Nothing to Say?

Intermission claimed the Best Picture trophy, bringing the ceremony to a glittering close.

Behind Director Shin Ji-won as he delivered his acceptance speech, the four actors of Agitato stood shoulder to shoulder, arms slung around one another.

Thanks to Intermission, plenty of fans had taken to stanning all four members of Agitato as a package deal. With everything the film had achieved, everyone was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in a festive mood.

Awards season always breeds its share of second-guessing about the winning films and the winners themselves, but this year the grumbling was sparser than expected. The prevailing opinion was that the films deserving of trophies had taken them.

This year's Hwangryong Film Awards drew more attention than usual despite airing opposite a hit drama in the same time slot — thanks, in no small part, to Yoon Jay's acceptance speech.

Expectations had already been sky-high ever since reporter Kang Chang-hoon's article broke before the ceremony, and then the man himself had confirmed the truth with his own two lips.

The moment he revealed himself as Yoon Jae-hee, posts came flooding into the community forums, and the MyTube channel streaming the ceremony live buckled under a brief lag.

Though it had looked like an impulsive confession mid-speech, he had in fact given advance notice of the plan through Lee Seo-won.

The Hwangryong festival committee welcomed it with open arms, and the broadcast production crew naturally loved it too — it guaranteed both ratings and buzz.

On top of that, encouragement had come from the directors of the two frontrunning films, Permafrost and Intermission.

Director Shin Ji-won in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠particular had spent months in deep conversation with Yoon Jay over the course of filming.

"The past isn't something you can undo."

"Honestly, I'm still that way even now."

Shin Ji-won had assumed those words referred to the kind of aftereffects any soldier would carry home with him. But now, knowing the truth, he felt like the threads of a long-held mystery were finally coming untangled.

"Aren't you getting shortchanged on attention because of me? You're the one who's accomplished something remarkable, Director."

Over ten million admissions on only his second film since debut, plus a Best Picture award at a major festival. And he wasn't even a music major — he had come to film from a classical background.

He was more than deserving of the spotlight, yet somehow he'd been overshadowed. But Director Shin Ji-won just laughed it off breezily. Years of competitions had already tempered him.

"I'm fine. This wasn't a film made with awards in mind... Honestly, I figured Permafrost would be the one to take it."

Director Lee Han-lim, who happened to be passing by and caught those very words, snagged a chair from somewhere and planted himself beside the two of them.

"So you're telling me you were plotting to sabotage us because you thought our film would win?"

"Yes. If my film couldn't win, I figured the least I could do was keep the spotlight on our lead, Jay..."

"I beg your pardon? Haha! I never pegged you for that type, Director Shin. You've got a truly one-of-a-kind personality."

Lee Han-lim guffawed as he slapped Shin Ji-won on the back. He heard the man let out an oof, and pretended he hadn't.

"If I took Best Director, then Intermission was a shoo-in for Best Picture."

"Well... it still hasn't quite sunk in."

"You're swimming in the big leagues now, so start thinking big. Intermission was a delight. It earned it."

"Thank you."

When Lee Han-lim poured liquor into Shin Ji-won's empty glass, Shin Ji-won received it with both hands. Beside him sat the velvet case holding his trophy.

"By the way, sounds like you'll be in high demand for your next project?"

"The offers have been pouring in, but I want to take my time deciding."

"There's no end to people demanding an Intermission sequel. Any thoughts?"

"Well... I honestly can't say yet."

Shin Ji-won still had plenty to mull over. Intermission had done so well that expectations and attention for his next project had swelled to overwhelming levels.

Come to think of it, the perfect person for this kind of conversation was sitting right beside him.

'To think... that's Yoon Jae-hee.'

The man who inspired me — someone who had given up music and lived shut away in his room — to start making films... was that very Yoon Jay I know. I still can't quite believe it.

"So then, what kind of project...?"

"Nothing set in stone yet, but I imagine it'll be a music film again."

"Fair enough — you should play to your strengths. I'll be expecting great things."

"Thank you."

