Boy Meets Lady (3)
Out of the blue, the phone rang late at night. When he picked it up, it was someone entirely unexpected.
"...It's me, Elena Asimov."
"What?"
"I think I'm going to get a younger sibling."
"...What?"
"It's all your fault, so you'd better take responsibility."
"What does that even mean?"
"Just get over here. I'm at the Roosevelt Hotel bar right now."
And with that, the line went dead.
"...?"
Sion stared blankly at the receiver for a moment, practically wearing a physical question mark over his head, before grabbing his car keys and heading out.
What on earth is she up to?
Instead of his Porsche 911, which he wasn't fully used to driving yet, he took his usual BMW and drove to the hotel bar.
The Roosevelt Hotel—a place he had visited during the Golden Raspberry Awards.
The early December air was still warm. Because of this, Sion was dressed in a light jacket, which technically violated the bar's dress code. However, the bouncer recognized his face and let him in without a word.
Thinking to himself that being famous certainly had its perks, he stepped inside. He spotted Elena sipping a drink alone and approached her with a mischievous grin.
"Who said you could drink?"
"...What?"
"I asked who gave you permission to drink."
He sat down next to her, immediately teasing her. Elena, whose cheeks were slightly flushed, let out a huff and looked away.
"Whatever. I'm old enough to drink now, you know."
"Ah-ah. From now on, don't drink unless I'm around."
"Why...?"
"I can't let my future wife get drunk all by herself... Oof!"
She poked him hard in the ribs.
"Can't you be serious for once when we're in private?"
"I have a defense mechanism stemming from childhood trauma."
"...It sounds like it'll be hard to cure."
"Are you going to cure me?"
"That... depends on how you behave."
Elena replied coyly to his sly question. Still, meeting up after a while and exchanging their usual banter felt surprisingly welcoming.
Confident that Sion would come, she ordered another cocktail, trying to look experienced, and continued.
"How is filming with my mother going?"
"I'm learning a lot. She really is a great actress."
"My mother said the opposite—that she's learning from you."
"Then I'm honored. ...So, what's this about? The part about getting a younger sibling."
"My parents suddenly set a very... intimate mood, so I got kicked out of the house. I'm staying at this hotel tonight... and I'll probably go back tomorrow."
"Hahaha! Spoken like true actors! Getting so immersed in a role that it spills over. It happens all the time."
"Exactly. Even when I think back to Fragments of You, I feel like I was possessed. I don't know where I got the courage to jump from the second floor just because you told me to. And then we went straight on a date."
"You loved it, though."
"..."
Elena quickly averted her gaze at Sion's playful tone, clearly wanting to change the subject. Looking at her, Sion had a pretty good idea of why she had called him out.
Since he had received so much help from the Asimov family in various ways, he figured he could offer some comfort to this usually well-behaved young lady who was currently drinking of her own accord.
"So, what are you so worried about?"
"Worried...? Me?"
"Yeah. That's why you're gulping down alcohol you can barely handle."
Sion took the glass the bartender handed over and naturally placed it in front of himself. Though her drink had been confiscated, Elena didn't really resist. Instead, she quietly pondered Sion's words.
Specifically, how she had felt when her father told her to go sleep somewhere else tonight... And, true to her nature, she admitted it honestly.
"I guess so. It's bothering me a little."
Elena stared blankly down at her half-empty Manhattan, the queen of cocktails.
"The fact that my mother is acting with you."
...Why would that bother her? Sion's eyes widened.
"I mean, it's just acting..."
"Ever since I entered college, you've been continuously building your career. While I've been focusing on my studies, well... it feels like a huge gap has opened up between us."
"...Ah."
"In a situation like this, it feels like my mother cares more about you than me. And I can see that she genuinely enjoys acting with you."
"Hmm, so that was it."
"If not that, what on earth did you think it was?"
"I thought you might be jealous of my relationship with your mother."
"What are you talking about..."
Elena laughed, utterly dumbfounded.
"I'm not some third-rate Hollywood tabloid; I don't care about things like that. To an actor, acting is just acting. If anything, it just made me chuckle because trying to exploit even that kind of gossip is so typical of you. ...Though Anne was deeply shocked and brought me cookies, asking if I was okay."
"Anne? Who's that?"
"...You know, a... a friend..."
"Oh, our Ellie made a friend? I'll have to go make a good impression on her later."
"Don't you dare come, no matter what. Absolutely not. Got it?"
"Okay, never."
