Boy Meets Lady
People might think a legendary actress like Olga Asimov would be flooded with endless casting offers from all over, but that wasn't actually the case. There simply weren't many production companies that could afford her high salary and the sheer weight of her name. Moreover, at this point in her career, there were plenty of alternatives for the roles Olga could play. From Sigourney Weaver and Michelle Pfeiffer to Sharon Stone and even Meryl Streep.
On top of that, her Russian heritage had historically worked against her—a disadvantage that couldn't be ignored. Even after the tensions of the Cold War began to thaw, Hollywood harbored a lingering reluctance to cast Russian actors. Despite her proven talent and stellar career, she had to spend a significant period taking relatively minor roles, slowly clawing her way back up. Consequently, while her status in the industry was incredibly high, her filmography felt somewhat fractured, as if its spine had been snapped in the middle. She was also notoriously unlucky when it came to awards.
But regardless, she now wielded immense influence at a major network like NBC. She had sustained her career by delivering scene-stealing supporting performances that rivaled the leads in various dramas, and recently, she had begun leveraging her experience and connections to venture into production. It was to this very Olga that a rather peculiar casting offer arrived.
"...A romantic comedy?"
"Yes. It's a project called Not My Type. And while it's about a relationship, they say it leans much heavier on comedy than romance. You know... the usual drill? A wholesome family vibe, lots of slapstick, and the male lead redeems himself in the end."
"I know the style. And the role offered to me is the female lead, the single mother."
"A woman who works hard at her job and finds her greatest joy in raising her kids. What do you think of the offer?"
"Aren't I a bit too old for it now? That role feels like a woman in her late thirties at the absolute oldest."
"The co-star personally requested you. They said if you agree, we can start shooting immediately."
"Hmm. I wonder what foolish man would do such a thing."
Olga let out a soft sigh. But when her agent spoke next, her eyes widened in surprise.
"It's Sion Lee."
"...What? Who?"
"Sion Lee."
Olga stared in silence for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Ahahaha! Well, isn't that hilarious! You want me to play lovers with a kid who's the exact same age as my daughter?"
Though she put on a confident front, Olga actually felt a significant amount of pressure deep down. It was only natural. As an actress, Olga Asimov had long since stepped down from leading roles, occupying a position akin to an honorary figurehead. She had starred in several hits during her youth, but once she hit her thirties, she struggled due to the subtle discrimination against Russians. By the time she managed to secure her footing through a mix of raw talent and political maneuvering, her lifespan as a leading lady had run its course. Now, she viewed herself less as an actress and more as a producer—someone whose primary role was to support her daughter's career.
And right in the middle of that, Sion Lee had offered her a leading role.
"Hmm, hmmm..."
Humming softly, Olga slipped into a performance of her own to hide her fluster. Crossing her long legs and swinging one foot with practiced ease, she offered an amused smile.
"I wonder why."
"Pardon?"
"...No, there's no need to ask."
Olga figured that Sion, who possessed the cunning mind of a seasoned veteran beneath his youthful exterior, must have made this offer based on cold, hard pragmatism.
He probably thinks pairing up with me is the ultimate recipe for viral marketing.
It was a perfectly logical deduction, given how well she knew Sion. And she wasn't particularly keen on playing along so easily.
"Decline it for now."
"...What? This seems like a really interesting project, though. Why not give it a shot?"
"No, thank you. My days of chasing acting milestones are long gone. I'd rather keep maintaining a light screen presence while focusing on building my career in production."
Answering as if it were of no consequence, Olga stood up without looking back. The head of the agency, who was sitting with her, couldn't hide his disappointment as he watched her walk away.
Man, she's still in her prime.
It was as if the boundaries she had set for herself made her too hesitant to take bold steps. Above all, it seemed to stem from a defense mechanism—a desire to protect her carefully maintained image. He understood her desire to settle into the role of a respected industry elder, but as someone who deeply admired her acting, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. But what could he do? In terms of both their professional relationship and her sheer stature, her word was law. He had no choice but to yield.
A few days later, in the evening.
Ding-dong!
Olga, who was preparing dinner with her husband after work, suddenly heard the doorbell ring.
"Oh, I'll get it."
Her husband, Dmitry, headed to the door with an easygoing smile. Olga continued cooking without much thought, but a sudden, nagging feeling of unease washed over her. She decided to follow her husband to see who it was.
At the end of the hallway, right in front of the front door, her husband was holding the doorknob, tilting his head in confusion.
"Oh... hello."
"Hello! It's been a while. How have you been?"
"Yes, I've been well. And you... Ah, Elena is at school right now."
