Chapter 29: Script
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 29: Script
I knew exactly what she was suggesting. I wasn’t that dense.
I didn’t know what had suddenly gotten into Seo Ye-rin to make her act so bold, but either way, my answer was already decided.
Since Anonymous 69 was known to me as a man, I had to treat her like one.
After I sent that, there was no reply for a while. I wondered what she was doing, but a subtle sense of unease began to creep in.
I waited to see what kind of response would come back.
“Phew.”
I was able to breathe a sigh of relief thanks to her usual tone returning.
Is something going on?
She wouldn’t just do this out of the blue. Maybe she was jealous because a friend got a boyfriend or something.
Or maybe she realized I’m the Administrator…
The thought crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it.
If she had realized it, she wouldn’t have sent messages like that. Even though we’d become closer, we weren’t at the "sleeping together" stage yet.
Of course, I didn’t.
But since there was a chance she might suspect me, I planned to steer the conversation in a direction that distanced myself from my real identity.
Hah.
Where did the girl who turned red over an indirect kiss learn about things like that?
“Oh, seriously.”
I didn’t know who it was, but I really wanted to give whoever was putting these weird ideas into Seo Ye-rin’s head a piece of my mind.
Since she didn’t reply after that, I didn’t send anything else.
Seo Ye-rin was surrounded by so many people, and most of them were just trying to find a way to seduce her.
It seemed important for her to have her own set of values.
I understood that she used the Anonymous 69 persona to relieve stress, but she really needed to stop letting herself be swayed in reality.
Well, that’s none of my business.
That was for her to figure out. For me, it was enough that my identity as the Administrator hadn’t been compromised.
*
Do you know when you hate playing games the most?
When you get absolutely crushed?
When the opponent mocks you?
No. It’s when a teammate who’s playing terribly starts flaming you.
That’s exactly the situation I was in right now.
After my Thursday lectures ended, I went to a PC Bang to enjoy some solo gaming, but I got trolled so hard in the very first match that I just shut the game off.
Still, I didn’t want to waste my prepaid time by just sitting there, so I was debating what to do.
Senior Min Ju-hee had sent me a message.
What was this about?
Was she suddenly going to buy me dinner?
“Heh.”
So that was it.
The editing was just an excuse; she probably felt bad about not being able to buy me a proper meal last time.
I had slipped out early that night and ended up eating ramyeon with Choi I-seo.
Wasn’t chicken a step down from pork?
It wasn’t dinner time yet, so I wasn’t hungry. I thought about ordering some ramyeon out of boredom but decided against it.
And I didn’t really feel like playing games either.
Ah.
Come to think of it, the reason we were meeting was for the script. The person whose script gets chosen gets to skip the rest of the group project.
Well, it’s not a bad deal.
To be honest, except for Seo Ye-rin and Senior Min Ju-hee, I didn’t really get along with the others, so I’d be happy if any of them disappeared.
However.
We should all suffer together.
I immediately opened a Hancom document on the computer. Even if I, the editor, wrote a script, I wouldn’t be able to skip the project anyway.
But if the script I wrote got chosen, then wouldn’t that mean no one gets to skip?
“Hehehe.”
I felt great.
It felt like I was doing something "good" while simultaneously screwing everyone over.
Since it was a short film of about 30 to 40 minutes, the plot didn’t need to be too complex.
They said to go with either romance or horror.
Personally, romance wasn’t really my thing, so horror seemed like the right choice.
If it was horror, I could just whip up a ghost story and have the protagonists go on a "courage test" or something.
Writing the script seemed easier than I thought.
I was about to move my mouse to look up a novel I’d read before about a necromancer who exorcises ghosts for reference, when—
“Oh?”
A sharp, distinct voice rang out from beside me.
The moment I heard it, I thought the voice was more "unique" than "charming"—the kind that sticks in your brain.
When I glanced over, a woman with bleached blonde hair greeted me first.
“You’re Kim Woo-jin, right?”
“Ah.”
What was her name again?
I remembered her being Seo Ye-rin’s friend.
She was the one who had suddenly messaged me during the Karaoke Call-out Incident, only to grumble that I was more boring than she expected.
“Hold on.”
I tried to check my messages to find her name, but then I remembered I’d left the group chat, so I couldn’t look it up.
And I obviously hadn’t added her as a friend.
“Ah, I don’t know. Just tell me your name.”
“Wow.”
Yoo Ah-rin looked at me with an expression of disbelief, annoyed by my blunt rudeness.
Then, the cool, handsome PC Bang part-timer behind her answered for her.
“She’s Yoo Ah-rin. You’re both freshmen in the English Literature department, right?”
“Yes, I’m Kim Woo-jin. And you are?”
“I’m Jeong Chan-woo. I’m also a student at Gahyeon University. Architecture Engineering.”
Architecture Engineering?
