The Truth Is, I'm Yoon Jae-hee
"The truth is, I'm Yoon Jae-hee."
Jay had now been in Korea for just over a year, and he considered himself fairly well versed in the local sensibilities. Could the relationship between a celebrity and his manager really be so different from a boss and his subordinate? Did anyone actually enjoy going out for drinks with their boss after the workday ended?
Did I do something to hurt his feelings?
To be fair, his bond with Han Jin-woo ran deeper than any of that. Jin-woo was diligent, and he was tight-lipped. Because Jay genuinely wanted to keep him around for the long haul, he treated him with a scrupulous formality — which, he realized, might well have read as drawing a line between them.
Then there were Kwon Min-jae and his manager, who bickered from time to time and yet looked for all the world like family. Against them, Jay couldn't help coming up short.
"Are you sure this place is okay?"
"Yes."
He had no schedule to worry about anyway, and the restaurant's interior was clean and unhurried — the perfect spot, where he didn't have to care whose eyes were on him.
"Jin-woo's here?"
"Hello, Auntie. This is my boss."
"Oh my, oh my, oh my!"
Plenty of regulars here addressed the owner as "Auntie" or "Unnie," so Jay hadn't thought twice about it — only to learn that she was, in fact, Jin-woo's real aunt.
"Is our Jin-woo actually doing his job right?"
"Auntie, come on. Why would you even say that?"
"He does wonderfully. If anything, I'm the one leaning on him."
"Really? Well, that's a relief."
The way she fussed over him, more tenderly than a parent would have, carried a certain undertone that Jay picked up on. Jin-woo must have a story of his own.
"Aren't you going to ask what that story is?"
"I was planning to wait until you felt like telling me."
"...That's exactly the problem with you, hyung."
Problem? What problem? Jay studied Jin-woo's eyes in silence. Jin-woo knew perfectly well it was a look pressing him for an answer.
"Are we strangers to each other? You can't even bring yourself to ask me one proper question. Or is it that you're just not curious about me?"
"That's not it."
He had kept his mouth shut for fear the topic was an uncomfortable one — and it could just as easily be taken for indifference. Jin-woo let out a sigh and spoke.
"My parents passed away when I was in middle school. I've been raised at my aunt's place ever since."
"That must have been rough."
"Still, I'm lucky I had my aunt."
From there, the drinks drifted into talk of family. Jay played along to a reasonable degree, quietly swapping his own glass for water at some point. He told Jin-woo to slow down, but the man wouldn't stop. Apparently today was a day he wanted to get drunk.
"Hyung."
"Yeah."
"I know you keep a lot of things hidden, hyung... and honestly, it stings."
"Like what?"
"Earlier, and right now too — aren't you just making me do all the talking about myself?"
Jin-woo, who had been silently tipping back his drink, lifted his head with a face flushed scarlet. There was a grave, resolute air about him, though his eyes had long since gone loose. Jay predicted the ride home was going to be a bit of a trial.
"After the way you thrashed me that time..."
"I really am sorry about that."
"I've heard 'sorry' more than enough."
"...Then what would you have me do?"
Around the agency, Jay was known as the Mystery Man, a figure of enigma — but it wasn't as though he had buried his past wholesale. He had flatly admitted, in his own words, that he carried trauma.
So Jin-woo had assumed he'd more or less overcome it. But after hearing about the incident where Jay had been subdued, and Park Chul-woo's account of things, he had gone so far as to look up a documentary.
"H-have you ever thought about getting treatment?"
"Treatment?"
"Please don't take this the wrong way... it's really not considered a flaw or anything these days."
"I know. I'm aware."
He had already tried it hundreds of times, but he nodded along — fine, I'll look into it. Judging by the state Jin-woo was in, he likely wouldn't remember any of this properly by tomorrow.
"Can I ask what exactly happened — what gave you the trauma?"
"That's..."
"No, never mind. You don't have to tell me."
Jin-woo flapped a hand, throwing out an "aw, come on."
"Chul-woo hyung..."
"Close with that hyung already, are you?"
"I asked him about a few things."
The slurring gave it away — he was already gone. Jay topped up Jin-woo's glass with water disguised as soju. Jin-woo recited the stories about retired soldiers he'd gleaned from Park Chul-woo, along with everything he'd dug out of the documentary.
"So you're afraid I'll lash out and hurt you again?"
"No, it's the opposite."
"The opposite?"
"I was worried something might happen to you, hyung."
At an answer he never saw coming, Jay fell silent. He knew perfectly well that he'd been blessed with good people in his life. Why do the good ones keep getting tangled up with me?
And that was exactly why he hated watching those people come to ruin in any form. Part of the reason he'd built walls around himself was the fear that what happened with the comrades he'd bled alongside in the Navy SEALs — or with Williams at the fire station — would happen all over again.
"You won't, though. Right, hyung?"
"...I'm working on it."
He couldn't promise. He still had nightmares tied to the past. His vision still went black at certain serpent-like sounds. He would simply have to keep trying.
"And?"
"And..."
Jay listened quietly as Jin-woo went on. He wasn't working alone. Jin-woo was a comrade working beside him — the field was simply different.
Jin-woo's figure, head bobbing as he failed to finish his sentences, looked precarious. At last the film cut out, and his head dropped toward the table.
It never hit with a thud. Jay's reflexes snapped out and caught his forehead first.
"Goodness. He's really far gone."
"Does Jin-woo usually drink this much?"
"No. He's not much of a drinker either."
With the aunt's help, Jay laid Jin-woo out across the chairs, then stared at nothing for a long while. Eventually he raised a glass of water, set it back down — then poured liquor into his own empty glass and drained it in one swallow.
For all that Jay looked composed on the surface, the inside of him was rotted through.
