Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Being a Maknae Writer is Tough
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"Min-seong-ah. A man ought to work with pretty women to feel good."
I've heard that line endlessly since I was a kid. From my father, no less.
It was back in elementary school, after Mom passed away.
"Why?"
"Even if the work's tough, seeing those women perks you right up."
"Yeah?"
"Don't live like your dad. Make sure you work with pretty women and stay happy. Oh, and pretty women tend to have nice personalities too."
Dad married his childhood sweetheart, my mom, and had me.
She was his first and last love.
Maybe that's why he harbored a bit of regret for not seeing more of the world when it came to women.
"I hope you end up at a company full of pretty women, getting all sorts of experiences. That's what a man's supposed to do. Yeah. That's the way."
I didn't get why it had to be that way in this modern age, not some Joseon-era drama.
But strangely, I found myself convinced by Dad's words.
That's when my eyes landed on the TV.
"Right, Min-seong-ah. How about a broadcasting station? There've gotta be tons of pretty women there."
I bought into that too, and broadcasting stations suddenly caught my interest.
I was just a kid, but Dad's words started making sense.
The women on TV were all gorgeous.
They weren't celebrities for nothing—everyone on screen just glowed.
Like Dad said, working with people that pretty would make life fun.
So my first dream was to become a celebrity.
I had to give that up the moment I started middle school.
"Min-seong-ah, sorry, but you don't have a celebrity face. Dad's sorry."
That first bone-deep reality check hurt like hell.
After that, I never thought of myself as handsome.
"Alright! Min-seong-ah! How about staff? Broadcasting staff!"
Convinced again by Dad, I dreamed of becoming a staffer.
There were all kinds of staff roles.
Managers, PDs, writers, camera ops, sound techs, you name it.
The one that grabbed me most was writer.
The fantasy of turning my imagination into reality hooked me.
That was probably the first time I set a goal for myself.
From then on, I hit the books hard.
In high school, I even tried writing web novels.
I read tons of drama and movie scripts too.
In college, I majored in broadcasting and film and studied my ass off.
The payoff?
After military service, a senior who liked me helped me land a job at a media company.
A place that took subcontracts from broadcasters to produce all sorts of programs.
Orem Pictures.
But instead of drama or scriptwriter, I ended up as a variety show writer, stuck doing grunt work like this.
"Min-seong-ah. I'm all done."
"I've picked mine too. Just need to print now."
We bundled our selected characters and started printing the docs.
"You haven't been eating properly lately, have you? Your face looks rough."
Han Yu-ra's pretty face staring right at me made me flush for no reason.
"Ah, yeah. Kinda."
"Cup ramen or kimbap every time?"
"That's all I've got time for."
"Why not hit the cafeteria downstairs?"
"When's a maknae got time for that? Work's piled to the sky."
"Fair. I was the same when I was maknae. Gotta wait till shooting wraps to breathe."
"If it's this hard for a guy like me, must've been brutal for you, sunbae."
"What're you saying? Don't you know me? I was the Iron Goddess."
"Hahaha. Right, you were. Yeah, I remember now."
"Not many women finish a full marathon, right? I bet I'm tougher than most guys. Oh, but probably not you."
"Nah, you'd still smoke me. Haven't worked out in forever."
One thing I'm grateful to Dad for.
He always said a man has to protect women, so he put me in boxing lessons young.
That boxing got me a bit of fame in college.
At a department dinner, I shut down a fight with the next table over perfectly.
"Eh, still. Boxing's brutal."
"But isn't a full marathon even worse?"
"Heh. True? Guess that makes me tougher now. Wanna race sometime? Bet on it."
"Gonna strip your hoobaes for it? Too harsh."
"Hahaha. Kidding. Just kidding."
Being able to laugh and chat with a pretty woman like this.
It's the one ray of light in this grueling life.
"Oh, right. Hyun-soo asked how you're doing. Said let's grab a meal sometime."
Kang Hyun-soo.
Han Yu-ra sunbae's boyfriend next door.
Also my college sunbae.
They started as campus couple and have been going strong long-term.
I got recommended for the interview here thanks to him.
He's in a hot shooting team with solid connections.
"Sounds good. I'll treat when my first paycheck hits."
"How much is a rookie's first check? We'll cover it—you save yours for a gift to Dad."
"Mm. Can't really."
"Huh? Why?"
"He's off on a trip abroad."
"Oh? Just give it when he gets back."
"No clue when that'll be. He's been gone over five years."
"...Isn't that just immigration?"
