Volume One: The Thorny Path

Chapter 1 Paradise for the Rich, Hell for the Poor

　　"Henry Stanton, found guilty of illegal entry into a private residence and negligent assault, is sentenced to a fine of two hundred thousand dollars and twelve months in prison..."

　　The side door of the California Chino State Prison opened, and Henry Stanton and his companion Ross walked out. The first breath of free air brought back memories of a year ago. Perhaps he was the unluckiest reincarnator in the world—coming to Los Angeles from the other side of the Pacific, only to find not the legendary land of glamour, but a huge tragedy. At that time, he had already been arrested by the Los Angeles police, faced multiple charges, was ultimately convicted, and spent nearly a year in a California state prison.

　　"What are you thinking about?"

　　Walking out of prison with Henry was a typical Latino man, strong and muscular. He raised his tattooed hand and patted Henry on the shoulder, pointing to a car parked by the roadside ahead. "Come on, our ride is here."

　　The prison was far from the city, and getting a ride wasn't easy. Henry nodded and followed him to the car. The two people standing in front of the car immediately greeted Ross with flattering smiles and opened the back doors for them.

　　Henry didn't stand on ceremony. He and Ross got into the car from opposite sides. The car started up, turned around, and sped toward Los Angeles, fifty miles away.

　　The car moved quickly, especially after getting on the highway.

　　After a year in prison, Henry's entire demeanor had become somewhat tough. In a men's prison, someone like him—decent-looking—had to become tough enough to protect himself and avoid picking up the soap.

　　"So, what's your plan next?"

　　The Latino withdrew his gaze from the window and looked over. "Hey, Henry, why not work with me? I guarantee you, dollars and hot chicks..."

　　"Ross." Henry interrupted him, shaking his head. "You want me to sell heroin and guns with you? I have no intention of going back to prison."

　　He said this without any reservation. Given the camaraderie they'd built fighting side by side in prison, there was no need for pretense. Henry let out a long breath and said with absolute certainty, "I'll make my money, and the hot chicks I want are the most beautiful movie stars. My future is in Hollywood!"

　　"Poor kid..." Ross patted his shoulder again. "Haven't you woken up from your dream yet? Even your house was confiscated to pay your fine. How are you going to make it in Los Angeles? Henry, tens of thousands of people come to Hollywood every year chasing their dreams. How many actually make it?"

　　Although he had only been a soon-to-graduate student at a second-rate film academy on the other side of the Pacific, Henry had studied Hollywood, the center of the film world, and knew that Ross wasn't exaggerating at all—if anything, he was being optimistic. The reality was even tougher.

　　Countless people come to Los Angeles, but how many actually achieve both fame and fortune? One in a thousand? One in ten thousand?

　　Henry knew just how hard this road would be. The problem was, if he didn't take this path, what would he do with his future? He had only been a student at a bottom-tier film academy, and his only skill was film. Now, back in Los Angeles in 1999, after a year in prison, if he didn't choose the film industry he was most familiar with, was he really going to sell heroin with Ross?

　　Still, Ross had raised a very real issue.

　　Turning his eyes to the window, Henry watched the scenery flash by, and everything that had happened when he arrived in this world replayed in his mind.

　　Although he had accepted the fact that he had come from the other side of the Pacific and become this twenty-year-old named Henry Stanton, since arriving in this world, Henry had felt a frustration he couldn't put into words. Especially the change in identity and language—at first, it nearly drove him crazy. Merging with the original owner's memories was definitely not a pleasant experience either; it felt like someone had stuffed another person's thoughts into his head, as if a hand was stirring his brain, making him feel miserable.

　　The only thing to be thankful for was that, over the past year, Henry had basically solved the language and adaptation issues.

　　Shaking his head, which was once again throbbing, sore, and aching as if being torn apart, Henry couldn't help but sigh—his life had been miserable enough before, but his current situation was clearly even worse.