But as the saying goes, never say never. Looking at Elena, who was glaring at him with a slightly flushed face, Sion resolved that he would absolutely load up his Porsche 911 with flowers one day and go tease her.
In any case, he understood how she felt.
While she's in college, she probably feels like everyone is passing her by.
Thinking it was a very natural concern for a girl on the cusp of adulthood, Sion spoke lightly, as if it were no big deal.
"What? I thought you wouldn't even be able to make friends at college."
"W-what do you take me for? If I set my mind to it, making friends is..."
"You're doing great, aren't you?"
"Huh?"
"Friends, college—those are all things I don't have. You're having wonderful experiences."
"..."
Hearing this, Elena stared blankly at Sion for a moment before asking,
"Wh-what about Fre... that friend of yours?"
"Paprika? You think he's my friend?"
"...Paprika? Was that his name?"
"It's a stage name. A stage name."
"Ah..."
Slightly tipsy, Elena fell hook, line, and sinker for Sion's shameless lie, cementing Frederic Patterson in her memory as "Paprika."
After muttering "Paprika, Paprika" to herself for a while, she looked up at Sion as if she had realized something, and let out a bright, innocent smile like a child.
"You're right. Friends and college. I wasn't just standing still either."
The alcohol. The private setting. Even so, Sion hadn't expected her to show such an unguarded smile in front of him. He froze for a moment, unable to answer. He simply thought to himself that she was rather cute.
In his past life, a therapist Sion paid $300 an hour to see had said something like this:
Parent-child relationships, blah blah. Pseudo-independence, blah blah.
Considering he couldn't remember much else of what the therapist had said, he figured he had definitely wasted his money.
Anyway, based on that vague psychological knowledge... it seemed he had helped the mother-daughter duo of Olga and Elena in an unexpected way.
Olga had tried to raise Elena to be a more perfect version of herself, and Elena had acted as the perfect, obedient daughter to meet her mother's expectations.
But once Elena went to college and stepped away from her career and home for a bit, their relationship began to shift.
As a result, Olga, struggling to accept this transition, seemed to have started viewing Sion—whom she had dragged into her sitcom—as a sort of surrogate child.
He was of a similar age, and he didn't have any other family.
Looking back, that was probably why she invited me to their family Christmas party even without any business proposals, and why she so readily agreed to my various favors.
Sion, who had taken quite a bit of advantage of this, felt glad that he could finally repay the favor.
Throughout their filming together, Olga had been steadily regaining her vitality as an actress.
Passing through December, the end of the year, it was now January 16, 1995.
With filming for Not My Type wrapped and editing and marketing preparations in full swing for a March release, Sion was invited to the Asimov household for the first time in a while.
"It's been a while."
Greeting him at the door was the beautiful, middle-aged matriarch, Olga Asimov.
"You look even more beautiful than before."
"Oh, stop it."
Olga smiled softly. Yet, her skin was undeniably glowing with a radiant luster.
Wondering what was going on, Sion looked to the side and his eyes widened at the sight of Dmitry, who looked like he had lost at least five kilograms since they last met a few months ago.
"Are you okay?"
"...Mm."
When asked, Dmitry merely nodded with a faint smile, casting a weary glance from beneath eye sockets that looked far more hollowed out than before.
He had heard about it from Elena, but just how much had the poor man been squeezed dry since then?
"...Welcome, Sion."
Meanwhile, Elena, who was still burning the midnight oil preparing her graduation thesis, looked equally drained of energy.
Sion and Olga, whose faces were glowing because they had spent the entire shoot laughing merrily, eating well, and sleeping soundly to maintain their condition.
On the other hand, Dmitry and Elena, who looked half-dead due to "domestic peace" and academic stress.
Amidst this stark contrast between the two pairs, the Asimov family dinner began.
"Why didn't you come last Christmas? We invited you."
"I figured you guys were having too good of a time, so I didn't want to intrude."
Though he phrased it playfully, the real reason Sion hadn't dropped by was his judgment that maintaining this level of distance was for the best.
He had realized a bit late that Olga viewed him as a surrogate son, but since he didn't actually want to cross that line, he had spent this Christmas alone at home with his own "family."
Olga narrowed her eyes at his smooth response.
"Make sure you come next year. By then, we'll probably be buried in work again, and this domestic bliss will have cooled down. Right, darling?"
"...Of course, my fiancée."
If her husband Dmitry looked slightly relieved at those words... was it just Sion's imagination?
Yet, this matriarchal atmosphere, which was somewhat different from a typical American household, no longer felt foreign to him.
