Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Part 2

California, nestled on the western coast of the Americas, enjoyed a warm climate all year round. The sunshine was constant throughout the year, which perhaps explained why the people there boasted such mild and cheerful temperaments. A shirtless man jogging in nothing but shorts, a woman in a sports bra running alongside him. The warm sun beating down, the rolling ocean sparkling like diamonds. Add to that a strange harmony of palm trees and neon colors, and you had the quintessential image of California that most people pictured.

But starting in the 1990s, a new color filter was slowly being draped over that landscape. A grittier, muddier, yet sophisticated tone of gloom. The craze of neon colors that swept through the 1980s was fading, and the world was moving toward a new worldview. Blue jeans, plaid shirts, and Dr. Martens boots were in vogue, and the first stirrings of grunge metal were beginning to rise. Somewhere in this era, Nirvana was preparing to shock the world. If the '80s were neon, the '90s were a dreary, somber black. In other words, it was an era where psychiatry would thrive.

Smells Like Teen Spirit. Nirvana's masterpiece, which had not yet been released, drifted through Sion's mind as he sprinted through the night streets. A song that American teenagers would soon worship. A song that would make psychiatrists shudder. And with that, faced with the intense physical sensations, he had no choice but to accept the fact that he had returned to this time.

I can run this long? I wasn't secretly remodeled into a cyborg, was I? No, idiot. If that were the case, the surrounding situation wouldn't make sense. Time travel is actually more realistic... That's it. There's no other explanation.

His heart pumped blood continuously through his body, and the muscles of his lower limbs repeatedly contracted and expanded. With endorphins flooding his brain, Sion sprinted down the street like a madman. Just doing that was ecstatic. Because, even if only for a moment, he could forget everything. By the time his chaotic mind began to settle, he naturally became aware of it. The stares of the people around him.

"No way... Is it him?"

"Nah, can't be. Why would he be here?"

"Is he some kind of celebrity?"

"...Huh? Seriously? He's so damn handsome..."

Before he knew it, he had run too far from the hospital. Somewhere in Los Angeles. It was late at night, but the bustling streets ahead of the weekend were still packed with people. Feeling the countless eyes on him, Sion felt a wave of confusion wash over him again. Memories from decades ago slowly resurfaced, filling in his reality like a lagging map finally ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠loading.

After the motorcycle accident that "happened" today, Sion Lee's life had been completely ruined. When he was finally discharged after spending nearly a year in the hospital, nothing was left in his heart. Sion had immediately sold the house he lived in with his mother and returned to his hometown of Chicago. His agency tried to coax him and threaten him, but Sion coolly chose to pay the penalty fee and terminate his contract. He had more than enough money in his hands, earned entirely from his face. But he couldn't handle the scars left on that face, nor the reality of being completely alone.

The emotions and memories of that time came back vividly. But...

It's not there. It's definitely not there. Stepping into a secluded alleyway out of public view, Sion touched his face as if he couldn't believe it. Only the sensation of smooth, flawless skin met his fingertips.

How on earth? Was it a dream? The afterlife? That couldn't be. If it were such a convenient story, he would have gone back even further. At least to a time when his mother, or even his father, was still alive. But it wasn't then. Of all times, it had to be after the family members who supported him had already passed away...

I've... returned. It was an awkward timing, to the point where he might not have been able to purely rejoice in this regression if he hadn't spent thirty-odd years in his past life coming to terms with it. However, the facial scar that had remained on his body and choked his life until the moment of his death no longer existed in this world. It was so coincidental that he couldn't help but wonder if his departed parents, taking pity on their son's life, had lifted the shackles and granted him a fresh start.

Swept up in a whirlwind of complex emotions, Sion bit his lip hard. Right then, someone approached him.

"Excuse me, are you..."

Two young, slightly tipsy white women. His run had stopped in the alley, and as they suspected, it really was Sion Lee. Seeing him touching his face, they quickly covered their mouths, desperately holding back the screams that threatened to burst out.

Well-groomed dirty blonde hair, a sharp, high-bridged nose, and skin so pale it was almost translucent. His most captivating feature, however, was his deep, unfathomable green eyes. The moment he looked at them in confusion, they were staring directly at the beautiful boy from the movies they had rented and watched over and over again.

"I knew it, I knew it! Oh my god, what do I do? He's so incredibly handsome!"

"Um, Sion! We're really big fans...!"

