Okinawa (1)
Korea’s film distribution market was split between the two largest domestic players—FV Media Group and LT Cinema—with the foreign-owned Snowbish Mount Korea holding the next largest share.
Together those three companies controlled roughly seventy percent of the market. Outside of them, the biggest remaining player was A-Pictures, the distributor handling this film, Moon.
Yeon-woo had not chosen A-Pictures simply because Executive Director Tak Jeong-a had thrown herself into the pitch with such earnest enthusiasm.
FV Media Group — Capital Flow Analysis
After reviewing the report Han Hae-un had prepared, Yeon-woo shook his head.
Far too much money of questionable origin.
There was no hard proof those funds had come from Baeksol, of course. Still, the fact that FV Media Group handled one hundred percent of distribution for production houses Yeon-woo believed Baeksol effectively controlled—Daeyoung Media, Paratech Film, Rohigh Pictures—pointed to some kind of relationship. It was the only conclusion that made sense.
Below them, LT Cinema was essentially a Japanese company, and Snowbish Mount’s relationship with him had never recovered after White Blood spent so long at number one on Netflix during his last Hollywood trip, thoroughly spoiling their own releases.
So Yeon-woo intended to grow the industry’s number-four player, A-Pictures.
Judging by how hard they’re working this time, they seem worth the investment…
Back when he had still been an LN actor, he had never had final say over distribution and therefore never paid it much attention. From now on, every film Saebyeol produced would go out through A-Pictures.
I’ve already secured a decent block of their stock…
If he was going to build them up deliberately, he might as well take every advantage he could get.
After that, the film’s box-office run went smoothly.
Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon, fully convinced Yeon-woo was serious about the reward vacation, had arranged everything with impressive speed.
At the airport, Director Lee Yong-su and the rest of the staff gathered with Kim Ju-hyeong.
“Now that I think about it,” said actress Oh Hye-suk, who had played the grandmother of Yeongjin Super, rolling her suitcase toward the group with a bright, excited expression, “this is my first real reward vacation.”
On screen she had been made up into a perfect rural grandmother, but her real face was surprisingly youthful for someone in her late fifties.
While Jeong Jun-gu, who had played the village chief, and the staff welcomed her, a noisy commotion rose from the terminal entrance.
“Looks like they’re here,” one of the staff said, glancing toward the doors.
Even with the film currently riding high, Hong A-yun had been a complete unknown before this; her arrival alone would never have caused this much stir.
“Yeon-woo,” Kim Ju-hyeong said with a nod.
Wherever he went, the chaos seemed to broadcast itself in real time.
Pushing through a throng of reporters and fans, Yeon-woo and Hong A-yun arrived with the Saebyeol Media staff.
“Our leads are here. You two came together?”
“We’re under the same agency,” Hong A-yun answered as Lee Yong-su and Oh Hye-suk spoke in turn. Yeon-woo nodded and smiled.
“Have you been well? Though I suppose the premiere was only the other day…”
It was true. From wrap to release the whole process had been lightning-fast; barely two weeks had passed since the premiere.
“Yeon-woo.”
Kim Ju-hyeong called from behind. Yeon-woo grinned.
“Ju-hyeong, you’ve put on weight.”
“Huh? Have I?”
Yeon-woo nodded. There was no question about it.
“Must be all the sitting and writing for the film.”
Kim Ju-hyeong scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed laugh, but Yeon-woo knew that was only part of the story.
“Word around the department is that whenever anyone contacts Kim Ju-hyeong these days he offers to buy them drinks. You’ve been drinking every night, haven’t you?”
“Ahem… it reached even your ears…”
As a college student who had not only worked on a commercial film but helped make it a success, it was only natural that seniors and juniors alike kept demanding he treat them. Officially he was only an assistant director, yet after Director Lee Yong-su himself he had contributed more than anyone on the crew.
“Hmm. Anyway, looks like I’ll have to go back to school next semester.”
“The kids are going to lose it again.”
Military service issues meant that if he wanted to keep working in entertainment he had to re-enroll.
Thinking of the army naturally brought Woo Seong-sik and Kim Jun-su to mind.
Hope they’re doing all right.
There was one more person currently serving: An Jun-ho, who had enlisted around the time Yeon-woo finished White Blood and was handling his LA schedule last year.
An Jun-ho’s discharge was not far off.
“Hmm. Gonna have to work him hard.”
Like Hong A-yun, An Jun-ho had lost several years through no fault of his own. The moment he was free, Yeon-woo intended to put him to work as a full Saebyeol exclusive.
“Hm? Work who hard?”
Hong A-yun tilted her head. Yeon-woo only smiled.
“Nothing. We should start check-in soon.”
Meanwhile Han Hae-un, who had taken leave ahead of Yeon-woo, had already arrived in Tokyo, assumed a false identity, and slipped quietly into Okinawa.
For this operation Kim Su-hyeok would remain on standby at headquarters while Yeon-woo and Han Hae-un took the lead. Of course two people alone could not handle everything quickly, so Lee Gyu-jin and Park Jung-hyeon had also entered Okinawa in supporting roles.
The moment the plane touched down at Naha Airport, Yeon-woo switched off airplane mode on his phone.
Yeon-woo read the message and nodded.
Point A was the cache where the operational gear had been stashed.
Unlike the previous reconnaissance trip when Kim Su-hyeok had entered Okinawa alone, this time they would head out to open water in the rubber boat that had brought the equipment.
They could have borrowed a boat again from Kirihata Daichi, the elderly fisherman who had known Jeon Su-hwan in the previous life, but if Baeksol decided to dig thoroughly after the operation, there was no guarantee they would not find the connection. Better to be careful.
