Oh, I Know You!

"Yeonjae! Thank you so much, really. I can't even count how many times you've helped me. Seriously, thank you."

"It's nothing. You've helped me plenty too, hyung."

"The whole film crew talks about nothing but you these days! Wow, you really nailed that iconic scene!"

Laughter poured endlessly from the singer Kang Sehyun's mouth. After chatting for a while with the man beaming at him, Yeonjae approached the woman standing blankly nearby.

"I don't think we got a proper hello earlier."

"Oh—uh, yes! Right!"

"Do you happen to remember me? I handed you a bandage once, a while back."

She was a staff member he'd run into during the live broadcast for Goodbye, My Summer. When he asked carefully, her dazed face shifted into something closer to bewilderment.

"Of course I remember…. You're Bambi—no, actor Lee Yeonjae. Shouldn't that question be coming from me?"

He simply laughed at the incredulous note in her voice. For someone whose job meant meeting celebrities constantly, it wasn't as though knowing him should be a given.

"I honestly have no idea what's going on right now. So… you were playing Kang Sehyun playing Choi Injun?"

"Ah, well, you see—"

He explained that the actual mission had been to convert a citizen into a Space fan. He'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been at a loss, tongue-tied as he was, and the moment he'd spotted a familiar face, he'd run over without a second to think.

This could turn out pretty well if it's edited right.

A scenario assembled itself in his head in an instant, and by the time he came back to himself, he was already addressing the woman in a voice dripping with aegyo.

"Acting is the only thing I know how to do, so I gave it a shot. I'm not sure it was any fun, though."

"Are you kidding? This is going to be great! Even the laziest editor couldn't ruin footage this good… Ha, I'm jealous of their editing team."

The woman finished her confident declaration on a somewhat bitter note. He couldn't follow her abrupt change in tone, but there were things a person simply had to say.

"Thank you, truly. And I'm sorry for holding you up on your way home. Still, it was nice seeing you again after so long."

"……It was nice for me too. I was actually about to quit this job, you know. The things you said back then are the reason I'm still here."

What did I even say to her?

No matter how he racked his brain, he couldn't recall delivering anything remotely memorable. When he could only stare in bewilderment, the woman laughed and waved it off.

"Anyway, thank you me. I think today is going to be a really special memory."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

"And, actually…."

She glanced around and lowered her voice. When he instinctively ducked his head to match her conspiratorial air, a bright, guileless smile came back to her face.

"I'm a fan, you know. Biyeon, that is."

"Oh…."

"I joined the fan café the very day we first met."

Her brightly smiling face suddenly felt awkward to look at. He murmured his thanks and looked away, and an even bigger laugh came back at him. Before he could even answer her question about an autograph, she'd already pulled out a pen.

"Well then, keep up the good work. I hope to see you on set sometime."

"Yes. Get home safe."

Clutching the signed paper to her chest, the woman hurried off into the subway entrance.

So she was… my fan. I had no idea.

Did I mess up anywhere?

He was anxiously retracing his own words when singer Kang Sehyun came back over.

"Yeonjae. We're heading out for a company dinner—want to come with?"

"Hyung, I'm so sorry, but could I say goodbye here? I really, really need a shower…."

He usually made a point of at least setting foot in a team dinner, but right now he was in no state to be seen. He pushed his sweat-soaked hair back roughly, and Kang Sehyun nodded without a moment's hesitation, understanding.

Ha. And I faced a fan looking like this.

What on earth possessed me to take off the mascot head while grinning like that?

Drenched in sweat as he'd been, he must have looked utterly ridiculous.

Tired. So tired.

Still, he couldn't very well throw away footage they'd worked hard to shoot. Resolving to go straight home and shower, he said his goodbyes to the staff and got in the car.

"Noona, can I please stop trying things on now…?"

"Mm. You're such a good boy, Yeonjae. Just this one last piece, okay?"

You said that last time too.

When he fixed her with a resentful stare, the stylist pointedly ignored it and hauled him back to his feet. He changed yet again, and cheers erupted the moment he stepped out.

Embarrassment at that cheering was old news—this was the tenth round already. He made one more deadpan lap around the office, and the staff clicked their tongues.

"Such a shame. His bashfulness was adorable."

"………"

When he looked back at them with hollow eyes, the staff averted their gazes in embarrassment.

If that's what you wanted, you could've just come out and said so.

It took him all of a few seconds to put on an embarrassed face. Did they really have to make him change clothes ten times just to see it?

"Well, we did need to get through everything. Do you have any idea how much got culled before this made the cut? This much came in under your name alone."

"…? The brands sent these themselves?"

"Yep. As gifts—hoping you'll wear their clothes. The fourth one, you know that one? That's a custom piece they made just for you."

They were in the stylist's office, doing a fitting for the Cannes Film Festival. To be more precise, they were selecting what he would wear on the red carpet.

They made a whole outfit for me?

I can't be that big of a deal yet.

He wasn't putting himself down. It just seemed pointless—like pouring effort into something that wouldn't pay off. Even looking at it objectively, he genuinely didn't think he rated that highly, and it puzzled him. Perhaps the question mark on his face was plain enough, because the stylist laughed.

"Yeonjae. How many Korean actors your age do you think get to go to Cannes? I know it's nothing special to you, but believe me, having someone like you wear their clothes is a marketing coup beyond measure."

Huh. Even so, it wasn't as if brands stamped their logos across a tuxedo—could it really be that effective? Well, he was hardly in a position to complain. There were people bustling to organize a small mountain of clothes on his behalf; changing in and out of outfits was hardly a hardship by comparison.

"So? Out of the ten, which one's your favorite?"

"Whichever one you like best, noona."

"If it were three months ago, I'd have melted on the spot at that answer. Oh my goodness, how can this child be so sweet! — that's exactly what I'd have thought, you know?"

"………"

"Don't give me the lazy non-answer. What do you actually like?"

"It's not laziness—it's simply wiser to defer to the expert's opinion. You're the expert, noona."

"Tch. Fine, I'll pick for you."

Grumbling as she was, the stylist's face was all smiles. More than a year had passed since they'd first met, and their back-and-forth had grown easy and comfortable.

Sleepy.

Watching Jinbae hyung debate the final choice with the staff, brows knotted in absolute earnest, only made him drowsier. Was this really a decision that called for furrowing your eyebrows that deeply?

He was idly observing the restless twitch of Jinbae hyung's eyebrows when—

Ding-dong.

"Just a moment!"

At the doorbell, the youngest staff member bolted for the entrance.

Uh-oh. It's not that they might fall—they just fell.

They'd sprung up with such force that the neatly sorted clothes came cascading to the floor in a rustling heap. He rose at once. He was, after all, the most useless person in this room—the least he could do was pick them up.

While he gathered armfuls of fabric, the commotion that had started at the front door spread steadily inward. He was just about to turn and see who'd arrived when an unfamiliar voice sounded at his back.

"Oh. I know you!"

"………"

Please, no. He turned around slowly.

Damn it.

A foreigner. A genuinely, unmistakably foreign man had struck up a conversation, flashing a bright smile—in English, of course.

The blond, blue-eyed man spoke very, very fast. Of everything he said, Yeonjae understood barely half.

He stared at the man chattering earnestly away, and opened his mouth.

"Hello."

"I know what that means. You mean 'Hello', right?"

"Yes. That's right. Nice to meet you."

"…?"

Yeonjae gazed steadily at the man, who tilted his head with a perfectly sunny face.

Only a few days remained until France.

Which meant the place he was standing right now was Korea.

Then shouldn't you be speaking Korean?