Daldongne (3)
Yoon Jae-i splashed cold water over his face, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. His lungs kept seizing up, and his hands wouldn't stop trembling. One glance in the mirror told him he looked like a wreck.
"Ah..."
He had chosen two projects and juggled their schedules so he could shoot them in alternation: Daldongne, currently airing, and Crown, in pre-production.
From now on, once I take on a project, I should steer clear of anything else.
To plaster over the trauma surging up inside him, he was layering on fragments of a comparatively unscathed past. But with three masks stitched together from the characters of each work, swapped and shuffled at random, the confusion kept taking a toll on his body.
And someone had noticed the change in him.
"Senior, so you'll be staying in Korea for good now?"
"I suppose I will."
Yoon Jae-hee — no, Yoon Jay — was returning to acting. Of course that meant he was here to stay.
Cho Youkyeong had been in the United States on business, but she had watched his slim filmography the moment it became available. Along Along, his special cameo in Big Company People, and now Daldongne — she had seen them all.
She hadn't stopped at his works, either. She'd watched the variety show he appeared on with the twins, because she wanted to know how he had lived all those years.
"When I asked our staff in the States, they knew Jae-hee — sorry, Jay."
"Did they?"
"Oh, that incident. It was famous. We had people at our US branch who attended his memorial service."
"Really?"
"Yes. There was even an uproar back then over whether the rescuers who entered the scene should be disciplined for breaking protocol or honored for it..."
Naturally, she also knew about the period when the internet had been in an uproar over him. That much was beyond even Lee Seo-won's best efforts to contain.
Through her, she had even requested and received the file for a special documentary produced by a local American broadcaster. The moment the camera's light found him, he flinched and shied away. She had heard from Lee Young-chang that Yoon Jay suffered from a long-standing fear of cameras.
"Please point the camera somewhere else."
"I'm sorry?"
"I can't film something like this."
His reaction back then must have been fueled not only by the trauma but by that camera phobia as well. Cho Youkyeong let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Aigoo. If only we'd paid a little more attention back then, he'd never have had to suffer like that."
"What's done is done. There's nothing to be gained now."
Lee Young-chang had felt the same pang when the news reached him. The first time he'd seen Jay at his father's funeral, the raw, unblooded ferocity the young man carried had told him he'd already been through the wringer — but knowing it in detail was another matter entirely.
Lee Young-chang's expression darkened. In his eyes, Yoon Jay was still that innocent child darting between sets on the shooting locations of The Child. Even if the man himself insisted he was fine, the worry never went away.
"Now that he's a celebrity again, the rumors are bound to pile up like they did before. I just hope the boy can handle it..."
"Y-yes, quite."
At the mention of rumors, Cho Youkyeong was suddenly struck by the memory of her own failings, and heat rose to her face. She hastily steered the conversation elsewhere.
"By the way, he's remarkable, isn't he? And he said he's never taken a single acting lesson?"
"So I hear."
Lee Young-chang had often been on the receiving end of Lee Seo-won's gushing about his rookie actor. What would happen if he learned that rookie's true identity was Yoon Jae-hee — the boy who had set Lee Seo-won himself on the path of film?
He'll demand to know why I never told him, that's what...
On the screen, Yoon Jay — Kim Sanghyeon — was being tormented by a hostile complainant.
("Seriously, you're making this much of a fuss over a few thousand won? You tracked me all the way down here for this?!")
("What did you say, you little...?!")
The complainant, enraged by Kim Sanghyeon's brazen insolence — the man hadn't yet shed his old habits — hurled a sweet potato from her basket at him. A cheerful sound effect chimed in as the footage shifted into slow motion. Dodging the sweet potato by diving under the desk, Kim Sanghyeon stared up with eyes stretched wide.
("What kind of person even DOES that?!")
He was no scenery-chewing tyrant villain padded with sageuk flourishes like Grand Duke Muhee of Along Along, much less a character with the overwhelming presence of Baek Jin-ri in The Garden of Evil.
"Why on earth did he pick a rookie writer's project, of all things?"
"He said his heart simply led him there. Skilled actors do that from time to time, don't they?"
"True — he shouldn't be taking heavy, prestige-only roles that trade purely on his face just yet. Better to sample a wide range while he's still a rookie..."
