You Can Really Do That?

You can really do that?

Permafrost, the tentpole film backed by KE Group, was a virus disaster thriller set in near-future Seoul and an Antarctic research base.

"Hello."

The production budget ran into the hundreds of billions of won, and it showed — even the minor supporting roles were filled with performers who were excellent in both acting ability and name recognition. It was only at the full table reading, though, that the entire cast could be seen gathered in one place. For the most part, they were heavyweights of the film industry.

[Finally, we meet.]

[Hello, Director.]

The role Yoon Jae-i was set to play carried considerable weight in the story, and Lee Seo-won had kept the seat open even while Jae-i hesitated and put off confirming his casting.

Director Lee Han-lim of Permafrost had been a little put out by that delay, but the moment he laid eyes on Yoon Jae-i, he realized the man matched the role he'd imagined perfectly. Better yet, Jae-i's casting had secured additional investment on top of everything else.

[I heard from Changmin and watched The Garden of Evil. And that was your first work?]

[Thank you.]

Of course, Yoon Jae-i had shown plenty to earn the attention. His acting gave no hint whatsoever of a rookie, and from his very debut he'd caused a syndrome-level stir, drawing enormous buzz with every single media appearance. His fandom had swelled enough that he could be counted on to deliver at the box office, too.

[I hear you're a former soldier... May I, perhaps, have some expectations?]

[I'd like to do the action scenes without a stunt double, as much as possible.]

[Oh... our assistant director is going to love hearing that.]

Besides, being able to perform his own stunts was a huge advantage. Even with the budget they'd secured, the CG and other production costs were so overwhelming that the team would have to tighten their belts anyway. Rumor had it the assistant director had given Yoon Jae-i a standing ovation after watching him on Soldiers K: Assembly.

Who's that?

Wow, he debuted just last year and he's already landing a film like this?

I guess the real deal really is the real deal. Wonder if he'll focus on movies from now on?

There were quite a few people at the reading studying Yoon Jae-i, sizing him up. Some were fellow actors; others were agency staff who'd tagged along behind them.

Their gazes ran the gamut — prejudiced eyes that saw only a drama actor who'd crossed over, or openly favorable ones. In the middle of that undercurrent of competing emotions, Moon Chang-min came over.

"Jay, my boy."

"Hey, hyung-nim."

"Ha, would've been nice if we had a scene together."

"I know. I'm sure the chance will come around eventually."

There were familiar faces at the reading, too. Permafrost unfolded along two main timelines, and Moon Chang-min played a man caught up in the political machinations unfolding in Seoul, while Yoon Jae-i played a soldier headed to the Antarctic base — the two never crossed paths on screen.

"You haven't met these seniors yet, have you?"

"No, sir."

Sensing the subtle tension in the air, Moon Chang-min took Yoon Jae-i around and introduced him to the other veteran actors.

I didn't even know she was in this one.

Yoon Jae-i felt his body stiffen as he watched a woman approaching him.

"Changmin, introduce me to this handsome young man, too."

"Of course. Jay, did I ever mention I'd seen The Child?"

It was Choo Young-mi — the actress who had played his 'mother' in The Child. In this film she appeared as his commanding officer, which meant they'd be running into each other on set several times as well.

"It's an honor, ma'am. My name is Yoon Jae-i."

"No need to be so stiff with me. Although... that name does sound awfully similar to someone I know."

"...I hear that a lot."

His ability to deliver such a fine performance in The Child owed no small debt to Choo Young-mi. So seeing her again made him genuinely glad — but he couldn't let it show. He was meeting her not as Yoon Jae-hee, but as Yoon Jae-i.

Someday, the truth will come out.

Just not yet... He still hadn't proven himself on the big screen. And keeping the mask he'd layered over himself from cracking was already more than he could handle some days.

"Hello, everyone."

"Minjae!"

"Minjae, good to see you."

And then Kwon Min-jae walked into the reading room. He smiled the smile he'd rehearsed, accepting the greetings of the seniors and juniors around him, and took the seat beside Yoon Jae-i.

"It's been a while."

"Yeah. You been well?"

He seemed to be trying hard to look fine, but Yoon Jae-i's eyes couldn't be fooled. The thumbnail on Kwon Min-jae's hand, the one holding the script open, was worn down ragged — bitten clean through, time and time again. That wasn't like him. Or at least, it hadn't used to be.

"You've been hard to reach."

"Ah... been busy."

