Dance with a Teen Heartthrob (2)

January 11, 1993.

Today was originally scheduled as a shooting day for The College Player, but the show was slated for a preemption. On days like this, the actors took the opportunity to handle other schedules—managing their personal careers, attending external events, or working on contract negotiations.

Among these, many schedules were directly requested by the production company or the network. These were promotional events designed to publicize the show to the outside world, such as appearing on talk shows, attending fan signings, or doing volunteer work.

And today, one such schedule was on the horizon.

"It was Sion and Pederson, right?"

Olga maintained a slight distance, calling one by his first name and the other by his last. Hearing her, the producer replied.

"Yes, that's right. The Arsenio Hall Show."

"The atmosphere there tonight is going to be wild."

Olga unfolded the newspaper with an intrigued smile. It was a fresh copy that had just come out this morning.

"At least it's a good thing The Arsenio Hall Show films in the evening."

Olga Asimov slowly read through the article, sketching out a rough picture in her mind. The reason she had come to the station on her day off to talk with the producer was precisely because of this newspaper article. It was about the little "accident" that had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠occurred last night—one that was almost certainly intentional.

"Damn it, Arsenio is definitely going to bring this up, right? Damn that Sion Lee. He's been so quiet lately that I let my guard down. That bastard was originally a club rat who went crazy for women."

It seemed the producer had completely fallen for Sion's "act." Olga let out a soft chuckle and asked,

"For a club rat, it seems like it's been quite a while since he last went. Even the article doesn't mention him getting wasted. It just says he sprayed champagne on people... Oh my, he sprayed some pretty expensive champagne. Anyway, it doesn't look like he actually drank any himself, does it? I smell a business move."

"If that's business, I'd love to do the business of sitting on the couch watching TV every day."

"For celebrities, playing hard is part of the job. We're in the business of selling fantasies, after all."

The more she read the article, the more the truth behind the reporter's exaggerated writing began to reveal itself. In this line of work, to avoid lawsuits, it was standard practice to write the "unconfirmed parts" as vaguely as possible. It seemed he hadn't drunk any alcohol, and his wild night at the club was the extent of it.

It must have been an absolute frenzy.

Knowing Sion's personality, he had probably acted something like this:

"What's wrong with you guys?! I'm here, and this is all the energy you've got?! Anyone who wants to leave with me tonight, scream!"

"Waaaaagh!"

"Everyone kiss the person to your right...! No, wait! Not the girls with each other!"

Given his colorful past, it was highly likely he had taken control of the atmosphere in that manner and run wild. And as fate would have it, Frederic Pederson happened to be at the very club where Sion was tearing it up. Eventually, Sion had entered a private room with glass walls, and Frederic had followed him inside. The shadows of the two men made it look as though they were having a heated argument, and a reporter at the club had snapped a photo to confirm it.

It was a picture that stimulated the imagination, yet felt far too awkward to be a real "fight."

"Regardless of the truth, it's incredibly plausible, isn't it?"

Because of this, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Olga realized that this entire sequence of events was like a well-crafted play. The Sion Lee that Olga Asimov had come to understand was that kind of man. He never lost his confidence under any circumstances, and even in difficult situations, he might spit out a few curses, but he would never lose his nerve. And above all, he was incredibly adept at creating and utilizing his own weapon—his "image"—in the jungle of Hollywood.

"Between this and that kiss at the awards show, it's no exaggeration to say Sion Lee is a genius when it comes to being a 'star.' His ability to keep himself in the gossip columns is easily the best among living celebrities. Have you forgotten that he completely overhauled his image in just two and a half years? Sion Lee is no longer just a simple brat."

"Then why did he fight with Frederic at the club?"

"What do you think they're going to talk about on The Arsenio Hall Show tonight?"

"...We did ask them to subtly bring up Elena, didn't we? To ask if they knew how she was doing, to plant a sort of foreshadowing and cushion for her cameo in the finale."

