Superstar 813
by Cristae“I knew Shadow & Night was on the list of potential nominees. I’m an Academy member, so I watched all the first-round films in January and voted again this year.”
Even though Seo-jun had been busy juggling fan meeting prep and work for New Eclipse, watching films was his version of rest—he enjoyed it.
“Plus, Marinsa told me they were going to submit me for nomination. At first, I was like, Shadow & Night for Best Actor? Why? Why would they even do that?”
Seo-jun tilted his head as he reenacted his own confusion from that moment, and somehow, the fake puppy ears on his head seemed to perk up with the motion.
Waaaahhhh—
The sprouts let out uncontrollable squeals.
Seo-jun smiled at their reaction and continued.
“At the time, I figured it was just a PR move. Marinsa even explained it like that. But… turns out I actually got nominated.”
Every time he had seen his name on the Best Actor longlist, Seo-jun would scratch his cheek thinking, Eh… there’s no way… So today’s result left him stunned.
“Seriously, Marinsa. They’re such a seasoned studio—maybe they really thought there was a chance.”
They’d probably called it “PR” because, although there was a possibility, it wasn’t something they wanted to raise Seo-jun’s hopes for.
“If they’d even given me a hint, I wouldn’t have been this shocked.”
Seo-jun’s light grumbling earned laughter from the audience.
Truly, he hadn’t expected it—not even 1%. His heart had dropped from surprise. Of course, it was a good kind of surprise.
“You were soooo cute!!”
“Right?!”
Laughing at the sprouts’ shout-outs, Seo-jun checked the time. The conversation had gone on longer than expected.
“Time’s really flown. I might run a little late if I want to show you everything I prepared… but that’s okay, right? You have to stay and watch everything—I worked so hard on this fan meeting!”
WAAAAHHH!!
With a playful wink, Seo-jun sent the sprouts into another cheering frenzy, their light sticks waving high.
“Let’s go till tomorrow, Seo-jun!”
“A whole week is fine too!”
The sprouts meant it. The longer they got to see Seo-jun’s face, the better. Truly.
“A week? That’s a bit…”
Seo-jun widened his eyes dramatically in mock protest, and the audience burst into laughter. He grinned along with them.
“Well, it’s already been a while since Part 2 started, but let’s kick things off properly with the first song I prepared.”
As he spoke, the opening melody of Spring Spring began to play. The staff had clearly been watching and waiting for the cue.
“This is Spring Spring by Red Crown.”
♬
Just like the ‘spring’ it’s named after—sprouts sprouting and flowers blooming—the intro was lively and warm. Seo-jun’s soft, sweet voice flowed from the speakers, filling the venue.
The sprouts swayed their light sticks gently from side to side and once again immersed themselves in the fan meeting.
No one could have predicted Seo-jun’s nomination—but Marinsa, the long-established film studio, had. Their foresight had fans, sprouts, and even global audiences clapping in admiration, whispering, “Their intuition is insane.”
The junior staff walked with their heads high—This is OUR studio!
But…
“Wait… why…?”
The execs who had submitted Seo-jun Lee from Shadow & Night for Best Actor were staring blankly at the Academy’s nomination announcement, replaying it again and again.
Marinsa’s president, Richard Bowen, was among them.
[Seo-jun Lee of Shadow & Night!]
“…Have these people lost their minds?”
As the Academy presenter announced the final Best Actor nominee, Richard Bowen blurted it out unconsciously.
Beside him, Paelyn Park coughed lightly, trying to stifle her laugh.
The two of them had worked together for years, balancing each other out, so a laugh wouldn’t cause issues—but still, Richard was the boss.
Richard turned from the monitor and looked at Paelyn, his frown deepening.
“They’re not going to say, ‘Oops, our mistake,’ right?”
“It’s been confirmed. It’s official.”
The Academy had issued press releases to shut down any doubt—they were firm. Seo-jun Lee was nominated.
Even with Paelyn’s clear answer, Richard’s brows stayed tightly knit.
Though they were alone in his office, Richard lowered his voice further.
“…We didn’t do anything shady, did we?”
Money. Bribery. Bribes. Bribes!
Fixing. Rigging. Fixing again!
Of course, the Academy was too proud for that, but…
Richard had been in Hollywood a long time—and even he found this baffling.
“Nothing at all. Absolutely not.”
Paelyn shook her head firmly.
“And the Academy’s not the kind of place that would budge even if we tried.”
“True enough.”
If it were that easy, U.S. studios would’ve bought Oscars ages ago.
Richard leaned back in his chair, still looking skeptical.
“It really was just for PR.”
More specifically, for Marinsa’s OTT platform, Universe, which would host Shadow & Night.
Two years ago, Over the Rainbow 2: For My Friend had brought global attention to Universe. Last year, other titles retained subscribers. This year, the plan was to drive subscriptions with Shadow & Night.
They’d planned to promote it with lines like: “From the studio whose film made it to the Oscars’ first-round Best Actor list.”
