landscape around him had shifted. The initial divergence had been minuscule, but like a butterfly effect, it had rippled outward.

Elena Asimov's Golden Globe win was a prime example.

'If I remember correctly, she wasn't supposed to win this until her late twenties, about two years from now.'

Even so, Sion felt a genuine swell of pride knowing that the project he had recommended had allowed her talent to be recognized much sooner. At the same time, a faint spark of competitive fire ignited within him.

'She really did an incredible job, though. A genius is a genius.'

In Rainbow Road, Elena played an older sister who deeply loved her younger brother but frequently stumbled against the harsh realities of life. It was a performance that marked a massive leap forward in her maturity as an actress. For someone who had previously only taken on static or passive roles, it was a daring new challenge.

The public consensus on Elena's performance was overwhelmingly positive.

Sion had felt the exact same way. Elena's performance in Rainbow Road was so mature and refined that it completely erased any concerns about her multi-year hiatus for college. Despite returning to a grueling, low-budget set where the actors themselves had to help carry camera equipment, Elena had never faltered. She had shown the world exactly what kind of actress she was.

It was a beautiful film, and just as Elena said, she truly deserved the award.

'A young actress's triumphant return, a rising indie director catching the eye of critics, and a bold, passionate new cinematic attempt. It was the perfect recipe for critical acclaim.'

Sion had been particularly impressed by the scene where Elena, covered in mud, cursed in frustration while trying to haul a stuck truck. Despite having the exact same face, she had completely shed her usual 'Russian princess' image.

'In any case, this win is going to bring a lot of good things.'

The film would undoubtedly get a theatrical re-release. Consequently, the CK Agency actors who starred in it would see a surge in popularity, and love calls would pour in for the young director as he transitioned out of the indie scene. Already smelling the sweet scent of money, Sion realized his influence was steadily growing in Hollywood, the ultimate capitalistic playground.

'Well, it's a bit of a shame Kate didn't win Best Actress, though.'

Since awards were decided by human votes, a film sweeping certain categories often meant it would be passed over in others to maintain balance. Titanic had already claimed Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Score, and Best Original Song, which naturally pushed its actors down the priority list for individual awards.

Still, the film itself was performing spectacularly—even better than in his past life.

As February rolled around, *Titanic*'s global box office gross surpassed the historic $1 billion mark. It was an unprecedented, monumental achievement that had never even been approached before. Naturally, 20th Century Fox was ecstatic—while simultaneously nursing a massive headache trying to calculate the astronomical backend points they owed Sion Lee.

Regardless, Titanic had transformed into a global cultural phenomenon, cementing its place as the definitive masterpiece to close out the 20th century. And Sion, by participating in it, was rewriting history.

'In my past life, around this time of year, I was probably locked in my room, spraying whipped cream straight into my mouth.'

Now, his reality was the exact opposite. He barely had time to breathe. Having only just returned to the United States from Europe, he was immediately swept up in a whirlwind of interviews, photoshoots, and promotional events. And, once again differing from his past life, a strange undercurrent began to form within the Academy as they prepared for the upcoming Oscars—one that even the incredibly busy Sion hadn't anticipated.

'Best Supporting Actor...'

'Who should we nominate?'

During the nomination phase for the 1998 Academy Awards, the actors' branch of the Academy cast anonymous ballots to select the supporting performances that had defined the past year. When the votes were tallied, five nominees emerged.

Robin Williams.

Burt Reynolds.

Greg Kinnear.

Anthony Hopkins.

And finally...

Sion Lee.

With the five nominees for Best Supporting Actor officially selected by the actors' branch, the final round of voting would now be opened to the entire Academy membership. When Sion was first delivered the news of his nomination, his reaction was remarkably subdued.

"Oh, really?"

Charlie Kang looked at him, utterly dumbfounded by his lack of enthusiasm.

"...Oh, really? You punk, this is huge! It's your very first Oscar nomination!"

"Nominations don't mean anything, Charlie. Winning is what matters."

"You could win!"

"Absolutely not. Titanic is a technical masterpiece, not an actor's film. It'll probably win eleven awards, but not a single one of them will be for acting. I'm certain of it. Want to bet?"

"Oh, you're on. A hundred bucks?"

"Five hundred."

Knowing the future, Sion proposed the devilish bet with a smirk.

"Fine. Don't you dare back out."

"Honestly, I don't even want to attend the ceremony. I need to find time to record my Star Wars audition tape."

With his schedule already packed to the brim, finding time for anything else was a nightmare. The nomination felt more like an added chore than an honor. But since he couldn't exactly skip the Oscars as a nominee, Sion could only grumble under his breath.

As the final voting period approached, the Academy members began to deliberate. Each member received their ballot and was tasked with voting as fairly as possible for the advancement of the motion picture industry.

Naturally, when looking at the most talked-about film of the year, Titanic stood entirely unchallenged. The film, which was actively rewriting cinematic history, was poised to tie the record with fourteen nominations and eleven wins, just as it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had in the original timeline. However, in this timeline, there was one additional nomination.