"That's exactly what he's trying to bury. He wants people to look only at him, not Elena. And Frederic is just... sitting there like a bell pepper skewered between pieces of barbecue."

"Huh, so this was coordinated with Frederic too? ...Ah, actually, those two did seem to be getting along surprisingly well on set lately."

The producer wore a dazed expression, looking like Watson to Olga's Sherlock Holmes.

"If everything you've said is true... Sion Lee is a monster. Everyone is going to be completely fooled. Even me, and I work with him."

"Exactly."

Cutting the conversation short, Olga suddenly burst into laughter. She started with a quiet chuckle, but soon she was laughing so hard she couldn't contain herself. The producer, who had never seen Olga Asimov express such raw emotion in all the time he had known her, felt as if he were standing before an absolute monarch of Imperial Russia. A chill ran down his spine, and a wave of fear washed over him.

After a long moment of uncontrollable amusement, Olga murmured to herself with a lingering smile.

"He got me. He really got me. It's like looking at my younger self. No, maybe he's even cleverer than I was back then."

It was the highest form of praise, delivered in a way that only Olga—who had crawled her way up from the very bottom of a Hollywood that was far wilder than it was today—could offer.

That evening, on the set of The Arsenio Hall Show.

"Welcome! Welcome! Please, take a seat, you two!"

Arsenio applauded the returning superstar, Sion Lee. Although he was always a consummate professional, tonight he was even more energetic because there was so much to talk about. The audience, most of whom had read this morning's newspaper, were also dying to know the truth.

In the midst of this, Frederic felt an inexplicable sense of pressure. Especially since Arsenio had personally visited them before filming started to give them a heads-up: "I'm planning to ask about 'that' today." It was clear that their altercation at the club last night would definitely be a topic of conversation.

Is... is this really okay?

When he first heard the schedule had been booked, Frederic had been overjoyed simply by the fact that he was appearing on The Arsenio Hall Show, one of the top talk shows in America. But because they had suddenly staged a "fight" at the club last night, he now had no idea what kind of questions he would face on a live broadcast. For a twenty-one-year-old actor, the pressure was immense.

...But how can Sion smile so casually and interact with the fans in a situation like this? What is his heart made of? He feels like a completely different species from me.

The words Sion had spoken to him in the dressing room earlier, after seeing him freeze up with anxiety, suddenly flashed through his mind.

"Listen closely. I'm the steak, and you're the bell pepper."

"What...?"

"Just think of yourself as a colorful garnish. Nobody likes you. Nobody cares about you. Why? Because there's a steak right next to you. And not just any steak—a perfectly cooked medium-rare, mouth-wateringly juicy one."

"Right. I'm a bell pepper."

He was a bell pepper who had long since given up after seeing Sion's completely different level of play.

"Good. Bell pepper. There's one way you can become delicious."

"What is it?"

"Be reborn... Ah, wait, not that. You just have to soak up all the delicious juices dripping from the meat next to you."

So trust him and follow his lead. Sion's wicked chuckle as he said he had a plan had sent a shiver down Frederic's spine. But at the same time, when it came to things like this, Frederic—no, the bell pepper—trusted Sion more than anyone else in the world.

"How have you been?!"

"I can sum it up in one word. I've been living as a 'Real Player'."

"Real Player." A genuine article. American slang for a charismatic, popular man who is highly sought after by women and knows how to have a good time. It could be used both positively and negatively, but coming from Sion's mouth, it carried a more positive nuance than ever before.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaahhhh!"

As soon as Sion finished speaking, a massive cheer erupted from the crowd. Frederic, sitting next to him, chimed in with his own update as if in response.

"I'm a bell pepper!"

"...What?"

He had been thinking about bell peppers so much that it had slipped out of his mouth.

"I-I've been on a diet lately, so I've only been eating bell peppers!"

"Oh, what a very bell pepper-like answer."

Sion smoothly covered for him, and the audience burst into laughter. After that, whenever Sion spoke, the crowd roared with laughter. When Arsenio asked about their characters, Frederic managed to answer, and with Sion's help, it turned into another round of laughter.

