Still Something to Talk About
"I told you, there's still something to talk about."
Because Yoon Jae-i was drifting for a moment, staring at the warrior who might as well have been his own brother, something had slipped past him. This was a national hero's funeral — too many watching eyes for the situation to be kept entirely under control.
Besides, he had never been very good at taking an objective look at himself. A handsome long-haired Asian man standing in the background with a face full of story — anyone walking past would glance at him at least once.
What Yoon Jay didn't know was that the funeral had also been live-streamed on MyTube. And among K-pop fans, he was fairly well known. Yoon Do-jun and Yoon Do-hwa's groups toured the world actively and at massive scale — their groups were easily counted among the top five most popular.
Anyone following the twins knew all about the "hot" older brother they constantly posted about and bragged about on social media. And with Korean content surging in global popularity, public interest in him had jumped considerably of late. In particular, Soldiers K's expansion onto global OTT platforms had introduced some people to Yoon Jay for the first time.
"There hasn't been any official response yet?"
(No, nothing. It's not like it's bad news or anything... but honestly I've been getting so many calls to confirm things that I just wanted to check with you directly, hyung.)
Sorry about that. The brief call had jolted him awake, and Yoon Jay did the time-difference math before sitting up. It would still be around one in the morning back in Korea...
(So... what exactly is going on?)
"Hmm... I worked with him, back in the day."
(Whoa, seriously? Then the medal...)
"It's nothing, really. Nothing special. I'll tell you the details when I'm back."
Han Jin-woo had been fielding calls from all over ever since Yoon Jay's photograph went public. Even Park Chul-woo, the CEO of Wings Company, was asking whether it was true. If a simple road manager was getting this volume of calls, the agency itself was probably in full meltdown.
(N-no, it's fine...)
He had already dropped a bombshell before the departure by revealing that Yoon Jay was actually Yoon Jae-hee — and before that had even been smoothed over, a brand-new past had surfaced. Han Jin-woo swallowed the questions burning on his tongue, and Yoon Jay noticed it.
"There are some things I couldn't tell you even if you asked. The media... is there any way we can just play dumb and let it pass?"
(Well, sure, we can ignore the calls and look the other way... except it sounds like your flight home's already been leaked.)
"...How did that happen?"
He'd gone out quiet as could be, so why this on the way back? As it turned out, someone had apparently dug up his real name from the uniform he wore during his firefighter days. Persistent, weren't they.
(A lot of reporters are already saying they'll stake out the airport. We can tell them not to, but you know how they are.)
The airport... that's a headache. Yoon Jay frowned. A life in show business meant you could never afford to ignore your relationship with the press. Plenty of coverage was favorable, but get on their bad side and they'd seize on any flimsy pretext to flood the feed with hit pieces — and brush them off, and they were bound to take it personally.
Honestly, Yoon Jay didn't care much about that sort of thing himself. But his younger siblings and the fans seemed to worry plenty. Back when the "stripper controversy" blew up, the fan cafe had been full of posts showing just how much emotional anguish they'd gone through — and how much physical legwork too, spam-blocking malicious comments and scrubbing associated search terms.
I don't like that part.
He was particular about his fans. Back in his Yoon Jae-hee days, he'd been young, and resentment and jealousy had drowned out any goodwill — he'd never expected fans in any real number, so why bother hoping. But now was different. Having people who liked you unconditionally filled something up inside you. He hated the idea of letting any of them down.
"Hold on a second — let me make a call to someone I know."
(Ah — of course!)
Yoon Jay hung up on Han Jin-woo and dialed John Doe's personal number.
"John, are you busy?"
(Not at all. What can I do for you?)
"My photo's all over Korea. Sounds like the reporters have already caught the scent and are gathering at Incheon Airport."
(Ahh. So it's an inconvenient situation, is what you're telling me.)
John Doe recalled what Yoon Jay was normally like — a man who, no matter how honorable his achievements, kept fame at arm's length.Granted, it was a bit of a contradiction for a man with his past to be acting again, but clearly it was the craft itself, not the celebrity, that drew him.
"Yes. Is there any way around this?"
(Don't worry about a thing. What's a medal for if not this? You're entitled to Department of Defense aircraft. The relevant paperwork... I'll leave it at your door in twenty minutes.)
"Thank you."
With that settled, Yoon Jay sent Han Jin-woo a message saying he'd be arriving at Osan instead, so the flight ticket could be cancelled — and not to worry.
(Though I doubt Korea's going to be the only place in an uproar over this.)
"What do you mean by that?"
(I told you before, didn't I? If the operation succeeded, your existence could come to light.)
The operation to eliminate LIS's supreme leader had an official codename, but among the operators it was simply called For Ten — until the unofficial name practically became the official one. And in the process of looking back at the war against LIS, his callsign would surely have been mentioned too.
Sounds like this has grown bigger than I anticipated...
With so many political threads tangled up in it, the government had deliberately propped up LIS-related operatives as national heroes — and Yoon Jay was one of them, so his name could well have surfaced without anyone intending it.
(Our side will probably start paying attention as well.)
"Haah..."
Yoon Jay packed his sparse luggage. Under other circumstances he might have stayed a while longer to see how things played out, but this would have to wait for next time.
Once time passes, this kind of attention will die down too.
That was how these things went — buried sooner or later under the next big story.
While Yoon Jay was in the United States, his photograph had set the Korean internet communities ablaze. His fans had been starved for content to begin with — an actor's work only arrives once the project is actually released. Unlike a drama, which shoots fast and airs fast, he was filming two movies back to back, and his fans were bored out of their minds.
