A Worthwhile World
Late night, July 28, 1993. A law office.
"It was a truly wonderful time. I'm glad I got to know the man named Michael Jackson."
A middle-aged man was watching MTV, looking entirely out of place. On the television screen, an incredibly handsome young man was being interviewed in what looked like a hotel room.
"I wanted to hit a club with him, but Michael isn't really that type... and if we did, all of LA would probably shut down for the day. I think it's better if I just visit Neverland later... Well, if you want to meet 'Peter Pan,' you have to be prepared to become a child yourself. One thing's for sure: Michael is a real angel. Just without the wings. Honestly, before I met him, I thought he was [bleep] and [bleep]... Ah, can we not air this part?"
"Damn bastard..."
That raw, almost reckless honesty only added to the broadcast's authenticity. Because of this, people accepted the words of Sion Lee—a far more relatable, "public-friendly" superstar—as absolute truth. Ironically, that was the nature of the public. Just as they would always choose sensationalism over pure goodness if given the choice.
Thanks to this, Michael Jackson's image had undergone a massive transformation over the past month. But because of that, the "settlement proposal" was being pushed back. His client, Evan Chandler, also seemed completely disheartened.
The rumors that used to pepper every conversation about Michael Jackson—"He's like a Freemason," "Isn't he gay?", "Honestly, wasn't his appearance on The Oprah Winfrey Show completely staged?"—had vanished entirely.
Damn it... if you're going to sell out your own son to make a quick buck, you should at least have the guts to go down with him!
Even Evan's son and wife refused to cooperate any longer after watching Sion's recent broadcasts. They had been on "Michael's" side from the very beginning, after all.
Yes, Larry Feldman knew it too. Michael Jackson had never done anything inappropriate to Evan's son at Neverland. Yet, he was a lawyer, and he belonged to the breed of people who would pounce on even the slightest sliver of opportunity to extort a fortune.
But how could he not?
That bastard Michael makes tens of thousands of times what I make in a year! What's wrong with me taking a little slice of that pie?
It was the classic logic of a villain. But Larry Feldman was exactly that kind of man.
In June of this year, Evan Chandler had suddenly shown up, babbling incoherently about Michael Jackson sexually abusing his child. Evan had already consulted several other lawyers but was frustrated by their sluggish progress. Smelling a massive payday, Larry had immediately begun preparing a settlement.
However, an unexpected obstacle arose while he was carefully gathering evidence.
Damn it, because of that stupid show...
The ridiculously long-titled "Michael Jackson Tour Broadcast" starring Sion Lee.
Through it, Michael's public image began to shift rapidly, forcing Larry to put all his plans on hold and watch the broadcasts in an anxious sweat. And as time went on, the situation only grew worse for Evan and Larry. The boy suddenly refused to undergo the psychological evaluation, declaring he didn't want to do this anymore, and the wife completely defected to Michael's side.
Ultimately, with everything stalled, Evan Chandler—a coward at heart—had lost all his drive. Larry was currently debating whether he should wash his hands of the whole affair.
Just then, a knock echoed through the room. A visitor to a law office long after business hours. Sensing an ominous foreboding, Larry cautiously opened the door.
"Ah, you're still here. I thought I heard the TV from inside."
A scruffily dressed man stepped inside the office without waiting for an invitation.
"Who the hell are you..."
"Anthony Pellicano. Does that ring a bell?"
"...?"
Larry's eyes went wide. Anthony Pellicano. One of the most notorious private investigators in Hollywood. A man who would dig up whatever information his client wanted, by any means necessary.
Although his face was hard to make out under his mask, Larry knew he couldn't just ignore this suspicious man given his brazen attitude and the current circumstances. Forcing himself to look calm, Larry spoke.
"What do you want?"
"My client has a message to deliver to you. You're handling a pretty big case right now, aren't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The Michael Jackson thing. Deny it all you want. Oh, look at Sion Lee's handsome face on the TV there—it's like he's proving my point. When people think of Sion Lee, they think 'handsome,' naturally. Man, if this were a movie, they'd be giving us a tight close-up right about now."
"..."
Larry couldn't even find the words to respond to such sheer audacity. He was already under immense psychological pressure, debating whether to pull out, and now a notorious private eye had shown up on his doorstep. He hadn't told a soul about this. Where on earth had the leak come from? Panic naturally began to set in.
"...What exactly do you know?"
"Oh, Larry. If I told you that, I wouldn't be much of a magician, would I? For starters, my client isn't Michael Jackson. But in terms of industry clout, they might be an even bigger powerhouse. And they don't want things getting messy over this."
"Look, it's not like we're doing anything that extreme..."
