The Face Behind the Fog

Then again, calling it an unfamiliar face wasn't quite right.

I wove my way between the narrow chairs and walked toward it.

It wasn't an unfamiliar face. It was something far worse than that.

I couldn't see the face at all. It was shrouded in some blurred haze.

"Who are you?"

I asked, and the figure... smiled, perhaps.

"Hi, Heeyoon."

A voice reached me too.

"I'm Han Jeonghyun."

Even the name.

Only then did I hear it.

"You're going to forget everything I'm about to say."

And then he pulled me close and whispered something into my ear.

I heard it, clear as day.

The voice of a villain so vile that even the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Demon shuddered.

"Agh!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room.

I was gasping for breath when I saw Vice President Gam Soohan rushing over. Maybe it was because I felt awful, but for a moment he looked exactly like Gam Ihyun. More than CEO Gam Seongbeom, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his nephew Gam Soohan resembled the old man far more.

"Heeyoon, you just collapsed out of nowhere!"

That gentle Gam Soohan smacked my arm the moment he said it.

"Ow—why are you hitting someone who just passed out?"

"Because you scared me! Why on earth did you go visit the class next door and keel over?"

"I went to the next class over?"

"So that's where your memory cuts off. Well, I suppose you wouldn't have done it in your right mind... This is exactly why I keep telling you to eat properly."

"I do eat properly."

Eating with Park Seonyoung or Gam Ihyun had been nice, but eating alone sucked all the joy out of it. Besides, I'd already grown more than I had before the regression. As long as nobody starved me down to malnutrition like back then, I could get by just fine.

Vice President Gam Soohan sighed.

"Good grief. You barely eat a thing, but you just keep shooting up in height, so I can't even nag you about that..."

Everything was a blur.

The one mercy was that everyone assumed my behavior had something to do with Gam Ihyun's death. Since I was still so young, people were cutting me a lot of slack.

Once I gathered myself, my mind stayed a blank slate for a while before the fog gradually lifted and a few pieces of the situation surfaced. Factoring in what everyone around me had to say, one conclusion became certain.

Every time I tried to think about it, my head felt like it would split open, so I couldn't dwell on it for long. I jotted it down in my notebook and decided ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to open it again once I'd recovered.

More than anything, unraveling this mess would require Woo Woongbae's remarkably broad understanding of the world.

After being holed up for over two months, Woo Woongbae had finally finished editing and returned to school. That weekend, with Do Jaeyeon and Vice President Gam Soohan shoving us out the door, I went to an amusement park.

When they asked who wanted to come along, it turned out to be ten of us all together. Six girls, four boys—eight from the acting department and two from film production.

"What kind of amusement park trip is this."

As I grumbled, Do Jaeyeon—driving the caravan that carried all twelve of us, adults included—shot back a reprimand.

"Oh, and the guy saying that was watching amusement park strategy videos since yesterday, was he?"

"That's because I'm J."

"Never in my life have I done an open-run at an amusement park, you rascal. The kids are all dead asleep."

I turned around at that, and sure enough, all nine of them—including Woo Woongbae—had passed out cold.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime amusement park trip. Would it kill them to wake up just one day early for it?

I reviewed my park strategy one more time, while Vice President Gam Soohan, riding shotgun with his eyes peeled wide to keep Do Jaeyeon from dozing at the wheel, turned to look at me.

"This your first time at an amusement park?"

"I went once with my parents, but all I have are photos—no actual memories. Then I went a few times with my uncle's family, but back then I was the one stuck holding bags and standing in line."

"Ah, then this is basically your first time! You'd better have as much fun as you've been hoping for."

I could feel everyone in the car flinch at my words, all at once. Even a few of the unconscious ones flinched. Ugh, I felt so bad I decided to stop bringing it up altogether.

And when we finally arrived at the amusement park, Do Jaeyeon stepped out of the car and said:

"Hey, are we seriously not the only ones doing an open-run here? There are this many people besides Lee Heeyoon who think like this?"

A sizable crowd was already waiting for the gates to open.

We waited until nine, then streamed inside the moment the gates parted.

That said, when I looked at my classmates one by one, I'd only ever thought of them as bursting with personality—but with all ten of us moving together, we looked half like celebrities and drew way too much attention. We were unusually tall, our faces stood out, even our styling was distinctive. Our insides were perfectly ordinary, though.

"Hey, hold up. Post a story first."

"Ugh, just hurry up and come!"

"Splitting up?"

"Let's just follow Heeyoon's strategy."

"Actors! I'm filming from this point on. No cursing, no pointing, no throwing trash!"

"Is nagging allowed?"

"Light nagging only."

With that consensus reached, we all rode the rides according to my strategy for the first stretch.

My plan had been calibrated far too tightly to a seventeen-year-old's stamina. Do Jaeyeon managed to keep up more or less, but Vice President Gam Soohan burned out by late morning and dropped where he stood. The adults ended up planted at an open-air café while we strutted around the park on our own.

Wherever we went, stares trailed after us. Originally only the girls had bought headbands, but after we cleared the early-morning strategy, some older girls asked if I was an idol trainee and then bought me a bunny-ear headband.

Seeing that, the boys went and bought the exact same ones to match me. Four hulking dark-clothed guys prancing around with bunny ears on their heads looked absolutely menacing to me, but without a hint of exaggeration, every girl in the park loved it. It was bewildering, but everyone was happy, so I figured it was fine.

My endurance wasn't anything special, so once I finished the first phase of my strategy, I circled back to the open-air café where Do Jaeyeon and Vice President Gam Soohan were sitting. As I ate the soft-serve ice cream the Vice President had bought and pressed into my hand, Do Jaeyeon needled me.

