A Gray Area
"This puts us in a bit of a gray area."
"Awards ceremonies, you say..."
The problem Kwak Dohyun had raised was Yoon Jay's eligibility at the award shows.
"The drama division is one thing — even factoring in his old career, he just barely scraped through, remember? But the film division..."
"Exactly. Wow, I'd almost forgotten all about that."
The year Yoon Jay had made his re-debut with Along Along, the network that aired the drama had skipped the Best New Actor category entirely and handed him the Top Excellence Award, leaving an unprecedented record behind.
He had burst onto the scene like a comet, and with both the looks and the acting chops to back it up, he'd walked away with Best New Actor at every ceremony he attended during his debut year.
He'd won Best New Actor at the Baeksan Arts Awards as well, but that was the drama division, so even factoring in Yoon Jae-hee's old career, there'd been nothing to take issue with.
This year, however, was different.
Intermission had drawn the largest audience of any film in 2024 to date. Though it had finished its theatrical run, it was still a hot topic — there had already been talk of a re-release.
'And Permafrost should do pretty well, too...'
As an investor in Permafrost, Lee Seo-won had already seen the edited cut. His instincts were telling him this film would do quite well too.
In any case, what they were worried about was Yoon Jae-hee's career in the film industry.
"Will he be nominated starting with this year's Hwangryong Film Awards?"
"Yes. Eligibility covers everything released from October of last year through early October this year."
"Hold on a moment."
Lee Seo-won picked up his phone.
"Professor, how have you been?"
"CEO Lee. It's been a while."
The person he was calling was Professor Choi Ji-ye of K University's College of Arts.
'Why would CEO Lee be calling at a time like this? We were just talking about him, too.'
"You're on the judging committee for this year's Hwangryong Film Awards, aren't you, Professor?"
'CEO Lee isn't the type to pull strings, so what's this about?'
"I was just curious how the nominee selection was coming along. Spoil it for me a little, would you?"
'Nothing's been officially decided yet — we're still discussing it... and your actors aren't the type to fuss over minor awards anyway. It's about Yoon Jay, isn't it? That boy?'
Laughter was mixed into Choi Ji-ye's voice.
Everyone in the industry knew perfectly well how Lee Seo-won fussed over Yoon Jay, the actor he'd finally taken under his wing after all these years.
'Since we're on the subject — how on earth did you find a raw gem like that? He's no joke.'
"That's all down to my excellent abilities, of course."
'Oh, spare me. I can see that grin without even looking. Did you forget about Yoon Jae-hee? Now that I think of it, the names are similar, aren't they? The stage name — you came up with that yourself, didn't you?'
"No, it's not a stage name. I'm told that's simply his legal Korean name."
'You were so taken with Yoon Jae-hee back in the day that you went and discovered someone with a similar name, huh?'
"Haha, it's nothing like that."
That those two people are one and the same, of course.
'And I didn't exactly dig him up myself, either.'
From the funeral of his biological father through his days working as a bodyguard, Yoon Jay had — as far as Lee Seo-won knew — collected business cards from nearly every entertainment agency in South Korea.
Back then, Lee Seo-won hadn't desperately wanted him either; he'd simply handed over a single card.
'It worked out beautifully in the end, but if Jay had signed with a different company back then...'
Lee Seo-won shuddered. Out of all those companies, Yoon Jay had chosen his. He'd practically walked in the door on his own two feet.
"Anyway, even if the nominees haven't been finalized, you can get a rough sense of the shape of things, can't you?"
'That's... we've been discussing it among ourselves. As for Yoon Jay, it's safe to say his Best New Actor nomination for Intermission is already locked in.'
"A Best New Actor nomination, huh..."
'Nomination, nothing. That boy looked ready to have his name engraved on the trophy already. Yoon Jay was a unanimous pick.'
Ah, but that's the problem. Lee Seo-won frowned.
"An actor of our Jay's caliber could go all the way to Best Actor, don't you think? I take it that hasn't come up?"
'We've been debating that too, but no conclusion yet.'
"Why not?"
'Intermission had the biggest audience of the year, and the craftsmanship was genuinely superb, no? The other actors gave solid performances as well, besides Yoon Jay.'
Choi Ji-ye continued.
