He Said Jae-hee

"He said Jaehee."

Kang Chang-hoon pressed on with his dogged investigation. Having driven all the way out to a rural village, he stood before an old man and solemnly presented his business card.

"...A reporter?"

"Do you know Yoon Jay? Your brother's grandson."

The old man furrowed his brow and searched his memory.

He remembered how his brother had laughed heartily, so pleased about it. He had also come to learn, through others, the sorrowful story of why the two of them had been forced to part.

The old man could still picture his brother — devastated, hollowed out by the loss of his son — lighting up the moment he laid eyes on someone, welcoming him like a breath of spring.

And after all he'd been through, the boy grew up so remarkably well.

The old man had exchanged greetings with Yoon Jay himself, once. Handsome and strikingly tall, with shoulders that seemed to fill the doorway — what had stayed with him most was how the young man quietly held together a family scattered to the winds.

He'd caught him on television by chance and thought, ah, so he's acting again.

"Why do you ask about him? If you've come all the way to my door, you must have already been to see my brother."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Well... I wanted to hear other people's accounts as well."

Kang Chang-hoon's voice was deliberately vague. In truth, he hadn't even managed to ask what he'd come to ask.

He'd nearly taken a broom to the back of the head. What grudge did this whole family hold against reporters, anyway? In any case, it had not been a pleasant visit.

"I'm only a distant relative, so I don't know him well, but..."

Kang Chang-hoon slid the envelope smoothly across. The old man's gaze lingered on it for a long moment.

Gas bills had climbed lately, and the electricity rates along with them; things were tight, truth be told. The old man drew the envelope gently toward himself.

Su-heon... Brother, forgive me. A man has to make a living too, doesn't he?

"Jaehee, now — that boy was overflowing with talent. Charming little thing, too."

"Was there nothing else? The story behind why he suddenly left for America... or what your nephew — that Yoon Su-heon — said at his funeral?"

"Ahem... We met the boy for the first time ourselves back then, so I've precious ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little to tell. As for America — the nephew and his wife didn't get along, so it came apart. The nephew's wife had lived in the States from the start."

"Is that so? They must have been on rather bad terms, then — bad enough that she'd up and leave for America with the child in tow?"

"Well... no, it wasn't like that."

By all accounts, the couple had been deeply devoted to each other. They had spotted the boy's talent early, poured everything into nurturing it, and it had paid off spectacularly — and that, ironically, was what bred the conflict... More than half of the breakup, surely, had been driven by outside forces.

And among those outside forces, the reckless pen-strokes of reporters had played no small part.

Thinking of that made the whole thing feel like a sin he couldn't commit, and so the great-uncle simply mumbled his way around the question.

"In any case, that's all I have to give you, so be on your way."

"I'm sorry — w-wait, just a moment, sir!"

Kang Chang-hoon, unceremoniously shown out the gate, stared at the firmly shut door and heaved a sigh. He'd tucked a fair amount of cash into that envelope, and this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was all he had to show for it...

But it's the same story all over again.

Bursting with talent as a child, adorably charming, beloved by everyone, blah blah blah... If that was all there was, he could dig that up himself without driving out here.

"Hold on."

Kang Chang-hoon, halfway to his car, turned back to look at the old man's house.

He'd assumed it was just the slurred diction of an old man. But... what if it wasn't?

"He said Jaehee. Plain as day."

The old man's speech had been remarkably precise for his age. From the way he'd talked, he and the boy had clearly stayed in contact over the years — surely a man like that wouldn't fumble a name?

And then a hypothesis Kang Chang-hoon had never once considered rose up before him.

What if Yoon Jay is Yoon Jaehee?

The closeness with Lee Young-chang suddenly made sense. So did why Cho Youkyeong shielded him so fiercely. Hadn't strange rumors swirled around Yoon Jay ever since his days as a bodyguard?

"No way... the real Yoon Jaehee?!"

The instant suspicion hardened into conviction, Kang Chang-hoon scrambled into his car and snatched up his tablet.

Any entertainment reporter alive would know the name Yoon Jaehee. The centerpiece of the film that heralded a renaissance in Korean cinema — a performance so luminous it rewrote the dreams of countless people, and even now there were many who wondered what had become of him.

