Who Is Fog?
"Our kid is so cute I'm going out of my mind…."
Kwon Inah, president of the Lee Yeonjae fan club, let out a long groan. Her mouse moved at lightning speed, the cursor flicking back and forth between the post Yeonjae had uploaded himself and the flood of suit photos reporters had been snapping all evening.
"How can someone be this adorable and this devastatingly cool at the same time…? How does a creature like this even exist?"
The unhinged gushing poured straight out of her, bypassing her brain entirely. The president's eyes darted rapidly, drinking in every frame of Yeonjae.
Community reaction looks good, and I don't see anyone digging for dirt.
Fortunately, for all the buzz, there weren't many people who disliked Yeonjae. There were haters, of course—but then, a celebrity without antis simply doesn't exist.
Considering that, Yeonjae's doing pretty well for himself.
He rarely said anything controversial, for one. And really, acting seemed to be the only thing that held his interest at all. Outside of his manager, a handful of actors, and his school friends, he didn't socialize with anyone—to the point where the tabloids had reportedly given up on tailing him. That said everything.
And yet, at the awards ceremony, that boy had shown a side of himself no one had ever seen.
……Angae.
Yeonjae's eyes, caught dead-on by the camera, had shimmered. A tiny light had flickered into existence and vanished again in an instant, and in that moment his eyes had looked impossibly, unnervingly dark.
Happy birthday.
Whoever this Angae was, the way Yeonjae had spoken to them was tender enough to make a fan jealous. The affection packed into those words was so full it practically overflowed, spilling out drop by drop.
At the same time, the internet had gone into an absolute frenzy.
It was common enough for award winners to mention people close to them. Parents, husbands, wives, friends, children—in fact, the custom of the Korean acceptance speech was to rattle off so many names that leaving anyone out would look strange.
But Yeonjae had never once done that.
This was the kid who'd kept his acceptance speech almost comically brief when he won his first award for The Zelkova Tree. Even at Cannes, when he took Best Actor for his debut film, he'd said barely a few words before stepping off the stage.
So watching him wish someone a happy birthday with that tender expression, with everything he had, there was no way people wouldn't find it strange.
So, again—who is Angae?
Plenty of threads had popped up on the fan cafe, but without a word from the man himself, they were all just speculation. He was an actor who had never once breathed a word about his private life, so the theories ran wild in every direction. When even Han Seyeong—with whom he'd recently filmed a skinship scene—got dragged into the speculation, the president panicked and hastily deleted the thread. What if it blew up into something bigger?
Fortunately, that very night, Yeonjae posted right away.
The fans accepted it immediately. He'd recently been caught up in an ostracism rumor, and knowing that Yeonjae had grown up in an orphanage, no one could bring themselves to pry any deeper. If anything, the mood was one of relief—that Bambi had someone that precious in his life.
Quick response, clean explanation, a polite request. The whole thing was wrapped up neatly. The president accepted it too, but she was still curious. Who could possibly be that important to her Bambi?
"So."
Thick eyebrows were knitted into a deep frown.
"Who exactly is Angae?"
Noh Bihyeok glared at me, brow furrowed. I gestured at the lines carving themselves into his face.
"Bihyeok-ya. Wrinkles."
"Oh, right. Thanks. Ah—so who is he?! Why do you keep dodging the question?"
"When did I ever dodge it?"
"You're dodging it right now! Who is Angae, that you're wishing him happy birthday? At an awards ceremony, no less!"
I sighed at the endless barrage of questions and answered.
"I told you, a friend from when I was little. I don't even know how he's doing now."
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"Before I entered the orphanage."
"……"
At the answer I'd prepared in advance, Noh Bihyeok's mouth snapped shut. I had known people around me would be curious when I said it, of course. My circle of acquaintances could be counted on one hand, and I'd suddenly brought up a name at an awards ceremony—of course it would look suspicious.
But I didn't regret it. Not when I remembered the expression Angae had worn when I met him in my dream last night.
Angae-ya. Did you watch me today?