To sum it up: the other three actors in Intermission were more than nomination-worthy in their own right, so if Yoon Jay took a Best New Actor slot, their positions would become awkward. Which meant that putting Yoon Jay up for Best Actor instead would make everyone happy, wouldn't it?
Lee Seo-won nodded along. That was exactly the scenario they wanted, too.
'But someone said it's still too early for him in the Best Actor category. Some people just don't like seeing a film debut go straight into the leading division.'
"Hmm... Even just as a nomination?"
'You think he'd stop at a nomination? Between you and me, I'd say he's a strong favorite to win the whole thing.'
Some dismissed Intermission's box office success as mere merchandise hawking, but people who truly understood film held its artistry in high regard. The meaning carried by each prop, the direction and mise-en-scène — all excellent.
They'd poured a substantial chunk of the production budget into music and sound, so the genre elements were rock-solid as well — which was exactly why the film was earning rave reviews overseas, too.
And Yoon Jay had delivered a performance so good it was hard to believe it was his film debut. If he so much as made the ballot, he'd be in genuine contention for the win.
"And where do you stand, Professor?"
'Me? I'm all for it. Kang Hajun did well too, didn't he? But a few of the committee members don't seem too keen on the idea.'
"Heh..."
Lee Seo-won had a pretty good idea why, so he simply laughed.
He had a rough sense of who this year's Best Actor nominees would be. And of their agencies, their investors, and the judges who happened to be close with them.
"By the way, you said you happened to be talking about me earlier. What was that about?"
'Ah, right. One of our committee members is the editor-in-chief of CineMove, you know.'
"Ah, that gentleman. I hear he attended Permafrost's press screening today?"
'You'd know as an investor, CEO Lee — the film turned out beautifully, didn't it? He suggested we put Yoon Jay up for Best Supporting Actor with Permafrost.'
Best Supporting Actor — fine by us. Anything but Best New Actor... Any other actor would have snapped that offer up with both hands, but Yoon Jay was, in fact, Yoon Jae-hee, and that was the problem.
When you have an actor this absurdly talented, this is the kind of thing that trips you up. Lee Seo-won played dumb and asked again.
"But Permafrost hasn't even released yet, has it?"
'Oh, come on, CEO Lee. It's written all over your voice how pleased you are right now. The eligibility window covers it, doesn't it?'
After chatting with Choi Ji-ye about this and that, the call ended with a promise to grab a meal together sometime.
Kwak Dohyun, still working through a stack of paperwork in the CEO's office, looked up.
"What did they say?"
"Best New Actor is apparently a near-guaranteed pass. Hmm. This really is a tricky one..."
Lee Seo-won and Kwak Dohyun groaned in unison. So — should Yoon Jay actually be counted as a rookie or not?
"But seriously, an actor of our Jay's caliber could absolutely gun for Best Actor, right? What did the person you spoke with say?"
"Seems they're split on their end too."
"You don't mean... they're saying he can't even get a nomination because he hasn't paid his dues?"
"Possibly?"
That was part of it, but... Lee Seo-won narrowed his eyes.
Among the judges deciding this year's Hwangryong Film Award winners was the CEO of a production company he was on bad terms with.
Lee Seo-won had been a judge at last year's Hwangryong Film Awards. The man was presumably out for revenge for not putting his agency's actor on the ballot — and in a very different sense, it had worked out beautifully.
"The nerve of that guy, talking about careers."
"Tell me about it."
What's more, even though things had improved somewhat in recent years, plenty of old-guard film people still carried fierce pride in their seniority.
They acknowledged Yoon Jay's achievements, but there would certainly be those who stubbornly insisted that now simply wasn't his time.
"What's the actual cutoff for rookie status? A certain number of films buys you some leniency, doesn't it?"
"Excluding indies, I believe it's two or three films. As long as you haven't won anything."
"There is a standard, but as I recall, he already won, didn't he? Let's just look it up."
Back in the day, quite a heated debate had raged among the Hwangryong Film Awards committee over Yoon Jae-hee's Best New Actor win.
"Isn't he too young?"
"That's what makes this so awkward."
"So what if he's young? It's not as if the film was bad."
"Honestly. Do we really have to rack our brains like this just because one kid did well?"
The Child had premiered overseas first. At the Cannes Film Festival, held every May, he had become the youngest Best Actor winner in the festival's history — and the first Korean ever to win it.
