To You Who Found Me (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 1

[Exclusive] Ahn Ji Ho in a romantic relationship with his next project’s co-star and writer, Jang Hye Yoon […Ahn Ji Ho’s side stated, “While preparing for the project, they developed feelings for each other and eventually became a couple.”…]

“Lovers….”

Even though Hye Yoon knew it was all a lie, her heart still fluttered. It was precisely their third day since meeting him.

Click- Click-

Camera shutter sounds kept going off nonstop, like constant sighs of admiration.

“Wow! Great!”

Everyone except the photographer remained completely silent. It wasn’t just the mood that discouraged chatter—it was also that they were left speechless.

“Wow, Ji Ho, your expression right now was perfect! Let’s keep going with that vibe for just a bit more.”

Ji Ho glanced at the director, nodded, and refocused on the camera. The moment the brief direction ended, a sultry, lingering sensuality oozed into his eyes.

This was exactly when you realized his status as a top star since debut wasn’t just thanks to his dazzling looks. He was a true professional who flawlessly sculpted and delivered whatever ambiguous image the director envisioned—whether it was acting or a photoshoot like today.

Dozens of scorching gazes, as intense as the scattered lighting, seemed to reach out with invisible hands, caressing every part of him. How often did one get to see top star Ahn Ji Ho this up close? And with the added allure of “professionalism” as a respectable excuse, the entire crew was busy savoring the luxury.

“Doesn’t it feel unreal?”

“What? Ahn Ji Ho?”

“Yeah. It’s not even about how handsome he is—it’s just… like, how can someone even have a face like that?”

“Even I, as a guy, get butterflies—imagine how you feel.”

Even as they spoke, neither could tear their eyes away from Ji Ho.

His black hair rippled like waves, fluttering with each of his movements. As he relaxed his muscles and lifted his chin slightly, his deep eyes were half-hidden beneath a subtle double eyelid line. Women unconsciously ran their tongues over their dry lips at that devastating gaze.

Suddenly, Ji Ho shifted his upper body closer toward the camera and lifted one corner of his mouth into a smile. As if spellbound by that grin, one staff member instinctively stepped forward before quickly backing away again. And if even men reacted that way, it was clear the women felt an even stronger pull.

Like the desire to see that beautiful person up close—ideally seated right on his firm thighs.

“Be grateful this is a winter photoshoot.”

“Why?”

“Because Ahn Ji Ho’s physique alone is art—but if he took his top off, you’d literally lose words. Remember that shoot he did in Hawaii? Look at this. See the goosebumps? His body is just…”

He thrust forward the arm revealed beneath his rolled-up T-shirt sleeve. Seeing the raised hairs, he shivered slightly, evidently reliving that sensation again.

“You’re crazy. But why should I be grateful? Isn’t it more like… disappointing?”

“No, seriously—you really should be thankful. If you see that body, your daily life becomes impossible for a while. It just keeps popping into your head, okay? That’s why back then, I actually thought I might be gay. For real.”

“Sigh… Ahn Ji Ho really is human, right?”

He let out a soft chuckle and finally tore his gaze away from Ji Ho. As he slowly looked around, he realized something—he didn’t need to show the goosebumps on his arm to prove Ahn Ji Ho’s charm anymore.

Everyone was utterly entranced, like children watching fireworks at an amusement park at night. Their eyes shimmered with blissful disbelief, tinged with the bittersweet wish that this fleeting moment might last forever.

“That’s a wrap for today! Thanks to Ji Ho, we finished a whole hour early. Great work!”

“It’s thanks to your great direction. And to the crew as well—everyone worked hard.”

As applause marked the end of the shoot, Ji Ho bowed deeply with his trademark polite smile. Many tried using the opportunity to strike up casual conversation under the guise of greeting him, but he remained upright and courteous without showing the slightest hint of annoyance.

But that was where it ended.

Ji Ho was the kind of person everyone desperately wanted to get close to yet found impossible to truly approach—the kind who smiled warmly yet remained forever unattainable. Even when mesmerized by his looks, his body, his voice, or something indefinable, people could only manage a few steps before stopping.

From behind an invisible wall, Ji Ho appeared to smile with elegant grace—an overwhelming aura that enchanted everyone while ensuring no one could ever reach his side. Thus, the Ahn Ji Ho known by those who’d worked with him and the one known by the public were, in fact, exactly the same.

The most popular actor in Korea. Handsome, talented, and impeccably polite. Known by the entire nation—yet revealing nothing at all.

Perfectly enigmatic.

“Good job. Since you’ve got no schedule this week, rest well.”

“Good job? Don’t be silly.”

“You heading straight home?”

Ji Ho, seated in the back, nodded and leaned back against the seat as Manager Bong Gi began driving gently. Normally, Ji Ho would’ve immediately wiped off his light eye makeup the moment he got into the car—yet even that small act seemed beyond him now, clearly exhausted.

Ten days ago, he’d wrapped filming on a movie he’d worked on for six months. Since then, dozens of postponed advertisements, photoshoots, and domestic and international interviews had filled his schedule this entire week, leaving him with no day of more than three hours of sleep. Still, since the film he finished shooting early this year was set to premiere next month, he’d have about a month of breathing room afterward.