Now that I look... they really do resemble each other?

Kang Chang-hoon pulled up photographs of Yoon Jaehee and Yoon Jay side by side, his eyes flicking between them.

Yoon Jaehee, if you had to classify him, had belonged to the pretty boy school. Fair-skinned, round-eyed, the kind of face that summoned protective instincts before you could stop them.

Yoon Jay, on the other hand, was, how to put it... the testosterone-soaked school.

Theirs were faces and auras from entirely different worlds.

No — wait. He's been through hell and back. Of course his face would change.

This was a man who had waged war against terrorists on the actual front lines. Doesn't hardship carve itself into a person's face?

Kang Chang-hoon searched for Yoon Jaehee. So many people still missed him that there were even AI-generated images speculating what he would look like grown up. A gentle, soft-featured young beauty filled the screen.

"Just thicken the lines a little here, chill the impression a few degrees..."

He looked... pretty similar, actually?

"Why am I only figuring this out now?"

A shudder ran through Kang Chang-hoon's whole ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠body.

Why else would Yoon Jay have buried his old name and started over from nothing? He seemed like an upright, honest young man — no doubt he'd refused to lean on his childhood fame. But what if he was the one who brought it to light?

No. Don't get ahead of yourself...

He wanted to publish it this very second, but the timing wasn't right yet. Kang Chang-hoon let a sly grin creep across his face.

In a production office near Sangam, the drama's production team had been locked in meetings for days on end. In truth, it was a shouting match disguised as a meeting.

"Kwon Min-jae? Isn't he way out of our price range?"

"It's the Kang-Kang Duo's comeback. You have to cast Kwon Min-jae."

"Our production budget can't stomach it — that's the whole point here, friend."

"If we land Kwon Min-jae, the investment money will come in on its own."

"You think investment is easy? We still have the existing investors to think about."

Kwon Min-jae was a young actor, but he could genuinely act, and his long career had earned him a devoted fanbase. The problem was his per-episode fee: roughly 150 million won. That was top-tier-actor territory.

"What about Lim Dong-bin?"

"His acting has... too many rough edges. Not the director's style at all."

"Choi Do-kyeom, then? Give the man his first lead for once?"

"Does his image even match our drama?"

And so, in the process of tossing out and striking off names one by one, someone let it slip:

"Then how about Yoon Jay?"

"Yoon Jay? Hmm..."

These days, there wasn't a soul in the industry who didn't know that name.

The face, the presence — the kind that made you wonder what on earth he'd do if he didn't act — plus acting of such polish you'd think he'd been ground raw on some theater stage for years, with a dazzling backstory thrown in as a bonus.

"He'd fit, sure, but..."

Besides, every single project since his debut had performed above average — or exploded outright.

Unlike the dubious team leader, the others began enumerating Yoon Jay's virtues one by one.

"His face is straight-up cheating."

"He sings beautifully too — did you see the university festival fancam?"

"With his background, his action scenes must be insane."

"He blew up overseas, remember?"

"And I get the feeling he'd be pretty good at comedy, too."

Backstage had likewise held its own despite its genre's limitations. Word was it had exploded in Japan, partly thanks to the idol in its cast.

Japan was a golden market for dramas. It wasn't for nothing that productions scrambled to sign Hallyu actors.

On top of that, this year had been, for all practical purposes, the Year of Intermission. Agitato's popularity showed no sign of cooling, and Yoon Jay was drawing attention for being wildly multi-talented on top of being excellent at his actual job.

"Honestly, even as a guy, I have to give it to him."

"...Is this a casting meeting or a fan convention?"

In fairness, the team leader had considered Yoon Jay too. The role matched his image, and the man could act.

It was just... he'd become a heavyweight far too quickly.

"At that level of popularity, wouldn't he have his next projects stacked up through next year and the year after?"

"No, not at all. His agency is Astra, remember."

Astra had become every bit as famous as Yoon Jay himself. Discovering Yoon Jay was one thing — but the A-list heavyweights relocating their contracts one after another were all, without exception, heading to Astra.