Am I... even doing this right?

Nervous as he was, Frederic couldn't even grasp the flow of the conversation. And finally, the moment arrived.

"I'd like to ask a slightly tough question. You two were spotted at a club yesterday."

"Um... I think we hit about ten clubs last night. Which one are you talking about?"

"The Black Mamba, of course! ...Come on, let's be real. I heard you two got into a fight there yesterday. Is that true? Before the whole country goes into a frenzy, it'd be best to clear the air right here on The Arsenio Hall Show!"

"Ah, that. I saw the newspapers this morning, and they were in an absolute uproar. Man, it's embarrassing."

Sion smiled sheepishly and looked over at Frederic.

"First, let me be completely honest about this. This has nothing to do with our agency, the network, or the production company—it's entirely on me. Lately, I've had a few arguments with this guy. Even before last night."

"Oh, can we know the reason?"

"We just couldn't seem to agree on something. Specifically, when it came to 'acting.'"

"...?"

A question mark briefly flashed in Arsenio's eyes. Everyone else in the audience had a similar "Huh?" reaction—even Frederic.

Everyone had assumed that the clash between Sion Lee and Frederic Pederson at the club was over something much more trivial and personal. That was usually the case with arguments between young actors. But right now, Sion was speaking with absolute sincerity, as if what he was saying was the ultimate truth. His mature acting skills shone brightly even in a moment like this.

"Well, maybe because the writers gave me such a great character, I got a bit ahead of myself. It's been crazy lately, right? Honestly, I thought I was in a position where I could show off a bit. But my friend here tried to keep me grounded. He kept reminding me that sitcom acting is completely different from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠movies. After all, he's been leading America's top-rated sitcom as the main character for three seasons. I have a lot to learn from him. I reflected on myself a lot last night."

Stripped of its elaborate packaging, Sion's speech could be summarized as follows:

Our sitcom is the best.

I'm working incredibly hard on my acting.

And the guy next to me is amazing too.

Aside from the fact that he had deliberately set the stage, Sion genuinely believed this. Therefore, he delivered these words with a touch of humor and sincere gratitude to the host, Arsenio, who had set up the platform for him. The deep sincerity he projected lent immense plausibility to their "personal dispute."

It was a serious, behind-the-scenes industry talk that wasn't typically shared so easily on a talk show, and the audience, eager to know the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cause of the fight, listened in hushed silence. By the time Sion's silver-tongued explanation came to an end...

"Wow, this is truly..."

Even Arsenio was filled with admiration.

"Incredible, Frederic. You approach filming with such a sense of duty as an actor."

"..."

At this moment, there was only one thing Frederic, as a bell pepper, could say.

"I learn a lot from him too."

And just as he had been doing lately, he firmly resolved once again never to mess with Sion in the future.

Following that, the filming and promotion of the sitcom proceeded with meticulous calculation. Over the remaining schedule in January after the broadcast of The Arsenio Hall Show, the ratings, which had been somewhat stagnant, began to climb once again.

Sion believed this was because the core television audience had witnessed the genuine dedication of actors they had previously thought only did "slapstick comedy."

I hope we can smoothly hit that 30% rating.

Before Elena arrived for the final episode.

With that determination, Sion returned home after finishing the shoot for Episode 16 of The College Player. He noticed a red light blinking on his telephone, indicating a message had been left on the answering machine.

After a quick wash, he sat on the sofa and operated the machine. A familiar voice flowed from the recording.

The recording ended with a click, followed by a dial tone. In the darkened living room, Sion sat quietly on the sofa, absorbing her words.

...Living as a lady of a prestigious family isn't an easy path either.

Even in the darkness, his green eyes gleamed intensely. He murmured, sounding like the brat he was known to be to the outside world.

"What an obvious thing to say, Ellie."

Naturally, he intended to meet that expectation one hundred percent.