Not 'Real Music'
"So... when do we get to ask our questions?"
"Oh!"
Yoon Jay had been the one to break the sudden silence, and Choi Sujin hastily lowered her hand from her mouth and pretended to study the application form. I have to keep it together. Don't let him see how good this is. But the corners of her mouth were already twitching, a giddy smile leaking out despite her best efforts.
Director Shin Ji-won was stunned in an entirely different way. That performance was something no amateur could produce — he'd assumed the man had played in bands for years or come out of a music program somewhere. Yet here was a complete unknown.
"Honestly speaking, Mr. Jay, you're far too good for our film."
"Thank you."
"Which means we'd have to bring our film up to your level. Are you all right with that?"
At Choi Sujin's question, Yoon Jay simply nodded.
"Yes. I've already discussed it with my agency, and I want to do this film, no matter what."
Wanting to try something new didn't make it any less heartfelt. Yoon Jay had watched performances until his eyes were bloodshot preparing for this audition, and he'd already done a full analysis of the character still hidden behind the veil.
"How did you find the screenplay?"
"I loved the parts where two geniuses with completely different temperaments watch each other and clash. The strange emotional line between them — jealousy and inferiority mixed with recognition — thinking about how I'd play that actually got me excited."
Intermission had two leads: a fallen musical genius and a born one.
The audition was only selecting the two leads — which role you'd take was something you learned only after passing. That was what made it so intriguing. Both roles were compelling in their own right.
"One last question, if I may."
"Yes, Director."
"That performance from the first round. How were you able to play that many instruments? That wasn't amateur skill, not even close."
"I have a good memory, that's all."
"A good memory alone doesn't get you there..."
Shin Ji-won murmured it under his breath. He had a vague suspicion that Yoon Jay was hiding something. Was the only way to learn the truth to just cast him?
What a strange man.
Shin Ji-won stared at Yoon Jay intently. Something about his air of mystery made him want to know more.
Originally I intended to give him the other role, but honestly... maybe this one suits him better.
Yoon Jay, reading the director's searching gaze, offered a hint of his own.
"If I may say one thing — what I did wasn't 'real music.'"
"I'm sorry? What do you mean by..."
"I see. Thank you for being honest with me."
And just like that, Yoon Jay's interview was over, leaving only Choi Sujin blinking at Shin Ji-won in confusion.
"Did you understand what that was supposed to mean?"
"Yep."
Not real music — it seemed to mean he'd simply been imitating someone. Objectively speaking, the skill was absurd, but somehow it made a strange kind of sense.
"I want to see more of this guy on set."
A face like that, with playing ability like that — if they failed to cast him over it, they'd be fools.
Is it true that geniuses just recognize each other?
Choi Sujin glanced at Shin Ji-won's pleased smile, then pulled up Yoon Jay's profile on a search engine and pored over it. A genuine jackpot had just walked in through their door on its own two feet.
Yoon Jay and Kang Hajun, who showed off their rookie chemistry in Baeksan, reunite on the big screen — leads of Intermission.
...Yoon Jay will play the leader of an indie band and a fallen musical genius. Word has it that the Intermission audition included a blind performance test, and that Yoon Jay stunned the panel with playing of a startlingly high caliber.
The moment news of Yoon Jay's casting broke, his fandom predictably went into meltdown, and the film and actor communities followed suit.
"Sujin, the contract came in from KE Entertainment."
"Wait, already?"
In truth, they'd been struggling to find a distributor. The market was in poor shape, and weren't they casting both leads through open auditions?
They'd expected ticket power to tank — the cast would be full of mid-tier rookies with no name recognition, or complete unknowns.
Wait, why are these terms... so good?
OTT platforms had made decent offers, but Shin Ji-won had insisted on a theatrical pre-release for the sake of the film's sound, no exceptions.
Most production companies would have brushed off such a demand, but the two of them weren't just a director and his studio — they were fiercely loyal partners, so they'd honored it.
