There Are No Eternal Secrets
Astra Entertainment maintained a consistent silence regarding the suspicions swirling around Yoon Jay's origins. But now that the definitive evidence had been made public, any response would have been pointless anyway.
What Heo Sung-ik had to say, however, was different from what the media had been clamoring about lately.
“You don't know?”
“I'd know if you told me, sunbae-nim.”
At Yoon Jay's easy smile, Heo Sung-ik let out an exasperated breath.
Heo Sung-ik was a twenty-year veteran, having debuted in 2004. He disliked male actors. What was the point of befriending smelly men when there were so many pretty women around? And actors of a similar age were nothing but rivals, every last one of them. His personality wasn't exactly kind to begin with, so he enjoyed stomping down on juniors who couldn't fight back.
Does he think he can act like this just because he has investors backing him?
But Yoon Jay was an unusual junior. Even before his official debut, he had been under Cho Youkyeong's protection. She was the heiress to the KE Media empire, the single most powerful figure in the film industry with a distribution company in her grip. Because of that, he'd been tangled up in some ugly rumors, but those in the know understood that she supported young film people purely, the same way she had raised Kwon Min-jae.
“CEO Lee Seo-won's been running around meeting the film awards committee chairmen lately, hasn't he?”
“...Has something like that been happening?”
“Ha, look at you playing dumb. Well, he can act, I'll give him that.”
The film industry is a small world. A brief encounter at a simple dinner could later balloon into, I heard that actor met that director. Aren't they working on his next film together?
It depended on the actor's temperament, but performers who had reached a certain altitude no longer obsessed over awards. Astra's actors in particular were already top-tier in both career and recognition, so even when they won, it was with a lighthearted Wow, an award! Let's go grab drinks!
The rumor that Lee Seo-won had been frequently meeting the film awards committee chairmen spread from mouth to mouth, from fingertip to fingertip.
Why does the CEO keep going to meet those people?
Others assumed he was out there soliciting awards on their behalf, but Yoon Jay had guessed a different reason.
It's because of me, isn't it.
The past known as Yoon Jae-hee — and the box office success of Intermission.
He'd thought the same thing back when he was nominated at the drama awards: could they really see him as a rookie? With films, the situation would only be more complicated.
So he made the Best New Actor shortlist. That must be it...
Perhaps the proud old guard of the film world hadn't taken kindly to a three-year rookie snatching up a Best Actor nomination.
There are no eternal secrets. I always knew it would come out someday.
Just as his past origins had been exposed, Yoon Jay had an instinctive sense that his true identity would surface before long.
“Anyway, must be nice having the grown-ups push you along. Back in my day, I barged into auditions and bowed my head in gratitude just for making a shortlist. Groveled, even.”
“I was simply lucky.”
At the same unflappable response as always, Heo Sung-ik frowned. How does this kid stay so unbothered no matter how you poke at him?
His instinct was right. Nothing Heo Sung-ik did could land so much as a scratch on Yoon Jay.
“But I guess you've got some ambition in you after all? Seeing how that CEO of yours is going so far as to lobby for awards.”
Word that Lee Seo-won was grooming Yoon Jay intensively was easy to come by. Heo Sung-ik suspected that Lee Seo-won was mobilizing even the family power he'd long kept at arm's length — warning off reporters, ready to squeeze every last drop out of the boy.
“Careful, though. Fixate too much on awards and you won't last long. What's a trophy worth, anyway...”
That, Yoon Jay knew better than anyone. He had wandered through a long, dark stretch because of an award he never wanted. Besides, he'd won plenty as a child; he had no appetite for more.
At Heo Sung-ik's needling, Yoon Jay simply smiled.
What's so funny, brat?
Completely deflated by the sight of Yoon Jay gliding past every provocation, Heo Sung-ik turned his head away.
“What on earth are you two talking about?”
“You're here, hyung.”
“Our film's off to a good start, I hear.”
Moon Chang-min had just walked in, and he chuckled at the subtle tension hanging between the two men.
