The Third Eye
Kang Tae-san cleared away the console box, and just as he expected, a notification lit up on his phone.
From now on, you will experience the life of top star Yoon Si-on.
Until now, he had never triggered an experience while someone else was present. But he had taken this risk because he knew this might be his only chance to understand who Yoon Si-on truly was.
The duration of each experience varied, but in real time it usually lasted anywhere from three to ten minutes. In particular, the short cleanings he had done at fellow actress Song Yoo-na’s house and the shaman’s residence had barely registered any passage of time in reality. Perhaps because he hadn’t received those requests through the app, or simply because the cleaning area had been so small.
Tae-san let himself be pulled into Yoon Si-on’s life.
……
……
Yoon Si-on.
The son of Yoon Tae-pung, the defensive midfielder who had become a national icon after appearing in four World Cups. The only child of Cha Mi-kyung, the first Korean actress ever called a global star, who had won Best Actress at the Venice International Film Festival before she even turned twenty-one.
The marriage between two giants who had each dominated their own era naturally sent shockwaves through the public. Their son, Yoon Si-on, had quite literally been born with a diamond spoon in his mouth. At the time, people everywhere would say, “That kid will never have to worry about a thing in his life,” turning the child into casual conversation fodder at every gathering.
Of course, no life was ever exactly what it appeared to be on the surface. Contrary to the glittering image, the family never knew a moment of peace.
“Have you lost your mind? I barely covered up the last article with my own money. And now you’re out drinking with kids again?”
“Why are you making a scene first thing in the morning? I wasn’t drinking with them—I just set up the table for the kids.”
“You really expect me to believe that nonsense? If this is how it’s going to be, let’s get a divorce!”
“Divorce, divorce! Fine! Go ahead! You think I can’t do it? You’re the one who can’t!”
Yoon Si-on’s earliest memory was of his parents cursing each other and throwing things. He had only been about three, so the exact words had faded, but the same scene repeated itself so often afterward that the reason was easy to guess.
His father’s womanizing.
Unlike the beautiful Cha Mi-kyung, Yoon Tae-pung had been a pure talent. The elation he felt from his own achievements twisted into a warped defense mechanism—he proved his success by keeping many women by his side. Instinct told him he would never earn lifelong respect from his own wife, who was both skilled and stunning, so he turned instead to young, admiring women who looked up to him.
The longer Yoon Tae-pung stayed out, the more Cha Mi-kyung withered away inside the house.
Watching his parents like that left young Yoon Si-on with deep anxiety and wounds.
“Si-on, want to go kick the ball with Dad?”
“Yes! I’d love to!”
The only times his father showed him affection were during soccer. Naturally gifted with good genes, Yoon Si-on kicked the ball well, and in those moments Yoon Tae-pung became the gentlest father in the world.
But that gentleness never lasted long.
“Yoon Si-on! Get your head straight! What do you think you’re going to achieve with that sloppy attitude? You planning to play in the old-timers’ league?”
Yoon Si-on’s soccer skills were better than most kids his age, but they were far from exceptional. Mediocre talent. Even though it was his own son, Yoon Tae-pung—who also coached youth soccer—turned coldly critical. After receiving his first rejection from the person he loved most, Yoon Si-on turned to the last remaining source of affection.
“You want to try acting?”
“Yes, Mom.”
Cha Mi-kyung’s own acting career had sharply declined after marriage. She kept her promise to her son: if he still wanted to act after graduating from university, she would teach him properly. And so she began instructing the newly graduated Yoon Si-on, step by step.
The first time Yoon Si-on stood in front of a camera, he discovered his own talent.
What is this feeling?
At twenty-four, on the day he went to an audition while carefully hiding the fact that his mother was Cha Mi-kyung, he suddenly felt as though his body were floating. More precisely, it was as if his soul had risen one level higher and was looking down at the scene from above. From the cinematographer’s lens, the lighting, the staff’s gazes, and the director’s eyes, his own figure unfolded before him like a panorama.
There was a term often used in the broadcasting industry: “camera massage.” It described how even the most handsome or beautiful people could look strangely unattractive on camera. That was also why celebrities always appeared much thinner and smaller in real life than on screen. When a three-dimensional person was captured in two dimensions, distortion was inevitable. Idols and actors underwent all kinds of “camera massages” to compensate—sometimes literal procedures or diets, but the core was learning which posture, angle, and lighting made them look their best.
Yet no matter how much practice they put in, those techniques inevitably crumbled the moment they focused on acting. Knowing how one looked was supposed to be basic for entertainers, but maintaining that objective awareness while actually filming was nearly impossible. That was why so many resorted to surgery as a quick fix—if the face looked good on camera right away, it could cover a multitude of sins. Of course, even surgically altered faces had their own blind spots under the lens, so it was never a perfect solution.