Bong Gi cracked the window open slightly. Ji Ho’s soft bangs fluttered gently in the cool night breeze, nearly brushing against his closed eyelashes. Perhaps because of the darkness outside or the slight tilt of his head, his skin texture, jawline, and nose bridge shone with an almost painterly luminance.

“Anyone seeing him like this might think he’s still on a photoshoot.”

Looking at Ji Ho’s reflection in the rearview mirror, Bong Gi suddenly felt the urge to shout out loud, “That’s my actor!”

“If you keep staring like some creep, I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Gah!”

Ji Ho, amused, lifted one corner of his mouth and reached for the thick script bundle piled high on the passenger seat. On nights like this—when exhaustion paradoxically made sleep harder to find—he couldn’t simply close his eyes.

“What’s with all these?”

“I just took everything they handed me. It’s how this industry works—you never know. Today’s rookie could be tomorrow’s superstar, so it never hurts to stay on good terms.”

A faint sneer crossed Ji Ho’s face. It was true. Nine years ago, whispers had mocked him as a rookie who’d landed a lead role solely on his looks—but those rumors lasted barely two months.

After that, he never heard what they said about him again. After all, the sounds of dust rolling around at the bottom never reached the top.

“…Don’t overthink things. Just read through them and take a full month to rest.”

Watching him merely touch the scripts without picking up a single one, Bong Gi added carefully, like testing the waters.

‘Hyung, after this project, I’m planning to take a break for a while.’

‘I get it. We really haven’t stopped running since the start. We can afford a few months off.’

‘No… a bit longer. My contract ends this year, right?’

Bong Gi recalled his conversation with Ji Ho ten days ago. Truthfully, he hadn’t been able to forget it for a single moment since. He’d sensed something missing in Ji Ho’s spirit for several years now—but had never asked. He was too afraid Ji Ho might actually confirm it.

Afraid he’d realize his own hunch was right.

They’d been together since debut—as a rookie actor and a rookie manager under a major agency. He remembered clearly how intense and ruthless Ji Ho’s contract renewal had been in his sixth year, with every management company frantically offering insane sums he’d never seen in his life.

‘What if you start your own agency, Hyung? It wouldn’t be much different from what you’ve done so far. It’s not like it’d be hard.’

Ji Ho said he didn’t need those huge contracts or the massive support from big agencies. That they could just keep going as they were. Without even glancing at the enormous piles of money others drooled over for him, Ji Ho simply reached out his hand to him.

‘Hyung, it’s time you started earning some real money with me. Oops—did that sound too much like an old rich man? Heh.’

He’d always been like that—bestowing something so monumental it could sustain three generations, yet casually handing it over as if it were nothing. That face, unbelievably, concealed depths even greater than its beauty. Gentle, yet stubborn in his own convictions.

That’s why Bong Gi never asked further. He knew if Ji Ho had truly decided to quit acting, nothing could stop him.

“By the way, there’s also a new drama by PD Kim Min Woo—it’s kind of unique.”

“Unique?”

“Yeah. Apparently, it’s a four-episode special. It’s low-budget anyway, so they’ll probably cast rookie actors… but he said to take a look if I have time. Claims the writing’s really good.”

Ji Ho gently flipped through the stack of scripts with long fingers. If it was PD Kim, they’d previously collaborated on a drama that earned 20 billion—and more importantly, Kim had excellent taste. Ji Ho had assumed he only favored grand-scale productions, so a low-budget drama was oddly intriguing.

“But PD Kim isn’t the type to cast based on connections, right? So I guess the lead must have decent acting skills or looks, at least.”

“Who?”

“The writer. PD Kim apparently wants to cast the writer as the female lead. Says she’s a cherished junior from university.”

‘JBC Drama Special: 23 Centimeters. Directed by Kim Min Woo. Written by Jang Hye Yoon.’

An unusual title, the name of an unfamiliar writer, and a backstory that piqued his curiosity. Ji Ho quietly repeated “Jang Hye Yoon” in his mind before turning the page.

“Sigh…”

Ji Ho found his lips parting unconsciously. From that slight opening escaped a sigh aged, it seemed, an extra ten years. A quiet ripple stirred deep within his chest, quickly swelling into a storm that churned and overturned his entire heart.

A childhood conversation with his father—and those tender feelings—were written there in that thin script. Memories of his now-deceased father, moments only he remembered as the sole witness, were printed in words so plain and concise they cut straight to his core.

After flipping through a few more pages, he closed the script and stared at the cover. For quite a while.

“…Jang Hye Yoon.”

“Hm?”

At the unfamiliar name, Bong Gi immediately responded.

“He doesn’t have to be a rookie. As long as the price is right.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Tell PD Kim I want to join this project.”

“What?!”

The calm tone couldn’t mask the enormity of those words—Bong Gi had to pull the car over abruptly.

“I need to meet this Jang Hye Yoon person.”

He didn’t care that Bong Gi had twisted his whole body to stare at him. His mind held only one thought—the strange, unfamiliar desire to meet Jang Hye Yoon.

A longing.

Ji Ho’s thumb gently brushed over the name “Hye Yoon” printed on the script, as if caressing it.