Both of them were already wearing rose-tinted glasses where Yoon Jay was concerned; whatever project he chose, they approved of it.
Daldongne marched to a different rhythm than the dramas in its time slot. The early episodes unfolded in omnibus fashion, introducing a parade of different lives: a mother who had lost her child to illness and now lived alone in a single rented room; the lonely struggle of an elderly dementia patient left by himself; an uncle who had possessed nothing but his two strong legs until an accident took one of them.
The pacing was brisk, but the catharsis never came easy.
Seeing only one side of a story and piling on opinions one by one inevitably bred this controversy and that. But a drama nobody talks about never generates controversy at all. Viewers in their teens and twenties had slapped the "melodrama" label on Daldongne — yet it was precisely that tear-jerking sensibility that hooked middle-aged and older audiences, and the show's ratings climbed steadily until it claimed second place in its time slot.
("How old are you?")
("...Twenty-nine.")
("Same age as me? I don't know a soul around here. Let's get along, all right?")
("Do as you like.")
Soon enough, Kim Sanghyeon — smitten with Choi Ahra at first glance — began trailing after her, probing and pestering. Slippery, a little infuriating, yet armed with aegyo in just the right doses, he was impossible to truly hate.
It was the polar opposite of Yoon Jay's real personality.
"He's good at the sly, greasy act too, I see."
"Hm?"
"What's the matter?"
Lee Young-chang, who had been meeting with Yoon Jay often, could tell. Something about the Yoon Jay on that screen was off.
He's acting well — he is. But something... strangely...
It was an inexplicable crack, impossible to put into words.
The protagonist of Daldongne, Detective Park Yoonseong, was dispatched to a report. A downstairs neighbor had called in a strange smell coming from a semi-basement unit — and inside, they found a decomposing corpse.
"Detective Park, what are you doing?"
"Ugh..."
Ignoring the others trying to hold him back, Park Yoonseong pried open the corpse's mouth and extracted something from within. A folded paper crane.
"That makes three."
The paper cranes left inside the mouths of recently discovered victims were as good as the killer's signature. Same method, same neighborhood — and every last victim poor, powerless, and easy prey. This was the third body found, but judging by the state of decomposition, this man was almost certainly the first to die.
"So now it's a serial killing."
He turned away with a complicated look on his face. The dead man had been a solitary senior citizen whom no one ever came looking for. Walking down the hillside road, Park Yoonseong glanced back and took in the view of the neighborhood. All this talk of redevelopment and nothing had come of it — no CCTV coverage, and a population made up mostly of people living alone or barely able to get around. What better hunting ground could a serial killer ask for?
Meanwhile, Kim Sanghyeon had volunteered for duty in the welfare department — all for the chance to see Choi Ahra.
"Where does this delivery go?"
"You know the house with the green gate, next to the corner store?"
"Ah, that place. I'm off."
Kim Sanghyeon beamed and headed out with the welfare supplies, and Assistant Manager Kang watched him go with an expression of mild disbelief.
"What's gotten into you? Did a prayer get answered or something?"
"Going to see Ahra."
"Ahra? Oh — the girl paying her father's hospital bills? The one whose dad is in a coma?"
Kang Subin already knew exactly what Kim Sanghyeon was up to. Watching him on the sly, he seemed as cautious as an elementary schooler with his first crush — careful never to cross the line. And with the neighborhood on edge over the murders lately, she had been turning a generous blind eye.
The father was in the hospital, and a young woman living alone in that neighborhood was in danger.
"He's not slacking off out there and strolling in late, is he?"
"He strolls back in right at the nick of time."
"Slips out of everything like a loach, that one."
Even as she said it, Assistant Manager Kang's opinion of Kim Sanghyeon was quietly shifting, worn down by that impossible-to-hate charm of his.
"By the way, did you hear the news?"
"Ah, the murder case? Assistant Manager Kang's childhood friend is a detective, isn't she? Heard anything?"
"They found a paper crane inside the victim's mouth. The media will probably christen it the 'Paper Crane Serial Murder Case'..."
A fourth body was discovered, and the case that would set all of Uiseon City buzzing had finally surfaced.
Choi Ahra found herself thinking about Kim Sanghyeon, whom she'd been running into constantly these days.
