'No'minate (4)
"Whoa..."
"He looks even better in person."
Every eye in the room turned toward Sion Lee as he entered the party. He was a bit late. Yet, he carried himself with the effortless confidence of the night's true guest of honor. Rather than irritating those who had been waiting, his grand entrance, set against the backdrop of the venue's lavish music, only made their hearts flutter with anticipation.
Despite his silver tongue, breathtaking looks, and a past reputation for wild scandals that always kept expectations high, Sion had actually preferred quiet nights at home since his regression, rarely attending parties unless absolutely necessary. Knowing they would finally get a glimpse of him, the gathered crowd stole glances like teenage girls starstruck by an idol.
Sion exchanged brief, polite nods with those pretending to be thrilled to see him and headed straight toward the host, Harvey Weinstein. Meanwhile, two pairs of eyes watched his every move. One belonged to rookie Hollywood actress Noah Hart, and the other to her close friend, Paris Hilton.
Noticing the literal hearts practically forming in Paris's eyes, Noah asked tentatively, "W-wow. He really is late. My legs were starting to kill me. Right?"
"..."
Paris didn't answer. She just stared blankly at Sion's broad, straight back. Having finished filming Echos of a family, he was currently packing on muscle again for his role in Fight Club. His wide shoulders and masculine frame made him look like a prince straight out of a movie. To top it off, he wore neat, horn-rimmed glasses, and his dirty blonde hair was slicked back sharply with pomade.
"This is insane. Seriously."
As the heiress to the Hilton hotel empire, she practically "collected" Hollywood actors as friends for amusement. Currently cultivating a party-girl persona to establish her foothold in high society while waiting for her moment to leap, Paris saw Sion Lee as an untouchable, breathtakingly beautiful angel.
"How can someone be that handsome? It's a total cheat code."
"I-I know, right? I guess you have to look like that to reach the top of Hollywood at such a young age..."
"That's not all, Noah." Paris's gaze suddenly sharpened. "Just because someone has a great gun doesn't make them a marksman."
"Oh, how true."
A man approached the whispering duo. It was David Vane, a member of the Academy and an active film producer. "Sion Lee is a master of presentation. He understands how to market himself as a product better than anyone."
"I-Is that so?" Noah chimed in on behalf of Paris, who had fallen into a bored silence.
Paris tended to ignore anyone who wasn't useful to her. While that attitude had been twisted by the tabloids to brand her as an arrogant party girl, she actually welcomed the reputation and used it to her advantage. Naturally, in a situation like this, it fell upon Noah Hart—a rookie actress with little going for her other than a face slightly prettier than average—to carry the conversation.
"I thought his latest film was wonderful! What was it... Echos of a family?"
"Ah, that one... It's decent, but it's a bit too on-the-nose, wouldn't you say?"
"Pardon?"
"Sometimes, the Academy voters find that sort of thing off-putting. Films that try too hard to force an emotional response."
"...And what exactly is the criteria for that?"
Paris spoke up, her eyebrow arching slightly. Noah, who had rarely seen Paris engage with anyone outside her circle of utility, turned to her in surprise.
David let out a soft chuckle, looking at the teenage heiress with an amused, slightly patronizing expression. "You just know it when you see it."
"So, it's entirely up to the whim of the ice cream truck driver."
"Haha, you'll understand when you're a bit older."
Paris didn't even bother responding to his attempt to pull rank. Raised as a Hilton heiress with rigorous grooming since childhood, she possessed a remarkably cold, analytical mind beneath her public persona. It didn't take her long to realize that a significant portion of the guests at this party held a distinct hostility toward Sion Lee.
How intriguing.
Yet, there he was, walking in with absolute confidence as if he owned the place. Her interest piqued even further when she saw him stroll right up to the host, Harvey Weinstein. Judging by the bright smiles they exchanged, they seemed to be having a grand old time.
Not a conversation I can squeeze into right now.
But someday.
With that thought, Paris took a slow sip of her non-alcoholic champagne.
Feeling the heavy, sticky weight of dozens of eyes on him, Sion offered a casual greeting to Harvey Weinstein.
"Hey, Harvey. Long time no see."
"Indeed! Mr. Lee! It's wonderful to see you. How have you been?"
"You already know the answer to that, Harvey. You're a film man, after all."
"...Haha! Quite right!"
