Idol Drama?
An idol drama?
“A little.”
“I think it'd be great if you taught me more, hyung.”
Yoon Do-jun's eyes sparkled, but honestly... Jay had never really built his performances out of some teachable method.
[Hyung, why did you act that way in that scene?]
[Because the character obviously would.]
[Okay, but how? Why?]
He'd tried explaining it a few times before, only to be told he sounded like some cryptic rice-delivery uncle. Apparently Do-jun hadn't given up, though.
In the end, Jay had to promise to sit down with him again later — partly because his resolve had crumbled after Do-jun went and planned his birthday party.
“Jay!”
“Seo-ah noonim. Aren't you busy with your shoot?”
“I had some free time, so I came. Here — a present.”
“You really didn't have to...”
Park Seo-ah, who had shared the screen with him in Along Along, was there to greet him after so long. And since Seo-ah had shown up, Kim Hyun-jun seemed to have tagged along as well... The lineup of faces gathering around him was downright glamorous.
There were bodyguards from Wings Company, too. Practically everyone he'd built connections with over months of filming had come.
“Jay. Happy birthday.”
“You came too, hyung?”
“Of course I did.”
Moon Chang-min let out a hearty eucchya and slung an arm over Yoon Jay's shoulder. With a full fifteen centimeters of height between them, the sight was absurd — and Kwon Min-jae burst out laughing the moment he saw it.
“Hyung, you look like a shirt that got hung on the wrong rack.”
“What was that?”
Wait — his brothers knew this man too? The question answered itself soon enough.
“I didn't invite the actors.”
“CEO-nim.”
“It's a birthday party. The more people, the better.”
“Thank you.”
Actors like Kwon Min-jae who had recently joined Astra were there, and the staff had turned out in full force as well.
And so Yoon Jay, as the guest of honor, drifted from table to table, trading words with one person after another.
“Alright, everyone! One moment, please!”
“Let's raise a toast!”
“Hyung! A few words!”
It was Han Jin-woo and Kwak Do-hyun who corralled the crowd. Succumbing to their relentless prodding, Yoon Jay climbed onto his chair and accepted a glass.
“Hmm... honestly, this is the first birthday I've ever had with this many people.”
“Really?”
The people around him reacted as if that were unthinkable. Yoon Jay had never lacked for company, and with a face and frame like his, he'd surely cut a striking figure back in his school days — the athletic type straight out of a teen movie.
“Oh no — don't tell me gatherings like this make you uncomfortable?”
“Did we barge in without reading the room?”
“No. It's nothing like that.”
Yoon Jay waved his hands in dismissal. And in that instant, a dry, desolate landscape spread out before his eyes.
[Ten, isn't today your birthday?]
[What's so special about a birthday.]
[A precious day that only comes once a year — we can't let you spend it like this!]
Familiar faces had swarmed around him back then, bustling about to celebrate his birthday.
[Where the hell did you even get German beer?]
[There's always a way.]
His old comrades grinned impishly, cracked the beers open, and poured them over Yoon Jay's head. Then they plopped a clumsy, lopsided party cone on top of him — some half-baked thing they'd thrown together from who knew what. They sang happy birthday and toasted him.
[Happy birthday.]
[Thanks.]
Among those congratulating him had been Brian, who'd only recently been laid to rest in a grand funeral — and Isaac and Stefan as well.
His chest rippled. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again the desolate landscape was gone; there were only the many people waiting for him to speak.
This was reality.
“Birthdays like this are nice. Thank you all for coming.”
The words were brief and matter-of-fact, but the feeling buried inside them showed through all the same, and the people around him softened into warm smiles.
“Let's drink!”
Even as the fallen comrades stared at him from among the crowd, wearing their gruesome, mutilated shapes, Yoon Jay ignored them and lifted his glass high.
Once the birthday passed, awards season arrived in a blink.
Yoon Jay had spent the year busy with one drama, a variety show, and two films, but only Crown had actually made it to air.
He hadn't landed in any nominated category, but as the previous year's winner he'd been invited to present at a string of award ceremonies.
The various controversies around his past had quieted down, soon buried beneath other headlines. He'd issued no official statement — and ironically, that silence only lent credibility to the public's speculation.
[I don't think I need to keep addressing this.]
[Honestly, that's what I've been thinking too.]