Kwon Min-jae brushed it off vaguely and buried himself in the script.

Something's going on with him.

As Yoon Jae-i studied Kwon Min-jae, his eyes met Baek Da-eun's. She pointed discreetly at her own phone, then turned it toward him.

Yoon Jae-i glanced at her and texted back a short reply. Since arriving from America he'd had few friends in Korea and no industry connections to speak of, and it was thanks to Kwon Min-jae that he'd grown close to the other actors his age so quickly. If there's something I can do to help, I should help.

"Let's begin the reading."

The actors all took their seats and opened their scripts. With so many towering veterans in the room, the atmosphere was solemn.

Some staff were already snapping photos and shooting video for the publicity materials that would follow the film's release. The side-by-side image of Yoon Jae-i and Kwon Min-jae was captured from every angle.

"The Minister is inside, sir."

"You can't go in there!"

Once the reading began, Kwon Min-jae, too, forgot his anxiety and threw himself into delivering his lines. Yoon Jae-i turned his pages, tuning in to the rhythms of the other actors around him.

Well, isn't this... exquisite.

He'd agreed to the role based on the character synopsis alone, but the finished script had turned out to hold parts that mirrored him more than he'd expected.

The role Yoon Jae-i would play was a soldier who had taken part in the evacuation operation for the Antarctic research team, endured some manner of incident, and survived it alone. He had reported what happened in Antarctica, but the higher-ups, intent on burying the affair, pinned the deaths of his squad on him — he was drummed out of the service in disgrace.

"You're going back to Antarctica?"

"We have a suitable candidate."

The scene shifted, and the assistant director narrated the stage directions.

"Yeongdo, mid-workout on a pull-up bar bolted to the ceiling, hears a knock and opens the front door."

"Captain Jin. It's been a while."

Choo Young-mi delivered her line, and Yoon Jae-i opened his mouth.

"...What brings you here, ma'am?"

On paper, the line was nothing special. But he gave it the heavy, desiccated weight of a discharged soldier perfectly — a single sentence that carried a whole history inside it. The reading room went cold and quiet, every head in the room lifted.

Wow. That's good.

The director gave a small nod, and one of the mid-career actors stole a glance at Yoon Jae-i before returning to his script. Meanwhile the assistant director read the next stage direction, and the exchange between Choo Young-mi and Yoon Jae-i began in earnest.

"You were quick to discard the truth for the sake of the nation, and now you've come crawling back to pick it up again?"

"We're in something of a hurry."

"How convenient for you."

"Captain Jin. How many times have you woken up in an emergency room now? Doesn't it get tiresome?"

Jin Yeong-do was tormented by the trauma of being the only one to survive, and he'd attempted suicide several times, failing each time. This was the part where Yoon Jae-i felt he resembled his character, Jin Yeong-do.

"If you're going to die anyway, why not find a better spot for it? Something less lonely than a dead-end hole like this—"

As the assistant director read the direction, Yoon Jae-i lifted his eyes from the script and looked straight across at Choo Young-mi. Not a word of dialogue passed between them — only their eyes met — and yet it felt like sparks were flying.

She's really, really good...

It was just a table reading; she wasn't pushing herself anywhere near full force. And still she had the power to bend the whole room around her. Kwon Min-jae, watching from the seat beside him, slowly clenched his fist.

"Thank you for your hard work, everyone!"

The long reading came to an end, and the room broke up into departing clusters. Yoon Jae-i accepted the greetings of the senior actors while keeping one eye on the room. Kwon Min-jae still hadn't risen from his seat.

"You were wonderful."

"Thank you."

"See you again when we start shooting."

Yoon Jae-i watched Choo Young-mi's retreating back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with complicated eyes, then caught Baek Da-eun's gaze. Before long, the two of them slipped out after Kwon Min-jae, whose expression was anything but good.

"Something's wrong with you. I know it."

"What? Out of nowhere?"

"Talk. Fast. And why haven't you been answering your phone?"

While Baek Da-eun blocked Kwon Min-jae's path and pressed him, Yoon Jae-i said nothing and simply studied him.

He looks anxious. Restless. Cornered.

He clearly hadn't been sleeping — his eyes were bloodshot — and he seemed to have lost a little weight. Yoon Jae-i first steadied Kwon Min-jae's manager, who was hovering behind them, fretting. Then he cut straight to the point.

"Did you get into trouble?"

"It's not that."