Sometimes his old comrades came to him in dreams. The man who had tortured him appeared. The carnage of his deployments appeared. As if that were all. The fire that swallowed Williams appeared, and so did his childhood as Yoon Jae-hee — the days that had ground him down.
"Hey, you crippled freak! Because of you, my mom keeps comparing me to you!"
"And they call you a genius? You're nothing special."
Not fond memories. It had been a stretch of time that was nothing short of a nightmare.
Which was why, even now, more than twenty years on, something always felt strange whenever talk of The Child and Yoon Jae-hee surfaced.
Was I really that remarkable? All I remember is enjoying myself.
The stories of people whose lives had been changed by The Child sounded like something out of a fantasy. There was Lee Seo-won, most famously, who adored the film to the point of obsession; staff members who had entered the film industry because of it; even senior actors who claimed it had inspired their craft.
It's bound to come out someday.
And so now and then, his conscience pricked at him. Especially when he crossed paths with Choo Young-mi during Permafrost — The Child had come up yet again over the casual meal they shared once filming wrapped.
"I'm part of the 'Child' generation. I saw it and decided, just like that, that I wanted to make films..."
"Sometimes I do wonder what our Jae-hee is up to these days. He must have grown up into a fine young man, hmm?"
But he wasn't ready to reveal it — not yet.
Because I'm still incomplete.
If it was going to come out at all, he wanted to throw off the mask he'd layered over himself and reveal the finished version. That was his compulsion, and his conviction.
After a long while of silent self-reproach, Jay's mouth opened. You know what, Jin-woo?
"The truth is, I'm Yoon Jae-hee."
There was no answer from the man slumped face-down. He already knew the film had cut — the words had simply slipped out on their own.
Look at me. What am I even doing?
Had he had a bit too much? Jay gave a wry chuckle and rose from his seat. He spared no praise for the food on his way out, and even endured a tug-of-war with the aunt, who flatly refused to take his money.
"Aigoo, I told you, you don't need to pay!"
"I'm paying today. Next time, the meal's on you."
The victor was Jay.
Jin-woo was dead to the world; all that remained was to take him home. The house Lee Seo-won had arranged for him was pointlessly spacious, with rooms to spare.
"Um... shall I help you carry him?"
"No, thank you. I'll be having Jin-woo sleep at my place, so please don't worry."
Jin-woo stood about 178 centimeters tall and was solidly built, yet Jay hoisted him up one-handed as if plucking a radish from the earth and settled him lightly against his shoulder. The aunt's jaw dropped.
In the car, Jay gazed out the window. The designated driver kept sneaking glances at him in the mirror, and it was starting to grate.
"...Excuse me."
"Yes?"
"I'm a fan."
"Thank you."
The driver who had spent the whole ride stealing looks asked for a handshake the moment he finished parking. Ah, so that's what that was. Jay signed an autograph for him and sent him on his way.
Then, midway through hauling Jin-woo out of the car, he noticed something and went still.
Stickers, cup holders, and the like — gathered one by one from the coffee trucks and snack supports fans had sent during filming — were piled high inside a paper bag. A deep smile settled on Jay's lips.
Jin-woo slept like the dead, but Jay rose at dawn and ran through his usual routine. He had just returned from an easy ten-kilometer run and was in the middle of his home workout when —
Jin-woo's phone, left in the guest room, rang. And rang. And rang.
Da-hyun? The marketing team leader?
He picked up in Jin-woo's stead. Lee Da-hyun's urgent voice burst through the receiver.
Lee Da-hyun: "Jin-woo! Why on earth aren't you answering your phone!?"
Jay: "Hello, Da-hyun."
Lee Da-hyun: "...Isn't this Han Jin-woo's phone?"
At the low, resonant voice so unlike Jin-woo's, Lee Da-hyun jolted upright. Even his voice is handsome — that would be... Jay-ssi!
Jay: "I had a drink with Jin-woo last night. He's still asleep."
Lee Da-hyun: "Ah..."
Jay: "Go ahead and tell me. It sounds like it concerns me."
Lee Da-hyun: "Well... you haven't been on the internet yet, have you?"
The internet? What now? Jay belatedly powered on his tablet — and stumbled upon photographs from a past he had never expected to surface.
"Oh..."
Well, this is new.
Social media these days was a marvel. A self-proclaimed former journalist running an exposé channel, blogs that manufactured rumors out of thin air and served them up as fact — such things thrived in the underbelly of the internet, and it was from them that the controversy ignited.
The photo showed a certain bar. Jay — dressed in a white t-shirt clinging to his frame and black suspender trousers, a bunny-ear headband perched on his head.
↳ Shocking how, exactly?
↳↳ Like... worked at some shady joint or something..
↳ Hold on — is this that guy?
↳↳ fr fr?
A handful of people who saw it threw the starter switch in the communities.
Reporter after reporter then relayed the exposé channel's claims into articles without so much as a fact-check, fanning the embers with sensational wording. Journalists on friendly terms with Astra called Lee Da-hyun to verify.
"Oh, come on, Reporter-nim. You actually believe that? Our Jay-ssi told us himself he's worked all sorts of part-time jobs. It's from a pub gig, that's all..."
"Reporter-nim, this is Lee Da-hyun of Astra. Please get a correction up right away saying that article is false."
Da-hyun handled it all with practiced grace and moved fast — but the controversy refused to die.
Having packed hangover soup for Jin-woo, Jay headed to the agency alone, ambling along at a leisurely pace.
"Jay-ssi. It's not that we don't believe you — we need to nail down the facts so we can rebut this precisely. So please don't take it the wrong way..."
"Sure. It is the kind of photo that invites misreading, I'll admit."
Kwak Dohyun had thrown in reassurance after reassurance, wary that Jay's mood might sour — but Jay answered with untroubled ease, as if none of it touched him at all.