Chapter 9
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Do You Know Camu?
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The characters, events, and places appearing in this story are fictional creations for the novel and may differ from reality.
Scene 9. Do You Know Camu?
“Writer Kim. I’m begging you. If this one fails too, it’s not just you who’s ruined—I’m ruined, too. My position as Head of the Drama Department could go up in smoke. The cable channels are driving me crazy, and now the streaming services are making all this noise… I haven’t been able to sleep lately.”
“CP-nim. You don’t trust me? I’m Kim Seong-hui. The queen of rom-coms, Kim. Seong. Hui!”
“I know. Of course, I trust you. Absolutely.”
Chief Producer Yu Han-seong clasped his hands together as if in prayer and spoke again.
“So, this time, you have to…”
“I get it, okay?”
Kim Seong-hui waved her hand dismissively, as if to tell him to stop.
“Right. I’m sorry. But still, please?”
“CP-nim Yu Han-seong!”
“Ah, right. Sorry. You need to brainstorm your new project, and I’ve been here too long.”
After practically chasing CP Yu Han-seong out, Kim Seong-hui sat down with a weary expression.
She took out her synopsis notebook and flipped through the pages before slamming it shut in frustration.
“Haa… This is driving me insane. I have no new stories. How did the great Kim Seong-hui end up like this?”
She had put on a brave face in front of CP Yu, but lately, it was as if she’d become a fool, completely unable to come up with any ideas.
“That damn bitch. Park Yu-mi, that fucking bitch! This is all her fault!”
At twenty-five, she had quit the stable job she had worked so hard to get and stepped out into the world to chase the dream she had buried.
When she first broke into the industry by winning a writing contest, no one paid her any attention.
The contest was held every year, and winners were produced each time.
Even grand, gold, or silver prize winners didn't know when they would get a proper debut, and the industry was littered with minor award winners like her.
When she was urgently brought in as something of a scapegoat for a drama that was just a filler in the schedule, everyone assumed it was a one-off. The competing shows in the same time slot were major productions, and with no preparation time, every other writer had turned it down.
However, there was a lot of talk about Kim Seong-hui’s involvement.
How many writers would jump at the chance, even if it was for a one-time sacrificial gig? Yet, a minor prize winner, not even a grand prize recipient, was chosen?
It was as if they didn’t want it for themselves but couldn’t stand to see anyone else have it either. From that point on, all sorts of rumors began to swirl around Kim Seong-hui.
-I heard she used her pretty face and slept her way in.
-How else would a nobody with no connections in this industry debut? It must have been something like that.
-They said they’re saving the grand prize winner for something better. They’re just using her once and tossing her aside.
-But where did she even come from? She just popped up out of nowhere and is muddying the waters.
The broadcasting world was already rife with gossip and drama, but the backbiting aimed at Kim Seong-hui grew endlessly.
Kim Seong-hui was not unaware of these rumors. That’s why she gritted her teeth and wrote even harder, approaching her debut project as if it were her last.
And she hit a 23% viewership rating.
The competing dramas were plagued with misfortune—cast members causing trouble, fights between writers and producers. Although an unexpectedly favorable field had been laid out for her, hitting 23% with a common romance story in this day and age was like a camel passing through the eye of a needle.
When the nobody they thought they could use and discard hit the jackpot, the same people who had torn her down as a writer who slept her way to the top burned with a different kind of jealousy.
They claimed that since the competing shows had self-destructed, they would have achieved even better ratings had they been in charge, insisting her success was nothing but pure luck.
She hadn’t majored in writing, nor had she worked as an apprentice under another writer.
Appearing as if she had fallen from the sky and stealing the spotlight, the established writers, who prided themselves on their tight-knit circle, began to openly ignore her.
-Beginner’s luck is just that.
-I’d bet my right hand she’ll go down in history as a one-hit wonder. It’s obvious what happens with kids like her. They just repeat the same old story until they crash and burn.
-How long can someone with no background or connections last?
All sorts of slander were thrown her way, but Kim Seong-hui stood firm.
A true professional speaks through results, not their mouth.
Ignoring the whispers around her, she immediately began working on her next project and achieved a 22% viewership rating.
Although it was 1% lower than her previous work, it was more meaningful because this time she had faced her competitors head-on and won again.
Though she had been branded as a writer who slept her way up and was tormented by all kinds of rumors, Kim Seong-hui had become a rising star in the drama world.
Striking while the iron was hot, she went on to produce three more successful works in a row, finally earning the title "Queen of Rom-Coms."
But…
As they say, all good things must come to an end.
While she held the title "Queen of Rom-Coms," she was defeated in a head-to-head battle with a writer known as the "Sorceress of Rom-Coms."
The difference in their viewership ratings was a staggering 7%.
A 1-2% gap could have been spun as a close match, a great competition that drove viewership, but a 7% difference left no room for excuses.