Harvey's face twitched for a fraction of a second before snapping back into a jovial mask. It had been a while since their last meeting. Harvey had intended to use this reunion to assert dominance, subtly forcing Sion to explain his recent activities under the guise of friendly catching-up. But Sion had shut that down instantly with a casual wave of his hand.
That brief exchange laid bare the reality: there was virtually no gap between them anymore. Harvey Weinstein might have climbed to the very core of the industry through ruthless business and backroom manipulation, but Sion Lee had grown even faster. Though he was "just an actor," he had become a man who could never be looked down upon.
But Harvey, possessing the instincts of a predator, was not the type to let things slide so easily.
"You're a bit late. Was traffic bad? Still, for an event like this..."
"I was watering my garden. Lost track of time."
"..."
"Why? Was this an event I couldn't afford to be late to?"
"Ah, no. Of course not."
Harvey had planned to use basic etiquette to put Sion in his place, force him to bow his head, and then parade him around the room to show off his own influence. Sion's unexpected indifference threw him off, forcing him to run several mental simulations.
Does he have some kind of leverage? Or is this just empty bravado?
Before he could reach a conclusion, his mouth moved on instinct.
"I watched your latest starring role as well. What was it called again? The title escapes me..."
"..."
"...?"
Normally, when someone pretended to forget a title, the actor would quickly supply it to save face.
"Come on, Harvey. You can do it. It'll come to you," Sion urged with a playful, teasing smirk.
"...Echos of a family."
"Bingo. Good to see all that drinking and smoking hasn't ruined your memory. I was worried."
"Ha, haha, ha..."
"Anyway, it's a great film, isn't it?"
"Yes. It's just a shame there's so much stiff competition this year."
"Really? I didn't think we had any."
"..."
Sion's reply was dripping with confidence. Knowing full well that his Academy nomination had already been sabotaged behind the scenes, he refused to give Harvey the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.
Harvey's mind grew even more tangled. Deciding he had played enough, Sion turned his attention to the man standing quietly behind Harvey.
The man, who had been keeping a low profile, offered a polite greeting. "Hello. I am Al—"
"Albert Payne."
The moment the name left Sion's mouth, both men froze, their eyes widening in shock.
At this point in time, Albert's presence in American high society was practically a state secret. He was a man who operated strictly in the shadows, keeping his profile as low as possible. Yet, Sion had spoken his name first, as if he knew exactly who he was.
How on earth does he know?
...Did we have a leak? From where?
Sion watched their subtle panic with a slow, amused grin.
"You're quite famous. Pleasure to meet you."
"...How fascinating. I didn't think I had the kind of face Mr. Lee would remember."
"Well, I agree, but we both have our respective social standings to maintain."
Sion extended his hand first. When Albert reluctantly took it, Sion gave it a sharp tug, pulling the man close. He leaned in and whispered directly into his ear.
"This was your doing, wasn't it?"
"...?"
Keeping close to Albert, who was desperately trying to mask his sheer shock, Sion grinned.
"No need to look so surprised. Let's have some real fun going forward."
In the distant future, Albert Payne would become infamous when a massive scandal involving high-profile politicians, businessmen, and celebrities finally came to light. Sion found the current partnership between this man and Harvey Weinstein highly entertaining.
After returning from Harvey's party, Sion invited "Jack and Tom" over to his house. Tom Cruise, the producer of Echos of a family, and Jack Nicholson, his co-star who wielded immense influence in the industry. Originally, Sion had only planned to invite Tom, but he ended up calling Jack as well because there was something he needed to verify.
"What is it now? Stop bothering me," Jack had grumbled, but he was clearly pleased to be invited, even bringing along a box of premium cigars to share.
"Ah, I'll pass."
"You'll get oral cancer, Jack! Put those away!"
When both Sion and Tom rejected his offer without a second thought, Jack looked rather dejected.
Sion cut straight to the chase. "What happened with Longday Studios?"
It was the production company they had worked with on Fragments of you, which Sion had done on Jack's recommendation.
"...Why bring them up all of a sudden? I washed my hands of them a long time ago."
"I think they might be connected to what's happening now."
"What?" Jack's eyes widened.
"Hold on... Come to think of it, Rupert Hopper did reach out to me not too long ago."
"Who's that?"
"The executive VP of the studio. You met him and talked to him before."
"...?"
Seeing Sion's blank expression—clearly having no memory of such a person—Jack burst into a hearty chuckle.
