Not Quite the Right Fit

Doesn't really suit me.

Crown—the drama by superstar writer Choi Hyeran, boasting a dazzling cast of leads and supporting players, and a teaser featuring Yoon Jay's shockingly bare upper body—finally aired, and expectations couldn't have been higher.

The early episodes opened with the couples' gathering teased in the preview. The tender-hearted Vice Director Park Yoonjae, doting affectionately on his wife, watched the last of his guests leave the house—and the moment the door closed, his soft expression changed completely.

"Why was Professor Yoo staring at me like that earlier?"

"He wasn't really staring at you."

The man everyone had assumed was nothing but gentle turned out to be mercurial, and behind closed doors, far from prying eyes, he spared no cruelty—verbal or physical—toward his wife.

But his wife, Jung Hwiyeon, was not the type to sit quietly and take it. After all, Park Yoonjae had only climbed to the vice director's seat thanks to her family's influence.

"You think you'll get away with this?"

"And if I don't, what are you going to do about it? Ah... that's right, your wonderful father. That's exactly why I'm chained to you."

Yet Park Yoonjae—who under normal circumstances would have backed down—had been acting strangely of late. His attitude was that of a man who had grabbed hold of a different lifeline, and Jung Hwiyeon began quietly investigating her own husband.

Then the scene shifted. Yoo Sihyeon, played by Yoon Jay, was the vice director's most trusted confidant. He also nursed an ambition of his own: to curry favor in advance with the man most likely to become the next hospital director, and claim the seat of Director of Strategic Planning for himself.

"He's genuinely gorgeous."

"They say Dr. Yoo is still single?"

"Who knows. Maybe he's got someone hidden away somewhere?"

From his very entrance, Yoon Jay stood apart from everyone else. Capable, strikingly handsome, adored by the people around him—he was like a younger version of the vice director himself, back in his prime.

Perhaps because the camera captured his carefully crafted styling and appearance so devastatingly well, the live reactions detonated all over again.

Soon the scene changed, and Jung Hwiyeon—who had been shadowing her husband's every step—witnessed him in the act of infidelity.

"I'm oppressed like this, while he's off with another woman..."

And the woman in question was a divorcée from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a family much like Jung Hwiyeon's own—a former classmate, no less. She had been keeping her husband leashed through her family's power, but now even that was slipping through her fingers. Her husband had traded up to a new lifeline.

"Dr. Yoo."

"Madam."

Sick of living the way she had been, Jung Hwiyeon set out to seduce Yoo Sihyeon—a man attractive by anyone's standards—and Yoo Sihyeon tumbled headlong into it, committing one reckless night's mischief.

"How did things go with the vice director's wife?"

"Fine. Wouldn't fall for it no matter how I wooed her, and then suddenly—some change of heart, I suppose..."

"Do you think he found out Park Yoonjae was cheating?"

"Could be."

But Yoo Sihyeon hadn't simply stumbled into her arms, either. He had engineered the whole thing. His true goal had never been the directorship—he had been crouching low, biding his time, for one purpose only: to bring the vice director crashing down.

"Don't forget what Park Yoonjae did to us."

"I haven't."

His seemingly reluctant surrender to Jung Hwiyeon had been nothing more than a means of using her to seize her husband's weakness.

And Vice Director Park Yoonjae, sensing that something between his wife and Yoo Sihyeon was far from ordinary, summoned the younger man to confront him.

"You called for me, Vice Director?"

"Yeah. Sit."

It was not the gaze of a man looking at a colleague he cherished. It was the same suffocating atmosphere that hung over him whenever he interrogated his wife.

Park Yoonjae hurled his whiskey glass to the floor. It shattered with a crisp crash, shards of glass scattering in every direction.

"Pick them up. One by one."

He was testing Yoo Sihyeon's loyalty, ordering him to gather every last fragment from the floor. Yoo Sihyeon rose and began picking them up—but Park Yoonjae was not a man to let it end there.

"On your knees."