"'What kind of amusement park trip is this,' huh. Aren't you enjoying yourself a little too much?"

"I'm just protecting my investment."

That was my answer, but honestly, I was having fun. The rest of the crew and I all played like today was the last chance we'd ever get to come to an amusement park.

And that night, we came home.

We had set up a screen in the yard, and there we held the final screening of the film Woo Woongbae had made.

Park Seonyoung, who had recently started a small farm, and CEO Gam Seongbeom, who after a long stretch of drowning in alcohol had belatedly returned to work and been buried alive by it, each took a chair set out in the yard.

Woo Woongbae, drained by two months of editing plus an entire day's stamina spent today, looked too worn out to even be nervous.

I, on the other hand, felt no fatigue at all, and gave my full attention to the twelve-minute film.

When it ended, no one spoke for a long while. Then Park Seonyoung was the first to open her mouth.

"He wanted to act so badly... and now he's gone and done it properly. He looks happy..."

At those words, CEO Gam Seongbeom, who had been barely holding it together, finally bowed his head, shoulders shaking, and began to weep.

While people were being emotional or not, Do Jaeyeon was shaking Woo Woongbae—who was on the verge of passing out—demanding to know, as if cross-examining him, exactly how he planned to make use of this film.

Things I hadn't managed to do even by thirty-seven in my previous life, I was doing plenty of this time around.

I had always lived steeped in sensitivity and gloom, holding on to low, dark emotions. That was simply my nature, and it wasn't much different in this life either.

It was only that now and then, I felt joy like this. Even on a pothole-riddled off-road path, you rest now and then in the shade of a fruit-laden tree.

Can moments of delight like this change a life? Or since the joy will vanish in the end, does the outcome stay the same?

To me, for whom fifteen years felt endlessly long right now, that was something I couldn't predict.

Cheongcheon Studio.

A drama production company—and regardless of its size, the firm that housed one of the highest-paid top writers in South Korea: Choi Yujin.

Writer Choi Yujin was very clearly planning something these days, and she was telling absolutely nothing about it to the company's CEO, Lee Juyeon.

Choi Yujin never breathed a word about a project until it was polished enough to show someone. On top of that, she rarely left her house, so eventually Lee Juyeon had no choice but to go to her.

Seated on the pavilion at Choi Yujin's home—a garden built considerably larger than the house itself, purely because its owner hated going outside—CEO Lee Juyeon steeled herself and asked.

"Writer, what on earth have you been doing lately?"

"Lately... playing."

"Don't lie to me. The way Miyeon and Hayoung keep dodging my questions, you're not playing at all."

The assistant writers were all longtime members of her team—if Writer Choi Yujin were goofing off, they'd scurry straight to CEO Lee Juyeon to tattle. The fact that every one of them was playing dumb meant only one thing: Writer Choi Yujin was running a project on her own, without telling the company.

CEO Lee Juyeon sighed.

"Do you think ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this happens overnight? You have to at least ballpark the production budget. What are you even making? A period drama? Or one of your social exposés?"

"This time, it's—"

"Yes?"

"Never mind..."

"Unnie!"

CEO Lee Juyeon finally exploded.

"Do you think you can work with just any director? You can't, right? Then at least tell me—the person who has to lock down a director—the genre! The genre! I'm the one whose brain explodes doing the money math, and you won't tell me a single thing while you go off working? Do I look like I have hair to spare? Should I plant some for you? Should I or shouldn't I!"

Oblivious to all of it, Writer Choi Yujin was staring blankly at the small fountain in the garden, and the only one who came running at the shouting—mistaking it for playtime—was the golden retriever Choi Sol-i, who flopped down right beside CEO Lee Juyeon. A cat owner by habit, Lee Juyeon absentmindedly smacked the retriever's rump, then locked eyes with the bewildered dog, remembered it was a dog, and hastily scrubbed its body all over while saying:

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I had a dream."

"What kind of nonsense is that, all of a sudden?"

"A vampire descended from the sky."

"...Not an alien?"

"Focus on my words. It came down from the sky. Obviously an alien. An alien vampire."

CEO Lee Juyeon squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, and said:

"I see. An alien vampire. And?"

"It collides with Earth's vampires."

"...Collides how, exactly?"

"Why, through a religious conflict, of course."

"......"

"What do you think?"

"...I'm sorry. I genuinely cannot understand a single word you're saying."

"This is exactly why I never tell you things. Anyway, that's the gist of it. Oh—and I'd love to have one absolutely brilliant young actor, a rising star. Around twenty? Handsome enough that you'd believe he was a god, a face so pristine it could suit an alien or a vampire, whichever..."

CEO Lee Juyeon clutched her forehead, her head throbbing from summarizing a story that existed nowhere in reality.

The problem was that Writer Choi Yujin had a habit of detonating miraculous hits out of these absurd premises.

This was, in fact, how most of the dramas Writer Choi Yujin wrote began—from some preposterous point like this. And somewhere along the way, once you worked with her, it somehow became a drama that made perfect sense. This was the hardest part of working with Writer Choi Yujin.

The beginning.

"Well, obviously, first of all—no religious conflict in a drama. Not possible."

"Right, I'll wrap it up so cleverly it won't read as religious conflict at all."

"The pristine face... I'll start looking for... ah."

CEO Lee Juyeon frowned, then reached out and picked up her phone. And as she searched for a video, she said:

"One of the kids from the performing arts and film production department made a twelve-minute short this time. It was meant to capture the last acting performance of Teacher Gam Ihyun before he passed."

"What? How have I not heard about this until now?"

"That's because you're always holed up in here... Anyway, it's unbelievable. Two seventeen-year-olds made it. I watched it and sobbed my eyes out. Not one of those twelve minutes was wasted."