"He called to ask how our movie turned out, gloating like he was enjoying our misfortune. Oh, of course, he did it in that cowardly, passive-aggressive corporate way. The bastard's gotten even filthier since I last saw him. But I'd love to see the look on that arrogant idiot's face if he found out you don't even remember who he is."
Sion fell into deep thought. Gloating, was he?
The implications were simple.
"It seems they've already aligned themselves internally."
"Exactly. I felt a strange hostility from him when we worked together... but I never imagined he'd been in bed with Harvey Weinstein since back then."
"To be precise... they are likely higher up the food chain than Harvey."
"True, that makes sense. A mere indie producer like Harvey couldn't have risen this high without their backing."
The two men pieced the puzzle together, recalling the days of filming Fragments of you. Back then, Longday Studios had made bizarre moves to keep Jack Nicholson in check. Looking back, it was a calculated effort to prevent him from expanding his influence beyond acting into producing and financing. Sabotaging a perfectly good movie just to achieve that... honestly, it was hard to comprehend why they would go to such extremes. But considering Jack had grown so disgusted with the rampant politics of the Hollywood studio system that he abandoned producing altogether to focus solely on acting, they had likely achieved their goal.
Which meant Sion now had one more reason to take action.
This was a film he had made with Jack Nicholson, a man who had become a profound presence in his new life. Through this project, Sion felt both his personal life and his acting career had reached new heights. And now, they were trying to bury that very masterpiece and its cast under a mountain of political maneuvering.
I know this is just how the industry works, but still...
He wanted to make them realize they had messed with the wrong person.
Just then, Tom Cruise, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.
"For now... we'll focus on promoting the film on our end."
"It's a waste of money."
"Even so, we have to try everything we can."
Tom offered a sheepish smile in response to Jack's grumbling.
Sion threw a new idea into the mix. "Promoting is fine, but why don't we take it a step further?"
"A step further? Do you have an idea?"
"I'm sure you've thought about this to some extent..." Sion offered a brief buffer before continuing. "We need to turn the fact that this film wasn't even nominated into a massive controversy. We have to create the ammunition to blow this whole situation wide open."
To achieve that, winning awards elsewhere—outside of the Academy—was crucial. In fact, what if they swept every single award *except* the Oscars?
"We challenge the Academy's authority. Isn't that the true American spirit? Refusing to play along with the schemes of the powerful, rallying the people to rise up with torches. We make the public question the integrity of the Academy itself."
"I don't know about that," Jack said, his expression flat and unimpressed. "Authority is authority for a reason. Even if every magazine in America names us Movie of the Year, it doesn't mean a damn thing if we don't get the Oscar. And the Golden Globes will just follow their lead anyway."
"Jack, you have to let me finish."
"Hmm...?"
"Oho... It sounds like you have something brilliant up your sleeve."
Jack tilted his head as he watched Sion's knowing smile, while Tom, catching the scent of pure dopamine, cast everything else aside, his eyes sparkling with intense curiosity.
The words Sion uttered next were nothing short of shocking.
"Let's go to Berlin."
"What? Berlin?"
"Are you talking about the Berlin International Film Festival? Surely their selection process is already over."
"If we tell them they have a chance to stick it to Hollywood, they'll gladly make room for us. After all, it's run by people."
"Why Berlin of all places? Why not Cannes or Venice?"
"Because it happens before the Oscars."
"...Ah."
Berlin, Cannes, and Venice. The Big Three international film festivals took place in February, May, and September, respectively. Meanwhile, the Golden Globes were held in mid-January, and the Academy Awards in early March. The Berlin International Film Festival was nestled exquisitely right in the middle.
"The Golden Globes will probably snub us to stay in the Academy's good graces. But if we swoop into Berlin right in the middle, deliver a stellar showing, and walk away with a major award... won't that put the Academy in a very tight spot?"
They were facing a situation where the industry was trying to deny them a Golden Globe, suppress any minor public outcry, and deliberately bury Echos of a family at the Oscars. But what if, right in the middle of all that, they brought home a Golden Bear or a Silver Bear from Berlin?
Just imagining it sent a massive rush of dopamine straight to Jack and Tom's brains.
"Bwahaha! You crazy bastard!"
"That is absolutely brilliant!"
Not only would they pursue the prestigious festival awards as originally intended, but they would also thoroughly humiliate the bastards pulling the strings behind this sabotage.
So, let's do it.
"I really don't like it," Sion said, "the idea of this film being cast aside over petty politics."
And Sion was absolutely certain that this entire crusade would only bolster his image for Fight Club.