Could it be? Did Park Yoonjae know? That I'd only come close to him for revenge? Or that I'd touched Jung Hwiyeon?

Blood welled from Yoo Sihyeon's hand as it closed around a shard, and while he knelt gathering the glass, Park Yoonjae seized the back of his neck the moment he drew near.

"Ugh..."

"Dr. Yoo. Nothing you'd care to say to me?"

"I... wouldn't know what you mean, sir."

Jang Seong-geon's icy glare and Yoo Sihyeon's carefully guarded eyes collided midair, striking sparks.

It was a misunderstanding born entirely of the hypnotic, human-snaring aura Yoon Jay had constructed. The writer had demanded that he read as a trap in himself, regardless of gender—and because he fulfilled that demand so brilliantly, an odd current ended up flowing between him and Jang Seong-geon as well.

"This scene is good. Let's keep it."

Thanks to the weight of the name Choi Hyeran, the production budget was generous, and as a pre-produced drama they could have reshot anything at any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time. But once she saw the finished product, the writer declared there was no need—let it stand as was. She believed the strange undercurrent between the two men could generate a firestorm of buzz.

And that prediction proved dead-on. Curious viewers went digging to find out what on earth the articles and reactions were about, and the rebroadcast ratings climbed slightly as a result.

Even though Crown aired not on a terrestrial network but on a general programming cable channel, its first episode pulled in a 10.3% rating, and people everywhere were already bringing it up, predicting a runaway hit by the dozen.

Some were even saying it might go on to set JBTC's highest viewership rating in the channel's entire history.

"What are you all doing?"

"Oh, you're here?"

These days his name was on everyone's lips in every direction, but Yoon Jay arrived at the Wings Company office wearing his usual placid expression. The training room stood empty; everyone had gathered in front of the lounge TV.

"Wow, aren't they shooting you a little too handsomely?"

"Well, the man is handsome, to be fair."

They were watching the Crown rebroadcast, and every time one of Yoon Jay's dashing moments flickered across the screen, they whooped like fans cheering an anime character. Is this a security firm or a high school? Feeling it would be pointless to wonder, Yoon Jay gave Choi Tae-yang's shoulder a smack in passing and made his way over to Park Chul-woo.

"Hyung. Did you see the email?"

"I did. Thanks. I'm telling you, you're better at it than most professional translators."

Having grown comfortable enough to drop formalities with CEO Park Chul-woo, Yoon Jay had been occasionally helping out with the translation work the man requested. It wasn't particularly difficult, and he needed something besides work to clear his head anyway.

Truthfully, he'd been getting a little bored, too.

Besides, people had always gravitated toward Yoon Jay throughout his life. He had lived freely—never barring those who came to him, never clinging to those who left.

And so his surroundings had always been noisy with company. Korea was different. After winning the Best Actor award, he had done nothing but weather cold shoulders; he had no friends from his school days, and the few people he knew were all in the same industry, too busy for gatherings like this rowdy one. The former colleagues at Wings Company whom he saw so often these days were, for all practical purposes, his friends now. Yoon Jay waggled his fingers at the crowd gathered in front of the TV.

"Should you really be doing that during work hours?"

"So what? There's no work on, and I'm the one who called everyone in to watch."

"Sir?"

With a toothy grin, Park Chul-woo went and joined the employees in front of the TV. Yoon Jay shook his head and followed him over.

"Good grief..."

"Unbelievable."

On screen, Yoon Jay had pinned Im Siran against the wall and was shrugging out of his shirt. It was the very scene from the teaser.

"Scandalous!"

"That guy is a genuine lunatic."

Grown adults, squealing and doubling over at such a soft bed scene—and during work hours, no less. Is this company really going to be okay? Yoon Jay took a seat in an empty spot for now.

"Man, I'm jealous. Getting to be with Im Siran and all..."

"It's just acting. What's there to envy."

"No, come on, something's off about it. You and Im Siran—there's nothing going on, right? Spill it, fast."