"Then is there any actor you'd like to work with? I can make introductions. Not that actors wouldn't be lining up for you anyway, Director Shin..."

"Hmm, let me think, I suppose..."

Shin Ji-won looked at Yoon Jay. It would be wonderful to work with him again on the next film...

The ability to replicate something perfectly after a single viewing was a tremendous asset. Hand him any instrument, and he would master it.

Sensing Shin Ji-won's gaze, Yoon Jay's eyes curved into crescents.

"If you call for me, the honor is mine."

"Whoa there, I called dibs on this one first."

Lee Han-lim hurriedly slung an arm over Yoon Jay's shoulders. Ah — I staked my claim first, thank you very much.

"Oh, come now, Director. You know plenty of fine actors yourself."

"Which is exactly why I said I'd introduce you to the good ones."

"And what does Jay think?"

Caught in this sudden tug-of-war over ownership, Yoon Jay rolled his eyes.

"Well... I believe you'd both have to get past Director Lee Young-chang first."

"Isn't that bringing out a monster of a card?"

"Ah, against that particular director? Hopeless."

Lee Han-lim raised both hands in a show of surrender. Then something seemed to strike him, and he broke into a chuckle.

"You know, I honestly assumed Jay was part of the KE Group family."

"I'm sorry?"

"You remember — that time we all ended up at the police station in the middle of our shoot."

He was recounting the day they'd gone in to give witness statements after Kwon Min-jae's stalker was caught.

Ah, right — that had happened. Yoon Jay turned his head to look for Kwon Min-jae, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

"I certainly wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I'd only gone to see if he was holding up, and I happened to overhear him talking with Vice Chairwoman Cho Youkyeong. She went by 'aunt,' so I assumed they were relatives."

"Ah... he used to call her that, back in the day."

"'Back in the day,' he says... Good grief. The Child, of all things."

"Feel free to say your piece too, Director, if you have one."

Lee Han-lim had found The Child deeply moving as well, and Director Lee Young-chang remained a senior he held in genuine respect — but he didn't number among those who loved The Child to an excessive degree. He was merely a little startled.

"If you're sitting on secrets like that, share them ahead of time — it would have done wonders for our film's publicity."

"Our film already succeeded, didn't it? Besides, this has nothing at all to do with it."

Permafrost, having reached 12.32 million admissions, took home the Hwangryong Film Awards' prize for highest attendance.

The agency uploaded its official statement the very moment Yoon Jay's acceptance speech ended.

It had merely respected the actor's own wishes, the statement explained, and the award-lobbying controversy that had erupted during the festival's nominee selection period stemmed entirely from his past as Yoon Jae-hee.

And it asked the public to look forward to all he would accomplish as Yoon Jay going forward.

...it seemed plenty of people still found Yoon Jay hard to swallow.

Even in this very moment, countless people were posting about Yoon Jay's past.

"So — you're doing your next film with this director?"

"Once this director finishes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠preparing."

A shadow fell over Yoon Jay as he spoke with the directors. It was Moon Chang-min.

"Directors, we'll be taking this young man off your hands now."

"By all means. Take him."

Moon Chang-min's grip wasn't rough, yet somehow Yoon Jay found himself being hauled along all the same. They reached a corner of the spacious restaurant, where a single solitary chair stood at the center of one long, straight table.

"...What is this?"

"A hearing. Sit."

Moon Chang-min pressed down on his shoulders and steered him into the chair. At the sight of the crowd assembled across the table, a hollow laugh slipped out of Yoon Jay.

Every industry figure he had ever crossed paths with was gathered there — some hadn't even attended the Hwangryong Film Awards, yet had come the moment word reached them.

"Nothing to say for yourself?"

"I wasn't hiding it on purpose."

Moon Chang-min took the lead with the questions, and Yoon Jay answered without a moment's hesitation.

The atmosphere was solemn and grave. A few people were theatrically acting out their I'm quite cross with you, but in truth every one of them was fighting down laughter.

With this many veteran actors in one room, it was nothing but a performance.

