Variety Show

The two of them, caught in a tight spot, lit up the moment Yeon-woo appeared behind them.

"Cosa intendi?"

Ah, so they were Italian. And of all days, he had just happened to fire an Italian weapon.

Fluent Italian flowed from Yeon-woo's mouth once more.

During his years with the overseas division, Italy had been his longest posting after the Middle East.

"Gentlemen. These ladies are with our party. I suggest you look elsewhere for your opportunities."

Unlike in dramas or novels, real security problems at tourist spots were rare, and most situations could be resolved with a calm conversation.

But even if things had escalated into a physical fight, ordinary civilians would never have stood a chance against Yeon-woo.

At his polite yet firm words, the men fortunately raised their open hands in understanding and backed off without a fuss.

"Yeon-woooo—!"

Han So-hyun and Writer Choi chorused together, their faces still stamped with fear.

Yeon-woo looked at the two of them and smiled.

For a famous actress, Han So-hyun really did have a free-spirited personality.

Hawaii was a well-known tourist destination, so it was safer than most places—but going out at night was still a risky move, man or woman.

"We're near the hotel, so security's decent enough, but it's night. What are you two doing out here without a manager?"

So-hyun held up the bag she was carrying.

"Hehe, I was curious about American snacks. But it turns out they sell a lot of Japanese ones."

Hawaii was about as close to Japan as it was to the U.S. mainland, and with so many Japanese tourists, Japanese products filled the shelves.

"Come back with me. Or would you rather take a walk along the beach in front of the hotel?"

"Let's go for a walk! You're a minor, but you're still a guy—I feel safer already."

Yeon-woo smiled faintly at Writer Choi's words.

In his previous life, when Yeon-woo handled security detail, the job usually meant protecting high-value targets marked for priority elimination by terrorists—in war zones where incoming shells were a daily fact of life.

Han So-hyun and Writer Choi had no idea they were currently under top-tier VIP protection.

The two of them chattered away about the earlier incident as they walked along the beach in front of the hotel.

"By the way, what language was that? Just how many languages do you speak?"

"It was Italian."

"You speak Italian too? That's incredible!"

"So they were Italian guys, huh. They were kind of handsome, actually."

Yeon-woo broke into a cold sweat at Writer Choi's comment.

Did I just snatch Writer Choi's chance away from her? Haha.

Writer Choi Mi-hyeon was still single in her early forties.

"But I was scared, you know."

"Yeah, I was scared too, So-hyun. Those guys were huge."

Then Writer Choi Mi-hyeon added under her breath:

"But they were good-looking."

Yeon-woo pretended not to hear, breaking into another cold sweat as he studiously gazed out at the ocean.

Meanwhile, at the same hour, Prosecutor Han Hae-un of the Busan District Prosecutors' Office was searching for a woman from his memories named Jeong Hae-min.

She was not the kind of person who left a trail in any database—not a criminal, not a civil servant—and she did not appear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to have ever looked for work, either.

"Jeon Su-hwan, the team leader, was a real person, so this woman has to be real too."

Lately he had stopped digging into Jeon Su-hwan and shifted his attention to other figures, so the higher-ups had stopped leaning on him. They seemed to have forgotten the case entirely.

"The child in my memories is probably Jeong Hae-min's daughter, so maybe I should search from that angle."

Hunting someone down with nothing but a face and a name was pure guesswork. Starting with the daughter would almost certainly be faster. Han Hae-un gradually narrowed the scope of his investigation.

It had already been a full month since they returned to Korea from their dreamlike Hawaiian vacation.

Yeon-woo's school commute had changed, too. Once, just stepping out of his father's car had been enough to cause a stir.

The upperclassmen who were celebrities seemed to have gotten used to him; they no longer swarmed after him in packs.

Bzzzt—.

During lunch, Yeon-woo's phone buzzed.

"Hmm? Manager Jeong?"

He was the one who usually coordinated filming and booking schedules at the company.

"Is this about that cameo? Hello."

Thinking it might be the cameo Director Kim Han-su had mentioned in advance, he answered the call.

In short, Manager Jeong explained that after Summer's Closet had ended its run to massive popularity, JNBC—reluctant to let it go—had put together a healing variety show featuring the four lead and supporting actors, living together in a quiet old house in a rural village.

The agency had originally planned to turn it down over scheduling conflicts, but once the production agreed to film only on weekends for four weeks, they had called to ask Yeon-woo how he felt about it.

"With conditions like that, I think I can do it. It won't interfere with school attendance, either."