Are we about to hit the jackpot here?
A successful film could rake in staggering money. That was exactly why fly-by-night studios chased it purely for profit.
And now KE Group — the company that owned the most cinema screens in the country — had extended its hand first.
Yoon Jay's ticket power had yet to be proven, since he had no theatrical release under his belt, but the prospect of securing that many screens felt very good indeed.
Is this Yoon Jay's doing too? That man?
The moment the casting news spread, several investors suddenly came forward with offers of additional funding. They'd screened and re-screened the offers for the sake of their existing investors, but even so, they'd secured a substantial extra production budget.
With the fresh capital, the film was still an indie by international standards — but in Korea, it had grown beyond anything an independent film usually reached.
With this money, all the sound equipment Shin Ji-won had asked for and the composer hire would come easily...
Wait, won't our director get completely steamrolled at this rate?
They'd taken money, so they owed good faith. A production company establishes the pecking order before filming begins.
During prep, the studio and investors hold the leverage — but once the cameras roll, the director is the absolute authority on set.
An actor like Yoon Jay, though — one who raises a film's prestige and drags investors and distributors in behind him — is a different animal. The director's standing can sink.
And of all people, it had to be Kwak Dohyun of all people running his side.
What's more, Kwak Dohyun — infamous in the industry for his cutthroat negotiating on behalf of his actors — was standing right behind Yoon Jay. Kwak Dohyun, who'd already smelled blood, had squeezed them dry wringing out one demand after another.
Surely the actor himself won't be like that too?
Rumor had it he was impeccably polite, but you never really know until you experience it firsthand. Choi Sujin dug through her contacts and called an industry friend.
"Long time no see. You been well?"
(Sujin? What on earth brings you calling me?)
"I was curious about something. You did Permafrost, right?"
(Yeah. Why?)
"Our film's lead is Yoon Jay."
A long, low whistle of admiration came through the receiver. Why is this person so excited about it?
(Come to think of it, you're producing Intermission, aren't you? Man, Choi Sujin just won the lottery.)
"This Yoon Jay guy. What's he like on set? Personality-wise, stuff like that."
(You think a rookie barely a year out from debut is going to throw his weight around on our set?)
True, she'd called the wrong person for that question. Permafrost was a big-budget picture packed with top actors. Yoon Jay had been a nobody among giants back then — even if he'd been insufferable, they'd have buried him.
(But setting that aside, he's genuinely a good person.)
"Yeah?"
(You know what the first thing he did when filming started was? He went around to every single one of our staff, greeted them one by one, and memorized their faces and names.)
"Wasn't the crew pretty big? He remembered all of them?"
(Every last one. And when he greets you and calls you by name, it's a strange feeling, let me tell you.)
"So he's the type with a great memory."
Choi Sujin remembered what Yoon Jay had said at the interview. No way. Really? But... for a performance like that to be mere memorization, his technique and phrasing had been far too polished.
(His acting goes without saying, and his condition seems to fluctuate a little, but nothing that actually affected the shoot.)
While filming Permafrost, Yoon Jay had collided with Jin Young-do — a man eerily similar to his own buried past — and with the cracks in the mask he'd worked so hard to keep hidden, and there had been moments when he simply blanked out.
The staff, unaware of any of this, had wondered if something was wrong with his condition, but it was never enough to become a nuisance.
"Again?"
(Hmm... you know about that intruder incident we had during the shoot, right?)
"I saw it. It was all over the news."
(This is a secret, but... the person who caught that intruder was Yoon Jay.)
"Seriously?"
Choi Sujin had just watched the video of Yoon Jay putting out a fire in Along Along. He put out fires, and now he was catching suspicious characters too?
"When did he even find the time to become a con artist?"
(I'm telling you, it's true.)
Wasn't it as if every situation bent itself around Yoon Jay? None of it was engineered — it was all coincidence. Did the man just have absurd luck?
