On the day of Jieun's debut, Jihoon quietly arrived at the recording site for M! Countdown, without telling her he would be there.
He didn't want to make her more nervous than she already might be.
Thanks to Han Sungsoo, everything had been arranged in advance.
Jihoon slipped into the audience unnoticed, dressed in full disguise—hood up, mask on, blending in among the excited crowd.
Most of the artists performing that day were popular boy groups, so the audience was packed with their female fans—eager, loud, and impatient.
And then Jieun's stage started.
The moment her intro music played and she stepped into the spotlight, the mood in the crowd shifted.
"Who is that fat girl!!? What is this?"
"Ugh, just go home! Have you even practiced?"
"She looks like a pig in that outfit—lose some weight first before calling yourself a singer!"
The harsh voices cut through the air like knives.
Jihoon sat frozen in his seat, his jaw tight, fists clenched.
On stage, Jieun stood under the glare of the lights, her small frame visibly trembling.
But she didn't run. She didn't cry.
She did exactly what she had trained so hard to do—she sang, she danced, she performed.
Even though the audience's jeers almost drowned out the backing track, Jihoon could tell—she could hear every word.
And still, she kept going.
Watching it unfold, something twisted in Jihoon's chest.
He wanted to stand up, to shout back at those girls who were tearing down a thirteen-year-old doing her best.
He wanted to run up on stage and take her away from all of it.
But he didn't.
Instead, he walked out of the venue quietly once her performance ended, leaving before Jieun ever knew he had been there.
He hated that he couldn't shield her from it.
But if she was ever going to reach the future he remembered for her—if she was going to go even further—then this was something she had to walk through it herself.
Just like the Black Ocean incident SNSD just endured, moments like these weren't the end—they were the fire that forged legends.
And Jihoon could only hope that Jieun would keep walking.
And I can do is to be the strongest support behind them...
That night, after they returned home, Jieun pretended to be cheerful—clinging to Jihoon playfully, acting like everything was fine.
But Jihoon could see through it instantly.
The way she forced her smile, the extra brightness in her voice—it wasn't real.
It was her way of protecting him, pretending she wasn't hurt so he wouldn't worry.
That made him feel even worse.
As they sat together, Jieun suddenly looked up at him and asked quietly, "Oppa… am I fat?"
Jihoon pulled her into his arms without a second thought, hugging her close and gently rubbing her head.
"Jieun-ah, that's just baby fat. It's cute—it means you're still growing."
"But baby fat is still fat," she pouted, then added with a soft, playful tone, "Oppa, can you lose weight with me?"
Jihoon smiled and nodded, brushing her hair back with care. "Alright. We'll do it together."
A few days later, the second episode of Family Outing aired.
The ratings soared—breaking the show's all-time record with a peak of 35.7% during Jihoon and Taeyeon's segments.
Audiences across the country were captivated.
Young viewers—especially teenage girls—were instantly drawn to Jihoon's charm.
He was everything they didn't expect: young, smart, handsome, funny, and genuinely talented.
And even though he technically wasn't a celebrity, that didn't stop them from falling for him.
In no time, fans were scouring the internet for more information about him.
But there wasn't much to find.
Outside of basic biographical details and a list of his film projects on the J.H. Studios website, Jihoon had kept his public profile minimal.
No personal social media, no interviews, barely any photos.
Desperate for more, fans began flooding J.H. Studios' website, leaving messages begging the company to launch an official fan club.
The company's marketing team quickly picked up on the spike in interest and brought the idea to Park Jaehyun, who currently oversaw all of the company's operations.
Convinced this was a golden opportunity, Jaehyun personally approached Jihoon in his office that day.
He expected a "yes" without hesitation.
Instead, he got a flat, immediate no.
Jihoon didn't even pause to consider.
"I don't want to be marketed like some product," Jihoon said, his voice calm but unwavering.
"If people like my films, great. They can buy a ticket, watch the movie, and go home. That's it."
He leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. "I don't need anyone doing anything for me, and I'm not going to pretend I can do anything for them in return."
Jaehyun blinked, caught off guard by the conviction behind Jihoon's words.
It wasn't just defiance—it was experience speaking.
After witnessing the Black Ocean that nearly swallowed SNSD whole…
After seeing Jieun's debut stage riddled with cruel jeers…
And knowing how Sulli's life had been crushed beneath the weight of obsessive fans—Jihoon's views on fandom had hardened into something closer to mistrust.
