Three Hours Before the Screening
Three hours before the press screening of Permafrost.
Even though his next project had been decided, he wouldn't be going straight into filming. No broadcaster had been locked in yet, and it would probably be a while before the cameras rolled. In the meantime, there was the release and promotional circuit for Permafrost to run.
With the premiere just around the corner, Moon Changmin had proposed catching up with everyone after so long, and nearly the entire cast had gathered. Yoon Jay, having just wrapped an advertising shoot, arrived at the meeting place late.
"Jay, you made it."
"Hyung."
Yoon Jay exchanged a brief hug with Moon Changmin, whom he hadn't seen in a while, then stepped back.
Moon Changmin beamed at his affectionate junior. He'd always known the kid would go far — he just hadn't expected it to happen this fast. Ten million admissions already, and hadn't it taken him a full decade after his own debut to get there? It wasn't jealousy so much as pride. Moon Changmin was far too great an actor to waste time on jealousy.
Watching that contented expression, Kwon Min-jae scrunched up his face.
"Anyone would think you gave birth to him, hyung."
"I practically raised him, if you think about it."
"What are you talking about? The one you raised is me. That one grew up all on his own."
Kwon Min-jae had crossed paths with Moon Changmin constantly since his child actor days, which was probably why they felt less like colleagues and more like family.
"Still not smoking?"
"Nope."
"Come on, you puffed on one so deliciously in the movie I thought you'd picked up the habit."
"The nicotine gum was so nasty it cured me of any temptation, actually."
"Tsk. How does anyone make smoking look that good?"
Yoon Jay simply smiled. Among his old comrades there had been those who ended their lives consumed by addiction after discharge, so he kept a stricter guard around alcohol and cigarettes than most.
"Seriously, if you can dote on him that much, why can't you dote on me a little too?"
"You've always been weirdly clingy. Is it because I've known you since you were too young?"
"Knowing someone since they're young should make the affection grow more, not less."
Watching the two of them bicker, Yoon Jay laughed. For all their grumbling, he knew they were simply that close.
"How pathetic. Just pathetic."
"Then why are you out here, when you don't even smoke?"
"That hyung said he was bored, grabbed me by the collar, and dragged me out here."
"Well, look at you, getting pampered after all."
"It's a kind of pampering I could do without."
Kwon Min-jae, who in front of Yoon Jay played the dignified senior doling out advice, melted completely in front of Moon Changmin, turning back into a kid again. It was, all things considered, a rather ideal relationship.
"Shall we head in soon?"
Yoon Jay knew that Moon Changmin sang his praises to industry people constantly. What he hadn't known was that the man would do it on broadcast, too.
(Ah, I miss Jay.)
(Jay... Yoon Jay? Out of nowhere?)
(That boy is so quick on his feet. You've never had one of the cocktails he mixes, have you?)
(Why are we suddenly talking about cocktails... wait, then why don't you introduce us?)
(No thanks?)
Even on the travel variety show, Moon Changmin had brought up Yoon Jay out of nowhere.
The cocktail-mixing itself was nothing. At a birthday party a while back, the agency staff had set out the gear, so he'd made drinks for the guests as both a thank-you and a small display of skill.
"Whoa, what is this?"
"This is really good."
"Could you make me another one?"
Everyone had loved it, which was a relief — though it did leave Lee Seo-won to clarify whether people had come to celebrate the birthday or to hit the bar.
At any rate, Moon Changmin had talked about Yoon Jay across plenty of other media too, so among film-industry stans, there was no one who didn't know about their relationship.
Yoon Jay lowered his head awkwardly as the two of them congratulated the success of Intermission as if it were their own.
I'll have to tell them someday, too...
The timing was already late as it was — which only made it harder to open his mouth.
"Hello, everyone. Sorry, my schedule ran over."
"The superstar's here!"
"Oh my, the honor is all ours, gracing us even at this hour."
Some cheered; others greeted him with over-the-top theatrics. Had the atmosphere always been like this?
