I Have an Opinion

True to form for a high schooler practically fused to her smartphone, the reply came flying back at once.

Looking at his little sister's message, Yeon-woo briefly wondered whether ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he should have brought her along today—then snapped a photo of the stack of albums piled in the corner and sent it over.

They had apparently brought extras for the staff as well, but there was no one left to hand them out to.

The album signed with the note To Actor Ryu Yeon-woo was a gift, so keeping it out of courtesy made sense. The surplus copies, though, were a problem with nowhere to go.

Yeon-woo tilted his head for a moment.

Did I not tell the family?

Then again, he had never been the type to report every little detail of his schedule to them.

The direct hit made something in Yeon-woo's chest twinge.

"Ahem."

His throat felt oddly scratchy; he cleared it.

Yeon-woo froze mid-type; his thumb trembled over the screen.

Yeon-woo set the phone down and stretched.

"Getting a little boring. Feels like we've been waiting forever—are we still far off?"

"Yeah. Looks like it's about time for us to stand by, too."

His instinct proved right. A floor staffer knocked and opened the door.

"Jaynari team, please wait backstage."

"Understood."

Yeon-woo and Seo Ji-eun rose from their seats. Following the staffer's lead, the two headed for the waiting area behind the stage. Team Leader Jeong Hyeok trailed after them, capturing their backs as they walked toward the stage for the making-of footage.

Once they arrived backstage, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an FD approached and began the briefing.

"You're two slots after the next act. The pre-stage interview was cut at the agency's request. Just go up, do the performance, and come back down. Watch the floor markings carefully when you take your positions."

"Got it."

Watching the previous team's performance on the installed monitors, time slipped by quickly.

"Jaynari team, stand by. You'll go up while the previous team's pre-recorded video is playing."

"Yes."

Yeon-woo and Seo Ji-eun took their places at the stairs leading onto the stage.

"Go up now!"

As they climbed the steps, it was no longer Yeon-woo and Seo Ji-eun who stepped onto the stage—it was Jay and Nari.

Looking at Seo Ji-eun standing before the stand mic, he could feel the faint tremor running through her.

"Nari. Fighting."

When Yeon-woo smiled and called her Nari, Seo Ji-eun seemed to settle into the singer-songwriter she had spent years preparing to become; the shaking gradually eased.

She stared at the tips of his fingers and bit her lip hard.

"I'm going to give it everything!"

He couldn't very well tell her to go easy because of the cuts on his fingers. One way or another, this stage had to show the perfect image of a swan. All Seo Ji-eun could do was pour everything she had into completing the performance.

Beams of light fell over them. Numbers counted down on the prompter across the stage, and the music began to flow.

"Uwaaaah! It's starting!"

Makeup artist Joo-hee had been a steady member of the fan café ever since she had done Yeon-woo's makeup on the set of Spring's Lover, where he had made his cameo. This time she had won a seat through the fan café lottery—the once-in-a-lifetime chance to watch Jaynari's single stage.

Ever since Sketch had opened, membership in the fan café Woo's had exploded. Snagging one of only fifty audience tickets out of that throng was nothing short of pure luck.

Looking around at the other Woo's members who had come in with her, Joo-hee saw that every face already looked primed with tears. She hadn't checked a mirror, but she was certain she looked the same.

The music poured out, and over it came the natural, effortless line of Yeon-woo's guitar.

Before entering, they had been drilled several times that this was a ballad—no screaming allowed—so she clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back the cheer that wanted to burst free.

Insane. It's Jay from the movie, exactly.

They hadn't even reached the performances still to come; only the guitar line had been laid over the track, and already the fans' reactions matched Joo-hee's own.

Then the other star of the stage—Nari's voice—rose above it.

As Seo Ji-eun's clear, bright voice filled the open hall, Yeon-woo tapped out the rhythm on the body of his guitar, then set the instrument down on the floor. From the fog that had hidden it, he drew out a violin—as if plucking an instrument straight out of the clouds.

The audience seats erupted.

"Kyaaaah! He's insane!"

Fans lost their minds at the sight of Yeon-woo pulling out his in-ear and taking up the violin. Compared to idol fandoms, members of Woo's had far fewer chances to meet their celebrity, and the sheer volume of online content to obsess over was markedly smaller. They had been starving for a performance like this. Even the smallest gesture was pure happiness.

"Uwaaah! Shouldn't we have matching light sticks too?!"

"Oh my god, we really should have!"

It was a one-time activity that would end with today, but the Woo's members had quietly envied the other singers' fans walking in with their light sticks earlier.

Then Yeon-woo's blistering, almost unhinged fast playing began, and the fans could hardly believe their eyes.

"…Holy crap. Is there anything our actor can't do?"

That reaction wasn't limited to the seats.

Watching the music show live at home, Yeon-woo's family sat with their mouths hanging open.

"Th-that's Yeon-woo actually playing, right?"

"Looks like it. Did Oppa ever learn an instrument when he was little?"

"What instrument? Recorder and tambourine, maybe."

"Then how is he that good?"

Neither parent had an answer for So-hyun's question. They had seen him play in the film, of course, but they had assumed it was just acting—something the production had figured out somehow. Even before that, whether it was riding a horse in Star Beyond the River or the sudden leap in his grades long before he became an actor, they had simply decided that good things were good and moved on.

