Exposing Yoon Jay's Character

Actors in the same industry often say the same thing in interviews — that they became so immersed in a role it bled into their daily lives.

Things like: playing a villain in a film, and suddenly some character's way of speaking grates on their ears and they flare up, seething, out of nowhere.

So I hadn't actually escaped its influence after all.

Yoo Tae-hyuk in Intermission had corners that resembled Yoon Jay. That made it easier to sink into the role — and he'd assumed it would make climbing back out easier, too.

But Yoon Jay had been just as affected by Tae-hyuk's outer shell.

Hadn't he already learned through his mother that pretending to be fine, burying things, never made anything better? That was exactly why he'd sworn never to do it again.

And yet here he was, repeating the same pattern.

This was Tae-hyuk's influence. Tae-hyuk, too, had put up thorns and pretended to be fine for his family's sake, only to earn nothing but criticism for it.

"So your sulking's over?"

"When was I ever sulking? I wasn't."

Of course, he wouldn't tell him everything. He couldn't exactly say that he'd almost attacked him because of the past.

"I just wasn't feeling well that day."

"Ugh, fine, whatever."

Yoon Do-jun grew sheepish instead. He felt like he'd thrown nothing but a childish tantrum.

"But was it really just your condition?"

Yoon Jay smiled faintly. His younger siblings in America had approached him with impure intentions at first, so he'd harbored a stubborn desire to show his half-siblings only his best side.

"You can come over to my place next time. But there's nowhere for you to sleep."

"Ah, because of Seung-woo hyung and Taeyang hyung?"

"When did you get close with them?"

"I have that kind of charm."

Yoon Do-jun was sensitive to shifts in his surroundings and in the people around him.

Ever since receiving the fan letter, he'd felt that something about his brother was — something, somehow, off. Like he was strangely avoiding him?

But now, he could instinctively feel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that things had returned to the way they used to be.

Yoon Do-jun giggled. So what if he wasn't told the details? The air had cleared, hadn't it?

"Then I'm off."

After Yoon Jay left, of the twins remaining at home, Yoon Do-hwa spoke first.

"...You need to stop pestering Oppa."

"What did I do?"

"Oppa isn't Dad."

"I know that already?"

"Know what, exactly?!"

"If you're jealous of me, then act like me!"

"Th-that's...!"

Yoon Do-jun took a smack on the back from Yoon Do-hwa.

Fingers danced brilliantly across the keyboard.

Lee Da-hyun, Astra's marketing team leader, had turned on her computer even though she was on vacation.

And she'd taken up permanent residence in the community she frequented. Honestly, this wasn't an extension of work — it was fandom.

Scrolling through social media as well, she habitually hit save whenever she spotted a nicely edited photo.

There's so much talk about Jay-ssi lately.

Intermission had already left theaters, yet there wasn't a single corner of the internet not talking about Yoon Jay.

He'd appeared like a comet through Along Along and had been exploding steadily ever since.

And even now, the LIS chatter kept circling back to one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠question: so what on earth did Yoon Jay actually do?

No concrete evidence had surfaced yet, but the mood was one of universal conviction.

One employee in particular, who had lost a cousin to the terror attack, sparkled like he'd met a god whenever Yoon Jay occasionally visited the office — at this rate, she half wondered if a religion might get founded around him.

Kwon Min-jae and Yoon Jay? That pairing was genuinely good. They got along well and both acted beautifully... They'd crossed paths briefly in Big Company People, but never on the variety show itself.

Kwon Min-jae and Baek Da-eun had only done Season 1, thanks to their friendship with the writer, and other actors had rotated in after them.

Yoon Jay had made a surprise appearance in Big Company People Season 3.

Park Shin-hwa — from legendary new recruit to deputy head of HR, and finally onto the board itself, a heavyweight in name and in fact.

The episode was about new hires fresh through the door trying desperately to imitate Park Shin-hwa, only to learn that the original could never be copied.

Even that brief appearance had drawn buzz, just like before.

Wouldn't it actually be fine to see them as dual leads for real someday?

Both of them happened to be signed to their agency, and both were actors the CEO adored — surely the CEO would want to see a project starring the two of them together?

The thought was so entertaining that Lee Da-hyun smirked.

String of Memory was the story of twin brothers working in different fields, the older brother's disappearance, and the younger brother who, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠impersonating his missing sibling, follows the threads of that disappearance. It was the Kang-Kang Duo's comeback after three years — screenwriter Kang Ye-jin, known for Twilight Dawn and Jogging, paired with director Kang Pil-hyun.

What on earth did he do to cause all that? She remembered it being noisy when the drama aired.

But she'd never looked into the specifics, so she searched Yoo Sang-hyun on a search engine.

The writer-director duo known as the Kang-Kang Duo were famous for launching their leads to stardom — which, put unkindly, meant the other supporting cast could end up as tool characters, expendable props.

That was why most actors dreamed of being the lead in their works. Who cared about the supporting roles? Once you were the lead, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the spotlight was guaranteed.