There had been gatherings like this when filming began, and again when it wrapped. Back then it hadn't been nearly this warm... he supposed everyone was simply in high spirits now that the release was finally at hand.
"How many admissions do you think we'll pull?"
"We need at least five million past the break-even point."
"Whoa, our break-even is five million?"
"It'll clear it. Look how strong the cast gathered here is."
Since this was a tentpole film being pushed hard by the production and distribution companies, no one was letting their guard down.
"Now that Jay's here, I'm curious — what was Intermission's break-even point again?"
"Just over a million, I think?"
"And the final admissions count?"
"Eleven million."
"That's... genuinely insane."
These days plenty of films couldn't even cross their break-even point, which made the success of Intermission — a modestly budgeted film that turned a massive profit — land all the harder.
"Jay! Come over here and share some of that ten-million-admissions energy!"
Director Lee Han-lim grinned. He'd finished the edit and then spent the wait for release developing nervous tension headaches and irritable bowel syndrome.
It hadn't helped that The Swordsman, the film that should have occupied Intermission's slot, had collided with a real-world scandal, been sent back for a full re-edit, and pushed its release. He'd torn his hair out wondering what he'd do if the same thing happened to his movie.
Thank goodness nothing's gone wrong this time.
Yoon Jay wasn't worried. He knew the extraordinary connections behind the scenes — that the woman Cho Youkyeong was someone he called "aunt." What frightened him was the possibility of someone else stepping on a landmine.
Lately there had been far too many productions buried in public condemnation before they even began, after some actor, writer, or director's ugly past got dug up.
"With Changmin hyung and Jay both, aren't we headed for twenty million?"
"Twenty million? Just imagining it makes my mouth water."
"Damn, are we about to make film history?"
People clinked glasses amid the exaggerated banter. Yoon Jay had settled into an empty seat when he felt the person beside him flinch.
He turned — it was Im Ji-hwan.
Why is he so startled?
The strange advice Im Ji-hwan had once offered him was something Yoon Jay had dismissed as trivial, nearly forgotten.
But Im Ji-hwan hadn't forgotten. All that weight he'd put into dressing a warning up as advice — and where had it gotten him? Pure Operation Corps had collapsed into one scandal after another with nothing to show for it, while Backstage had risen past the limits of its genre to post solid ratings.
"Hello, sunbae-nim."
"Ah, uh. Right. You've been well?"
"Yes. Have you been resting lately?"
Expecting the moment to turn awkward, Im Ji-hwan instead found himself flushing slightly at Yoon Jay's easy, gentle greeting. All that pointless rivalry, and I only ended up shooting myself in the foot.
"About, um... what I said before—"
"What did you say, hyung-nim?"
At Yoon Jay's prompting, Im Ji-hwan dipped his head a little. He's in a different league entirely. No wonder Moon Changmin adores him.
"It was nothing. Never mind. And stop calling me sunbae-nim — just call me hyung."
"Yes, hyung."
Im Ji-hwan mumbled something about how he'd been sorry, back then. Sharp-eared as ever, Yoon Jay heard it — but pretended not to, filling Im Ji-hwan's empty glass instead. Their glasses touched.
If some people could change like this, others stayed exactly the same.
Heo Sung-ik, the actor playing the leader of Seoul's rebels in Permafrost, was a fairly well-known veteran.
"Hello, sunbae-nim."
"Mm."
He was the kind of actor whose boundary-pushing "jokes" had long been rumored to crush the spirit of younger male colleagues.
At the Permafrost table read, he'd said it to Yoon Jay's face: what kind of no-name actor was this kid, why was he playing Jin Young-do, were there really no discharged actors among the thirtysomethings?
He mocked and sniped at every male actor outside his circle, and paid obsessive attention to actresses — top actresses especially.
Hah. Back then it all seemed like such small potatoes.
When did he grow into all that? Heo Sung-ik stole a glance at Yoon Jay. Finding it sour to watch the junior he'd dismissed as no threat to his screen career come charging up the ladder, he gave the greeting half an acknowledgment and turned to the person on his other side, Baek Da-eun.
