"Heh, this is ridiculous!"
Walker had been browsing street stalls, hoping to find a cool pair of sunglasses, when—out of nowhere—someone smacked him on the back of the head with a brick.
When he woke up, everything had changed. His identity, his body, his nationality… even the timeline.
It was now the autumn of 1996.
His new name? Dunn. Dunn Williams Walker.
He was eighteen years old and worked in the film industry. More specifically, he was a production assistant.
To put it bluntly, he was a gofer.
Still, the badge hanging around his neck gave him a sense of purpose—something he'd never felt before. After all, the name on it read: **Titanic.**
"Man, I've watched a lot of movies, but I can't act, can't direct, and my writing sucks… What the hell am I even doing here? I can't be running errands my whole life, right?"
With a sigh, Dunn shook his head and headed toward the 20th Century Fox soundstage.
For the next two weeks, the production would be filming indoor scenes there.
"Hey, Dunn! If you don't get over here, Miss Winslet is gonna lose it!"
The moment Dunn stepped inside, a panicked figure rushed up to him, grabbed his arm, and dragged him along without explanation.
After three days on set, Dunn had gotten familiar with some of the crew.
The guy pulling him along was George Paxton, another production assistant just like him. Word around the set was that George had been working on film crews for six years and was still stuck at the bottom.
Hollywood was brutal.
"Come on, George! It's only 7:15. We're not even on the clock yet," Dunn grumbled.
George gave him a wry smile. "Since when do we have work hours? If the big shots need something, we jump."
"Fine, but at least tell me—why is Miss Winslet looking for me?"
George hesitated, his face stiffening.
Dunn frowned. "What's up with you? You usually tell me everything."
George lowered his voice. "Uh… Did you go into Miss Winslet's dressing room yesterday?"
"Yeah, her chair was broken, so I helped fix it," Dunn replied, puzzled. "Why?"
"You… only fixed the chair?"
"Yeah, what else would I do?" Dunn's eyes suddenly widened. "Wait. Is she missing something? If so, it wasn't me!"
George let out a bitter laugh. "If it were just missing, this would be much easier to handle."
Dunn's face darkened. Whatever happened, it was worse than theft. If he got blamed for this, he could kiss his job goodbye.
"What the hell is going on?"
George glanced around cautiously. "You *really* didn't do anything?"
"Of course not! I don't even know what this is about!" Dunn snapped.
George sighed and muttered, "Someone… messed with Miss Winslet's underwear."
"Huh?" Dunn was baffled. "What do you mean? The wardrobe department took it?"
"No…" George hesitated before sighing again. "You'll see when you get there. No matter what, don't admit to anything!"
Dunn followed George to Kate Winslet's dressing room.
The famous *Rose* was sitting in front of her mirror, getting her makeup done. Her expression was calm and focused.
But behind her, her two assistants were glaring at Dunn like they wanted to set him on fire.
"Miss Winslet, Dunn is here," George announced with an ingratiating smile, bowing slightly.
Dunn hated that attitude. People were just people—so what if she was a movie star? Did that mean she could accuse someone without proof?
"Miss Winslet, you asked for me?" he said, his tone neutral.
His lack of nervousness made one of the assistants snap. "*You* disgusting creep! I've never met someone as revolting as you!"
Dunn frowned. "Miss, could you tell me what exactly is going on?"
"Look for yourself!"
The assistant pointed to the wall. Hanging there was a crumpled white bra—definitely not in the pristine condition you'd expect from a movie star's lingerie.
Dunn raised an eyebrow and walked closer. Up close, he noticed something disturbing: the inside of the bra had a dried, crusty white stain.
His expression changed instantly.
No wonder Winslet looked like she wanted to kill someone. No wonder her assistants were furious.
Someone had *defiled* her underwear.
"Miss Winslet, I swear to you—it wasn't me!" Dunn's voice was firm and serious.
"Then who else could it be? You were the *only* one in this room yesterday afternoon!" The assistant's anger flared at Dunn's denial.
An 18-year-old guy, good-looking too—who would've thought he'd be such a pervert? Disgusting!
George nervously tried to smooth things over. "Dunn is young, but he's got good character. I… I don't think he would do something like this."
"Then who did?" the assistant snapped. "I already asked around! At least three people saw him leave this room looking *very* satisfied!"
"Miss Winslet asked me to fix her chair," Dunn said, now feeling a deep sense of unease.
"But I didn't ask you to do *anything else*!"
For the first time, Kate Winslet spoke, her tone icy.
Taking a deep breath, Dunn said, "Miss Winslet, I believe there's been a misunderstanding. My reputation is at stake—I'd like to speak with those three witnesses directly."
Winslet looked irritated. "That's unnecessary. No need to blow this out of proportion."
Scandals like this were never fair to women—especially on a chaotic film set. Even a minor rumor could damage her reputation.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't care. Hollywood was full of gossip.
But she was already engaged to British director Jim Treylaton, and after this film wrapped, they were getting married. If rumors spread now, it could hurt her public image.
Honestly, she hadn't intended to escalate this. An 18-year-old boy making a mistake? Whatever. A simple apology would have sufficed.
But Dunn's refusal to admit guilt, his defiance—it disgusted her.
Dunn didn't know what Winslet was thinking. He only knew that his innocence *mattered.*
"I insist," he said firmly.
"You—!"
Winslet was genuinely angry now. If he wanted to play it by the book, fine.
"Jenny, call Hilda. Tell her to come here."
Her assistant sighed, already mourning Dunn's career. If Winslet's *agent* got involved, things would get serious. Even if Dunn was innocent, challenging a lead actress was career suicide.
This kid was an idiot. Arrogant, foolish, disgusting.
Did he really think he could go against a *movie star*?
But Dunn remained calm.
If they wanted to play it formally…
That was *perfect.*
---
Meanwhile, on set…
"Cut! That's a wrap on this scene!"
James Cameron's voice boomed across the set, and everyone sighed in relief.
What should've been a simple dinner table conversation scene had taken *three hours* to shoot.
Even Kate Winslet was exhausted, grabbing a water bottle from her assistant.
Dunn watched from a distance, secretly impressed.
So *this* was the famous "tyrant on set."
Nearly a hundred people, and they all acted like terrified rabbits around Cameron.
But just as everyone thought they could finally relax…
"MANDY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"
Cameron's furious voice rang out again.
He grabbed a fork from the table prop set. "I'M MAKING A MOVIE ABOUT THE **TITANIC** IN 1912, NOT SOME CHEAP CRAP FROM 1996!"
The entire set froze.
The props master, Mandy, gulped. He *had* cut corners, using modern utensils instead of period-accurate ones.
Cameron had *noticed.*
"Replace *everything!*" Cameron ordered without hesitation.
The producers turned pale.
"Jim, that'll cost at least two million dollars!" producer Jon Landau warned.
"I'll find the money," Cameron snapped. "My job is to make a *great* film!"
At that moment, an assistant approached him.
"Sir, Kate Winslet's agent is here."
"What for?" Cameron frowned.
"Something about a PA named Dunn upsetting Miss Winslet."
Cameron's expression darkened.
A *production assistant* dared to piss off his *lead actress*?
No wonder Winslet's performance had been off today.
"Give him an extra week's pay," Cameron growled. "Then get that guy the hell out of here."
---
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