The sweet fragrance of the bouquet the young man held drifted down the hall, tickling her nose. Olga didn't even need to look to know who it was. She let out a soft sigh.
"Oh, that's quite alright."
"...?"
"I came to see her mother today."
"...!"
Olga watched in real-time as her husband froze solid, a silent, imaginary thunderclap echoing over his head. But completely ignoring Dmitry's reaction, a brightly smiling Sion Lee stood on his tiptoes and called out to Olga at the end of the hallway.
"Olga! I'm here!"
"...Sigh."
Letting out a heavy sigh, Olga untied her apron, stepped forward to gently push her husband aside, and confronted Sion.
"I don't recall inviting you to dinner."
"I was just passing by and decided to drop in. These flowers reminded me of you."
"My, why are you doing this to a married woman?"
"I gave you flowers last time too. It seems the offer I sent over is weighing heavily on your mind."
Sion cut straight to the chase, his sharp smile reminiscent of a shark circling its prey. Even the formidable Olga found herself momentarily speechless in the face of his directness. As she reluctantly accepted the flowers, Sion pressed his advantage.
"I heard you turned it down. The movie offer."
"Yes. I was a bit concerned about your ulterior motives in picking me."
"And what did you think they were?"
"The dynamic is bizarre. You and me, playing romantic leads?"
"It's not a serious melodrama; it's a comedy-heavy film. What does it matter? Acting is just acting. I see it less as a traditional couple and more about 'completing a family.' That's how I'm approaching it."
The movie told the story of a single mother and a superstar who enters her world. Despite his glamorous exterior, the superstar lives a lonely life. By spending time with the single mother, he discovers the true meaning of family—something he had never known. He ends his aimless wandering, matures, and ultimately becomes a new family for her and her child.
"Enough. Go offer it to some other wonderful actress."
Olga crossed her arms, shutting down the conversation. To be honest, Sion couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled. He had never expected Olga to reject an offer like this.
Watching him tilt his head, Olga remained silent for a moment before averting her gaze and speaking.
"Why me, of all people?"
"...Because, as far as I'm concerned, you're the best actress I know."
Those words sent a faint, aching throb through her chest. As she aged and gradually stepped back, she had only taken on minor roles, even in The College Player, a project she had helped produce. Deep down, Olga believed her prime had passed. She thought her only remaining duty was to adapt to her new role behind the scenes and use her connections to support her daughter, Elena, in becoming a great actress.
But Sion's perspective was entirely different.
"Plus, if we play a couple, the media will go crazy linking it to Elena. The viral marketing will be insane."
"..."
Spoken like a true, shameless hit-making machine who cared only about the movie's success. Olga narrowed her eyes, looking at Sion's sly grin, and realized something.
Ah, this boy.
Despite his playful tone, he was entirely sincere. Because she was a brilliant actress. Because it would generate buzz. With no other hidden motives, he had made this offer simply because he believed in Olga Asimov as an actress.
Right then, a warm, gentle hand wrapped around Olga's trembling shoulder. It was her husband, Dmitry.
"Why not do it, my love?"
"Dmitry..."
"As the person who knows you best in this world, let me say this. I understand how you feel. It's completely natural to be afraid. But it's okay. Sion here, myself, Elena—we're all rooting for Olga Asimov, the actress."
"..."
At his words, Olga quietly leaned into her husband's embrace. Feeling a bit awkward watching the display of affection, Sion looked away. After comforting Olga, Dmitry turned back to Sion, his rugged face serious as he extended a hand.
"Can I trust you with my wife, Sion?"
"Of course. You can count on me."
Squeeze.
"...?"
The moment they shook hands, the sensation in Sion's fingers began to rapidly vanish. The genetic legacy of the Slavic people, forged through surviving brutal winters, had been unleashed. With a gaze as cold as a Gulag warden, Dmitry delivered a silent warning to Sion Lee.
"I am trusting you, Mr. Lee."
"............"
In the face of that crushing grip, even Sion had no choice but to squeak out a response.
"Yes! Father-in-law!"
It was meant as a joke—the kind of icebreaker only Sion Lee could pull off to lighten the mood...
CRUUUUUSH.
...And he paid dearly for it.
November arrived, but California maintained its characteristically mild weather. With the start of outdoor location shoots, filming for Not My Type officially got underway.
In a secluded park not far from Hollywood, the crew set up on a grassy field as people began to gather. There were about a dozen extras, a similar number of staff members, and the two lead actors.
"The weather is perfect today!"