'When else would we ever get to see the kid flustered?'

'He's secretly kind of cute like this, isn't he?'

Ever since his rookie days, Yoon Jay had carried a composure unbecoming of any rookie. With the handsome face, the physique, command of ten languages, and superb acting on top, anyone would have called him the perfect man. Seeing a man like that walking on eggshells was a first, and everyone was armed to the teeth with plans to tease him.

"The truth is... my childhood isn't a fond memory for me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, well... my parents divorced because of me."

"I... I had no idea."

The expressions of those who had meant only to tease him lightly grew heavier by the minute.

Come to think of it, there had always been rumors swirling around Yoon Jae-hee... but hearing it from the man's own mouth was another matter entirely.

The more they listened, the more staggering it became.

Reporters had descended in a frenzy, drawing bitterness from school officials and relatives alike, and beneath a level of scrutiny that was hardly an exaggeration to call nationwide obsession, the boy had been forced in front of the cameras without a single moment to gather his heart.

'Come to think of it, he was the reason the Child Actor Protection Act came into being, wasn't he.'

He had taken to heart — seriously, painfully — the thuggish conduct and vulgar tirades of shady production companies and directors, the sort of behavior anyone who had lived through the industry twenty years ago would recognize instantly.

"In any case, all of that left me with panic disorder and a phobia of cameras..."

"...That happened to you?"

"Just recently we caught one of the malicious commenters, and it turned out to be an old elementary school classmate of mine — the one who used to run an anti-fan café dedicated to me..."

"No, that's just—!"

One after another, they sank into Yoon Jay's heartbreaking saga and offered their comfort. Only then did Moon Chang-min realize he'd been reeled in hook, line, and sinker, and he roared.

"You! You're doing this on purpose!"

"Every word is sincere."

"Unbelievable! Look how shameless he is, just because he came clean!"

When Yoon Jay broke into the smile of a man caught red-handed, the mood melted on the spot.

Moon Chang-min, deciding he'd played the heavy long enough, raised his glass as well. In the meantime, Choo Young-mi had come to stand at Yoon Jay's side.

"You do remember me?"

"Of course I do. 'Mom.'"

"Aigoo, look how wonderfully you've grown."

More than one person caught the two of them embracing in a photograph.

"Still, I'm a little hurt, you know?"

"I was going to tell you. If that article hadn't broken first, I'd have told everyone in a much calmer setting."

"I know."

Moon Chang-min gave Yoon Jay's back a mighty thump.

"There's nothing else waiting to come out, is there?"

"More waiting to come out?"

Who could say? What more was there to reveal beyond being Yoon Jae-hee?

But the others asked in half earnest. A past as dazzling as Yoon Jay's made one wonder — was 'Yoon Jae-hee' really the only thing he'd been hiding?

"For all we know, he could be a secret weapon the Americans spent years raising."

"Or a spy for the CIA."

"Or perhaps he actually fell to Earth from the stars..."

"An alien? Honestly, one look at that face and I'd believe it."

He could see they were going out of their way to lift his spirits. So Yoon Jay laughed, loud and clear.

"Haha!"

Everyone who witnessed it fell silent. A few seconds of stillness followed.

"...Wow. That's just unfair."

"What kind of grown man laughs like that, seriously."

"Ugh, put that handsome face away. You're making the rest of us look bad."

"Oppa, you really ought to laugh like that more often — for the sake of world peace."

Through the crowd, two figures were spotted slipping out of the restaurant. Yoon Jay had asked to be excused and stepped outside.

"What are you doing out here? Found you."

"Getting some air."

"It's cold, though."

Baek Da-eun was leaning against the wall.

"Where's Min-jae?"

"At the convenience store over there. You didn't know, did you? The two of us were quietly drinking in a corner."

The crowd had blocked his view, so he hadn't seen. No wonder the man had been nowhere to be found no matter how much he looked around.

Yoon Jay slanted his body against the wall, bringing himself down to Baek Da-eun's eye level. Baek Da-eun whipped her head away, dodging his gaze.

"Still mad at me?"