To him, fans weren't always supporters.
Some blurred the line between love and control, between admiration and possession.
One day, they were your greatest champions.
The next, they'd turn on you like a storm you never saw coming.
He didn't want to rely on that kind of affection.
He didn't want to need it.
"But without fans, who's going to buy your movie tickets?" Jaehyun wasn't the type to give up easily.
He leaned forward, trying to reason with him. "With their support, your work could go so much further—promotions, exposure, awards buzz—it's part of the system now."
Jihoon shot him a dry look and rolled his eyes. "Hyung… did you forget what I do for a living?"
"I'm a film director. My job's behind the camera, not in front of it. It's not me they should be obsessed with—it's the story."
He paused, then added with quiet finality, "if my films are good, they'll speak for themselves. If they're not… no amount of fans will change that."
That silenced Jaehyun for a beat.
Something in Jaehyun's expression shifted—like a fog had just lifted.
For a moment, he finally realized what he had somehow forgotten in all the noise and attention: Jihoon wasn't an idol.
He wasn't a media darling chasing headlines or a celebrity obsessed with appearances.
He was a film director—a pure storyteller.
A man whose skills behind the camera had earned him global recognition, not because he sought fame, but because he created worlds worth watching.
Jaehyun scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.
"Right... anyway. Jongbin's on his way up to your office."
"Oh?" Jihoon blinked. "Jonbin hyung's here?"
As if on cue, the door flew open.
And just like that, in came Yoon Jongbin—charging in like a man on a mission.
Before Jihoon could even stand up, Jongbin had crossed the room, grabbed him by the shoulders, and started shaking him with the kind of manic energy only pure joy could produce.
"Jihoon-ah!!" he half-shouted, half-laughed. "Thank you! Thank you so much for the Shoplifters script!! I didn't let you down!"
He kept shaking him, his excitement borderline unhinged. "I'm officially the second Korean director to win the Palme d'Or! The Palme d'Or, Jihoon!"
"If it weren't for you—if you hadn't trusted me with that story—I wouldn't be standing where I am now!"
Then, with a dramatic gasp and both arms thrown to the sky like he was calling out to the heavens, he added, "I can die smiling now!!"
Jihoon just laughed, letting himself be jostled around like a ragdoll.
It had been months—nearly half a year—since the Cannes ceremony, and at the time, Jihoon had been in LA, filming Inception.
Jongbin had called him right after winning, voice thick with disbelief and gratitude.
But this was the first time they'd seen each other face to face since then.
Jongbin had been overseas doing the awards circuit, plus taking a long-deserved vacation.
It was now December, and although the buzz had faded, the gratitude hadn't.
Jongbin wasn't the kind of man to forget.
To outsiders, it might've looked like Jongbin was buttering Jihoon up, maybe even angling for another golden script—especially now that Jihoon was venturing into Hollywood.
But Jihoon knew better.
Jongbin was sincere. A little intense, sure. But decent. Grateful. Honest.
So Jihoon didn't stop him.
He just grinned, amused.
That said, if Jongbin tried to go too far—like, say, planting a grateful kiss on his cheek—Jihoon had no problem pulling out the Taekwondo skills he learned from Jessica's dad and flipping him onto the floor.
Meanwhile, Jaehyun stood off to the side, watching the chaos unfold with a face that screamed secondhand embarrassment.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Seriously!! It's been months since the news dropped. Jongbin, can you calm the fuck down already?"
When his words failed to cut through the chaos of Jongbin's shouting and Jihoon's unbothered grin, Jaehyun threw his hands up in defeat.
"Alright, I'll leave you two lovebirds to… whatever this is," he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the overly dramatic scene in front of him, as if even describing it would give him a headache.
Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and walked out of the office, grumbling under his breath, "How the hell am I supposed to manage a company like this…"
He muttered a full list of grievances under his breath as he walked away—grumbling about a boss who couldn't care less about fame.
A director who treated international recognition like it was some kind of poetic farewell, or worse, a sign it was time to retire.
And two A-list actors—Ji Changwook and Hyunbin—who, despite being at the peak of their careers, were living like retired uncles holed up in a countryside pension.
Jaehyun sighed, dragging his feet down the hallway like a man already worn out before lunch. "I should've just opened a chicken shop," he mumbled.
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, JiangXiu, Night_Adam, BigBoobs, Daoist098135 and Daoistadj for bestowing the power stone!]