They'd been surviving on a rewatch of his entire filmography, rationing out SNS photos and Agitato performance footage — and then this bait had dropped out of nowhere.
At first, nobody believed it. No — "couldn't believe it" was the more accurate way to put it.
When a man turns up out of absolutely nowhere wearing something extraordinary around his neck, even non-fans sit up and take notice. The reporters, armed with flight information they'd dug up in advance, gathered at Incheon Airport.
"Senpai. Um... is it really okay for us to barge in like this, with no plan?"
"Of course it is."
"But..."
The rookie reporter fidgeted, glancing nervously at his senior.
A fair crowd of reporters had assembled at the airport — every one of them hoping to wring some kind of answer out of Yoon Jay.
"You've only been on the job two months, right?"
"Yes."
"Well, no wonder you're so timid."
The senior reporter clapped him heartily on the back, twice.
"What can you do about it, huh? Look, from here on out you're living in the entertainment industry — you've got to get along with us."
"I-is that so."
"Exactly. Cross us and things get ugly. You never know how a story's going to come out... Take that one before, what's-his-name — Im Ji-hwan. He passed around drinks to everyone before leaving, said 'take good care of my coverage,' remember?"
He wanted to say — that wasn't Im Ji-hwan, his manager did that — but held his tongue. The senior reporter was the type to bury any celebrity who rubbed him the wrong way in hit pieces, feeding his own ego on the sense of superiority it gave him. Frankly, not a good person.
"There he is."
The reporters watching the arrivals board raised their cameras. The passengers streaming out of the gate scowled at the sudden wall of press — but the reporters couldn't have cared less.
If we can just land a decent interview, this could be an exclusive scoop.
Come out, come out already...
Everyone knew what LIS was. Hadn't they staged a terror attack right here at Incheon Airport, throwing the whole country into chaos? And a member of the unit that dismantled that organization had turned out to be — a Korean celebrity? If it were just celebrity gossip it wouldn't stop at a column — it was eight o'clock news material. Even now, the crowd wasn't only entertainment reporters; the politics and society desks were out in force too.
"Is this really the right flight? Hey, rookie — grab anyone and check."
"Uh... okay."
The rookie stopped a passenger just clearing the gate and asked if he'd flown in from Washington. The man was annoyed, but nodded.
"He says it's the one?"
"Then where is he? Why isn't he out?"
"Not everyone's off the plane yet. Let's wait."
The reporters nearby murmured among themselves. But no matter how long they waited, no sign of Yoon Jay appeared.
"Should we call the agency?"
"You think they'd tell us? I heard their CEO personally called to warn us off."
"That CEO's a real riot. Who does he think he is, trampling on the public's right to know?"
"Hello? Yeah... what? He's already here?"
The murmuring reporters leaned in at the sound of one man's call.
"What? Share with the class!"
"They're saying Yoon Jay's already in Korea?"
"What?"
"Somebody saw him at a salon getting a haircut."
"Already? How?"
We came early to stake it out in case he took a different flight. When on earth did he land?
"Did he come through Gimpo?"
"There's no direct flight to Gimpo. And he wouldn't have routed through Japan."
"Then how in the world did he get here?"
"Who is this guy?"
Having thoroughly played the reporters for fools, Yoon Jay rode into Seoul in the car Han Jin-woo drove and got his bothersome hair shorn into something clean and cool.
"Whoa, my first time at an American military base."
"Sorry for the hassle."
"No, no! Wow... but seriously..."
Han Jin-woo dropped his voice to a whisper as the salon staff passed by. Yoon Jay couldn't help laughing at the sight.
"How's the CEO been holding up?"
"You have no idea. He'd zone out like his soul left his body, then catch sight of your trophy and smile and polish it."
"Ah... did he really?"
"Yes. You should've seen it, hyung... I've never seen him that wrecked."
Maybe it's just as well it came out now. Yoon Jay finished up his haircut and rose from the chair.
"Thank you."
"Of course! But... um, about that photo — what's the story there?"
"Hmm... check the broadcast later."
Truthfully, he had no intention of explaining it on a broadcast either. He'd just dodged the question.
Yoon Jay took a selfie with the hair designer who'd done such a fine job, then stepped out of the salon — and there stood Lee Seo-won.
"...CEO?"
"I came too, Jay. Must've been exhausting, after all that?"
Kwak Dohyun waved a hand as well. The Yoon Jae-hee bombshell was still unresolved, and now a whole new revelation had landed — the man had been dying of curiosity.
"Aren't you busy?"
"Anything to do with you comes before everything else, Jay."
Lee Seo-won was a young CEO in his early forties who kept himself in such good shape he could pass for thirty. Watching a man like that beam like a doting father somehow threw Yoon Jay off balance.
"American food's all so heavy. Shall we go get something spicy?"
"You know I can't handle spicy food."
"Oh, right. You really did grow up there your whole life. Hanu beef, then?"
Meet a celebrity, get treated to hanu beef. Han Jin-woo and Kwak Dohyun grinned ear to ear and led the way. And the moment they sat down at the restaurant, the whole table turned grave, as though they'd been summoned to a congressional hearing.
What is this atmosphere...
Yoon Jay looked at the four-seat table — all three of them crowded on the far side — and said:
"Jin-woo. You're supposed to sit on this side."
"Just you wait. We still have things to talk about, remember?"
"That's right. So — you can give us the detailed version, can't you?"
Ah. So it was about that, after all. Yoon Jay laughed, helpless.