Joseph opened his mouth, as if countless words were caught in his throat, making it itch uncomfortably.
"Hugo…" he began, hesitating for a long moment. Hugo looked up, his eyes quietly asking, What is it?
After a long pause, Joseph finally stammered, half-heartedly, "Maybe… you should apologize…" But halfway through the sentence, his confidence faltered, and the rest of his words died away.
Hugo didn't react at first — his mind briefly wondering, Apologize to whom? But when he saw the hesitation in Joseph's eyes, he immediately understood. Joseph meant Tracy.
She was the mastermind behind all the recent chaos. If Hugo were to apologize to her, perhaps everything would be resolved. After all, their conflict stemmed from one thing — love. Love could make a woman vulnerable, but it could also make her reckless. If Hugo were willing to lower his head, maybe Tracy would forgive him. Not only would this current mess disappear, but his entire acting career might suddenly become smooth again. That, after all, was how the industry worked — not a matter of right or wrong, but of power and compromise.
But Hugo simply smiled and shook his head. "Joe, don't bring that up again. I could never do that."
The faint smile at the corner of his mouth carried a quiet but unshakable resolve. One look from him was enough to crush every argument Joseph had prepared.
Hugo continued, "Do you remember what I once said? Some things can be done, some cannot, and some are beneath me. Tracy's situation falls into that last category." He paused, thinking of their past entanglement, and sighed softly. "I'd rather carve out my own future through my own effort than beg for the favor of the powerful."
Joseph immediately recognized the line — it was a quote from the great novelist Victor Hugo. It was the second time he'd heard Hugo mention it.
"I wasn't even talking about Tracy…" Joseph muttered weakly, but Hugo's gentle gaze silenced him, leaving the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat.
Stretching his arms, Hugo climbed out of bed and walked to the window. Outside, Los Angeles was bathed in brilliant sunshine. Golden light broke through the clouds, wrapping the City of Angels in radiant color. It was breathtaking.
Joseph followed Hugo's movement and came to stand beside him. "So what now?" he asked, the frustration that had briefly subsided stirring again. "I've already tried everything I could think of…" His voice faltered with disappointment. He'd done all he could, yet nothing worked — the feeling of helplessness was unbearable.
"Joe, why are you in such a hurry?" Hugo didn't take his eyes off the horizon — the vast blue shimmered under the sunlight like scattered diamonds. For the first time in weeks, his body, weary from illness, felt light again. The stiffness and fatigue seemed to melt away bit by bit.
"You, of all people, should know," Hugo said calmly, "no actor can move from one film straight to the next. The gap can be weeks — or even years. There are many reasons for that. You're worried about one of them — that I'll become irrelevant, that studios won't want to hire me again."
Joseph's face tensed, but Hugo's easy smile soon dissolved his unease.
"Choosing only the right scripts is another reason," Hugo added. "Because a great film can make an actor, while a bad one can destroy him. We both know that, don't we?"
Joseph couldn't help but chuckle bitterly.
"Really, all that's happened is that we've gone back to the starting line," Hugo said, his tone light and cheerful. "There's nothing to worry about. At least this time, there's no Golden Raspberry mess and instead, I got two Golden Globe nominations. Who knows? Maybe even an Oscar nod."
The gloom that had shadowed his face slowly disappeared under the sunlight, replaced once again by that familiar, dazzling smile.
Joseph looked at Hugo's bright expression, then awkwardly shook his head. Hugo blinked in surprise before Joseph finally said quietly, "There's no Oscar nomination."
Two days earlier, the Academy had announced the nominees for the 65th Academy Awards and Hugo's name was nowhere to be found. Both A Few Good Men (Best Actor) and Scent of a Woman (Best Supporting Actor) had been completely snubbed. It became one of the day's hottest topics in Hollywood.
Not long ago, Hugo had been riding high with his dual Golden Globe nominations, but in the eyes of the Academy, his status still wasn't enough. Maybe the lingering stigma from his Razzie Award days was still there. Maybe the ongoing "diva rumors" had tarnished his image. Or maybe just maybe the Academy didn't yet believe he was worthy of a nomination. Whatever the reason, the result was the same: Hugo had once again missed out on his first Oscar nomination.
Hugo paused briefly, then broke into a grin. "Well, at least my acting's finally being recognized, right? It's better than last year, when no one thought I had any talent. That was the real nightmare." He wiped his forehead dramatically, pretending to sweat, making Joseph press his lips together in helpless amusement.