Managing Director Kwak agreed with Yoon Jay's declaration.
What had already exploded couldn't be stuffed back in. The journalists had been firmly handled by Lee Seo-won, so they wouldn't touch the subject, and any offers that came in riding on the old story could simply be turned away.
The 'you're all basically right, so think whatever you want' strategy.
After that, he'd committed to appearing in Soldiers K, and even filmed an episode of the agency's own content visiting a shooting range.
“Hello, sunbaenim.”
“Huh? Ah — first time seeing each other since the wrap party, right?”
“Yes. Have you been well?”
On his way home after presenting an award, he ran into Im Ji-hwan — the man playing the young politician in Permafrost.
Their shooting schedules had never overlapped, so they hadn't crossed paths on set, but Jay remembered him looking after his junior reasonably well during the script reading and the wrap party.
Now, though, the man's manner had shifted in a subtle way.
“Junior, how about a word of advice?”
Amid nothing but the usual perfunctory pleasantries, Im Ji-hwan heaved a deep sigh and said:
“Don't work too hard.”
Yoon Jay didn't follow, and his brow creased slightly. Im Ji-hwan thumped him on the shoulder. The veteran's patronizing little pats were quietly irritating.
“I don't have much road left. So until then, let me coast a little. Got it?”
“......”
“I trust you understand exactly what I mean?”
Yoon Jay watched Im Ji-hwan's retreating back as the man brushed past him. Was this what Kwon Min-jae had called being kept in check?
He does look young for his age, I suppose.
As a rule, a male actor's fee started dropping once he hit his forties. A handful of exceptions existed, but Im Ji-hwan wasn't one of them, and he was no Hallyu-leading star either.
He maintained himself well enough that he still landed a fair number of thirty-something roles — a name in the lineage of handsome leading men — yet lately his casting offers had faltered.
Im Ji-hwan had decided that was Yoon Jay's fault.
Yoon Jay murmured at the man's shrinking back, far down the corridor.
“...Thanks for the advice.”
Not that he had any intention of following it.
The fact that the man was warning him this openly meant his nerves were burning. Honestly — that was Jay's problem, not his.
“Jay-ssi, care to give this a read?”
“A new synopsis?”
“It came in a while ago, but the synopsis got revised recently and it's actually gotten pretty good.”
One phrase in the proposal Kwak Do-hyun handed over jumped out at Yoon Jay.
An idol drama?
From what he'd heard, the production side had specifically requested Yoon Jay by name. The lead role in a genre like that — could it possibly be...
“Me, in an idol drama...? The age range doesn't fit.”
“Honestly, it's not a stretch. You'd be surprised how well Jay-ssi pulls off roles in his twenties.”
Even while on hiatus over his past, Yoon Jay hadn't exactly been idle at home. He'd worked through his pre-booked advertising schedules and taken part in producing the agency's fan content and official merchandise.
Shooting next year's calendar and photocards, he'd tried out a wide range of stylings — and stumbled onto an unexpected asset.
[Wow, with his hair down he looks SO young.]
[And when he shaves it all off he reads older, right?]
[Not just handsome — quietly a man of a thousand faces.]
Yoon Jay's strikingly handsome face came with personality to spare, but depending on the styling, his whole aura could flip on a dime.
For an actor, that was a genuinely valuable trait.
But an idol... well. Yoon Jay simply could not picture himself singing and dancing on a stage.
A new transformation as an actor — sure, that he could manage. But a man as long in the tooth as he was, suited to being an idol? Please.
“You'd just be taking one meeting. It's not like you'd become an idol, Jay-ssi.”
“That's a relief.”
Though, honestly, he suspected it would suit him in its own way... Kwak Do-hyun smiled. Before the script revisions, there had genuinely been an idol-role offer on the table.
Apparently, every time his twin brothers' group made a comeback, Yoon Jay had joined their dance challenges, and the footage of him picking up the choreography with ease had burned itself into the producers' memories.
But with the script overhauled from top to bottom, the offer had come in as an entirely different role.
“One of the supporting roles being floated? There's talk of your brother for it. Do-jun.”
“Really?”
“The way they talk about him, you'd think he'd already pressed his seal on the contract.”
So that's why he's been so suddenly interested in acting lately... Yoon Jay unfolded the synopsis he'd been about to set aside.
“Has he said anything to you about it?”