Sion Lee for Best Supporting Actor.

"Hmm..."

"Ugh."

"Sigh..."

Academy members across the country stared at their ballots, locked in deep contemplation. A great supporting actor must elevate the leads. In that regard, Sion Lee's performance in Titanic was flawless. He was the perfect, menacing foil to the free-spirited Jack, and the warden who kept Rose trapped in a gilded cage. His presence enriched the narrative of the two leads, grounding what could have been a superficial disaster-romance and allowing the main characters to shine even brighter. It was, by all accounts, a masterclass in supporting acting.

The issue, however, was that Titanic was not traditionally viewed as an 'actors' movie.' And...

'Do I really have to vote for this arrogant brat?'

'Damn it, his acting was incredible. He was brilliant. But still...'

A few members who personally disliked Sion's public persona let their biases guide their pens toward other nominees. Yet, a counter-narrative was quietly gaining traction among many others.

'The twenty-first century is right around the corner.'

'A new star for a new era has arrived.'

'Sion Lee played a villainous supporting role, yet he supported the two leads magnificently.'

'And despite that, he left an indelible mark on the audience. Right up until the very end.'

They recalled Cal's final moments on screen. It was a scene born from an actor throwing himself into freezing water, pushing himself to the brink of hypothermia to deliver absolute realism. Ultimately, they reached a singular conclusion.

'He deserves this.'

'Damn it, there's no denying him.'

'He might be arrogant, but he backs it up with pure talent. And honestly, that's exactly what the modern era demands.'

With the ballots cast and counted, the night of the Academy Awards finally arrived.

And once again, the unexpected happened.

March 23, 1998. The Academy Awards. Sion Lee sat in his seat with zero expectations, knowing that the year had been packed with incredible, actor-driven films. But as he sat there, completely detached, the entire spotlight of the Shrine Auditorium suddenly converged on him.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggghhhhh!"

The orchestra swelled alongside a deafening torrent of applause. It was a scene nearly identical to the Golden Globes broadcast he had watched on television, with one crucial difference: this time, he was the one standing in the center of the storm.

Even after his name was called, Sion sat frozen, his mind struggling to process the reality of the moment. It was only when Elena, sitting beside him, threw her arms around his neck in a fierce hug that his senses finally snapped back.

"You deserve it! Sion!"

Hearing the exact words Elena had spoken during her own acceptance speech, Sion managed a sharp, genuine grin. He finally stood up.

'Well... I'll be damned. It actually happened.'

As he walked down the aisle, countless industry giants stood to congratulate him. Among them, the most prominent figure in Sion's eyes was Robin Williams—the man who, in the original timeline, should have been holding the trophy tonight for his legendary performance in Good Will Hunting.

The warm-faced actor stepped forward, extending a hand to Sion with a bright smile.

"Congratulations! You deserve it!"

"...Thank you so much, Mr. Williams!"

In that brief moment, Sion shed all of his calculated armor, deeply moved to receive such heartfelt congratulations from a truly great actor. With the grace of a star born for the new era, he stepped onto the stage and accepted the golden statuette.

A major trophy. Something he had never once held in his entire past life.

'...How did this happen?'

Even standing before the microphone, Sion felt a lingering sense of disbelief. Yet, the fact that this trophy was being handed to Sion Lee at this exact moment carried an incredibly profound cultural significance.

At the twilight of the 20th century, Titanic—perhaps the greatest cinematic triumph of the era—had sailed into history. And alongside this narrative of a tragic sinking, a new king had risen to claim his crown.

"Many of you... look at me and use a specific title. They call me 'Hollywood's Broken Prince.'"

Since he truly hadn't prepared a speech, Sion's mind raced at a million miles an hour, desperately weaving words together on the fly.

"I've always thought it wasn't a bad nickname. I'm certainly not a 'proper' actor like some people. I have a terrible temper. Though I've worked hard to change recently, I used to make a lot of the people I worked with cry. I suppose I really was just an immature prince."

But as the words began to flow, Sion did what he did best: he spoke from the heart, with the raw, unfiltered confidence that defined him.

"I don't know if you all remember, but last year, at an event for Bad contract where many of Hollywood's brightest stars gathered, I made a claim. I said that by the end of the year, you would all be following me. It turned out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to be quite the prophecy, didn't it?"

Feeling the shifting tides of the industry beneath his feet, Sion looked out at the sea of faces and spoke with absolute authority.

"In that sense, to everyone who bestowed this wonderful honor upon me tonight, I would like to say this..."

"The prince has now become king."

It was a declaration delivered to the entirety of Hollywood. A proclamation that a new era had dawned, and that no one could stand in his way.

In the vast empire of American cinema, amidst the glittering territory of stars, the coronation of Sion Lee had officially begun. The war of the stars was about to commence, and he had just taken the throne.