"Thank you. It's all thanks to you."
Even Dmitry, who had once been wary of him, seemed to have accepted him to some degree.
...Even if that's the case, he definitely looks exhausted.
Sion helped set the table, deftly carrying dishes over to assist the Asimovs.
He had thought he would only do this kind of thing when visiting Charlie Kang's house.
Having lived a few years after his regression, he found it fascinating that he was experiencing these warm, domestic moments again.
Once everyone was finally seated around the table, the first topic of conversation was, naturally, work.
"How is the filming for Batman Forever going?"
"It's also in the final stages. My scenes were wrapped early on, so I've been out of it. I'll probably just drop by on the last day of shooting to show my face."
"How does it look? Do you think it'll do well?"
"...I think I'll have to see the final cut to know for sure."
Sion took a spoonful of soup, trailing off meaningfully, before shrugging.
"But I have no regrets about my performance. The atmosphere on set was fantastic."
"I heard that was all thanks to you. It seems like you become the center of attention wherever you go."
"I suppose it's just the destiny of a superstar."
"Hahaha! A superstar of superstars! Not a bad nickname."
Olga burst into genuine laughter, still in high spirits.
With Not My Type releasing in March and Batman Forever in June, Sion was steadily building his career with back-to-back major releases.
And then, an unexpected question was thrown his way.
"How do you think you'll do at the upcoming awards?"
"...The Golden Globes?"
"Yes. For Pain Walker. It crossed the $300 million mark, and the reviews for your acting were phenomenal. I think you can reasonably expect a Best Supporting Actor nomination, if not a win. The Oscars might be out of reach since they focus heavily on prestige dramas, but the Golden Globes are definitely within your grasp."
Sion dropped his playful facade for a moment, rendered momentarily speechless.
Seeing his boyish face—simultaneously harboring genuine anticipation while calmly calculating his actual chances of winning—Olga laughed heartily.
The Golden Globes never reveal the winners to anyone, not even the recipients, until the day of the ceremony. Because of this, any actor who believes they have a shot prepares an acceptance speech.
"Hmm." Sion pursed his lips for a moment before replying,
"I'll prepare one. For now."
...Of course, he was joking. He truly believed there was no way he would win Best Supporting Actor in this era for a commercial genre film like Pain Walker.
However, unlike Sion, who was being conservative, Olga Asimov was nearly certain.
This is the perfect time.
The Golden Globe Awards, hosted by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA), served as a major precursor to the Academy Awards.
They positioned themselves as more mainstream-friendly than the Academy, and the winners were decided by the votes of around eighty members.
In the end, it was essentially a popularity contest.
Pain Walker had been an absolute sensation this past year.
It had already been exported internationally, opening in Europe and other regions. While the reception varied slightly depending on local cinematic tastes, it was a massive box office hit almost everywhere.
Therefore, the HFPA members were bound to take notice.
And looking at the announced categories, the one where Pain Walker had the highest chance of winning was undoubtedly Best Supporting Actor.
It was only natural. Sion Lee's portrayal of Lucid had garnered immense attention, and his appearance had already been confirmed for the upcoming Batman Forever.
Setting aside genre or quality, they have to give it to him, if only for political reasons.
His mere casting was already driving up anticipation for the next blockbuster.
And once they've seen his acting, they'll have no choice but to acknowledge him, regardless of his age.
Even without those external factors, Sion had delivered a legendary performance as a supporting actor.
He had left a massive impression in every single scene he appeared in, carrying that presence all the way to the film's climax.
Just as Olga predicted, the HFPA members from all over the world were ranking their choices across twenty-five categories, narrowing down their films of the year to three main titles.
For the most part, Forrest Gump and The Lion King swept the majority of the categories.
And they all felt that Pain Walker deserved to be recognized in the remaining slots.
Networking aside, it would be absolutely absurd not to award a film that grossed $300 million and ranked third at the domestic box office in 1994.
If there were categories for Best Art Direction or Best Visual Effects, the film would have been a shoe-in, but the Golden Globes had no such categories.
Thus, the voters stared down at their partially blank ballots, lost in thought.
But when their eyes landed on a certain category, their dilemma was instantly resolved.
Ah, yes.
This is perfect.
This is the perfect way to reward that movie.
He's a bit young, but... he was undeniably brilliant.
This is a choice everyone can agree on.
The category where the members wrote down Pain Walker was, of course, Best Supporting Actor.
Sion Lee.
The young actor, who had barely reached twenty, had become the winner of the 1995 Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor.