Nothing to Show Yet

But he hadn't shown them anything yet.

In truth, Yoon Jay wasn't particularly curious about why Go Sung-hyun was acting this way. At gatherings he'd attended through the kindness of senior colleagues, there had been the occasional rude person. But the industry was a narrow stage, so everyone kept up appearances and avoided open conflict — anyone with a grievance resorted to subtler tactics, burying their barbs in roundabout phrasing.

So that's when his feelings slipped — when he asked if I was all right.

Still, he hadn't expected the seasoned Kwon Min-jae to come out and say it so bluntly. Yoon Jay glanced over at Kwon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Min-jae, who was leaning against the wall.

"Your release for Intermission is coming up soon, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Apparently the stage reveal forced them to speed up the editing."

From what he'd heard, Director Shin Ji-won practically lived in the editing room these days, pouring himself into the cut. The director was desperate to release it quickly, and the distributor had already locked in an early schedule. Better still, aside from the final crowd scene, there were no complicated CG sequences to labor over. People were saying the film might set a record for the fastest post-production ever completed.

"He was in that shelved movie, by the way — as a supporting role."

"Oh, was he?"

Word was the film's release had been pushed back because it overlapped heavily with the recent prosecutor scandal. Movies took a long stretch of time between shooting, editing, and release, so when something unfortunate collided with that window — a social scandal, a global pandemic — it became a genuine headache.

"Seems that whole mess left a chip on his shoulder. He'd been sharpening his knives since before you even showed up."

Having Intermission take that slot was a good thing for everyone else, but to the staff and actors on that side, it must have felt like a bolt from the blue.

"Besides, Vice Chairwoman Cho said your movie's going to swallow all the screens. I guess word got around."

Cho Youkyeong was pushing Yoon Jay's return to a leading film role at the absolute top tier of the industry. The production side was delighted — but the prevailing reaction was less celebration than sheer bewilderment. She's doing all this for him?

So Go Sung-hyun's thinking ran: If it weren't for Intermission, my movie could have received all of that. The irony was that it was Yoon Jay who had set all of it in motion — but there was no way for him to know that.

"I can understand it."

"And think about it — a total rookie fresh off debut landing his first film lead, and what if it's a hit? On top of that, he came from television? Reactions like that are only going to get worse. Especially since that man has done nothing but film ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from debut to this very day."

Hm. What did television have to do with it? Yoon Jay didn't quite follow.

"Ah, right — you wouldn't know."

Kwon Min-jae sometimes forgot that Yoon Jay hadn't spent as many years in the business as he had. Now that he had something to advise his otherwise-flawless friend about, a little thrill ran through him.

"It's less pronounced these days, but it used to be much worse. People splitting hairs between TV and film, sorting actors by where they debuted, ranking them like grades."

"Really? There's no end to this stuff."

"People who started in film from day one carry enormous pride — hit or no hit. Even a few years ago, remember what happened? An actor came to perform at an awards ceremony and half the room wouldn't even clap. It's that same mindset."

Variety entertainers weren't deemed worth a glance; actors crossing over from television were shunned outright. Kwon Min-jae ticked off the examples one by one on his fingers.

Come to think of it, Do-jun seemed to be getting interested in acting too.

He'd heard the offers were already pouring in. Yoon Jay listened quietly for a while before speaking.

"What about idols? Plenty of them juggle both careers these days, don't they?"

"It was noisy when they first started crossing over, sure. But honestly, nowadays it's surprisingly fine."

Apparently audiences were unexpectedly tolerant of idols. People regarded it as an entirely separate arena, and since idols brought serious capital and investors with them, the goodwill ran deep.

"It's kind of... like watching a cute puppy?"

"That would feel strange in its own way."

Kwon Min-jae gave Yoon Jay's shoulder a light thump. He'd wondered why on earth he was asking, and then it clicked — his younger siblings.

"At your siblings' level, they won't face any of that. Anyway — you know what Moon Hye-rin told me? She was my co-lead in my first film. Want to hear what she overheard on set?"

"What?"

'He came from television, so he must not know his way around a film set.'

Yoon Jay's brow creased. Moon Hye-rin had debuted in television herself — and was now one of the most respected actresses in Korean film.

"Anyway, that mindset never fully died out. Look at The Child — still treated like the bible of this industry. Every time people start to forget, it resurfaces."

"Ah... right."

It was a little awkward, hearing all this in front of the man himself.

"My bet is that plenty of people over there will change their tune the moment your movie opens. This is just preemptive fence-building."