"I get it, he acts well. But isn't he still too green to anchor a genre piece like this as a lead? What do you think?"

"Team Leader... have you not seen Intermission?"

"I've seen it, obviously."

"And that was the screen dominance of someone who lacks experience?"

No... it wasn't, was it. The man called team leader leaned back against his chair.

The scene where Yoo Tae-hyuk prepares to let go of his violin — on that vast screen, he'd had to seize the audience's immersion with nothing but his eyes and his breathing, not a single line of dialogue.

And Yoon Jay had carried it magnificently. It was the scene from Intermission that drew the loudest praise from people across the industry. The team leader had felt the same.

"What's his fee?"

"The movie was such a monster hit that it's probably gone up, but he'd still come in cheaper than Kwon Min-jae."

"Hmm..."

One thing nagged at him: Kwon Min-jae was with the same agency. And he'd heard there was an outright demon of a managing director over there. A vicious breed of negotiator who would happily drag talks out until Doomsday if it served his actors' interests.

"Let's reach out for now."

And Yoon Jay, who happened to be dropping by his agency's office that very day, received the synopsis from the demon himself — Managing Director Kwak Dohyun.

"I think it'll be worth your while. It's the Kang Pil-hyun–Kang Ye-jin duo's comeback after three years."

"Are they well known?"

"They've only had one outright mega-hit, but they consistently turn out solid work."

Yoon Jay skimmed the synopsis. String of Memory... The offer that had come to him was, naturally, for a lead role. Play a lead once, and nothing but leads ever landed on his desk again.

Honestly, he wasn't thrilled about this runaway ascent. Plenty of wonderful characters carried little screen time. He'd have gladly lowered his fee to slip into one — but every offer that came in was a lead, without exception.

According to Kwak Dohyun, the other lead had balked at sharing the screen with him? What a shame.

Twins, hm...

The story was genuinely intriguing.

A man who had lived his whole life exactly as he pleased learns that his twin older brother has vanished.

Even upon hearing of the disappearance of his other half, the man shows little visible grief. He was, after all, the brother who had been treated as lesser.

Tangled in a web of competing interests, the younger brother is left with no choice but to stand in as his twin's double.

And then, without warning, fragments of his twin's memories begin to surface in his mind — and he sets out to find him. Hence, String of Memory.

"So? Feeling it?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Jay, you pick out great projects one after another like you're channeling some kind of oracle."

The success of Backstage in particular had surprised even Kwak Dohyun. He'd assumed the man had chosen it simply for the chance to work alongside his little brother.

Hearing him say it after the fact, Kwak Dohyun had realized the man had already finished every calculation in his head long before. What an eye for material... Well, of course. That's precisely why he was Yoon Jaehee, wasn't he?

"Managing Director Kwak. Please set up the meeting."

After only a moment's thought, Yoon Jay rose from his seat. It felt like a good project. There was no reason not to do it.

"You like it?"

"Yes."

"Then it's settled. I'll be in touch."

Finally — a next project. Kwak Dohyun, who had by now become a genuine Yoon Jay fan in his own right, picked up his phone.

"We've heard back from Yoon Jay's side. He'll take the meeting."

"You told him about both venues, right?"

"Yes."

This was how lead-caliber actors auditioned: in a meeting, they sat down with the director and writer, talked, and built the character together.

A meeting might happen once. It might happen a dozen times.

The twins of String of Memory were personalities from opposite poles. So the venues had been deliberately chosen to be nothing alike.

One at an upscale fine-dining restaurant. The other at a greasy street pocha.

I can't wait to see what he shows us.

The success of Intermission had been a golden opportunity for him as an actor — but it carried a faint drawback, too. He had been imprinted on the public as Yoo Tae-hyuk, firmly and perhaps too well.

If what Yoon Jay sought was not popularity but something higher and broader in his craft, then that fame was a liability.

It was the same for director Kang Pil-hyun and writer Kang Ye-jin of String of Memory. The moment Yoon Jay's name left anyone's lips, theirs turned straight to Yoo Tae-hyuk.

Scrubbing the scent of Yoo Tae-hyuk from their minds — that was the task now before Yoon Jay.