It wasn’t that he didn’t look the part, but he looked like he could be a celebrity. He had a great aura, giving off strong actor vibes.
Jeong Chan-woo was a famous PC Bang part-timer. Female students often came to the PC Bang just to see him, and male students naturally followed to see the girls.
I’d heard people talking about the "Zero PC Bang Hottie" a few times.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids. Please take care of her.”
“What are you talking about? Are you my dad?”
Yoo Ah-rin snapped back at Jeong Chan-woo’s words and plopped down in the seat next to mine.
“Give me some ramyeon.”
“Jajang ramyeon?”
“Yep!”
At Yoo Ah-rin’s bratty demand, Jeong Chan-woo immediately went to boil the water.
I wondered why a guy like him let himself be bossed around by her, but I decided it was none of my business and turned back to my script.
“What are you doing?”
Yoo Ah-rin peeked over, likely waiting for her ramyeon. Even though her computer was on, she wasn’t doing anything in particular.
“Mind your own business.”
Since I didn’t have a great impression of her, I answered curtly, but Yoo Ah-rin just shook her head.
“I’m not playing games. Chan-woo said he’d give me free food and time, so I just came because I was bored.”
Ah, I’m screwed.
I could already see myself being pestered by her the whole time.
I thought about switching seats and started to get up, but Yoo Ah-rin unhesitatingly grabbed my clothes and pulled me back down.
“You’re Ye-rin’s friend. Doesn’t that make us friends too?”
“Uh, no.”
“You seemed like you’d be fun, but you’re more boring than I thought.”
“You seemed like you’d be rude, but you’re even ruder than I expected.”
We glared at each other, neither willing to back down. Yoo Ah-rin didn’t look it, but she clearly had some temper.
“But seriously, what are you doing?”
She looked puzzled, seeing the word processor open on my screen.
“Sigh.”
Realizing she’d probably annoy me until I explained, I gave her a brief rundown of the situation.
“What? Really?!”
For some reason, her eyes lit up, and her shoulders bounced with excitement.
“Wow! You’re writing a script? That sounds so fun. A 40-minute short film project? Man! I should’ve taken that class!”
“…….”
“I really love movies, you know? I love coming up with plots and stuff, too. Hold on, let me come up with something absolutely legendary for you.”
“No, I don’t need help—”
Yoo Ah-rin immediately pushed my chair aside, leaned over, and started searching for reference materials.
I wondered why she had to use my computer when she had her own right there.
Just then, Jeong Chan-woo brought the ramyeon. He’d brought a bowl for me, too.
“It’s on the house.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
Yoo Ah-rin didn’t even look at Jeong Chan-woo; she just kept typing away on my computer.
Jeong Chan-woo glanced over at us, but he quickly turned around and went back to his station.
This feels awkward.
I felt a bit uncomfortable being caught in the middle of their strange dynamic, but—
“Even for horror, the content is what matters. A short film for an assignment? Then it has to be a sad ending.”
“What?”
What was she talking about?
At my question, Yoo Ah-rin leaned back against the chair and crossed her legs.
She had the air of a detective explaining a mystery.
“It’s a short film, right? That means a short running time. The key is to not focus too much on side characters and make the audience completely immerse themselves in the protagonist.”
“I get that, but why a sad ending?”
“Oh, shut up for a second. I’m explaining.”
“…….”
“It’s not like there’s going to be a sequel, and you’re not getting paid by the audience. You make them get fully invested in the character and then leave them with a lingering aftertaste.”
“…….”
“Because it’s an assignment. Even if it’s sad, if it leaves a lingering impression, it means you’ve touched their emotions. If that feeling sticks with them, you’re bound to get a good grade on the project.”
Because it was an assignment.
Being memorable was what mattered.
“Not a frustrating sad ending, but a cathartic one. One where you feel a sense of loss, but you understand that it had to end that way.”
She smirked.
Yoo Ah-rin gave a bold, confident smile.
“In that moment, they’ll mistake the emotion of sadness for being deeply moved.”
“Oh…….”
“That way, you can leave a deep impression on the professor, too.”
I almost clapped without realizing it.
It felt like she might actually be onto something.
“So just trust your big sis. I’ll make sure your script gets chosen. And if it does…”
This time.
She started tapping on the keyboard with a mischievous, wicked grin.
“Those people who were trying to slack off and skip the group project will have to shut their traps.”
I stared at her, slightly stunned, before picking up the free ramyeon.
“……I thought this when you messaged me before, too.”
“Yeah?”
“But I think you have a bit of a mean personality.”
It was hard to describe her any other way—wanting to do this just because she didn't want to see people skip out on a project that wasn't even hers.
Yoo Ah-rin shot me a glare.
“Hey, don’t eat that ramyeon. It’s a service from my friend, so don’t eat it.”
Slurp.
“Umai!”
“Chan-woo! Put a bowl of ramyeon on Number 21’s tab!”
Slurp.
“Umai!”