"I'll accept the compliment on my acting."

Any remark that generous was as good as praise for his performance. Yoon Jay ignored Choi Tae-yang's relentless prodding. Im Siran had passed her phone number along through her manager, but he hadn't contacted her. He had no interest, and no particular need to pretend otherwise.

"Bet there were a ton of NGs shooting that scene, huh?"

"There were, yeah."

Strictly speaking, none of them had come from Yoon Jay—the flubs belonged to his scene partner, Im Siran.

She was in her mid-thirties, still young, a veteran with over a decade of experience who surely wasn't shooting her first dramatic bed scene—yet that day, for some reason, her mistakes piled up one after another.

Everyone knew the reason was her scene partner, Yoon Jay. Everyone except Yoon Jay himself.

"It's not just me feeling this, right?"

"Yoon Jay's aura is..."

From the very first day of shooting, Yoon Jay had worked hard never to let the atmosphere he'd constructed waver. Perhaps that was why he possessed a gravity that made eyes linger on him whether they wanted to or not.

As the staff experienced him, Yoon Jay seemed to know instinctively—even without separate direction from the director—exactly how to make himself look more fatal, more magnetic.

He was filming Daldongne at the same time, and worried that his immersion might bleed across projects, he handed out snacks, made conversation, and showed consideration to his castmates regardless of gender—

"Whoa, that's insane."

"A professional flirt."

"It's for the role, right? It has to be for the role."

He was so unnervingly adept that the staff took to calling him "Guilty Man." And the nickname didn't stay ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the crew—it spread to the fans watching the drama at home as well.

"Hyung-nim, by the way—how did you hide the scars on your body? Was it a CGI touch-up?"

"Makeup. Took, what, two hours."

"Two whole hours?"

Wings Company boasted the finest training environment in the industry, complete with showers. Training worked up a serious sweat, and there were times a change of clothes was in order. It had been barely two days after he first met these men that the scars had come to light.

"So you went on an overseas deployment, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and all of these came from that?"

"Yeah."

"Can scars really pile up like this?"

Jung Seung-woo, too, kept his mouth firmly shut about Yoon Jay being ex-Delta Force. Yoon Jay offered nothing on the subject, and so among these men the unspoken guess had already taken root: he had been no ordinary soldier.

"Wow, what a body."

"But what's with all the scribble-looking marks... oh. Oh—these are scars?"

The Crown makeup team, on the other hand, had been utterly stunned the first time they saw the scar tissue. The commotion they raised drew sidelong glances from the rest of the staff. Kwak Dohyun had given advance notice at the pre-production meetings—that Yoon Jay carried many scars on his body, and that special makeup would be needed for any exposure scenes—but no one had imagined it would be this extensive.

"It's worse than we were told?"

"How did you even end up with scars like these?"

"C-could we perhaps... touch them?"

The makeup team ran their fingers over his scars with cautious reverence. A touch of self-interest may have crept into their handling, but there was no avoiding contact when applying makeup anyway, so he thought nothing of it.

"Just... from work I used to do."

"Ah, right, you were a firefighter, weren't you? Still—can scars really get this bad?"

"It must have hurt so much."

Sitting through hours of makeup every time an exposure scene came up was a waste of time and a waste of production money alike. So the schedule had been reshuffled to shoot all the scenes requiring exposure in one concentrated block—which, he supposed, might well have been why Im Siran flubbed her takes so often.

"So? After the vice director catches you—what happens next?"

"Just watch next week's live broadcast."

"I like getting spoiled first, personally."

"Then try not to get spoiled this time."

"Ugh, easier said than done."

Filming simultaneously with Daldongne had limited him to only five episodes' worth of Crown, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that appearing so briefly had been the right move. The buzz of a superstar writer's drama, the title of devastating charm, and the chance to taste a character he'd never played before and slip away—short was better.

Maybe makjang and I just don't suit each other, after all.

And it was absolutely, positively not because of the younger brothers who wouldn't stop teasing him.