The Heavyweights Come Circling

Heavyweights were already circling him.

Hong Jiwoong — a man with fingers in countless business ventures, owner of some of the most prime real estate in Seoul, and one of the biggest money players in the film industry — flung his phone down onto the table in irritation.

"Haah... I picked the wrong actor."

"That's what you get for betting on looks. I told you so, didn't I?"

"Did you tell me to stop going by faces?"

"I did."

Should have listened. For all his overflowing mountains of money, Hong's oldest hobby was film.

He carried a quiet pride in contributing to the arts, and beneath that, an insatiable curiosity about just how far the works and actors he'd personally marked would go. Like running a growth simulation in a video game.

"Honestly, maybe I should've scouted him back before I was being passed over on my own blockbusters."

"He kicked away his chance himself. So Song Woojin's out now?"

"He's out."

Trouble was, lately every actor he'd been backing kept stumbling into ugly scandals. One got caught up in school bullying allegations, another in drunk driving — an absolute mess.

So betting on looks was my fatal mistake? And here I wanted to raise a youth star of my own. In that case, maybe I should look into a proven idol-turned-actor?

As he mulled this over, Hong flipped through the channels on his TV — and stopped at one. While everyone else was watching other dramas, he had been a faithful viewer of Daldongne. It was because of memories of growing up dirt poor.

The acting was superb.

Especially the scene where the lead carried Choi Ahra on his back, and the scene in the hospital when he listened to her prognosis — the direction itself was nothing special, but it turned his eyes red. It hit harder because it reminded him of his own mother passing away in an emergency room.

That actor's performance must have been so good it completely buried the directing.

"What about that kid?"

"Yoon Jay? He's decent... no, he's excellent."

Excellent? That wasn't a word that came out of Secretary Choi's mouth lightly. Hong looked at him with renewed interest.

"Excellent how?"

"For one thing, his past shows no signs of scandal. He's a former LA firefighter — apparently they call him a hero over there."

"Oh..."

"Everything posted about him on social media is favorable. Nothing but."

Secretary Choi had uncovered part of the man's past — and someone had already dug deeper. There were photos of Yoon Jay from his firefighter days, playing with his colleague's child and teaching kids about the fire service, and even a video, from who knows where, of him rappelling down a high-rise building to rescue someone trapped inside.

"Oh..."

"He reportedly worked as a bodyguard for a while too, and they say he manages himself so carefully that he barely drinks."

At least he won't turn out like that school-bullying actor or drunk-driving Song. He's growing on me.

"But... he's an actor being raised by Lee Seo-won."

"Lee Seo-won?"

Hong knew that name too. The man was famous for slotting the right actors into the right projects. On top of that, he was suspiciously wealthy and dabbled in investment himself.

What Hong wanted was exactly the position Lee Seo-won held — not a mere investor, but someone with real clout. His own vision for spotting good works and good actors simply wasn't sharp enough, and that's why he'd plateaued.

"Why not use this as an opening to join hands with him? It's not as though the two of you are on bad terms."

"Hmm..."

He'd occasionally invested in films Lee Seo-won produced before. With that man's eye, they were guaranteed hits — he'd never lost money, and top-tier casting came easy, letting him build connections with the stars as well.

But as fun as finished actors were, raising a newcomer himself was the real pleasure of the game.

"There's another fact you might not like, sir."

"Which is?"

"Rayna Yang has already invested in Yoon Jay's first drama."

"Didn't that girl say she was starting her own fund?"

"Yes. The very first thing she did after founding it was invest in Along Along."

Rayna Yang, a Hong Kong-born American, was a rising young investor in this industry. He'd heard she'd recently left Nflix to set up her own investment firm — and she was already making moves? On an unproven newcomer, no less?

"And there are rumors that Jo Youkyeong has already put her mark on him."

"After Kwon Min-jae and Eom Ye-na, again? That woman's appetite is bottomless. Wait — hasn't this kid not even debuted a full year yet?"

