You're Quite Young~

What does a falling stock price mean?

To anyone looking, it means things aren't going well there.

Lately, the stock chart of the drama production company known as Studio NMIX had been showing exactly that trend.

Once a national production house that churned out ratings like free soup, it had at some point become just another mediocre outfit.

There were various reasons for this, but the biggest was that the drama market as a whole had entered a downturn.

Clichéd and trite stories, incomprehensible forced emotional beats, product placement that shattered the flow—layer upon layer of problems had gradually turned the public's perception of dramas negative.

If things continued this way, Studio NMIX would clearly follow the same path to ruin as every other production company. They had hurriedly diagnosed the problems with their current situation.

Starting with the most fundamental issue of all: the endless stream of clichéd and trite stories.

This was a problem every production company faced, arising because contracted scenario writers kept churning out new works one after another.

In other words, solving it meant finding a writer of exceptional talent who could shatter the existing mold.

That was why Studio NMIX, grasping at straws, had hastily organized a contest.

Meanwhile...

Inside one of the offices at Studio NMIX.

"PD Na, aren't you staring a little too hard?"

"Kid, you know as well as I do—if we don't find something, we're finished for real."

Na Yeongjin, head of Planning and Production Team 1, had been glued to his monitor from the moment he walked in that morning.

Dozens of energy drinks and coffee cups already piled high on his desk.

The people in Content Operations, Planning and Production Team 2, and HR were probably in much the same state.

"Still, it's a relief that over four hundred works applied to this contest."

"Well, the question is how many of those actually have anything decent in them."

Junior Jo Yongseok of Planning and Production Team 1 let out a sigh of relief, but Na Yeongjin's expression remained less than pleased.

What they needed right now wasn't quantity, but quality.

The goal of this contest was to find one special work rather than four hundred mediocre ones.

Still, the fact that four hundred works had been submitted in just five days since the contest opened was, as the junior said, fairly significant.

With the drama market in a downturn, screenwriters were losing jobs one after another, and it had become a rather unpopular profession these days.

The fact that most of the story writers formerly under contract with Studio NMIX had already had their contracts terminated only underscored how bleak the drama market had become.

"Anyway, kid, if you don't want to lose a decent job, read every single submitted script as carefully as you can."

"Don't worry. I've already confirmed about twenty rejections just today."

Jo Yongseok delivered something brutal so casually.

Seeing that, Na Yeongjin gave a bitter smile and returned to examining the submitters' scripts.

"Hmm...?"

Right then, Jo Yongseok, who had been checking scripts at the desk next to him, tilted his head in puzzlement.

"Something wrong?"

"Yes. Among the contest entrants, there's one person who didn't follow the submission format properly—the only one."

"Which part did they break?"

"They're supposed to write their real name in the author signature field, but this person oddly put down the pen name 927."

"...That's strange too."

Writers were the type who strongly wanted their three-syllable names to appear on their works.

Even aspiring writers wouldn't be much different.

"Well, they broke the format so it's a rejection, but as a courtesy, give the script a read at least."

"Ah, that makes sense."

Jo Yongseok laughed nonchalantly and began slowly reading through the script of the submitter who had broken the format.

But Jo Yongseok's subsequent behavior immediately struck Na Yeongjin as odd.

One minute passed, five minutes, ten minutes—and still the junior's monitor screen showed no sign of moving away from that script.

"P-PD Na!"

Suddenly Jo Yongseok urgently tapped Na Yeongjin's shoulder.

The junior, whose only strengths had always been cool-headedness and composure, was suddenly making a fuss, so Na Yeongjin couldn't help but get flustered along with him.

"What is it this time?"

"...I can't explain it in words. Just read it once and you'll understand on your own."

Jo Yongseok wore an almost coercive expression as he vacated his seat, leaving Na Yeongjin no choice but to sit down and start reading the script of the entrant who had broken the format.

The title alone was unusual, but the story was even more original.

Reincarnation...?

Had they really thought to connect a concept used in Buddhism to a drama?

And by grafting it onto the theme of longing, the story became strangely gripping, amplifying curiosity about the past of the leads, Gyeoul and Haon, twofold.

On top of that, even more astonishing were the leads' dialogue, brimming with vitality.

Just reading the text alone naturally conjured images of the actors' movements, speech patterns, emotions, and even the backgrounds they stood against.

But the excited feeling lasted only a moment. Na Yeongjin fell into deep regret as he watched the script's scroll reach the end.

"...Kid, why did we put a character limit?"

"I agree. The submitted format is roughly four episodes' worth, and I'm already dying to know what comes next."

Na Yeongjin passionately agreed with the quiet words Jo Yongseok muttered.

"PD Na, this is purely my personal opinion, but I think we've already achieved the purpose of this contest."