"Honestly. What a waste of energy."

Yoon Jay snorted. Anyone whose attitude could be swayed by such things wasn't worth his time anyway.

"As for Go Sung-hyun — he can't compete with you on popularity, looks, or physicality, so he was trying to win on years since debut."

"Thanks for cutting him off earlier, by the way."

"Don't mention it. You've earned a few favors from me anyway."

"You don't owe me anything. It wasn't any trouble."

"Well, considering where you came from, I suppose a stalker or two was hardly more than gum on your shoe."

Here was the logic of it: a cute junior who'd climbed up from television and been looked down upon — what if that junior turned out to have real artistry, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in a film with both critical and commercial appeal, and acted brilliantly? In that instant, he stopped being a junior and became a competitor who might steal the bread right out of your mouth.

Some people would break into a cold sweat depending on the size of the vessel in question. Others would acknowledge it, burn with healthy competitive spirit, or come fawning to flaunt their connections.

But I haven't shown them anything yet.

He'd anticipated the fencing would come eventually. What he genuinely couldn't wrap his head around was that he hadn't yet shown them anything. Neither Permafrost nor Intermission had even premiered. What exactly were they so worked up about?

Reading the expression on his face, Kwon Min-jae let out a soft laugh.

"You're a brilliant actor. Brilliant. And you came out of debut like a syndrome — the talk is already going around that you might hit a home run at the box office too."

The trigger for all this wariness had been the release ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of The Garden of Evil.

Moon Chang-min was a famous theater-company alum who'd secured both acting credentials and box-office success. Yoon Jay's performance opposite him hadn't been overshadowed — if anything, there were scenes where he'd utterly dominated. And then that very Moon Chang-min had praised Yoon Jay behind closed doors, and directors had taken notice. As far as Go Sung-hyun was concerned, someone was carving slices out of his pie.

There were plenty of other reasons too. Like the heavyweight investor Yoon Jay had already secured, for one.

"Did I put too much on your plate?"

"Not really? I'm fine."

Yoon Jay's expression was as placid as ever. Kwon Min-jae exhaled an awkward laugh.

"Still, it's absurd. Who does he think he is, worrying about my livelihood? He should mind his own bowl."

And so Go Sung-hyun had tried to steamroll Yoon Jay with seniority, and had even prodded at Kwon Min-jae — all under the guise of concern.

"Then what that man said earlier..."

Yoon Jay let the sentence trail off, watching Kwon Min-jae's reaction while pretending not to care. Kwon Min-jae raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Guilty. Honestly, you do weigh on my mind. You and I are the same age bracket, for one. We both get filed under the 'handsome' column. Our roles are bound to overlap."

"Except I'm a bit better looking, I'd say."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I'm also the taller one."

"Get over here."

Yoon Jay taunted him by standing back-to-back with Kwon Min-jae, measuring their heights. Kwon Min-jae reached to grab him as he darted away — then froze.

Wait, isn't this the first time he's ever joked around like this?

It felt like the wall between them had come down considerably since that first meeting. Yoon Jay was his same age, discreet, and had even helped him personally — and with that thought, a pleasant warmth spread across Kwon Min-jae's face.

Yoon Jay smiled back. It must weigh on him plenty, yet Kwon Min-jae acknowledged it cleanly and treated him exactly the same as before. That was why.

"Take it with a grain of salt, since I might just be planting my own prejudice — but people like that do exist."

"Every group of people has them, apparently."

"Something like this happened to you before, didn't it? Your face just darkened."

"In the military."

That place was the bottom of the barrel, where no one needed to manage their image, so it had been worse. So much worse that people had cracked jokes about whether he'd had to service his commanding officer. The moment the thought surfaced, Yoon Jay's features twisted hard.

"What on earth did they do to you... Anyway — if someone you've gotten along with fine ever turns on you someday, don't be disappointed. Just assume it's for reasons like these."

"Thank you for the advice, sunbae."

"Mm."

Yoon Jay bowed his head slightly; Kwon Min-jae accepted it with a theatrical flourish of haughtiness.

In truth, if seniority were measured by career, Yoon Jae-hee ranked higher. Which was exactly what weighed on Kwon Min-jae's conscience. He would have to tell this man the truth one day, before he found out some other way...

"What were you two talking about for so long?"

"There you are."

"Whoa, hey. Why'd you two slip out? Without you around, he's insufferable to deal with."

"Are we your friendship shield or something?"