"All the more reason for you to make your move before he gets any bigger, wouldn't you say, sir?"

My goodness, heavyweights are already circling him. The destined greats really do start different from everyone else, don't they?

It stings a little that I wouldn't be first, but Rayna and Jo Youkyeong both have entire corporations to answer for — all kinds of constraints on them. A private individual like me could invest freely, couldn't I?

"Hmm. I'll have to contact Lee Seo-won."

"Jay, you haven't been acting for very long, have you?"

"No, not long."

The acting advice she'd given him before had genuinely helped, so Yoon Jay had deliberately come to sit beside Lee Hyein.

Lee Hyein was a veteran who had ranged freely across both film and television, and her personality was just as good. She never pressed him with nosy questions about why he was asking — she simply listened carefully to her junior and gave him thoughtful answers. A truly good senior.

"Have you been watching other shows too?"

"A lot lately. I figured I needed to understand Korean sensibilities."

"You didn't watch much before?"

"No."

Oh, right. He came from America. Even so, Lee Hyein studied him with a look of wonder — he seemed as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠though he'd lived in Korea his entire life.

"Well, there are actors who don't watch anything at all. It's just a matter of temperament."

"True."

"Have you seen the film The Child, by any chance?"

"......Yes."

The answer came a beat late. She'd noticed something lately: the more experienced the actor or industry veteran, the more they always seemed to bring up The Child.

He'd even seen it himself — an old poster of The Child and its re-release poster hanging in frames on the wall of Lee Seo-won's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠office.

Director Lee Young-chang had told him that the re-release had drawn a substantial influx of younger viewers, and that The Child had begun appearing again in theater and film department entrance exams.

"Do you like The Child too, ma'am?"

"What's that now — what are you talking about?"

Han Dayeon, who played Choi Ahra, and Choi Seongmin, who played Detective Park Yoonseong, both perked up and turned their attention to the conversation as well.

Yoon Jay rolled only his eyes, glancing sidelong at the person across from him. He could feel that something about Han Dayeon's air had subtly shifted.

I guess I don't need to draw the line anymore. She seems to have given up on her own.

"We were talking about the movie. You know, The Child."

"Ah. That's what made me decide to become an actor — I up and went straight to Daehangno."

"Really?"

At Yoon Jay's question, Choi Seongmin nodded.

"He was what, nine or ten when they filmed that? Absolutely astonishing. How does a child deliver acting that delicate..."

"Right?"

Choi Seongmin, entirely forgetting the man was sitting right in front of him, launched into a full-throated hymn of praise for Yoon Jae-hee in The Child. And Lee Hyein chimed in to boot.

Well, thank you, but... Not knowing what expression to wear, Yoon Jay simply swallowed his water.

"Anyway, Jay — didn't the facial acting you showed in that hospital scene remind you of Park Donghwa in The Child?"

"Oh, now that you mention it..."

"Conveying layered emotions through intention is one thing — making them land viscerally in the viewer's gut is a completely different problem."

"I heard people were crying for no reason during that scene. How did you do it? Come on, share your secret with me."

Yoon Jay's face seemed to cloud over at the question. Lee Hyein narrowed her eyes on purpose. He'd said filming that scene had dredged up his own past. In that case, he may well not want to talk about it.

"You're not uncomfortable being compared to a child, are you?"

"No. I've still got a long way to go before I catch up to that performance."

To my old ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠form, that is.

"It's just... I'm not used to being complimented."

When it comes to acting, that is. During the filming of The Child, true, he'd been inside the warm embrace of Director Lee Young-chang and Jo Youkyeong, with everyone praising him and doting on him. But ever since he'd taken home the award, he'd been the one getting pointed at and told he'd failed to live up to expectations.

And bad memories outlast good ones. Especially when you're young.

"Well, get used to it. You're going to be hearing a lot more from now on."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Now that I think of it — Yoon Jae-hee, Yoon Jay. Their names are similar, aren't they?"

"I've heard that one before, too."