Dad took off overseas the day I turned twenty, saying he'd spend his twilight years right.
He's been gone a damn long time.
Given how much he talked about women, his purpose is obvious.
Mom up there must be miffed. Really.
But he gave his all while she was alive—they were called lovebirds—so I get it now.
"Eh, he'll come back someday."
"Pfft."
Whirr-
"All done."
"Min-seong-ah, you stay put. I'll deliver these to PD-nim."
"But..."
"PD-nim's not in the mood to see your face right now. Best to steer clear. Don't you have other stuff to do?"
Tons.
Meeting prep, shoot prep—mountain of work. Plus script review.
"Rest a bit here, then get to it. Got it?"
She's an angel. Makes me even more jealous of Kang Hyun-soo sunbae.
"Got it. Thanks, sunbae."
"Yeah. See ya."
After Han Yu-ra sunbae left.
"Oh? You missed one."
Spotting a late print, I grabbed it and dashed to the meeting room.
Just in time to hear Han Yu-ra opening the door.
"PD-nim! I brought all one hundred sheets!"
Huh?
A maknae writer's got more on their plate than you'd think.
Research, assisting with everything, managing cast, prepping sets, helping with recording, storyboards, stage management—the list goes on.
They also handle comms between props and shooting teams to ensure the PD and writers' vision plays out smoothly on site.
Seniors mostly talk among themselves, but for urgent changes, I relay orders and keep watch.
Our team's variety show is a domestic travel program called "How Far Have You Gone?", hopping around the country to showcase trips, food spots, traditional markets, and tourist sites.
The celebs' games and Russian roulette bits over the 1-night-2-day format pull huge crowds.
No wonder us writers are swamped.
Games to create, site scouting, props, cameras, lights, sound—everything.
Lots to oversee overall.
We have to make sure the shoot goes exactly as planned, so writers bust their asses.
And all the grunt work falls to me, the maknae writer.
With that much on my plate, mistakes happen.
"Hey! Choi Min-seong!"
"Y-yes!"
"Medical team's status? You called!?"
"Yes. They said they're on the way."
"Then why aren't they here!? Call again!"
I dialed again as ordered, but no answer this time.
"You crazy bastard! Told 'em medical team's essential for cast safety today! You didn't confirm nonstop!? Argh! You worthless punk!"
Worthless punk?
The medical team's safety crew and medics for the cast.
Never know when accidents hit, so we roll with them always.
"I'll keep trying."
"Forget it! Han Writer! You handle it."
"Got it."
"You, scram. Go double-check props."
"Yes. Sorry."
Another earful today.
Go Nan-young PD gets extra prickly on shoot days.
If things don't go as planned, he vents on everyone.
This is just my second field shoot, so of course I'm not used to it.
No such thing as consideration.
Really, enough's enough.
The abuse kept coming after.
Yelled at for the coffee and fermented anchovy sauce concentration in the Russian roulette game not suiting his taste.
Chewed me out over the acupressure mat being too painful, taking it out on me.
Every break, he'd snap at me, till the cast started intervening.
"Go PD-nim, you'll scare the maknae off."
"Hahaha. Nah, it's all for his own good."
He's sweet to celebs, though.
"Hooah."
No real breaks during filming.
Always on edge standing by during takes, dashing around prepping the next during pauses.
"Hey, maknae. What's today's side dish?"
"Checking now."
"This punk's useless. Should've memorized that shit."
Go Nan-young PD treating me like a slave boiled my blood.
Bear it.
Writers who toughed it out here thrive elsewhere, I'd heard.
Nothing to learn from that jerk, but plenty from the other writers.
First day of shooting wrapped, everyone crashed out that dawn.
"Moon's bright."
Should've been dead to the world, but I stepped out alone.
July.
Midsummer nights are refreshingly cool.
The mountain breeze swept away my pent-up frustration and sighs.
My heart softened, warmed. That's why I sneak out alone sometimes.
Ring ring ring-
A call came in.
"Dad?"
Years since Dad last rang?
Dawn here, but I picked up naturally.
"Yeobo-se..."
-Hey! Min-seong-ah! Did it come to you!?
"...What're you talking about? At this hour."
-Oh, dawn there? Daytime here. Anyway, not that. Anything weird happen to you!?
"Holding up despite daily abuse—I'm a marvel myself."
-Nonsense means it hasn't hit yet? But I vanished.
"...What's going on?"
-Shout it! Conviction Target Designation!
"...Pardon?"
-Shout it, I said!
What's with him?
Anyway, I shouted what Dad told me to.