To make matters worse, that woman, Park Yu-mi, had been picking fights with her since her debut and was the suspected source of the rumors about her sleeping her way to the top.
“To lose to anyone but that bitch Park Yu-mi.”
The problem was, ever since that incident, she couldn’t write.
“This is driving me crazy. Why can’t I think of any ideas? Please, just one idea!”
It was unclear whether this was due to the shock of defeat or if she had simply run out of energy after running nonstop for so long. But it was a plain fact that a writer who cannot write can no longer be called a writer.
“But I can’t just write any old thing!”
Doing so would be like a small crack in a dam that widens until it all comes crashing down—a shortcut to ruin.
She would rather not write at all than churn out uninspired stories like they were mass-produced.
After days of pacing restlessly in her studio, Kim Seong-hui sent a message to CP Yu Han-seong.
-CP-nim. I’m going away to work on my project. I’ll be back when the script is finished, so don’t waste your energy looking for me.
-What? No. Writer Kim. What are you talking about?
-I’m going to write.
-I mean… we only have five months until it’s scheduled to air.
-You think I don’t know that? That’s why I’m saying I’m going to focus on writing.
-I know. I know you work hard, Writer Kim. But you don’t have to leave your studio to go somewhere else. We need to discuss things, cast actors… Wouldn’t it be better to be nearby?
-….
-Writer Kim?
-….
-Writer Kim!
-….
-Writer Kim? Seong-hui? Hey! This isn’t right! Where are you right now? I’ll come to you. Hey! Answer me!
Suffering from extreme stress, Kim Seong-hui boarded a plane and flew off to Europe.
*
Arriving in Paris and seeing the Eiffel Tower, or sipping coffee at a café like a Parisian, left her feeling utterly blank.
Realizing France wasn’t it, she flew to Italy this time.
She wandered through Roman ruins and, like Audrey Hepburn as Princess Ann, stuck her hand in the Mouth of Truth, hoping some brilliant idea would strike her. But still, nothing. Just a blank void.
“Have I completely lost my mind?”
After wandering aimlessly, she arrived in southern Italy. There, in a souvenir shop, a single postcard caught her eye.
“Where is this?”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It looks like a painting. Could you tell me where it is?”
“Malta.”
“Malta…?”
“You can take a boat from the pier over there. It’s a short ride.”
There was no other reason. She was partly swayed by the words “a short ride,” and she also wanted to see the scenery from the postcard with her own eyes.
Her heart was heavy, having already wasted about a month with no results, but since she had come this far, she decided to visit the place in the postcard.
And so, she boarded a boat, heading to what might be the final destination of her journey: Malta.
She had assumed the island in the southern Mediterranean was part of Italy. But…
“This is its own country?”
At the side of the pier, there was a separate immigration checkpoint.
*
“Korean?”
The officer checked her passport and asked if she was Korean.
With Korean culture being so popular worldwide these days, it wasn’t uncommon for people to ask if she was Korean and try to strike up a conversation.
“Pardon? Ah. Yes.”
“Oh, good.”
“Huh?”
Good? What was good? The fact that I’m Korean?
Just as she was getting bewildered by the over-the-top reaction, another strange question came her way.
“Do you know Camu?”
“Huh?”
What was this? The Maltese version of ‘Do you know kimchi? Do you know Psy?’
Kim Seong-hui responded with a questioning “Huh?”, but the man seemed to take it as a “Yes.”
“Okay. Good! Pass! Welcome to Malta!”
She didn’t know what was okay, good, or a pass, but—*thump!*—her passport was stamped with an entry permit.
“Ah… thank you.”
Seong-hui accepted her passport with a dazed expression.
Once outside, she tilted her head, thinking about the strange experience, before hailing a taxi.
“Excuse me. It’s here.”
Seong-hui handed the driver the postcard she had bought at the souvenir shop.
“Oh, Camu!”
The taxi driver nodded immediately, as if he knew the place in the picture.
‘What? Was the Camu the immigration officer mentioned this place?’
She had only met two people since arriving in Malta, but if everyone she met was saying “Camu, Camu,” the place in the photo must be a famous tourist spot.
‘I’m not really a fan of crowded places…’
She had come all this way to see the view from the postcard, but her body and mind were so exhausted that she wanted to avoid anywhere bustling with people.
‘But it’s not like I have anywhere else to go… Since I’m here anyway, I’ll just take a look and leave.’
“Okay. Camu. Please take me there.”
“Okay, good! Okay, good! Let’s go!”
The taxi driver, for some reason overjoyed, flashed a wide smile, repeated “Okay,” and started the car.
And…
After driving for a full two hours, they finally arrived at the place from the postcard.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me! The… the taxi fare!’
No wonder he was so happy when I said I was going to Camu!
That bastard! If it was this far, he should have said so from the start!
I spent the whole ride getting ripped off, and now the sun’s gone down! What am I supposed to do now!
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