"Really? All right, then. I'll move forward with that. Yeon-woo."

"My first variety show, huh."

Whether he had overheard Yeon-woo muttering after hanging up, Seong-sik threw an arm around his shoulders from behind.

"Yeon-woo, you're going on a variety show?"

"Yeah. A short healing one, apparently."

"Holy crap. A variety show. The fan café is going to lose its mind."

Yeon-woo rubbed his chin at Seong-sik's reaction.

"Hmm. I'm not exactly a fun person. Wonder if I'll be any good at it."

"Dude, variety shows with actors are all about the face doing all the work."

Yeon-woo nodded at that. What fans wanted was not big comedian-level laughs. That was why it was a healing show, after all.

Riiing—.

"See you later. Let's walk home together today."

The bell ending lunch period rang, and Seong-sik headed back to his own class.

After school, Yeon-woo was studying at home when his phone buzzed in rapid succession. He opened it expecting the usual class group chat—but today it was a different group.

Yeon-woo checked the messages, smiled, and started typing.

More conversation followed after that, but Yeon-woo threw himself back into his studies. Filming would take time away from him, and he needed to make up for it now.

The young brain in his new body spun sharp and fast—but the education system had changed so completely that settling into fresh coursework was not something he could take lightly.

Days of studying and training side by side passed the same way, and before long the first day of variety filming arrived.

Beep—.

"Is this thing even on?"

Yeon-woo powered on the camcorder the network had mailed him and started filming himself.

"Hello. I'm Ryu Yeon-woo. Nice to meet you."

He waved at the lens with eyes still half-lidded from sleep.

"Today is the first morning of filming for Summer's Table. I just woke up myself."

He opened his suitcase and began stuffing things into it at random.

"Packing my bags."

Feeling like he ought to say something, he narrated his own actions for no real reason.

After that he packed in silence, got dressed, and stepped out the front door with the camcorder in hand.

In the elevator he looked into the lens and muttered to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠himself.

"Should I have said more? This is pretty boring, huh."

Ding—.

On the ground floor he climbed into Min-su's waiting car.

"Hello, Min-su hyung. It's been a month."

"It has. You been well? What's with the camera?"

Min-su smiled as he greeted him, then pointed at the camera Yeon-woo was holding.

"Ah—want to say hi? It might make it into the cut. This is my self-cam."

The moment the camera swung toward him, Min-su froze solid in panic.

"Ah—hello."

He waved like a stiff robot.

"I'll stop here and turn it back on later."

Beep—.

Before Yeon-woo even had a chance to switch the camera on again, Min-su's car had arrived in Gunsan, where the waiting production crew and Son Jin-uk were waiting.

"Jin-uk hyung!"

"Yeon-woo, you made it."

So-hyun and Jun-ho had already gone ahead on an earlier boat.

"So we're heading out to an island?"

Jin-uk asked, looking at PD Lee Gyeong-sik.

The production had told them nothing—just the concept—and then started rolling. The other actors had at least gotten a pre-production meeting, but because of school, today was Yeon-woo's first time meeting the crew.

"From here, we're heading to an island called Gaeya-do. A quiet, beautiful fishing village of about three hundred households."

"You are feeding us, though, right?"

At Yeon-woo's question, the PD smiled.

"Yeon-woo, what's the title of our show?"

"Summer's Table, right?"

He pulled out a prepared fish encyclopedia and handed it to Yeon-woo.

"These are the species you can catch around Gaeya-do. If you win games against the production team, you'll get a chance to use the island's only supermarket—but for the most part, you'll be self-sufficient."

Jin-uk looked over the fish encyclopedia Yeon-woo had been given and made a face of pure betrayal.

"We've been completely scammed. Director, you told us this was a healing variety show. Now we have to catch fish? That's a killing variety show."

Laughter broke out among the crew at Son Jin-uk's dramatic complaint.

"Yeon-woo, you ever been fishing?"

At Jin-uk's question, Yeon-woo thought back to the times he had waited aboard a naval vessel off the coast of Somalia during anti-piracy operations, fishing for food supplies.

Throwing dynamite, or firing the ship's guns and scooping up the fish that floated up from the shock—technically, that still counted as catching fish, so it was fishing… right?

"Yeah, I've done something similar."

At Yeon-woo's answer, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a writer's hand started moving busily just off-camera, marking the edit point.

"Boat's here. All aboard."

The crew and the two actors climbed onto the ferry connecting the harbor to Gaeya-do.