Sion flinched in surprise at the tipsy fan's blunt reaction. Fans approaching him first to strike up a conversation—how long had it been since that last happened? It feels like it's been at least twenty years.

Although Sion had appeared in quite a few films after returning to acting, people in daily life rarely approached him, likely due to the scar on his face. When someone did approach him openly, it was often a police officer who found him suspicious, frequently requiring him to verify that he was just an ordinary actor. But while the direction was different, this situation was just as dangerous as being approached by an American cop who mistook him for a suspicious character. Drunk fans often got excited and acted aggressively. If provoked the wrong way, things could get dangerous.

...How did I usually act in times like this? And before his mind could make a decision, his body moved first.

"Shh, I have some things to think about alone right now." While his 48-year-old brain reasoned calmly, his 18-year-old body moved swiftly. "I'm sorry. Could you keep this as our own beautiful little secret?"

The appearance of an apex predator combined with a slightly humble attitude, followed by a wink. That was more than enough. Above all, a fan always wanted to share a "secret" with their favorite star. In a way, it was far more valuable than an autograph or a photo. Sion smiled gently as he recalled this fact. When one of Hollywood's most handsome teen heartthrobs did that, the two female fans froze. Soon, they stammered out their responses.

"Y-Yes... of course."

"What's troubling you? Oh, I'm sorry. You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."

"It's alright. Just knowing that you care so much has made me feel a bit better."

This time, a slightly brighter smile. After managing the fans like that and slipping away, Sion thought, Wow, that actually worked. Crazy. Were people in this era always this innocent? Though dazed, his priority for now was to adapt to this discrepancy. After all, he was now an actor with no issues on his face—no, an "actor who could make a living on his face alone."

Sion pulled the hood of the zip-up jacket he had thrown over his hospital gown low and continued to wander the streets. To someone who had returned from a time thirty years in the future, the people of 1990 walking the streets late at night felt like inhabitants of an entirely different world. Fascinated by each and every one of them, he couldn't help but steal glances, only to quickly look away when their eyes met. In those moments, the people who caught his gaze would turn back, thinking, Huh? Sion walked down the street, unintentionally drawing the attention of countless passersby.

Wait, did people always recognize me this much? Perhaps because it was thirty years ago, he couldn't quite grasp how famous of an actor he had been back then. Moreover, he had intentionally tried to forget his memories of this period. Only the scars had remained. Sensing that dwelling on it was becoming toxic, Sion looked around, intending to sit down somewhere comfortable and clear his head. Spotting a 24-hour donut shop nearby, he turned his steps toward it.

How very 1990. The colorful interior of the shop and the simple neon sign logo visible from the outside screamed the era. The inside of the shop was packed with people passing the time. Everyone was chatting amiably, dipping their donuts into mugs filled to the brim with coffee. The somewhat cozy scene almost put Sion at ease, but he suddenly flinched like a cat startled by someone approaching from behind. Plastered on every pillar in the shop were advertising posters featuring him as the model.

[Let's Dunk!] A photo of Sion Lee wearing the shop's employee uniform, dipping a donut into a mug with a refreshing smile. ...He felt an immense sense of distance from it. In the sense that he didn't want to remember it. Yet, the unpleasant memories bubbled up regardless.

The signature item of this brand was the cream donut, so they had me shoot with cream on the tip of my nose. That became perfect fodder for people to tear me apart. He remembered the reactions being along these lines:

...Since it's a memory I wanted to forget, it's full of holes, which is probably why I remember it like internet comments. He had hated it that much back then. Sion narrowed his eyes, recalling what happened afterward. Reports of poster thefts cropped up all over the country, and everyone tried to take photos of the posters to keep them. The advertising agency praised the campaign, saying their "intended effect" had worked perfectly, while Sion had wanted to die of embarrassment.

Damn it. ...In truth, his public image had been heavily geared toward this kind of exposure. With his beautiful, somewhat androgynous looks, the Sion Lee of this era enjoyed massive popularity among "teenagers and women in their early twenties" who loved delicate, pretty boys, as well as "certain other demographics." I hated it back then, though. But as someone who was "getting paid," he had no choice.

Sion let out a wry laugh, dumbfounded by the flood of industry memories. A woman who had walked up behind him as he stood blocking the entrance spoke up in annoyance. "Excuse me. You're blocking the door."

"Ah, my apologies."

"...?!"