But the strange phenomenon Yoon Si-on experienced in front of the camera gave him something else entirely: a third eye that let him see exactly how he would appear on screen. Once he could view his own appearance and performance objectively, as if watching from a distance, he was able to add a layer of objectivity to everything he had learned about acting. The ability to know how people would see him was an enormous advantage.
Only after several months passed did Yoon Si-on realize where this ability came from. His father, once called Korea’s greatest midfielder, had been nicknamed “Hawk-Eye Yoon Tae-pung.” It wasn’t just because of his sharp eyes. Yoon Tae-pung possessed an extraordinary field of vision that allowed him to see the entire pitch from a third-person perspective, like a hawk soaring in the sky. Thanks to that innate vision, he could instantly spot where his teammates were positioned and which angles would open up attacking routes that led to goals. Since he was no longer active, the nickname had resurfaced through old footage.
—Yoon Tae-pung’s prime was honestly the golden age of Korean soccer.
—Watching him whip out those long passes is so satisfying.
—Seriously, it’s like he had eyes in the back of his head. How did he see that angle from there?
His father had always told him in a grumbling voice, “When you concentrate, your vision changes. Imagine looking down at the pitch from the air.” Now Yoon Si-on understood those words literally. His own figure standing on set appeared to him in third-person perspective, exactly as others would see it—like a game screen. He had never imagined that his father’s constant lament about his narrow field of vision and lack of soccer talent would manifest this way on a film set.
He could clearly see which angle, which lighting, and which position would make him look most fitting for the role. Thanks to that, Yoon Si-on began displaying monstrous talent the moment he stood in front of a camera.
“What the hell is this kid? Did you see that just now?”
“Why? He just seemed like he could act pretty well.”
“No, look at the monitor. Quick, quick.”
At his very first shoot, where he had only been cast as a minor extra, Yoon Si-on earned overwhelming praise from the cinematographer and shot straight to stardom. Headlines like “The actor who acts handsome,” “The actor who devours his role,” and “A genius has appeared!” followed him in a meteoric rise. Though he wasn’t exceptionally good-looking, he somehow shone brighter than the lead actor. Just like the on-set reactions, viewers also began falling for Yoon Si-on.
In just two years he moved from supporting roles to leads, and Yoon Si-on, now playing the male protagonist of a hit drama, had become one of the highest-paid actors in Korea.
***
When Tae-san returned to reality, he quietly opened his eyes.
Wow. So this is what talent looks like.
Having briefly and intensely lived through Yoon Si-on’s life, Kang Tae-san now understood exactly what Eun Chae-won had meant by that “one extra something.” To reach the level of a top star, one needed a decisive edge that set them apart from everyone else—a kick. Yoon Si-on’s edge had been his third eye.
“You look tired these days. You should take better care of your stamina.”
“You’re right. Your driving is so smooth that I ended up dozing off without realizing it.”
“Which way from Yeongdeungpo Station?”
“Manager, I’ll get off here. Thank you for the ride.”
After stepping out near Yeongdeungpo Station, Tae-san pulled his cap low and headed home. He had thought Yoon Si-on’s personality wasn’t particularly good, but after experiencing his life, many things made sense. It was the feeling of a child desperately craving affection. He had sought love from his unfaithful father but never received it, and in the end he had inherited both the talent and the bad habits. It was a pity, but—
“Even so, our So-yeon is off-limits.”
Absolutely.
That didn’t mean he had any intention of understanding or excusing the womanizing. For Tae-san, protecting his beloved little sister came before anything else. That was his duty as her older brother.
As Tae-san walked, lost in thoughts of So-yeon, he suddenly felt someone’s gaze fixed on him from afar. The sensation of being recognized and whispered about.
What is this?
In that instant, as if experiencing an out-of-body moment, he saw himself from the other person’s perspective. A man wearing a cap, head bowed in thought, who had stopped and now wore a puzzled expression. It was himself.
He could clearly feel that two high-school girls in uniform among the passersby had noticed him.
“Excuse me… aren’t you actor Kang Tae-san?”
“Hello. Thank you for recognizing me.”
“Kyaa! I’m a huge, huge fan! I’ve been your fan since the Giant Kim music video!”
“Wow, you look even better in real life. Could you give me an autograph?”
“Of course. Where would you like it?”
“On my iPad!”
“On the cover of my textbook, please!”
Tae-san signed autographs and even took photos with them. Their excited cheers, typical of high-school girls, warmed his heart. And then he realized something. By experiencing Yoon Si-on’s life, he had also acquired the very sense that had been Yoon Si-on’s weapon, his edge, his kick.