The film was directed by Harold Ramis, the man who had recently directed the 1993 hit Groundhog Day. He had signed onto this project with the intention of creating a film with a much stronger comedic flavor.
Standing before him were the two leads, Sion Lee and Olga Asimov, fully in character as Ken and Karen.
Sion, as Ken, wore a leather jacket over a T-shirt, jeans, and sunglasses—the quintessential look of a young Hollywood superstar. Olga, as Karen, was dressed in a simple linen shirt and a long skirt.
"Are you ready, actors? How are we feeling?"
"Not bad. Though it feels a bit awkward wearing a skirt like this after so long."
Despite her modest words, Olga looked every bit the professional. Her makeup was kept to an absolute minimum, and her slightly long hair was tied back in a simple ponytail.
A modest single mother and a flashy superstar—a combination that would never cross paths in ordinary life. Just seeing the two of them standing together in character made a whole narrative play out in one's mind.
Sion playfully teased Olga, who looked completely different from her usual self.
"I think I'm already falling for you."
"Oh dear, that's a bit of a problem. You're supposed to show me your conflicted side."
"My heart is already yours. I'm just in denial."
Harold was impressed by how seamlessly the two actors bounced off each other without any guidance. Deciding to trust their instincts, he walked over to his director's chair without giving any extra notes and began instructing the crew.
Meanwhile, Sion quietly focused his emotions.
Let's completely ruin my image.
That was the primary reason he had chosen to do this film. More than anything, he was glad Olga Asimov was his partner.
He had felt it clearly during The College Player—having survived the raw, cutthroat days of old Hollywood, she possessed the wealth of experience and sharp instincts to seamlessly roll with any ad-lib.
This was a lighthearted, cheerful movie that prioritized comedy. Even if he did something unexpected, swept up in the relaxed atmosphere of the set, she would undoubtedly play along and make it entertaining.
Even this scene is a perfect example.
The first shoot was a sequence from the early-to-mid section of the film, where the protagonist, Ken, has fallen for Karen but refuses to admit it. He gets off his motorcycle, spots Karen in the distance, and walks toward her as if possessed, only to trigger a minor commotion when bystanders recognize him. As he tries to flee, he trips and falls face-first into the mud. Sion had already scouted the surrounding grassy area for this very moment.
Let's make this fun.
Right before the cameras started rolling.
"Alright. Everyone in position."
At the director's command, the actors moved to their respective spots, and the cue was given.
"Karen!"
Ken, riding his motorcycle, spots Karen in the distance. When she fails to hear him and continues walking away with her back turned, a conflicted Ken gets off his bike and starts running. But at that exact moment, bystanders who recognize his voice swarm him.
"Ke—Ken, right?! You're Ken!"
"I'm a huge fan! Can I get an autograph?!"
"Kyaaa! He's so handsome!"
"Ah, no... Ugh, dammit."
Ken tries to escape, burying his face in his jacket collar, but the crowd isn't about to let the superstar go so easily.
"Whoa! Hey! Don't—don't pull on that!"
It was a slightly exaggerated, classic early-90s style of physical comedy. Ken desperately struggles to break free from the crowd and run. Drawn by the commotion, Karen finally turns around, her eyes widening as she spots Ken.
"Karen!"
Ken calls out her name once more. Then, losing his balance, he faceplants spectacularly onto the ground.
Perfect!
He landed face-first, right on the prepared patch of mud. The pose was utterly ridiculous. Because of his handsome face and long limbs, the physical comedy carried a wonderfully exaggerated, hilarious charm. Harold, thrilled by the fantastic shot they got on the very first take, was about to order the crew to prep for the next setup. But the moment "Ken" lifted his head, the director froze.
Ken's face was a picture of utter devastation, as if he couldn't comprehend how a superstar like him had ended up in such a state. And from his nose, blood was dripping steadily.
"..."
"..."
Meanwhile, Karen reached Ken. According to the script, this was the moment where the "superstar's ruined dignity" should naturally evoke laughter, transitioning into the next dramatic beat. However, caught off guard by the unexpected nosebleed, everyone froze, and a few seconds of tense silence stretched on.
Suddenly, Karen grabbed the hem of her long skirt and ripped a strip of fabric from it.
"A-Are you okay? You're bleeding."
She naturally knelt down in front of Ken and began gently wiping away the blood. A storm of emotions—shame, confusion, and bewilderment—washed over Ken's devastated face.
"..."
It was a beautiful, almost ethereal scene born from the seamless chemistry of the two actors, grounded yet elevated above reality. And the director, Harold Ramis, couldn't help but think:
...Isn't this a bit too romantic for a comedy?