……Yes.
You did? Where were you, then?
Right in front of you….
I thought so.
Angae had been wearing an expression I'd never seen on him before. I wished him a happy birthday one more time as he settled into my arms with that strange, unreadable look on his face. He didn't answer—just stayed there, nestled against me.
I'd been staring blankly into space, replaying that lingering warmth, when the sound of clapping snapped me back to reality.
"When I debut, you wish ME happy birthday too."
Are you five?
When I gave him a pitying look, he shouted at me to stop looking at him like that.
"Fine, fine. Just hurry up and debut already. When's your second evaluation?"
"A month from now. Until then I might as well be dead…. Haah. I wish they'd just decide it all in one go. This dragging-it-out thing is draining the life out of me."
And this was coming from a kid who'd already made the first-round debut lineup without a hitch.
Huh. He trusts himself less than I thought.
Even if the CEO had the worst eye for talent in the business, there was no way he'd pass on Noh Bihyeok. I clicked my tongue at the kid buying worries he didn't need.
"If you don't debut, who will? Stop worrying and eat more of this."
"No. I'll get fat…."
"One dumpling won't make you fat."
Jinbae hyung picked up a golden, pan-fried dumpling and held it to my friend's mouth. Bihyeok refused a few times with hands that offered zero actual resistance, then pretended to give in and ate it. Having demolished an entire bowl with impressive efficiency, he hauled himself up with a groan.
"I've gotta head to practice now…."
"Get home safe. Take your supplements. Watch your back. Watch your ankles. Call me if anything hurts."
"Yes, Mom~."
Noh Bihyeok mumbled his replies while jamming his cap down over his head. I walked him to the door, and just as he seemed about to bolt, he spun back around.
"Oh, right—didn't you say you had a schedule this afternoon?"
"Yeah. I should leave soon, too."
"What was it again? An interview?"
And if it were an interview, what then? Was he planning to tag along? I gave a hollow laugh at the kid who asked about absolutely everything.
"Nope. The hair salon."
The moment we arrived at the salon I'd been visiting forever, the head director came out to greet us personally.
"Yeonjae-ya, you were right. I can't believe it. I got tested the second you mentioned it, and sure enough—varicose veins. I had goosebumps all over."
"Did you get treatment?"
"Mm. Got the injection that very day. How did you even know? I heard what you said and still thought, no way, no way."
"The symptoms were similar to something I read in a book. I'm just glad it was caught early."
I'd only mentioned it on the off chance, so I was relieved it had helped. When I asked whether the treatment was working, the director beamed and said her quality of life had completely changed. Another staff member who'd been listening in chimed in.
"Director, what are varicose veins?"
"I only just learned about them myself, thanks to Yeonjae. Apparently it's a condition that hits people who stand all day, like us. You should get checked too if your legs swell up badly."
"Oh my, Director—was that why you used your vacation days this time?"
"Yep. Yeonjae kept telling me to go see a doctor, so I figured I'd give it a shot. Aigoo, how can a child be this clever?"
When she sighed that she wished her own son read as many books as I did, I managed an awkward smile. We whiled away a good while on small talk like that before I finally got settled into the chair. Maybe because I'd been coming here since my debut, I felt completely at ease.
The head director, who was being even warmer to me than usual today, grinned.
"Our Yeonjae, ready for your dramatic transformation today? This color won't come out in one bleaching session, you know—you'll have to come back a few more times."
"Yes. That's fine."
When another staff member warned me to brace myself because bleaching hurt like crazy, I just laughed it off. However much it hurt, it couldn't possibly be worse than having my skull cracked open.
"Alright, let's get your hair washed first."
"Yes."
I followed the staff toward the shampoo room, and in the mirror, my eyes met those of the black-haired me on the other side.
I am curious, though.
Once this black hair turned white, would my whole look change with it?
No way to know until I try.
The first step toward becoming the character: bleaching for silver hair. And a few hours later, I realized the staff member's warning had been no idle scare tactic at all.