Wow... it was a total disaster.

Lee Da-hyun clicked her tongue.

Yoo Sang-hyun had apparently been quite diligent at first, then suddenly something possessed him — on a drama set already pressed for time, he treated lateness and no-shows like meals.

The production had tried to hold things together by rebroadcasting the previous episode, but eventually they couldn't manage it, so they cut Yoo Sang-hyun's screen time and elevated the supporting characters instead. Then the story tangled itself into knots, and it became one of the worst dramas in history.

No need to worry, though.

Their Jay-ssi was diligent to a fault.

Actually, that was exactly what worried her.

People like that always had something bottled up inside. And when what's bottled up finally bursts, it gets ugly.

So when will he ever tell me about it?

Lee Da-hyun already knew that the CEO, Director Kwak, and Han Jin-woo were all hiding something about Yoon Jay. What on earth could be a secret even from her?

They really do love their debates. Just as Lee Da-hyun reached to shut down her computer, a message notification slid up from the bottom of the screen.

The link her teammate sent led to a site notorious as a factory for every kind of rumor. The title was...

Lee Da-hyun read the post slowly, carefully. Then she pressed a hand to her forehead.

"Aigoo..."

It wasn't a groan of disbelief in Yoon Jay — it was a sigh at the realization that the more famous their actor became, the more strange gnats came swarming.

The post shot straight up to the hot issues board. No evidence, rambling, incoherent content — so why the attention? Because Yoon Jay was simply that hot right now.

"He seems to have tried to use his head, but not a single thing in it checks out."

"Wow, that's some serious reaching."

The poster claimed he'd run into Yoon Jay at a street pocha, wanted an autograph, was brutally refused, and that the humiliation he'd suffered in that moment was unbearable — and on and on, at exhausting length, about how Yoon Jay's character just wasn't that great.

"...Am I the only one getting déjà vu?"

At Lee Da-hyun's words, the other staff nodded. They'd been through this plenty during the stripper controversy.

Some people actually believed the absurd, forced accusations — just to tear down a celebrity who was doing well. A transparently fabricated post about nothing, and yet over five hundred comments piled up beneath it.

"Obviously we respond with the full force of the law."

Astra, as if there were nothing further to consider, put up the article announcing they had filed suit first and notified the poster afterward.

Yoon Jay found the whole situation amusing. Judging by the post's contents, this was probably one of the people who'd picked a fight with him at that pocha...

"Can I come watch when you file the suit?"

"Usually the legal representative goes. Why, do you want to go?"

"Yes."

"There's nothing fun about it."

He wanted to confirm once more the strange feeling he'd gotten from that person who'd picked a fight at the pocha. He was almost certain it was someone he knew.

"You're the one who wrote this post, correct?"

"I— I did, but... wait, is it really okay to drag people back and forth over some post that amounts to nothing?"

So a few days passed, and the person who'd uploaded the post to Pann appeared at the responsible police station for questioning. Yoon Jay had sent a legal representative in his place and watched from a distance.

"There — that's him."

"What's the name?"

"Hwang Hyun-seok."

Yoon Jay's expression shifted, just slightly. Someone he knew? Han Jin-woo glanced up at him, reading the air.

They'd sued plenty of rumor-spreaders and malicious commenters by now, but this was the first time he'd come in person, all the way out here, to confirm a face.

No wonder the face looked familiar.

He possessed abilities beyond most people's, and his memory was just as exceptional. Face matched to name, someone surfaced in his mind.

"Why? Do you know him?"

"I'd have to call him an elementary school classmate."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Han Jin-woo stared at the rumor-spreader in shock. So — that man had been a classmate back when Yoon Jay was Yoon Jae-hee?

None of the classmate rumors were good ones, were they?

Only stories about him leading the ostracism, about him being an anti-cafe operator.

Han Jin-woo pressed for more, but Yoon Jay kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Hey! Hwang Hyun-seok!"

Someone shoved past Yoon Jay and stormed in, huffing. From the look of him, he was the rumor-spreader's parent.

"You little punk! When you were taking money for your civil service exam prep, that was fine, but what are you doing here?!"

"Ah— Dad! Why are you here?!"

"Your sister told me! What's with the tattoos on your arm?! You won't do the studying you're supposed to, but you'll leave comments abusing celebrities all the way to a police station?! Are you even human?!"

"Please, officers, teachers, show mercy. Our son is preparing for the civil service exam — if he gets even a red mark on his record..."

Still utterly immature, Hwang Hyun-seok came back swinging with shameless indignation, then hunched his shoulders, cowed by his parents' bellowing.

There was a wealth of information in the exchange. So he was still living that pathetically.

"...Still the same. Good for him."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

The legal representative approached his side.

"How would you like to proceed? They're begging for leniency over there..."

"There will be no leniency. No settlement. Please handle it strictly by the book."

"Understood."

Without a trace of regret, Yoon Jay walked out of the police station.