The Arts Awards (2)
Back in his seat, Yeon-woo casually slipped from his pocket the smartphone he had told Jeong Tae-seon he would leave with his manager.
Reading the messages, Yeon-woo wore a look of quiet satisfaction.
Good. We took the easy road and it worked.
If Jeong Tae-seon had not had a phone on him, or if he had refused to hand it over, Yeon-woo had prepared Plan B as a fallback. That route would have escalated things considerably, so Plan A succeeding was far preferable—and fortunately, everything had fallen into place.
From this point on, any text-based contact Jeong Tae-seon made through that phone could be monitored in full.
Of course, none of this can be used as evidence later.
Under Article 308-2 of the Criminal Procedure Act, illegally obtained evidence is excluded. Put simply, anything acquired by improper means carries no weight in a courtroom. Not that Yeon-woo had any intention of using it as evidence even if it were admissible.
We're not moving just to catch a small fry like him. The real point is climbing the chain until we expose the people at the top for what they are.
While Yeon-woo turned these thoughts over, time moved on and the awards ceremony resumed.
At home, his family watched with the same racing hearts as the year before.
"Mom! Stop polishing the display case and come sit down. Part two's starting."
"Last year your father wiped everything down in advance and your brother still won an award, didn't he?"
Ryu So-hyun shook her head at her mother, who still refused to sit.
Other awards came and went, and at last the moment arrived for the Excellence Award for Best Actor in Television.
Four actors had been nominated.
His family, of course—and Jun-su and Seong-sik as well. And every member of Woo's, watching from their own homes with bated breath, leaned in toward their screens.
"Yes!"
His mother, already on her feet, and the rest of the family leapt up from the sofa in a chorus of cheers.
And at that same moment, one more person sprang up from a sofa of his own.
"Hahahaha! Yes. That's right!"
"Ch-Chairman. Please calm yourself. Getting this worked up could raise your blood pressure."
As Chairman Seo of the Ihan Group forced his ailing body upright, the secretary standing behind him tried to restrain him.
As the host's remarks played over footage of Yeon-woo walking out amid the congratulations of his fellow actors, Chairman Seo clenched his fist once more.
"Director Choi! How am I supposed to stay calm? Hahaha. You heard that too, didn't you, Director Choi? Of course our ancestor is a national hero. Of course he is."
Meanwhile, as Yeon-woo walked out onto the awards stage, countless faces flickered through his mind. The list of people he owed thanks to was endless.
The previous year's Excellence Award winner had been Jin Yu-han—who had taken it over fellow nominee Son Jin-uk—so it was only natural that Jin Yu-han would be the one to hand Yeon-woo the trophy.
As Yeon-woo stepped onto the stage, Jin Yu-han approached with a smile. He passed over the trophy, pulled him into a light embrace, and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Congratulations. I mean it."
Looking at him, Yeon-woo smiled softly in return.
"Thanks. Getting it from a friend makes it even better."
Then he stepped up to the microphone. Before his eyes stretched a sea of actors, camera flashes trained on him, and up on the second floor, fans gripping placards and staring straight at him.
Countless people looking at one person alone. The feeling of standing at the end of every gaze was a strange, almost untranslatable sensation. Being one face among the many looking up from below the stage, and being the single person receiving every eye from above it—same space, yet it felt like an inverted world, utterly foreign.
And at the center of it, Yeon-woo smiled with quiet pleasure and raised the trophy to chest height in one hand.
"There are so many people I ought to thank that their names keep flashing through my mind."
But tonight he had no intention of listing them all. After a brief pause, Yeon-woo looked up toward the second floor and called out.
With that short speech, he left the stage to cheers and applause.
But tonight was not over.
Not long after, the host's voice returned.
Television and film. He had become the first actor ever to win Excellence Awards in both categories in the same year.
Yeon-woo sat up in bed with sleep-mussed hair and stretched.
He picked up his phone and messaged Han Hae-un first.
After a short wait, another message came through from Hae-un.
Reviewing the materials Hae-un sent, Yeon-woo could see that the man was far more deeply entangled with Baeksol than expected.