Ugh, that's his 'this is annoying' face.
Baek Da-eun was screaming save me with her eyes alone. When Yoon Jay gave the smallest nod, she read it like a mind reader and stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"The restroom. With Jay here, you won't be bored, sunbae-nim."
As she passed Yoon Jay, Baek Da-eun whispered a low, hurried thank you.
"What, are you two dating?"
"Ah, sunbae-nim. Say things like that and I'll end up with the wrong reputation."
Yoon Jay poured liquor into Heo Sung-ik's empty glass.
Heo Sung-ik started to pull one of his usual sulky acts, then stopped — something about the look in Yoon Jay's eyes was not normal. It felt like a junior playing nice, and yet... something about it said do not touch.
"S-so, ahem. Is that controversy actually true?"
"Which controversy? They're all tangled together by now."
"The one about your character."
People eager to believe the worst had fanned the flames from every direction, until a clear video evidence surfaced and the whole thing died. The overwhelming consensus afterward: what kind of pathetic jealousy makes someone slander Yoon Jay like that?
"Ah, that one. I looked into it — it was fabricated by someone who'd picked a strange fight with me before."
"Is that so?"
Just before raising the glass to his lips, Heo Sung-ik muttered, "That's a shame."
Where Im Ji-hwan had buried his apology beneath the noise of the crowd, Heo Sung-ik simply said it outright, to his face. A small laugh escaped through Yoon Jay's teeth.
"What's so funny?"
"I'm just happy to see you, sunbae-nim."
He claimed to be a fan, said he'd watched Yoon Jay's entire filmography, and there was nothing quite to say to that. I was never this kind of person. What's gotten into me... Heo Sung-ik scratched his head.
Yoon Jay let the man's clumsy attempts at a power play wash over him like water.
"Why are you two stuck all the way over here? What are you doing?"
"Ah, hyung."
"You're not babysitting him, are you?"
"Babysitting? Hyung, I'm hurt."
Heo Sung-ik, for his part, kept his claws sheathed around Moon Changmin. And Moon Changmin, claiming that someone was looking for Jay over there, evacuated Yoon Jay from the spot on the spot.
Sensing his intent, Yoon Jay murmured quietly.
"Nothing happened."
"Good. Then we're fine. The kid can act, but his social skills are lacking. Go easy on him."
Yoon Jay was beginning to understand why Moon Changmin commanded such respect in the industry. This gathering had been his initiative, after all — and apart from those kept away by schedules, not a single person had failed to show.
Mm. I really do have to say it today...
Because of tomorrow's press screening, the party ended after the first round and everyone headed home. Yoon Jay called Moon Changmin and Kwon Min-jae aside.
"Um..."
"Hm?"
"What is it?"
The attempt at an opening faltered and died on his tongue.
"My wife says to come home quick. I'm off."
"My manager's here too. Was it something important?"
"No, nothing. Just... get home safe."
Three hours before the press screening of Permafrost, a single post appeared on a community forum.
It began with two photographs. One showed Yoon Jay in jeans and military gear, arm slung around the shoulder of Brian, who had fallen in battle. The other was a group photo taken before the insertion for Operation Shadow of the Lion.
Digging into the source, people found the images had come from a hacked private social media account belonging to someone inside the military.
Yoon Jay and his agency had, until now, given no answer whatsoever to the swirling speculation about his military service. They'd left people free to believe whatever they wished, and simply waited for the noise to die down.
And then, photographs — undeniable evidence — had surfaced.
"Hey. Hey, hey. Have you seen this?"
"...What is it?"
He'd been getting his hair done at the shop when he glanced at Choi Tae-yang's phone screen, and his brow furrowed.
These photos should be classified... no wonder John Doe sent me that pointless message wishing me a good day.
Letting out a long, deep sigh, Yoon Jay headed for the door.
"Let's just get to the screening."