“That's work business. A younger brother doesn't owe his older brother a full briefing, does he?”
Kwak Do-hyun gave him a look of mild surprise.
It was well known across every media outlet that Yoon Jay and his brothers were exceptionally close — it had been conspicuous even at the birthday party, where the twins clearly leaned on him heavily.
“If he wants to tell me himself, I'll hear it then.”
So he'd assumed they were nothing but affectionate brothers — but on this front, the man kept the line drawn firm. Kwak Do-hyun let out a short, appreciative hoh.
“Anyway — the roles in this one are all current or former idols, and some of them belong to groups as famous as Do-jun, so the investment's already moving fast. Money's coming in, which means they really do intend to make it.”
“I see.”
“But apparently they still haven't landed the 'real actor' who's supposed to anchor the whole show.”
And that's the hard part, is it. As Kwak talked, Yoon Jay skimmed rapidly through the character synopses and the side-by-side script for episode one.
Not bad at all.
The characters themselves were charming, and the relationships had real texture. Most actors, he suspected, were skimming past it without a proper read because of the words 'idol drama' attached to it.
Yoon Jay, too, had only given the script a fair look because Do-jun was in the running.
I'll have to watch that from now on.
Filtering by genre and discarding scripts without ever examining what was actually inside — that was a habit worth breaking.
“The truth is, idol-themed dramas have historically never pulled decent ratings. A lot of them sit in the zero-percent range — too low to even register in the aggregate.”
“Hence the OTT release.”
“Right. Sounds like a strategy aimed at overseas audiences.”
Chances were the OTT release wasn't purely strategic — a simple idol drama would have struggled to land a network slot anyway.
Having finished reading, Yoon Jay closed the binder and folded his hands together.
“You chose this for a reason, didn't you, Director-nim?”
Yoon Jay had never been the sort of actor to obsess over ratings. He simply wanted to act, full stop. But the agency surely saw things differently — why recommend a drama with conditions this grim?
“I had my own prejudices about idol dramas, I'll admit. But once you crack it open, the characters are surprisingly solid.”
“They are. Reading it, it does seem like a drama that's found its audience with real precision.”
It hadn't shoved a romance in for the sake of it, and the message carried by the synopsis was a good one.
“Don't tell me — you've already read the whole thing?”
“Yes. The role that came in for me was CEO Seo Geonwoo, right?”
“That's the one.”
He'd seemed to be flipping through it so casually — when had he found time for a close reading? Kwak Do-hyun studied Yoon Jay with something like wonder, though knowing the man's past, it probably couldn't be understood through ordinary logic.
“If I take this, the company won't mind?”
“The CEO's reaction was basically, 'Our Jay can do whatever he wants,' so...”
“Ahh...”
He had always been fairly attentive where Yoon Jay was concerned, but ever since Jay had revealed himself as Yoon Jae-hee, the man's care had tipped into outright doting. Frankly, it bordered on gushing.
“And above all... wouldn't you like to work in the same production as your brother?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
Yoon Jay nodded with a quiet smile.
Solving personal matters through work had its own importance, but when would an opportunity like this come around again — the chance to film alongside his brother?
“Between Nana, our CEO, and everything else — we're all expecting Jay-ssi's films to land very well next year.”
Lee Seo-won had attended the industry premiere of Intermission as an investor, and even in its unfinished state, he'd been seized by the premonition that the film would do great things.
[Kwak... something tells me next year's going to be another monster hit.]
It was precisely this instinct that had let Lee Seo-won widen his influence as one of the industry's hidden heavyweights. If Lee Seo-won felt this certain, it would succeed — one hundred percent.
“After that, there probably won't be room to take on a project like this even if you want to.”
Granted, with Lee Seo-won and Cho Youkyeong backing him so actively, he'd likely still be able to do what he pleased.
But setting them aside, Yoon Jay's reputation and the brand value he carried weren't built simply by choosing whatever projects he felt like.
There were investors like CEO Hong Jiwoong and Rayna Yang to consider as well — names attached to him beyond just Lee Seo-won and Cho Youkyeong.
“So I thought it might be good to do what you want now, while you can. You and your brother are especially close, after all.”
In other words, this was a project recommended purely for Yoon Jay's sake. Pleased by the answer, Yoon Jay nodded.
“So — shall we do it?”
“Yes.”
“Then I'll set up the meeting.”