Then Hugo fell silent. Joseph thought the topic of the Oscars had hit a sore spot and didn't know what to say. He couldn't just offer hollow comfort like 'You'll get one next time.' That would've sounded ridiculous. If anything, saying 'You'll win one someday' might've made more sense — but talking about a nomination? Hardly worth fussing over.
"Joe," Hugo suddenly said, "you know what? I think those 'diva rumors' actually have a point."
Joseph looked utterly baffled. "What? Why?" To him, the whole thing was absurd. As Hugo's closest partner, he knew better than anyone that Hugo wasn't arrogant or difficult to work with. The tabloids' stories were pure nonsense. Yet Hugo was now agreeing with them?
Before Joseph could object, Hugo continued, "I think I did get a little full of myself."
He looked back on the past few months. Ever since Scent of a Woman had triumphed, his fame had skyrocketed. Success in both career and love had made him overconfident. The sense of superiority that came with knowing the future — his secret advantage had quietly taken root in his mind. He might not have admitted it, but his actions betrayed it.
"When I heard the screams of the fans, I almost believed I was a god. When I read the media's praise, I thought I was a genius," Hugo said with a self-mocking smile. Seeing Joseph's urge to protest, he shook his head lightly. "No, I mean it. I really thought I was on top of the world that everything would just fall into place if I reached out my hand. I was spending money like crazy, enjoying how easily it came. I even spent three whole weeks vacationing in Malibu. Tell me, how much do I still have left in my account?"
Joseph hesitated, then murmured, "A little over six hundred thousand."
Hugo looked stunned, then gave a short laugh. "I thought I still had at least a million." No wonder they said it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard the other way around. He hadn't even realized how much he'd spent and now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember where any of it had gone.
Joseph looked up at him. "I still owe you a million, remember."
Hugo chuckled. "Oh, I remember. Who knows that might just turn into life-saving capital one day." His lighthearted tone made Joseph shake his head helplessly. "I mean," Hugo added, "I used to spend freely too, but at least there was always a plan behind it."
Joseph wanted to mention that the Malibu trip had been because of Uma but then remembered that Hugo and Uma Thurman had just broken up. He decided against rubbing salt in the wound and kept silent.
"Not only that," Hugo went on, "I really did slack off with the original novel for The Firm. I wasn't nearly as focused as I was when I worked on A Few Good Men. And during the auditions for Sleepless in Seattle, I didn't give it my all either… It's not that I didn't work hard — it's that my attitude changed. I got complacent. I thought two great performances were enough to prove myself, so I relaxed. Then, after that Malibu vacation, when no new scripts came in, I got anxious. Funny thing is, after A Few Good Men wrapped, I didn't worry for months — but now I do. That's how I know I've grown arrogant. I started thinking scripts should come to me."
Hugo's words came out in a tangled rush, seemingly without order, but he knew exactly what he meant. Until this moment, he hadn't realized how restless and conceited he had become. Everything had started to feel so natural — the fans' adoration, the studios' attention and without noticing, he had begun to enjoy it all, to lose himself in the glitter of fame.
"This… this is confidence!" Joseph said, astonished. He hadn't realized Hugo had been thinking so deeply about all this.
"There's only a thin line between confidence and arrogance," Hugo said with a quiet laugh. "Joe, haven't you noticed how much I've changed and how you've changed?"
Joseph froze as Hugo's words turned toward him.
"After my last talk with Ernst," Hugo continued, "I realized we need to treat criticism with reason. But I'd forgotten — praise needs the same treatment. We have to strip away the fancy words and look at what's real. Maybe I'm not that great. Maybe I'm not a genius. Maybe I still have to work harder. Maybe I'm still a long way from true success."
He paused, then smiled. "And one thing's for sure — I'm not God."
At one point, lost amid the flowers and applause, Hugo had truly started believing he was something divine. But now the illusion was gone, and clarity had returned. "So maybe this whole mess is actually a good wake-up call. At least it reminded me where I really stand. I shouldn't aim for the heavens before I've even learned how to walk. The only thing that matters is staying grounded and starting from myself."
In the vast world of entertainment, Hugo was still a newcomer with much to learn. Maintaining the right mindset — staying humble and not losing himself was the key. Fortunately, this incident had happened before he truly became arrogant, before he actually started acting like a diva, before he believed his own myth. It wasn't too late.
"We're already here," Hugo said at last. "How much worse could things get? So — what do you say? Want to take another shot at it with me?"
Joseph lifted his head and met Hugo's radiant smile — one so bright it seemed to outshine even the sunlight streaming through the window.
...
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