On top of that, he'd taken the youngest-ever Best New Actor honor at the Venice Film Festival that summer.
The press ran article after article about Yoon Jae-hee for days on end, and unprecedented capital flooded into the film industry. It was practically the dawn of what people would come to call Gukppong — that intoxicating wave of national pride.
Lee Young-chang had accepted the international awards on his behalf. Surely, then, he would show his face at the domestic ceremonies — and anticipation was building over which award he would receive.
"He's sweeping the international festivals, and we're not honoring him at home? Does that make any sense?"
"That's why we decided to create a new child actor award for him."
"An award invented especially for the occasion — the tokenism is painfully obvious. What if he gets torn apart for it? What if people say we refused to give it to him because he's too young, that it's the film industry's crusty old-guard culture, and investment starts to waver?"
"That... is a fair point, actually."
"But then the other actors are out of luck..."
"Well, The Child was simply that overwhelming."
They, too, recognized the genius and the achievements Yoon Jae-hee possessed.
But a few had opposed on the grounds that Yoon Jae-hee was simply too young. If he took a nominee slot, another actor would be pushed out.
"Nothing we can do, then. Give him the Best New Actor Award. Venice did the same."
"Hmm, that should be acceptable."
The list of past Hwangryong Film Award winners appeared on Lee Seo-won's screen.
2001 / Best New Actor / Yoon Jae-hee — The Child
"He'd already taken it..."
"This is where it gets murky."
He'd already won — and now they were supposed to let him win again? And in the Best New Actor category, the one award a person could receive only once in a lifetime, if he made the ballot?
"If the truth ever comes to light, it'll be a mess."
There was more than enough room for controversy.
Lee Seo-won knew why Yoon Jae-hee had vanished, and he'd heard it confirmed from the man's own mouth.
Excessive media attention and rumors. Honestly, at that age, it had been more than any child could bear.
So the goal had been to rebuild his image so solidly that no strange whispers could ever take root again.
"Hmm... The solution is surprisingly simple, actually."
"What is it?"
"What if I throw a little tantrum? Might actually land. The eligibility standard's already been cleared, after all."
"I'm sorry — what?"
If the man himself was reluctant to reveal the truth, then someone else had to step up and take the hit. Lee Seo-won was prepared to take a dent to his own reputation, if it was for Yoon Jae-hee — no, for Yoon Jay now.
Kwak Dohyun, catching what that implied, was genuinely taken aback.
"You'd really be all right with that?"
"I haven't exactly done anything properly for him yet, so I might as well get this right."
Kwak Dohyun shook his head as if there was no stopping the man.
Frankly, someone like Lee Seo-won pushed his actors harder than almost anyone. Who else would hand a rookie award after award on a silver platter like this?
And besides — there were only so many journalists in the world. There was no policing every single one of their fingers.
But Lee Seo-won, who now knew that Yoon Jay was Yoon Jae-hee, was not satisfied.
He scrolled through his contacts and searched for someone. The chairman of the Hwangryong Film Awards — and a sponsor.
"Ah, Chairman! How have you been?"
My actor isn't settling for Best New Actor! Put him on the Best Actor ballot! It was a full-on campaign.
It hadn't been nearly distorted enough to warrant headlines like these. Yoon Jay let out a small sigh.
In truth, special forces operators getting unmasked on social media was a fairly common occurrence — someone's slip-up, a hack, that sort of thing. He'd just never imagined he would be the one in the crosshairs.
'What's already out is out. Nothing to be done about it.'
Yoon Jay switched off the screen and flopped face-down onto the bed.
And so, the week after the press screening, the film opened in theaters.
Yoon Jay's schedule was packed wall to wall with Permafrost promotion. Starting with the opening week in Seoul, he made the rounds of stage greetings.
"Hello, sunbaenim."
"Ah, hey."
Heo Sung-ik, whom he ran into in the waiting room, looked to be in a foul mood.
In Permafrost, Kim Myung-woo's screen time was short, but Heo Sung-ik had expected the role — all fierce charisma and swagger — to draw plenty of attention.
That was why he'd taken the part. And then Yoon Jay had walked off with every last shred of that impact. All anyone could talk about was Yoon Jay.
"Must be nice, huh? You really picked the right agency."
"I'm sorry?"