He's handsome, sure, but he's way too slick for his own good.
He was a young master raised in a household with a silver spoon and a foul mouth to match, and he got on her nerves — and yet, the way he watched her mood and trotted out the aegyo made it impossible to hold it against him.
Besides, how had he even gotten her number? He'd even texted her to grab a meal... Her phone buzzed just then, and she lit up the screen.
She'd never had friends her own age — she'd been too busy earning money — and her gray, grinding life had picked up a little color of late. A faint smile touched her lips. And then, someone called for her.
"Excuse me..."
"Ah, my apologies. Half a day again today?"
"Yes."
"Then that'll be 130,000 won."
Choi Ahra received the money the man handed over with both hands, cradling it like a treasure. He was a regular customer of her jjokbang-chon poverty experience. He paid promptly, never caused trouble, and never soiled the room.
"Might I ask why you come so often?"
"I'm writing a paper on poverty. Why — does it bother you?"
"No, it's just..."
Her position was simple: as long as the money came, nothing else mattered. With this she could pay down her overdue rent, and her father's hospital bills she could cover with part-time work. Holding the money close to her chest, she headed out to her shift.
But happiness never lasted. Her boss abruptly informed her she was fired — and when she got home late that night, a letter from a public agency was waiting for her.
"Hey! Choi Ahra! Guess what your oppa bought?"
Furious, Choi Ahra seized Kim Sanghyeon by the collar.
"It was you, wasn't it?! You did it!"
"Wh-what are you talking about?"
"You're the one who reported me, aren't you!"
"What the hell are you saying? Use words that make sense!"
"THIS!"
Looking closely, the letter stated that her illegal lodging operation had been caught and a fine would be imposed.
Kim Sanghyeon was dumbfounded. He'd been doing everything he could to win Choi Ahra's favor — backstabbing her like this was the last thing he'd ever do.
"Why would I report something like that? I'm busy hauling rice sacks around here."
"It really wasn't you?"
"No...! Hey! Where are you going?!"
Being doubted stung her pride and soured her mood, and Choi Ahra stormed up the hill. Kim Sanghyeon hurried after her. Their destination was the open lot at the very top of the daldongne.
"Hey!"
"What!"
"Ugh, damn it. You had to climb all the way up to this godforsaken height."
"Why'd you even follow me up here?"
"Do you not watch the news? There was a murder in this neighborhood. And you don't even realize how dangerous that makes this place."
Truthfully, she was scared. That was why she felt an unexpected pang of gratitude that Kim Sanghyeon had come after her. She gulped down the beer he'd cracked open for her, cap and all.
"...You know what 'daldongne' means? They say it comes from being up so high that the moon shows itself clearly."
"..."
"But these days you can't even see it anymore. Because of the redevelopment over there."
Following the line of Choi Ahra's outstretched finger, his gaze turned — and the moon was hidden behind the high-rise apartments of the next neighborhood over.
"If this place gets redeveloped too, wouldn't that fix things for you?"
"It's not my house."
"What?"
"I rent."
Kim Sanghyeon had smiled his bright, easy smile and said that once redevelopment was confirmed, Choi Ahra's life would be solved too. Now that smile froze on his face. He had simply assumed the house was hers — why would anyone struggle so desperately over that tiny, crumbling shack otherwise?
"This house, that one over there, that orange-roofed one — and the corner store building up ahead... Twelve houses in all, and it's the same landlord."
"R-really?"
"You told me before I had no self-respect, asked why I was putting my poverty on display like this."
"That..."
"The landlord doesn't even need my 300,000 won right now, but she threatens to throw me out over a few hours late. And guess what she said yesterday? She's raising the jeonse deposit. My father's hospital bills are piling up, and I just got fired because the boss's son lost the payroll money betting on sports."
Choi Ahra forced the words out flat and even, but moisture was steadily seeping into her voice. Kim Sanghyeon, at a complete loss, pressed his lips tightly shut.
"Poverty is all I have. So if I have to sell even that, shouldn't I be allowed to?"
"..."
"But now there's not even any poverty left to sell!"
Her composure finally broke, and Choi Ahra wept — loud, ragged sobs that echoed across the dark hilltop.