As Sion apologized, her eyes went wide. A beautiful, melodic voice had come from a tall, striking man who stood a full head taller than her. Recognizing his face a beat late, her face flushed red as she stammered.

"S-Sion Lee...? Whoa, your face is..."

"Shh, it's a secret."

"A s-secret? Ah, okay. I'll keep it... a secret."

"Good. Something special just happened today."

Having finished managing her with a fan-service line, Sion felt a sudden urge to crawl into a hole and die. Women want to share secrets with handsome men. Steeling himself with a quote he had seen in some movie, Sion stepped into the shop. He casually grabbed a tray and started picking out donuts... No "cream" donuts. No "chocolate" donuts either. Those sick bastards... Why was he getting so emotional?

The 48-year-old Sion Lee had lived like a potted plant. Plagued by diabetes, hyperlipidemia, and high blood pressure, he had lived a life where nothing really fazed him, always reacting with a mild, Haha, is that so? But not now. Perhaps due to the influence of testosterone, his teenage body was making him far more "aggressive." Or perhaps the lingering emotions of this period still held a strong grip on his physical form.

Sion took a deep breath, placed a few plain donuts on his tray, and walked over to the counter. Then he realized. "W-W-Welcome! Can I help you with your order?!" All six employees were standing behind the counter. They had recognized Sion Lee, the actor and the model for their franchise.

"Just a cup of coffee, please." Sion paid nonchalantly, took the capitalist coffee dispensed instantly from the machine, and headed to a corner seat. He could feel people staring and whispering, but he ignored them and dunked his donut straight into the mug. Watching the butter from the donut swirl into the black coffee, he took a bite. The taste of the rich, almost bitter coffee combined with the soft donut made him realize that this was indeed reality.

Amid this sense of reality, Sion began to piece together what had happened to him. The sudden accident that occurred on his way back from giving a lecture. When he woke up in the hospital, he naturally assumed he had been brought there because of that accident... but he was wrong. He had returned thirty years into the past. Just like Back to the Future. He stuffed the donuts into his mouth, still in a daze. Then, he realized: I can eat donuts now, and it doesn't even affect me. Even if they were plain, just a few hours ago he would have had to avoid heavy foods like donuts. He was suddenly acutely aware of his rejuvenated body. A healthy body also influenced his state of mind.

"Phew..." He let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair. He had returned. To the days when, after his mother passed away, he had spiraled downward without a single hope. The 1980s, filled with the optimism and excess of Reaganomics, had come to an end, and people wanted stimulation to escape reality. The media evolved to meet those demands of the public. All kinds of sensational content reflecting reality flooded the market, and the most lucrative of all was the "private lives of top stars."

On the surface, Hollywood top stars seemed glamorous, possessing all the fame and wealth in the world. But in reality, they were violated by those curious about them, and ultimately exploited by those with power—the "pen," "capital," and "politics." The me of this era was an actor perfectly suited for that kind of role. Moderately famous, with no real backing other than his fans, and constantly getting into trouble. He would continue to draw attention in the future, whether he wanted to or not.

Still, it was better than his past life, where no matter what he did, he was mocked as a "Paralympic special hire." At least he wouldn't have to deceive others with "white lies." He had to pretend to be okay when he wasn't. He had to say he had overcome his trauma when he hadn't. He had to live comforting himself with the thought that he was giving people hope. That was the destiny of anyone who stepped onto the stage of entertainment.

Living as a celebrity in Hollywood meant that one's private life also became a commodity. Under that stress, many celebrities turned to alcohol and drugs, slowly destroying themselves. And the media lured the public by portraying those celebrities in an even more sensational light. All for money and power.

"..." Sion pursed his lips, controlling the emotions in his head. If he wanted to lead a peaceful and safe life, it would be best to retire right now and live off stock investments. If he continued to live as an actor, he would constantly be someone's prey and shield. But at this very moment, what this young body and his heart—which he had thought was completely worn out—desired most was not such a comfortable life.

It was to adapt to the jungle called Hollywood and seize victory. To freely perform the acting he had always wanted to do. In this place that had turned its back on him in the blink of an eye just because his face was ruined.

Sion chuckled as he looked around at the posters filling the shop. He had mostly starred in romance films targeted at women, and his private life had garnered far more attention than his acting skills. He was frequently nominated for Worst Actor at the Golden Raspberry Awards, which honored the worst films of the year, and had actually won it. And that wasn't the end of it. When he voiced some complaints to industry insiders, his words leaked to a weekly tabloid, prompting the awards organizers to do an interview about him, which kept him fuming for quite some time. Looking back now, he could have responded in a much better way as an "actor." He regretted everything.

