SCA, officially known as the 'School of Cinematic Arts' at USC—wait, it's still called the 'School of Cinema-Television' in this era, since it's the year 2000.

Inside a messy dorm room, the air was thick with smoke.

Wayne Anderson sat alone on the edge of the bed, one arm limp over his knee, the other holding a cigarette. Shattered beer bottles littered the floor, with golden liquid spilling everywhere—some even splashed onto his pants.

In both his past life and the original owner of this body, neither was ever a smoker.

But now, he really needed a cigarette to calm down and accept reality.

That's right—Wayne Anderson had transmigrated. In his previous life, he graduated from a film school, but with no connections and an ordinary background, he spent five years as an extra after his junior year. In the end, he had to face reality and return to grad school.

He spent another two years earning a spot as a substitute professor in a course on European and American film analysis, just before graduation. But one night, after drinking a little too much in celebration, he woke up in a different body.

He had transmigrated across the ocean to America, becoming a sophomore at USC's School of Cinema-Television, also named Wayne Anderson.

The year was 2000.

Was this... good news?

Being accepted into SCA, the undisputed number one film school in the U.S., where since 1965 an alumnus received an Oscar nomination every two years, was definitely something to be proud of for anyone aspiring to work in Hollywood.

Wayne had felt the same when he first enrolled.

But it only took him a month to see the brutal reality of Hollywood and the film industry.

At SCA, 70% of students came from upper-middle-class or higher backgrounds, or had relatives in the industry with solid credentials and achievements.

Wayne was part of the remaining 30%.

He came from Banks, a small town in Oregon. His parents died in a car accident when he was sixteen, and the settlement money barely covered his high school and first year of college tuition.

In other words, apart from his good looks, he had nothing going for him.

Wayne instinctively lifted his head, stretching his stiff neck.

In the nearby mirror, a face straight out of a Greek sculpture stared back at him—handsome from any angle, not at all inferior to the now-superstar Leonardo DiCaprio, who shot to fame with *Titanic*.

In fact, Wayne had been inspired by *Titanic*, by Leo's rise to fame, and by his neighbors who kept telling him, "You're even better-looking than DiCaprio! It'd be a waste if you didn't act," or, "If Wayne had been in *Titanic*, it would've made even more money."

That was when he got the wild idea of applying to SCA, heading to Hollywood, becoming a star, and making it big.

Reality, however, had hit him hard.

Thanks to his looks, no worse than DiCaprio's, Wayne was popular among the girls when he first started at SCA. Many of them pursued him, just like his high school and middle school classmates had.

Among them was even a rising starlet who had landed lead roles in several low- to mid-budget films, as well as the daughters of directors, producers, or executives at production companies.

Naturally, he chose the prettiest one.

But after just a week, he discovered her walking into her off-campus apartment with two older men.

Heartbroken, he secretly followed, only to hear sounds coming from the apartment that filled him with rage.

In the end, it was Wayne, the poor kid, who got dumped and ridiculed.

The worst part? Those two men weren't even big shots, just casting directors from small- to mid-sized production companies.

Wayne was depressed for half a semester over it.

But that experience opened his eyes to the harsh truths of the entertainment industry.

After that, Wayne became more cautious. He stopped sleeping around and focused on working and figuring out how to climb the ladder.

That was normal.

The truly high-status girls were unattainable, and his ex-girlfriend's fate was a clear warning.

So, after careful consideration, he set his sights on a girl named Mia Hemera. Mia was not only good-looking, resembling a mix of Jennifer Aniston and Keira Knightley, but she was studying to become a producer. Her family also ran a small production company, which had produced several films with budgets ranging from $500,000 to $3 million.

For Wayne, she was the perfect stepping stone.

But just when Wayne had finally succeeded in winning Mia over after nearly a year of effort, her family went bankrupt!

The Hemera family had poured everything into their first big-budget film, but it flopped hard at the box office, only making $3.7 million. Even with DVD sales, they couldn't recover their costs.

Hemera Productions was deep in debt. Even after auctioning off all their assets, they still owed the bank $2.1 million, a huge sum in the year 2000.

Mia's family was devastated by the bankruptcy, but Wayne wasn't in much better shape.

Sure, Mia was beautiful, but Wayne hadn't put in all that time and effort just because of her looks.

Otherwise, with his face, he could've hooked up with any girl he wanted.

But now that Mia's family was bankrupt, all his hard work had gone to waste. How many years of youth could he afford to lose?

Frustrated, Wayne had bought a ton of booze and returned to his dorm.

And when he woke up, he had a new soul in his body.

"Damn, if only I'd had this face in my previous life, I wouldn't have just been an extra. I might not have been a superstar, but I'd have done way better than that!"

Wayne glanced at his reflection again, admiring his sharp, handsome features.

Compared to the entertainment industry back home, Hollywood was already well-developed. Capital ruled everything. Sure, looks and talent mattered, but compared to money and connections, they barely counted for anything.

Unfortunately, this body belonged to an all-American guy. There was no going back to his old life now.

At least not anytime soon.

"Maybe I should set a new goal," Wayne thought, now accepting his new identity.

Just like his former self had concluded, as a poor kid from Oregon, his only assets were his looks and body.

But just as Wayne was about to turn on his computer to search for a new target, a mechanical, emotionless voice echoed in his head.

"A system?"

"Whoa—"

"I've got a cheat!"