The Transformers trailer had taken the UK by storm—an earth-shattering, culture-shaking phenomenon. And because of it, Claire was forced to transfer hospitals.
After everything that had happened, Claire had no choice but to bow to the whims of capital.
It was at this moment that he truly realized: In this era, even if you have talent, even if you're handsome, without the backing of capital, standing in front of the cameras is nearly impossible.
On the eve of his hospital transfer, Costa Mayor had only said one thing to him:
"We've already invested £2.7 million into you. A big chunk of that is favors—and if you converted those favors into cash, the real value might be even higher."
Claire didn't say much after learning the full picture. He'd heard rumors about Western media manipulation, but experiencing it firsthand was a different story.
Transformers, which had been virtually unknown in the UK just two weeks ago, had suddenly become the most anticipated film in the country. Shia LaBeouf, its lead actor, had not only broken into the British market but also solidified his position as Hollywood's next-gen leading man—all thanks to the media frenzy.
Even The Bank Job, a film that had originally grossed just $200 million worldwide, had somehow managed to snag the second-week box office crown, going toe-to-toe with Will Smith's I Am Legend.
Jason Statham had become good friends with Claire over this and even promised to bring his crew to cheer him on during his football debut.
But the biggest surprise? The Mission: Impossible 3 team.
Tom Cruise and Maggie Q had publicly supported him. For an A-lister like Cruise to speak up for someone like Claire—a nobody in the music industry—was unheard of. Even Costa was baffled:
"Sure, both films are Paramount projects, but how the hell did you catch Tom Cruise's attention?"
"Maybe I did some good deeds without realizing it?"
Claire had no idea what Mission: Impossible 3, one of Paramount's most profitable franchises, had gained from this. But Maggie Q had sent him a fruit basket with a handwritten note. Her handwriting was elegant, and Claire was flattered that such a stunning woman remembered him.
(And if he recalled correctly, Maggie Q had once been linked to Edison Chen in Hong Kong.)
The TV in Claire's room was tuned to Sky Cinema, which was looping the Transformers trailer.
A yellow Chevrolet sped down a highway, the scenery flashing by as the two leads—looking both exhausted and effortlessly cool—exchanged tense glances.
"Red Skull's catching up!" Megan Fox gasped, glancing at the rearview mirror.
Shia LaBeouf turned to see multiple police cars in pursuit. The Chevrolet suddenly spoke in a mechanical growl:
"That's Barricade—one of the Decepticons. He's weak, but there are too many of them."
The car then executed a perfect drift before accelerating again.
As the sunset cast long shadows over a bridge, four police cars closed in—until a firetruck roared past, transforming mid-air into Optimus Prime, who swung a massive fist at the pursuers.
The screen cut to black.
A dark, comic-style illustration filled the screen as One Day began playing.
A rusted, battle-worn Bumblebee stood in a desolate wasteland, his once-glowing optics now dim. His mechanical arms hung limp, blending into the bleak surroundings.
Perched on his shoulder was Megan Fox, her usual glamour gone. Strands of hair blew in the wind as she tenderly—painfully—stroked Bumblebee's chassis.
At the robot's feet sat Shia LaBeouf, dressed in tattered clothes, an AK-47 beneath his boot. Nearby, a motionless soldier lay sprawled on the ground.
Above them, two giant robots clashed mid-air, while in the distance, soldiers advanced toward Bumblebee.
Just as the chorus of One Day swelled—
Lucy Pinder walked in, carrying a takeout box. She set it down and said matter-of-factly,
"This concept is brilliant. Michael Bay should personally thank you."
Claire smirked, grabbing the remote. "Oh? I just think selling One Day for £200k was a scam."
He switched channels—only to land on Manchester Local TV, where Lucy herself was onscreen, dressed in a form-fitting red gown, her dark curls cascading over her shoulders.
"Wow, you're even on TV now, riding my coattails?"
Lucy pinched his side. "Your uncle got me a job as an MUTV field reporter, you idiot!"
Claire winced but didn't dare move—his stitches were still fresh.
"Are you really going to keep playing the 'mystery man'? Today, half the fans I interviewed said they came because of you. If you don't show up soon, Old Trafford might riot."
Claire tilted his head playfully. "Mystery sells. Warner's banking hard on their new streaming platform—they even signed a $2 million ad deal with Google to push it. As a good little artist, I'll do as I'm told."
He grinned.
"In other words—let the bullet fly a little longer."