Besides, this time we’ve got several strong backs for the oars.
When approaching the target, unnecessary noise that might draw attention was the last thing they needed. Four people rowing together—including Yeon-woo—would be more than enough for a silent approach.
Turning these plans over in his mind, he finished immigration and stepped into the arrival hall of Naha Airport, only to find a sizable crowd waiting.
Hmm. Tourist destination after all…
He was walking on without much thought when a sudden roar of cheers filled the terminal.
“Ah?”
Looking closer, he saw handmade placards with slightly crooked Hangul spelling out “Ryu Yeon-woo” everywhere. Some fans were waiting for “J,” others for “Jeong Do-jin.”
This was not an official schedule, and in this life it was his first visit to Japan; he had never expected a welcoming crowd of fans.
Naha Airport security had already detected the gathering before he landed and stationed extra staff.
Well. Looks like I’ll have to give them the full fan-service treatment.
Yeon-woo turned to the others with an apologetic look.
“It might take a little longer to get out of the airport. I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about? They’re all here for Actor Ryu. Of course you have to give them something.”
Once they finally escaped the airport, the group transferred to a private hotel that had been booked in advance.
“I was thinking we could do some sightseeing in the city this afternoon…”
At Yeon-woo’s words Kim Ju-hyeong shook his head.
“Dude, it’ll be chaos. Hate to say it, but staying in the hotel is probably smarter.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
He put on a disappointed face, though inwardly he was relieved.
It was the same principle as the Mokhwa Building, which had become a tourist landmark permanently thronged with people. If you were not going to hide completely, it was better to be spectacularly visible.
A famous actor who arrived with enough fanfare to paralyze an airport, then never left his hotel for sightseeing, would never be suspected of planning arson on a remote island. The probability was zero in anyone’s mind.
Hong A-yun looked at him with genuine sympathy.
“I heard you were really, really looking forward to this reward vacation. You must be disappointed. What a shame.”
“Huh? Me? Who said that?”
“Director Yoon.”
Yeon-woo scratched his head.
“…Yeah. That’s true.”
There had been a slight misunderstanding, but as long as the real objective was completed, nothing else mattered.
They unpacked first.
“We’re heading out for a light shopping-and-sightseeing trip starting at Kokusai-dori. Anyone who wants to come, meet at the parking lot,” the field director called. Most of the staff who had been resting got up at once.
Meanwhile Yeon-woo walked the hotel corridors, mapping every security camera into his memory.
He had already studied the blueprints, but there were always differences once you were actually on site.
There’s one already. A camera that wasn’t on the facility plans.
Using both the prior intelligence and what he was seeing now, he revised the nighttime exit route on the spot.
They mixed with the staff for a barbecue party and then enjoyed the hotel pool until the night grew deep.
“I think I’ll turn in for the night,” Yeon-woo said.
Kim Min-su spoke up.
“The room you chose is on the pillar side of the building—it’s a bit small. If it’s uncomfortable, would you like to switch with mine?”
Yeon-woo smiled and shook his head.
“No, no. That room feels cozy and completely comfortable. Don’t worry about it—get some rest. I’m exhausted, so I’ll head in now!”
He would not give that room up for anything.
Only a handful of rooms, including the one he had selected, had no security camera covering the entrance door.
Still smiling, Yeon-woo stepped inside. The moment the door closed, the smile vanished and his eyes turned cold and sharp.
He slipped an earpiece into place and spoke quietly.
“I’ll look for an opening and head out in about an hour.”
—Understood.
Han Hae-un’s reply came through. Yeon-woo opened his suitcase and took out a pair of silicone knee pads.
Because of all the basketball practice for Parabola, the pads were something he used often; no one would find them suspicious if they turned up in his luggage.
He ran warm water into the bathtub and submerged the pads. Bubbles rose almost at once as part of the material began to dissolve.
After roughly twenty minutes in the hot water, everything else had melted away, leaving only the silicone disguise mask he had used in São Paulo.
He dried it carefully with a towel, fitted it over his face, and blended the edges with makeup until the transformation was seamless.
Checking himself in the mirror, Yeon-woo nodded.
Of course, under bright light and close inspection there would still be some uncanny-valley effect.
But on a dark night sea, where only Lee Gyu-jin and Park Jung-hyeon needed to be kept from recognizing the actor’s face, it would be more than enough.
He cracked the door and checked the hallway. The people who had been playing in the central pool had all returned to their rooms; everything was quiet.
They were scheduled to stay four days or so, but tonight was the best window. After a long day of planes and cars, the staff would fall asleep early on the first night.
Yeon-woo opened the door without a sound and slipped out like a shadow, weaving through the hotel along the pre-planned route—deliberately inefficient, looping and doubling back so that not a single security camera captured his image.
Once he was well clear of the hotel and had entered a quiet alley without streetlights, he spoke.
“Arrived at Point D. Omega ready to join.”
—Confirmed. Hold position.
This time he was speaking on the full team channel rather than the private secure line with Han Hae-un, so Yeon-woo used formal speech while Han Hae-un, nominally the superior, used the casual register.
A black van arrived shortly afterward.
The door slid open with a metallic click. Yeon-woo climbed in.
Lee Gyu-jin sat behind the wheel, Park Jung-hyeon in the passenger seat, and Han Hae-un in the row behind them—already in his Alpha-Beta persona.
“Looking forward to working with you on this one as well. I’m Alpha-Beta.”
Han Hae-un looked at Yeon-woo and allowed the corner of his mouth to lift a fraction.
Brief introductions came from the front seats.
“We met briefly in São Paulo. Delta.”
“Tau.”
Yeon-woo smiled in return.
“Pleasure. Omega.”