Sprouts around the world would’ve happily paid up with a smirk: “Heh, they know their stuff.”
“And it was a good chance to get on Jun’s radar, too.”
It was Marinsa’s way of saying: “We care about Seo-jun Lee.”
Because if he became the centerpiece of a future Season 2 superhero film—or starred in other Marinsa-affiliated productions—it would be a win.
Born under the superstar star, Seo-jun made any film a hit.
That’s why they’d included him in the longlist.
Being a superhero movie, there was no real chance of nomination, so no need to run an expensive Oscar campaign. It left a good impression on Seo-jun and his fans. A perfect strategy.
“And yet… he actually got nominated…”
He hadn’t even made the Golden Globes shortlist, and that was voted on by international journalists.
Seo-jun Lee.
Since his impossible Oscar Best Actor win with Over the Rainbow 1, he’d always been unpredictable.
Richard rubbed his face with both hands. Paelyn chuckled beside him.
“The world’s changing.”
Her tone was calm, but she had been just as shocked when the nominees were announced—and just as thrilled.
“…Yeah.”
Richard gazed out the window.
He could feel the times changing.
It felt like watching a massive hurricane overturning history.
And at the center of it all was Seo-jun Lee.
From his debut, he had shocked audiences. He had won the Oscar for Best Actor and the Palme d’Or at Cannes—both at a young age.
And now, another Oscar nomination.
And he still had so many years of acting ahead.
Richard’s heart pounded.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of legacy this superstar would leave in cinema history.
But he could see it—
The ever-shining figure of a superstar under the spotlight, and Marinsa walking beside him to make future masterpieces.
“When’s Jun coming to the U.S.?”
Time to plan a celebration.
If he’s too busy—at least a gift!
“He’s scheduled to shoot in the U.S. starting in April, so he was going to arrive in March. But with the Oscars, I imagine he’ll be here by late February.”
“Ah, and he has a new project, right?”
“Yes.”
The public didn’t know yet, but in the industry, word had spread.
Richard made a regretful face.
“Would’ve been nice if it was our studio’s film.”
Paelyn smiled warmly.
“Feels strange, doesn’t it? Like it was just yesterday that you opposed casting Jun.”
“…!”
Richard’s eyes widened.
He remembered the dark history—how he had opposed casting an Asian actor in Shadowman 2.
“‘Just yesterday’?! That was over 15 years ago!”
“A touching journey, truly.”
“You brat!”
“Are you insane?!”
Han Ji-ho grabbed Seo-jun’s shoulders, eyes blazing. He shook him side to side, yelling, “This is crazy! You’re crazy!” Seo-jun, letting his body go limp, swayed helplessly.
“You’ll shake him to death.”
“…Seo-jun hyung?”
At Kim Young-chan’s question, everyone turned to Seo-jun, who was smiling as he let himself be shaken wildly.
It looked like an older dog humoring an overexcited puppy.
Even the staff, manager Choi Tae-woo, and executive Ahn Da-ho—who had rushed over upon hearing the nomination—burst out laughing.
“I bet Ji-ho gets tired first.”
“Same. I can’t imagine Seo-jun wearing out.”
“Me too!”
“At this point, it’s not even a bet.”
The actors for Part 3’s play MOEB-436—Kim Ju-kyung, Kang Jae-han, and Park Yeon-ji—laughed among themselves.
They had rushed over to congratulate Seo-jun as soon as he entered the dressing room, but Han Ji-ho’s extreme display had thrown off the timing.
After Ji-ho finally calmed down (read: got tired), Seo-jun greeted everyone with a smile. His friends offered their congratulations.
“Congrats on the nomination, Seo-jun hyung!”
“Thanks.”
“Marinsa’s insane. Seriously impressive.”
“Yeah. How’d they manage a superhero movie nomination?”
“I was super surprised.”
Marinsa might not have expected it—but their “mistake” had blossomed into a full-on miracle.
“So you’re going to the U.S., Seo-jun oppa?”
“Yeah, I need to adjust my schedule.”
Seo-jun nodded at Park Yeon-ji’s question.
Besides the fan meeting today and tomorrow, February was mostly open—rescheduling would be easy.
He rolled his eyes thoughtfully.
If he left at the end of February, he could just stay in L.A. for the Oscars and shoot afterward.
“I’ve got a place there, so I’ll be comfortable.”
Returning to Korea only to leave again would be more exhausting.
“Da-ho hyung and Tae-woo hyung will take care of it.”
He glanced over and saw the two deep in conversation—his reliable managers. Seo-jun smiled.
“Then it’s time for the actor to do what actors do.”
Looking at his friends and juniors, Seo-jun spoke.
“Shall we do a quick read-through?”
The 436 cast, who had been happily snacking and chatting about Seo-jun’s nomination, froze and stared blankly at him.
“…How do you get nominated for an Oscar and then immediately want to do a script reading?”
“It’s Seo-jun.”
Ah.
With that, everyone understood.