"Yep."

Baek Da-eun pulled a face of utter disgust. She'd overheard the backbiting disguised as advice that had been directed at Yoon Jay.

"Listen — Go Sung-hyun, Joo Dong-hyuk, Kim Ji-ho. If you end up in projects with those three, don't get chummy. They're a nasty crowd."

"Yeah. I didn't like them either."

"See, you've got a good eye for people after all."

The three of them drifted in and out of the main room for a long while. Yoon Jay slipped out alongside the other two when it was time for them to head home.

The moment he stepped into his own house — silent, sterile, uselessly vast — a chill crept over him.

My head aches again.

Somewhere, it sounded as if a snake were hissing low and close.

He wasn't halting his career — he was simply holding off on new work until the buzz around him died down. The commitments already on the calendar could not be canceled.

True to his Rising Star billing, Yoon Jay had filmed a string of commercials, and a fan-signing event scheduled long in advance was now upon him.

"Hello."

"Ah, hello! Was the trip over all right?"

"Yes."

The fan-signing was hosted by a major online shopping mall, and one of the event company's staff kept sneaking glances at Yoon Jay.

God, he's ridiculously good-looking.

Since they were indoors, he wore a light-colored shirt with cotton trousers — and the outfit showed off his frame to devastating effect. The staff member's cautious glances gradually turned openly appreciative. Yoon Jay did his best to ignore it, wondering idly if this person, too, was one of those curious about the truth of his military past.

"...Don't tell me all of these people came to see me?"

"They did."

"Is the crowd control going to be all right?"

The crowd already thronged and buzzed, and Yoon Jay instinctively swept his eyes across every direction — a habit. The staff member chuckled.

"Is that a occupational hazard or something?"

"Ah — my apologies."

Hadn't he just acted as though he suspected the company of running an unsafe event? But the other man didn't seem the least bit offended.

"No, no — we're keeping an eye on things ourselves, but the more attention the talent pays to it, the better."

"If things get overheated later on, could you rein the crowd in for me? I doubt anyone will listen to what I ask..."

That much is easy enough. Yoon Jay nodded.

"Yes! The advertising model for Pieora, Yoon Jay, is finally making his entrance!"

"Kyaaaaa!"

"Wow."

As he stepped onto the stage, Yoon Jay let out a short breath of amazement at the sight. The space was packed solid with people — every balcony railing up to the fourth floor brimming with faces. His eyes glittered as they moved over the crowd.

And so the fan-signing began.

"Oppa, could you write this for me?"

"Of course. Thank you for coming out."

Handling fans was easy — he'd stood in as a personal bodyguard for Yoon Do-jun and Yoon Do-hwa's fan-signing events before, so he knew the terrain. He took the flower wreath a fan handed him, set it on his head, and struck a pose.

"Um — could you sign this too?"

"...Do I really suit this?"

Grant one request and another arrived: a pink princess tiara fit for a small child, matching earrings, and a magic wand. He paused for a moment, wondering whether there was truly any market for a grown man wearing such a thing — but putting it on took no time at all.

"How do I look?"

"It suits you perfectly!"

The fans cackled with delight, so apparently it worked. Yoon Jay posed for the cameras, and when he made a show of brandishing the magic wand for good measure, the sound of shutters rained down like a sudden downpour.

And so he met countless fans up close, and received their affection in return.

Plenty of offers had come in from major cosmetics conglomerates, but he'd deliberately chosen a smaller company, and there was a reason for it. Pieora hired many of its workers from vulnerable and marginalized communities, and was generous with donations and social contributions. Even for an event like this, they had reserved spaces in advance for fans from those communities.

It reminded him of Park Dong-hwa from The Child — and it seemed a good look to cultivate, besides.

Would you happen to be comfortable with sign language?

The fan was so startled by Yoon Jay's fluent signing that they answered in kind. By the time their turn ended, Yoon Jay could see the moisture welling in the other's eyes. There had even been someone who came in a wheelchair.

They endured all that discomfort just to see me...

For no particular reason, his heart felt light.

Once the scheduled event ended and he was heading back to the car, a handful of reporters gave chase.

"Mr. Jay! Just a moment! About the photos taken in the States — do you have any comment—"

"No comment."

Han Jin-woo answered in his stead and hustled Yoon Jay into the car. Sliding into the driver's seat and buckling his seatbelt, Han Jin-woo muttered under his breath.

"Wow. Still at it, huh."

Tell me about it. Yoon Jay let out a long sigh.