He had been taking orders from an operative who called himself Hwang-geum, carrying them out in exchange for cash and hard-to-source drugs. The man did not seem to know that Hwang-geum's organization was Baeksol, but from the conversations exchanged, he clearly understood he was dealing with an outfit that had serious backing.
Yeon-woo stared at the name Hwang-geum, turning it over, until an old memory surfaced without warning. He messaged Hae-un at once.
Hwang-geum was a purple wildflower also used medicinally. If this was the same man, Yeon-woo's memory placed him as the agent responsible for northwestern China—a region that, geographically, bordered Eastern Europe and was a favored hiding ground for drug traffickers.
After finishing with Hae-un, Yeon-woo opened the entertainment section of the online news and found it flooded with articles about the previous night's Korea Arts Awards.
Clicking into the comments, he found no shortage of opinions on the previous night's wins.
Yeon-woo scrolled through the article comments, then stuck a toothbrush in his mouth and, still brushing, opened the fan cafe as well.
Yeon-woo scrolled blankly through the posts, then set the phone down and focused on brushing his teeth.
Well, the fans seem happy I won… but honestly I only understand about half of this.
The only "silt" he knew was the German-made body bunker Schild, used as protection against small arms and grenades—and that clearly was not what they meant. Then again, the way they were talking about "destructive power," maybe it was not so far off…
With that absurd thought, Yeon-woo finished washing up and came out.
Today was the release of White Blood's final week of episodes, so while it was not quite a wrap party, the cast and crew were gathering in a similar spirit to watch together.
"Been a while since I've seen the expedition team's faces."
Filming had wrapped more than two months ago, and he found himself missing the actors he had practically lived with for months on end.
Reading the message, Yeon-woo threw on some clothes and headed out.
By the time Min-su's car delivered him to the LN Entertainment conference room, the cast and directing staff were already there—apparently having arrived early.
"Looks like I'm last."
Yeon-woo joked as he walked in, and everyone greeted him warmly.
"We've still got twenty minutes. Somehow we all just ended up here already."
"Oppa! Congratulations on the awards yesterday!"
Han Byeol, whom he had not seen in some time, offered her congratulations, and Yeon-woo ruffled her hair with open fondness.
"Eugh."
"School going well?"
"Yep! The kids have already asked me for more than a hundred of your autographs, I bet."
Yeon-woo huffed a quiet laugh at that.
"They don't ask you for yours?"
"Well… a little…"
"How many times have you signed so far?"
"A whole lot…?"
From behind her, Dong-ha laughed and poked her cheeks.
"Ooooh. Superstar."
Just then Jeong Cheol-min, who had stopped by the restroom and come in late, raised a hand as he entered.
"I sign a ton these days too."
"Come on, Teacher, you're about to catch celebrity disease."
"Hey. I am a celebrity."
Jeong Cheol-min laughed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.
They were still chatting when Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon finally opened the door and stepped into the conference room.
"Everyone. It hasn't updated yet, but I checked through a partner account—we're currently ranked third globally. Once the new episodes drop, we might climb another spot."
With that, she put the screen up on the display at the front of the room.
1. Alliance[-]
2. C.A. New Lawfirm[-]
3. White Blood[+7]
Global third. Across every country Netflix served, among the countless titles in its entire catalog—third place.
"Whoa…"
"Honestly, it doesn't even feel real."
Since the previous week's episodes had finished airing, they had already locked down an overwhelming number-one ranking among domestic content.
Yeon-woo looked at Director Hwang Min-gwon's dazed expression and smiled.
"How does it feel, Director?"
"Heh heh heh…"
Hwang Min-gwon had no idea how to put the feeling into words. At the start of the year, his entire routine had been scratching himself on the couch and watching TV. Now the actor who appeared on that same TV every day, elevating the nation's cultural standing, was sitting right in front of him. And more than anything else, the fact that his own imagination had been made real was what made him happiest.
Comparing it to the birth of a child might have been a stretch for an unmarried man like Hwang Min-gwon—but the feeling, he suspected, was not so different.
"Looks like it's about time."
Of the episodes that had been releasing week by week, only three remained.
And the final chapter began.