"Or... is someone tormenting you?"

Kwon Min-jae froze and stared at him, stricken.

"So it is that."

"What? Which is it — trouble, or someone hounding you? Out with it."

"Well... it's..."

Kwon Min-jae had watched Yoon Jae-i's performance in The Garden of Evil and come away electrified. Not out of jealousy or spite, but a healthy hunger to improve.

I want to act like him.

He'd been building his craft since his child actor days, and yet he still felt like he came up short.

And then, somewhere in the middle of it all, the suspicious messages had begun. He'd ignored them at first, he said. It wasn't unheard of for someone to dig up your number and start texting you out of nowhere...

But this person, he said, was on a different level from anyone he'd ever dealt with before.

It started with photos of him at his neighborhood gym, sent to his phone. Now it was dead magpies laid out on the hood of his car — each escalation worse than the last.

"I heard there've been a lot of stalker cases in the industry lately..."

Yoon Jae-i stroked his jaw, thinking.

"Why are you only telling us about this now?"

"Because saying it out loud wouldn't change anything, would it?"

"I was worried when you went dark. You could've at least texted. Did you report it to the police?"

He had, he said. But he hadn't technically committed any clear crime yet, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the police told him this kind of obsessive behavior was something most celebrities dealt with — that he should just wait and see.

Besides, his agency was keeping quiet about it, too — terrified that word would get out and disrupt the shooting of a mega-production like Permafrost.

"No — none of that matters right now."

"Da-eun. Don't say anything to my manager, okay?"

Kwon Min-jae had figured that with the crank-in coming up, he only needed to endure it a little longer. But the situation kept worsening, and now he didn't know what to do.

"For now... I haven't been replying at all..."

"That part, you did right."

Yoon Jae-i, who had been listening to their exchange in silence, cut in.

"People like that only escalate the more attention you give them."

"Jay, what are you, a detective now?"

"I've dealt with something similar."

He'd once caught the relentless stalker who'd been shadowing Emma Stewart, and as it happened, he and Kwon Min-jae shared plenty of scenes together on this shoot. Now that he knew the situation, he couldn't just walk past it — it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would gnaw at him.

"I'll help."

A few days later, Permafrost officially cranked in. The place Yoon Jae-i arrived at was a massive studio draped floor to ceiling in green chroma-key for the CG shots.

"...I guess they don't hold the blessing ceremonies anymore, these days."

"They don't. Though I hear directors of the old school still do it..."

Hold on — 'these days'? You talk like you've been through one. Baek Da-eun felt a flicker of something odd, but let it slide. Solving the problem of her closest friend came first.

"How exactly are you planning to help Minjae?"

"We find the person behind it."

That non-answer made Baek Da-eun's brow furrow.

"I'm going to need more than that."

"I went through every single text Minjae received, start to finish."

"And?"

"Whoever it is — they're thorough. Painstakingly so."

Once he'd gotten Kwon Min-jae's cooperation, Yoon Jae-i had combed through every message and letter he'd received. He hunted for the peculiarities in the phrasing to sketch a personality profile, and cross-referenced the times the photos were sent.

"My best ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guess is that it's someone already working in this industry. They could have applied to the set as low-level crew, for one. Or honestly, with this many people around, I doubt anyone would notice one extra body slipping in."

"It's true that security on our set isn't exactly airtight."

The production was just getting underway, and everything was still in disarray.

"But there are hundreds of staff on this movie. How are you going to single out one suspicious person?"

"I can do it."

Skepticism hadn't left Baek Da-eun's eyes. She didn't say it out loud, but the silent question was plain enough — how, exactly? — so Yoon Jae-i answered in his flattest tone.

"It's a habit. Reading people."

You can really do that?

"Apparently so."

"Then you've memorized every last crew member from every production you've ever worked on?"

"Yes."

"Don't tell me... you're still doing it?"

It was, simply, a compulsion. Knowing his surroundings to a certain degree — and keeping them under his control — was the only way he could prepare against his enemies. Yoon Jae-i raised an arm and pointed across the studio.

"That's Mr. Choi Hyung-woo over there, lighting team. Kim Yong-ju, props. The woman who just walked past is Choo Young-mi-sunbaenim's stylist."

"Whoa..."

"This set has five entrances total, three of them emergency exits. The fire-safety provisions are passable, and—"

"Excuse me?"

Baek Da-eun could only gape up at him, utterly flabbergasted.