(Like I said, he'd memorized the whole staff's faces. A staff member he'd never seen walked by wearing a name tag with a familiar name on it, and that's what tipped him off. So he caught him.)
"Whoa..."
(And get this — turns out the intruder was Kwon Min-jae's stalker. This one is a real secret.)
"A stalker?"
Yoon Jay had known nothing about it, but Kwon Min-jae had told the director and a few staff members the whole story of the incident exactly as it happened. Because he'd been sticking close to Baek Da-eun to catch the stalker, and he'd feared another dating rumor blowing up because of it.
In matters like these, the woman always came off worse, so out of consideration for Baek Da-eun — who'd helped him — he came clean with the truth: that disaster had nearly struck through no fault of hers.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you in advance."
"Don't be. The stalker's the sick one here. It's been rough on you all this time, hasn't it? Still — you have to tell me next time."
"Eh, what does it matter. Mr. Jay stopped it before anything happened."
"Huh. I had no idea there was a story like that behind it. Would be a bit distasteful to use it for promotion though, right?"
Those who heard the truth encouraged Kwon Min-jae. It was easy to be generous — after all, it was only because Yoon Jay had resolved the whole thing cleanly that anyone could laugh about it.
Having learned the full story over the phone, Choi Sujin let out a helpless laugh, utterly dumbfounded.
"I mean, is he a detective or an actor?"
(I'm telling you it's true. Anyway, the guy tried to set fire to the set, so it nearly turned into a real disaster.)
"A-an arson attempt too?"
(If anything ever happens on your set, who knows — maybe he'll solve that too.)
Yeah, sure, whatever. Better if nothing ever happens at all... Choi Sujin feigned indifference, but deep down she was quietly tempted.
(Anyway, he's not the type to give a director grief. He's more like a lucky charm — just look after him and you'll be fine?)
"I see... Well, anyway, thanks."
Meanwhile, Yoon Jay had gone looking for Yoon Dohwa, who had just happened to enter a break between group promotions, for vocal training.
Yoon Dohwa was Flava's main vocal, and having sung OSTs for any number of dramas, she could handle solo material without breaking a sweat.
"Oppa, are you sure you want to learn from me?"
"You sing beautifully."
"That's not... I'm not a professional vocal coach, you know."
"I love your singing. That's why I want to learn from you."
Flustered by the compliment, Yoon Dohwa fought to keep her expression composed, but there was no hiding the cheekbones threatening to split her face in two. Yoon Dojun had already needled her about it — apparently their older brother had tagged along to his band practice without her — so she'd been feeling a little sulky anyway.
"Then, shall we start with any song of your choosing?"
"Hmm..."
After a moment's hesitation, Yoon Jay sang a song he'd been listening to a lot lately. Yoon Dohwa knew it too. And she'd heard the rumors about the talent he carried.
He even nails the phrasing and the feel?
She'd had no idea his gift for imitation extended from instruments all the way to singing. And on top of that, he had raw endowment to spare. That voice... honestly, it made her jealous.
"Wow..."
"What, is it weird?"
"No, it's good? Oppa, your voice is straight-up cheating."
"Is it?"
"Low, but with this huge resonance, and the tone itself is just gorgeous."
"Don't lay it on that thick."
"But it's true..."
Yoon Dohwa studied Yoon Jay's face. He was growing his hair out for the film, she'd heard, with a slight perm planned on top of it — but with a face like that, even that experimental long-haired look would come off effortlessly.
"What kind of personality does the character you're playing have?"
"A fallen musical genius. Arrogant, feral — they said something like an untamed stray cat that won't be broken."
"Really? Then... how about trying to sing it a little like your voice is clawing at your own throat? Husky — let's see, maybe..."
Wouldn't this be the kind of song that fit that image? Yoon Dohwa played the track.
"Something like this."
Having listened to the whole song, Yoon Jay nodded.