To Moon Chang-min, Yoon Jay had been someone who inexplicably tugged at his heart from the very beginning. Yet even without any special attention from him, the kid somehow held his ground — especially against the notoriously ill-tempered Heo Sung-ik, against whom he never lost an inch. What would you call that — strong against the strong, gentle with the weak?
“Want to bet on our box office numbers?”
“I say seven million.”
“Heo Sung-ik, isn't that a bit stingy? It's our film.”
“I wasn't in it much, was I?”
“You hogged every cool scene and now you're whining.”
Measured by sheer impact and screen presence, Yoon Jay was overwhelmingly ahead. Was it because Cho Youkyong was the film's lead investor? Heo Sung-ik felt his blood pressure rising all over again.
“Jay-ah. How much do you think it'll do?”
“Hmm...”
Yoon Jay raised a single index finger.
“Not a million, so... ten million?”
“Hey, you think ten million is easy?”
Heo Sung-ik snapped at him — then it hit him. Yoon Jay had hit ten million admissions with the very first leading role of his career.
Realizing this, Heo Sung-ik clamped his mouth shut and buried himself in his phone.
“Ignore him. He's just jealous. He never hit ten million.”
“I did not—”
With Permafrost now in theaters, review posts were piling up across the film and actor communities. Original tickets and merchandise sold out almost instantly. The start was strong, though it hadn't yet ignited the repeat-viewing frenzy that Intermission had.
Three recognizable actors in their thirties had gathered in a single film, and perhaps because of that, a current of mutual wariness ran through parts of the fandom. Some deliberately dragged in other actors for comparison, or tore them down.
Interpretations of the characters within the film began to surface as well.
Permafrost was the tentpole film on which the KE Media Group had staked its life — a monument of massive capital. True to form, its release had been timed to the Chuseok holiday, the peak of the theater season.
Permafrost
Who is the monster being thrown at society? ★★★☆☆
And yet, people help one another ★★★★☆
A familiar flavor — though at times, a bland one ★★☆☆☆
The critics' reviews were lukewarm, but the public's were glowing. The average audience rating held steady, never dipping below 9.5.
“I expect we'll clear the break-even point without trouble next week.”
“That's a relief. We made such a mess of things the last two years...”
“At this pace, I think it could reach ten million.”
It had passed one million admissions in just two days, and the trend suggested the year's second ten-million-admission film was about to be born. The first had been Intermission.
Director Lee Young-chang, who was serving as a jury member at this year's Busan International Film Festival, sat alone at a pocha street cart, waiting for someone.
“Um... Director Lee? I'm a fan.”
“Haha, thank you.”
“Would you mind taking a photo with me?”
It was the season when film people crowded together, so the request was nothing unusual — but Lee Young-chang stood apart even among them. He cheerfully obliged the photo.
Just then, a shriek rang out from the entrance. He turned to look and saw Yoon Jay, having spotted Lee Young-chang, walking toward him with a face full of gladness.
“Director.”
“There you are.”
Yoon Jay had just arrived in Busan for a performance schedule as Agitato of Intermission, along with the GV session for Permafrost.
“You're more popular than I am these days.”
“Not as much as you, Director.”
Though it was the height of the festival rush, the sight of the two men together struck onlookers as something out of the ordinary. The click of camera shutters sounded nearby.
“Were those two close?”
“Apparently so.”
The film people seated at the neighboring tables also showed interest in the pair.
“Director, have you perhaps heard news of our CEO as well?”
“I have. Directly from Seo-won.”
Yoon Jay said nothing more after that, but Lee Young-chang could sense that he had finished sorting through his thoughts. After all, he had suggested meeting in a place crawling with eyes — and the boy had come without hesitation.
“...I see. So — do you feel it's about time to reveal it, little by little?”
“How do I look to you, Director?”
“Why would you want my opinion?”
Lee Young-chang looked into Yoon Jay's eyes.
And at that same moment, in Astra's office —
“CEO-nim, how did it go?”
In answer to Kwak Do-hyun's question, Lee Seo-won silently raised his thumb.
The lineup for the Hwangryong Film Awards ceremony had been finalized.