"Come on, you know the score. If you take even one more step, you're plunging straight into a hell with no guardrails. A real heavyweight is watching you, so spinning this in the press won't be easy. Besides, do you really think 'that kind of rumor' will stick to Michael these days? Michael Jackson's notorious legal team is practically salivating, waiting to tear you to shreds for trying such a half-baked stunt. You know that, right?"
"I-I don't know what you're talking about... truly."
"Well, suit yourself."
"If what you're saying is true, why is your client going out of their way to deliver this warning? There are legal risks if they get caught, and what if I leak this to the press? Wouldn't it be more profitable to just wait with open arms and slit my throat once a foolish lawyer walks straight into hell?"
"..."
Anthony stared at Larry in silence for a moment, then stood up as casually as he had entered.
"How should I know? I've said my piece."
With a smirk and without so much as a goodbye, he swept out of the office. The sheer pressure radiating from his brazen demeanor was overwhelming.
...Damn it, what is this? A powerhouse bigger than Michael is backing him? And where the hell did the leak come from! Don't tell me they've already bought off the kid and the wife and are preparing a countersuit? If-if that happens, I'm completely ruined!
Fear is born of imagination. And as a lawyer in America, Larry knew the terrifying reality of a lawsuit better than anyone. In the dark, silent office, Larry groaned in sheer agony. He quietly resolved to explain the situation to his client and wash his hands of the matter entirely.
"Ah, I want to go home quickly, drink a beer, and rest."
On the screen, Sion Lee was chuckling. The carefree attitude of that idiot, who had nothing going for him but his handsome face, somehow irritated Larry even more.
Meanwhile, at that very moment.
This should count as a completed job.
Stepping outside, the private investigator, Anthony, lit a cigarette and looked up indifferently at the darkened law office. Even for a veteran detective like him, this was a highly unusual case. The true client's identity was completely shielded; he was simply given the details and told to deliver a "threat" disguised as a warning.
But to think there really was such an idiot.
At first, he had doubted whether anyone would be crazy enough to accuse the Michael Jackson of child abuse, but after exchanging just a few words with the lawyer face-to-face, he knew it was real.
Phew... what a strange business.
He briefly considered digging into the identity of the client pulling the strings from the top, but quickly decided against it.
They went to extreme lengths to hide their identity. More than that, they caught wind of this before I even smelled a trace. Getting tangled up with someone like that is a quick way to end up in a ditch. I'll wash my hands of this cleanly.
Having made up his mind, he walked to a nearby payphone to report his success to the contact who had handed him the job.
"Ah, really? Good work."
A newspaper reporter. He, in turn, reported to someone else.
"...Well done. Thank you for your hard work."
A TV producer. A writer. An actor. A production company executive. Another producer. Through a meticulously woven web of phone calls and face-to-face meetings, the chain finally reached its peak, and a middle-aged woman picked up the phone.
"...Yes, well done."
Olga Asimov.
Resting at home after finishing her schedule, she hung up the phone and immediately fell into deep thought.
Sion Lee... what on earth was he up to?
He had told her he would fax the details of the request, but then he went through this convoluted maze to ensure his identity could never be traced, all to commission a "threat." It wasn't a common occurrence, but it wasn't entirely unheard of either. In Hollywood, where image and information were everything, such shadow plays happened from time to time behind closed doors.
Still, Olga couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity that Sion, who usually seemed to care about nothing but acting, had approached her with such a shady request.
I'll have to ask him when he gets back.
Dismissing the matter as if it were nothing, she decided she might show off her culinary skills for a change.
"Michael! Sing more! Michael!"
At the children's request, Michael Jackson began to sing. Everyone who had been making a racket just moments ago fell into a rapt silence. Singing in the midst of the children with his beautiful voice, Michael looked like a pure boy—no, like an angel descended to earth.
Leaning against a wall a short distance away, Sion smiled softly. When a little girl of about six approached him, he scooped her up and hoisted her onto his shoulders. A small camera captured the moment. No professional lighting, no sound engineering. Because of that, the footage felt all the more genuine. It was truly a tiny concert dedicated solely to children confined to a cramped hospital due to illness.
Michael, who always sang "Heal the World" with children during his actual concert finales, was spreading love and hope in the exact same way now.
A brief hour or so after the concert ended. His manager, Sandy, now cleared his schedule as a matter of course, and Michael left after promising to deliver a massive donation to the hospital.
Sion quietly watched Michael, who radiated an almost sacred aura, and thought:
We successfully avoided the worst-case scenario.
Considering the legal risks, he had acted as an "actor" by using his friendship with Michael to sway the media, while secretly pulling strings through a "powerhouse" to hire a private eye. The plan had worked out even better than expected. As expected, this was a world where nothing was impossible if you had money and a network.
"The detective provided a follow-up service. He says he'll 'declare a temporary retirement.' You understand, right?"
Of course I understand. A notorious figure voluntarily going into hiding to make the issue disappear completely.