Good people, all of them. They didn't cling to hierarchy just because they were seniors, and a moment ago he'd caught Lee Hyein deliberately changing the subject when he was put on the spot.

Is it normal for a twenty-year-old film to get this much attention?

The two seniors sitting in front of him, and then Lee Seo-won, Moon Chang-min, Director Park Hyun-seung, even Kwon Min-jae... Someday, the truth that he was Yoon Jae-hee would come out. And the more these people showered him with warmth, the harder it became to imagine what on earth he'd say to them when it did.

"Oppa, it's over here."

As the wrap party wound down, Han Jin-woo brought in the fans who had supported the party. They'd come to clear away the things they had prepared themselves. The restaurant wall was lined edge to edge with affectionate banners, and not a single member of the staff had been left out of their thank-you gifts — while Yoon Jay received an extra-large haul of presents and bouquets.

"Ah, hello!"

"Wow — what do we even say?!"

Yoon Jay was what you'd call an actor made for stanning. A man with that face had snatched up a supporting role out of nowhere, acted brilliantly on top of it, and even after his sudden rise, no attention-seeking girlfriend or ex-girlfriend or attention-hungry family had crawled out of the woodwork.

The fact that he was the half-brother of the famous twins from the idol world had only helped pull fans in, and clips of him tenderly looking after Yoon Dohwa on variety shows had earned him a whole crowd who stanned him as a Yusa-Oppa — a stand-in older brother.

The 115 Disaster had broken fans' hearts, but his past as a firefighter — such a magnetic one — only fanned the flames of their detective work. There was endless stannable material pouring in from every direction.

Besides, no matter how well the main body of a fandom performs its actual job, the energy dies without fellow fans to run alongside — and since he was a rising star these days, fans had piled on in droves, and the fandom was bustling like a marketplace.

Photos went up on his social media fairly often too. Truthfully, most of them were probably posted by his manager — but if that was the case, it meant there'd never be a social-media blowup, and since the agency was clearly competent, it counted as a plus.

"Thank you so much for today. Wasn't it a lot of work to put all this together?"

"Wow... it was nothing!"

Seeing him in person, he was even more overwhelming than they'd imagined. While everyone stood there speechless, staring blankly at his face, Yoon Jay looked around at his own surroundings. He wanted to give something back to these fans who had worked so hard — but he had nothing on hand to give.

"Oppa, how about giving them this?"

"......When did you even take these?"

"For moments exactly like this one."

Perhaps because Han Jin-woo had come over from managing idols, he understood this kind of fan service inside and out. He held out several Polaroid shots of Yoon Jay, taken who knew when. Yoon Jay signed them and handed them over to the fans.

"This isn't much, but..."

"Th-thank you so much!"

"Is there anything you'd like to say to me?"

He'd heard some fans could be pushy about an actor's next project, or make unreasonable demands. If that was what was coming, he could handle it. But the answers were nothing like what he'd expected.

"Just pick a name for your fan club!"

"Just stay healthy and keep acting for a long, long time!"

"We'll cheer for you no matter what project you take on!"

At words brimming with nothing but support — not a single demand among them — Yoon Jay broke into a wide, bright smile.

...Actors who rose on their faces rather than their acting always had a clear ceiling. Song Woojin was the textbook example.

No matter what project he joined, no matter who he was supposed to play, the verdict never changed: it's just Song Woojin, Song Woojin again, Song Woojin spitting out another character. Even when the director spoon-fed him roles built to make him look good, he couldn't hold them down — his limits always showed. And yet the casting offers kept coming, steady as clockwork.

But Yoon Jay was different. The author of this piece had initially assumed he'd risen on looks alone.

Then he actually watched the work, and changed his mind. To sum it up in one line: an actor whose acting was obscured by his own face. What's more, he clearly had no intention of taking the easy road — despite the flood of cool, dashing roles coming his way after Along Along, he deliberately chose to play a silver-spoon punk with a pathetic streak.

His filmography holds only two works so far. But from here on, his every step bears watching.