Well, none of that matters now. ...No, actually, it makes me mad. I want to wipe them all out. Ah, wait. Is this the testosterone talking? I need to control this. Otherwise, I'll make the same mistakes as before. Sion broke into a light sweat as he reined in his body, which was trying to dominate his mind.

"..." Come to think of it, this was a situation that was hard to get used to. People didn't look at his face and pity him, nor did they try to hide their discomfort. They didn't feel fear either. No, in fact, at this time, it was only natural for everyone to fall in love with Sion at first sight. Let's adapt. To how I look now. And let's act better. Had he not been given the chance to set everything right, a chance he had yearned for so desperately?

Sion drank the rest of his coffee in one gulp, quieted his confusion with a grateful heart, and stood up. He walked back to the counter, returned his tray, and smiled at the female employees who came to greet him. "Thank you. It was delicious."

"Ah..."

"Um, you're... him, right?"

"Sion..."

Their voices were barely whispers. Sion put on a mischievous expression and winked. The moment they saw that, the female employees felt their hearts pound. It was a scene they had often watched in their favorite movies. And the line that would surely follow next was...

"Shh, it's our little secret." Sion said, placing his index finger over his lips.

Kyaaaaah!

Oh my god, oh my god!

He's so insanely handsome! Unbelievable!

The female employees' faces flushed red as they screamed internally, marveling at his face. However, the man in question was feeling the exact opposite emotion. Ah. I want to die.

What a feeling, playing the "pretty boy actor" with full '90s sentimentality. His stomach, which hadn't felt greasy from the donuts, was turning now. Still, it was what he had to do. The me of this era didn't know that and made a mess of things... but I can't do that now. An actor was supposed to play the persona the public wanted, even in daily life. If they couldn't do that, if they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn't handle it, no matter how briefly popular they were, they would vanish from media mentions like a wave washing away sand. The entertainment industry was like professional wrestling—a movie screened in reality every single day.

The employees would probably not forget this moment for a long time. The beautiful young man in their eyes was clearly a newly minted teen heartthrob, the protagonist ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of a refreshing teen romance. Furthermore, wasn't he the promotional model for the very shop they worked in? The feeling of actually meeting someone they had only seen on screen through distant rumors was bound to be incredibly fascinating and exciting. By meeting a high-status figure in the movie called reality, they too had become actors in that movie, a part of it.

"Y-Yes...!"

"We'll definitely keep it a secret!"

"Um, if you don't mind, could you sign the shop poster?"

"For me too, please!"

"I don't usually do this... but since the coffee was so good, I'll make an exception."

Smiling slyly as he bathed in the long-forgotten popularity and the sparkling eyes of the women admiring his face, Sion suddenly sensed a presence behind him and turned around. He realized what was happening. "See! I told you!"

"It really is Sion Lee! Whoa, whoa, whoa! In the flesh! This is insane!"

A couple who had sneaked up behind him shouted, triggering a chain reaction. "Oh, Sion Lee! I won't be able to sleep tonight because of you!"

"I loved your latest movie! You look way better in person than on screen!"

"Can I get an autograph...? Your face is a movie itself! Please stay handsome forever!"

The customers inside the shop swarmed around Sion like a flock of bees. Since it was late at night, many of them were drunk, and as the crowd gathered, they began bumping into each other, threatening to cause an accident. Wh-What should I do in this situation...? He could manage when it was just a few people. But the memory that surfaced in his mind was...

"Fuck! Get the hell out of my way! Why are you blocking the path when people are trying to pass?! You want me to run you over with a truck?!"

...Just how much of a piece of trash was I? Feeling a wave of self-loathing, Sion desperately racked his brain. While his 18-year-old body found this situation uncomfortable, triggering past traumas and screaming at him to lash out in anger, his 48-year-old mind argued that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doing so would land his name on the front page of tomorrow's weekly tabloids, and searched for the best response. He drew upon his own past experiences and the countless anecdotes and articles he had read in the future, an era where celebrities had become much more approachable.

"Could I borrow a pen and some paper, please?" A relaxed smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. In front of the crowd, Sion was naturally merging with his 1990s self. "Haha, looks like I'll have a few more people to share tonight's special secret with."

And he wanted to die just a little bit more.