It was a move to quickly wash his hands of the affair while tucking his tail to avoid any potential threat from Michael Jackson's actual legal team, should they get involved. After all, unless it was an extraordinary case, the American legal system always favored the wealthy.
He probably wanted to avoid complications and didn't want anyone tracking him down.
Now that things had turned out this way, the father would likely give up on his plan to extort money using his son.
As they say, a lawsuit can last longer than a lifetime.
Without a guaranteed victory, he wouldn't dare strike. Furthermore, with the wife and son—who were already sympathetic to Michael—completely turning their backs on the father after watching the broadcast, the possibility was entirely shut down.
In my past life, the son admitted after growing up that his actions were forced by his father.
But by then, the Michael of that era had already lost too much. Though his overwhelming fame as a singer remained intact, the label of a suspicious figure followed him for the rest of his life, and people misunderstood him. Whether as a plastic surgery-obsessed monster trying to change his race, or as a sinister predator lurking in the shadows. Because of this, Michael suffered immensely, battling severe depression and insomnia, until he ultimately met a sudden death from an accidental drug overdose caused by his personal physician.
He will probably still live a similar life. That's just how this industry is.
Even so, Sion had successfully protected the one thing Michael had left—his pure happiness with children—ensuring that sanctuary remained untrampled. Perhaps, Sion thought, Michael could live a slightly better life than in his previous timeline.
"Alright, let's wrap it up here."
Sandy, checking his watch, called an end to the filming.
"Sion, Sion."
Michael approached with a childlike smile and warmly grasped Sion's hand.
"I heard today is the last day of filming for the tour broadcast. You've worked so hard... and thank you."
Over the month-long shoot, Michael had grown incredibly fond of Sion Lee. Sion understood his heart deeply, and at the same time, allowed him to do the things he had been unable to do as the "King of Pop" due to public scrutiny.
Appreciating Michael's genuine warmth, Sion smiled softly.
"Don't mention it. I should be the one thanking you. This shoot was incredibly fun. I think the kids are feeling a bit better too."
"Hehehe... I know. You're someone who loves children. You're like an angel."
"Ha, I never expected to hear that from someone like you, Michael."
Still, not wanting Michael to get too attached, Sion flashed a slightly mischievous, bratty smile.
"I only did it because it brings in money."
Michael Jackson was a legendary titan of the entertainment industry. Sion had initially started this simply because building a network with such a figure was immensely valuable. Though he had helped him behind the scenes out of a slight personal desire, that event was now erased from history entirely.
Still, we are an actor and a singer, so we will walk our separate paths.
Thinking of the future, Sion deliberately acted a bit cold to maintain a healthy distance while keeping their friendly rapport.
"And that money can bring hope to these children."
But Michael merely offered a pure, childlike smile in response.
"...You really are too good of a person, Michael. Don't you trust people too easily?"
"Trusting people doesn't cost anything. But it brings many benefits."
"What benefits?"
"It makes me feel like the world we live in is still worth living."
"..."
For a moment, Sion was rendered speechless. Despite all the attacks from the media and the public, this man still chose to trust people. In contrast, Sion, who could never fully trust anyone due to the secrets of his past life and regression, felt the stark difference. He slowly let go of Michael's hand.
"I'll keep those words in mind."
"Sion, if you ever need my help, just call. I can do a lot of things for you."
"Then compose a song about me later."
"...Hm? Oh."
Michael immediately began to whistle, as if a melody had popped into his head from the light joke.
"I-I'm joking. Just a joke."
Genuinely overwhelmed by the prospect, Sion quickly backpedaled in a panic.
Michael Jackson writing a song about me?
That was absurd. He didn't want to go that far. Still, he did want to hear more of the songs Michael would create—songs that had never seen the light of day in his past life.
In a timeline where the false abuse allegations never happened, it should be possible.
After parting ways with Michael Jackson and his team, Sion boarded the plane back to the United States with the MTV crew.
It wasn't a bad trip. In many ways.
And thanks to this, he had even received an unexpectedly interesting proposal. Even so, Sion wanted to go home, rest, and inject some American food into his system with a cheeseburger before thinking about his next move. For Sion, who had a typical American palate, British food was... a bit of a struggle at times.
The schedule wasn't as easy as I expected, either.
That was just the nature of overseas shoots. On top of that, he had to hang out with Michael while constantly keeping his guard up behind the scenes. But as Sion finished this grueling task, an accumulated "aftermath" that he had underestimated was about to catch up with him.
After sleeping like a log in his comfortable business class seat, he woke up at Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). As Sion stepped through the arrival gate, a massive barrage of camera flashes erupted in his face.
"......OMG."
His collaboration with Michael Jackson and the positive ripple effects that followed had elevated Sion Lee to an even higher tier of stardom in America. And he hadn't even signed the contract for his next movie yet.