But instruments were a different dimension. Even as complete amateurs, his parents could tell that skill of that level was not something mere talent alone could explain.

From behind them, where he had been quietly watching the broadcast, Yeon-woo's father Ryu Cheol-ung spoke carefully.

"You know… maybe our Yeon-woo…"

His daughter and wife both turned toward him.

"Th-there's this thing. On that Sunday show, Surprising Amazing World, I saw a Swedish guy who got struck by lightning, nearly died, and then came back able to do anything—a genius. Could it be something like that?"

At the completely random theory, both mother and daughter whipped their heads around.

"Still, Seo Ji-eun unnie sings so well."

"Our daughter sings well too, you know."

"Heh. Then why is Oppa tone-deaf?"

At her daughter's question, Lee Seon-ok let out a small laugh and looked back at the eccentric man still rambling about lightning and surprising worlds.

"There's always a reason someone is good or bad at something."

"Is Dad tone-deaf?"

"Haaah! It's over."

Coming down the stairs after the stage, Seo Ji-eun's arms were trembling. Following behind her, Yeon-woo watched and let out a quiet snort of laughter.

"For someone that nervous, you sure nailed the ending pose like a natural."

"You were even more shameless! You winked at the end, didn't you? Right, Min-su oppa?"

At Seo Ji-eun's question, Kim Min-su smiled gently and nodded.

"I honestly thought you must have been an idol in a past life."

Hearing that, Yeon-woo scratched the back of his head.

Well… I was a spy in my past life, actually…

Even so, it had been an unfamiliar kind of work, and he had been tense in his own way. Finishing the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stage without a single mistake was a relief.

Back in the waiting room, the tension drained out of Seo Ji-eun; she flopped down, then shot upright again.

"We're done now! Fingers! Your fingers!"

At her cry, Kim Min-su came over with the medical supplies Team Leader Jeong Hyeok had brought.

"Disinfectant first!"

Watching Kim Min-su solemnly apply antiseptic to gauze, Yeon-woo couldn't help smiling.

Anyone watching would think I'd been shot on a battlefield.

After the flurry of activity, every finger had been treated and wrapped in bandages. Using the one relatively intact thumb on his left hand, Yeon-woo opened a portal site on his phone.

Today marked one week since the film's release; he had logged on to check the audience numbers.

"Ah…"

But what filled the main page first was a massive photo of Yeon-woo's ending pose.

They're even using it for article headlines now.

When Yeon-woo opened the article, sure enough, the comments were carpet-bombed with "velvet antler" jokes.

"I should probably skip fan meetings and signings for a while."

"Hm?"

"Ah, it's nothing."

When Seo Ji-eun, still sprawled out, lifted just her head to ask what he meant, Yeon-woo waved his bandaged hand dismissively.

The next morning, Yeon-woo drove himself to the LN Entertainment building. The first-draft scenario for White Blood, scheduled to launch on an OTT platform, had come in, and writer Kim Jin-ju had requested the first meeting.

After parking and heading up to the conference room, he found that Director Hwang Min-gwon, CG Director Jeong Yo-han, and writer Kim Jin-ju had already arrived.

"Everyone's early."

"Yeon-woo-ssi, it's been a while."

"You've arrived, sir!"

Kim Jin-ju greeted him warmly; Director Hwang Min-gwon was practically vibrating with military-grade tension. Behind them, the taciturn CG Director Jeong Yo-han offered only a brief nod.

"Yeon-woo-ssi, sit down first. Everyone, please. I'll hand out the scenarios."

Kim Jin-ju pulled a stack of simply printed A4 pages from her document bag and distributed them.

"Give it a read. Once everyone's finished, we'll start the meeting."

Yeon-woo nodded and began reading.

Hmm.

She had clearly left the broad strokes of the story untouched. The worldbuilding—the single biggest reason Yeon-woo had chosen this project—remained intact, while Kim Jin-ju's signature detailed imagination had been layered on top, making the scenario richer and more vivid.

A fair amount of time passed before everyone lifted their heads, having finished reading.

"…Well?"

Having one's creative work judged was always equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Half expectation, half anxiety shone in Kim Jin-ju's eyes. As if they had rehearsed it, Director Hwang Min-gwon and Director Jeong Yo-han both put up their thumbs.

"It's excellent."

"Our scenario has been completely reborn."

Confirming their reactions, Kim Jin-ju turned toward Yeon-woo. He gave a quiet nod and spoke.

"You kept the reason I chose this scenario alive while making the story so much richer. It's really good."

"Whew. Thank goodness."

Relieved by the continuing praise, Kim Jin-ju opened her mouth again.

"Even so, I'd like to work with the lead actor, the director, and the CG director to make it even fuller. That's why I called this meeting."

"Mm, yes!"

"Whatever you all propose, I'll review it within the bounds of what CG can handle."

"Director, you don't have any ideas?"

At Kim Jin-ju's question, Jeong Yo-han scratched the back of his head.

"I'm a science major, so…"

"Sorry? I'm a science major too…?"

Kim Jin-ju tilted her head, wondering what that had to do with anything.

That was when Yeon-woo raised his right hand high.

"I have an opinion."