"Yeah, I agree. I'll go talk to the bureau director first."

With that, Na Yeongjin hurriedly printed the problematic script onto A4 paper and dashed toward the bureau director's office located at the top of Studio NMIX's headquarters building.

The hands of Studio NMIX Bureau Director Park Yongo, gripping the script, trembled violently.

He had produced dramas for decades, but a script this entertaining was truly a first.

No—it wasn't just entertaining. It was the kind of moving script that automatically healed the heart as well.

Honestly, he was dying of curiosity about whose head this script had suddenly sprung from.

Park Yongo's mind worked fast. He was already picturing the process of turning this script into a drama.

First of all, whether the writer had considered the production company's circumstances or not, the production costs were remarkably low.

The main setting of this script was a café.

In other words, most of the filming would take place on a single set.

There was no need for grand or flashy direction either. Those kinds of fantasy-like productions required plastering on CG, which cost a fortune.

In conclusion, the script currently in his hands was a perfect one that had caught all three rabbits: entertainment, emotion, and production cost.

A smile suddenly spread across Bureau Director Park Yongo's lips. He urgently asked Na Yeongjin, who stood before him.

"Yeongjin, who wrote this?"

"I still don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know who the writer is. This is a script submitted to the current contest."

"A contest entrant's work? Heh heh, some absurd monster has suddenly appeared. Bring this person in front of me right away. We'll proceed with the contract in a hurry."

Park Yongo thought.

...We have to lock this one down no matter what.

Of course a famous writer would never submit a masterpiece like this to a contest. With a story of this caliber, they could just casually show it to their assigned PD as a new work and have it turned into a drama in an instant—why go through the trouble?

That meant the writer of this script was a genius who had appeared like a comet in the dark age of the drama market.

Park Yongo had not the slightest intention of letting such a precious raw gem slip away.

"...Aren't you being a bit hasty?"

"Nonsense, no need for long talk. You've read the script too, so you roughly felt it, right? Even if we make this half-assed, it'll be a huge hit."

"Understood. For today, I'll aim to establish contact, and we'll try to bring them in by tomorrow."

"Okay. Perfect."

Bureau Director Park Yongo grinned at Na Yeongjin's reliable plan.

Back in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the office, Na Yeongjin checked the phone number written on the submitted form and dialed.

Rrrring.

But at the sound of the other party's phone being off, Na Yeongjin made a puzzled face.

After that, he tried calling roughly every thirty minutes, but for some reason the phone remained off.

Suspecting he might have been given the wrong number, he even sent a message via email, but there was no reply either.

Na Yeongjin grew increasingly anxious, but the only method left to him was to keep dialing while praying for the other party's phone to turn on.

Time passed like that until around 3:30 in the afternoon...

Rrrring—

Only after five hours did he finally hear a proper connection tone for the first time.

At that sound, Na Yeongjin, who had been nearly ready to give up, shot up from his chair and clutched his phone with both hands.

"Please pick up!!!"

As if his desperate wish had gotten through, the call connected in one go.

But Na Yeongjin immediately felt something off.

It was because of the voice coming through the speaker.

An awkwardly low voice.

It felt like someone whose voice hadn't fully finished changing yet.

Na Yeongjin erased the questions from his mind and quickly pulled himself together.

Right! Maybe this person just has a somewhat unique voice. He decided to think as positively as possible.

"Hello. This is PD Na Yeongjin of Studio NMIX Planning and Production Team 1. Excuse me, but did you apply to our contest under the name 927?"

"Ah, things are going so well that it's a problem. Our bureau director read your script, shed tears, and said he wants to see your face right away. Are you free tomorrow?"

"Haha. I'm willing to come find you right now and hand over my business card if you'd like. Just pin your location and I'll be there immediately."

"Yes. There's something I'd like to discuss regarding that..."

At the sudden other voice coming through the speaker, Na Yeongjin's eyes went wide.

The reason he was startled was that a few incomprehensible words had reached his ears.

Seo Eunwoo?

Quick-witted as he was, Na Yeongjin roughly guessed that those three syllables were Writer 927's real name.

The problem, however, was the part about exams being over so they should go to the PC bang.

An ominous thought flashed through Na Yeongjin's mind.

He carefully opened his mouth, praying that the ridiculous idea that had just occurred to him would turn out to be wrong.

"Um... Writer 927. I'm truly sorry, but may I ask your age?"

Hearing Na Yeongjin's question, the other party didn't answer right away, as if deliberating over something.

But a moment later, in a slightly hesitant tone, he finally replied.

At first Na Yeongjin thought he must have misheard.

But when he double-checked, he received the additional confirmation that the speaker was a second-year middle schooler as well.

"Hahaha.... You're quite young~."

In the end, Na Yeongjin realized everything was real and quietly closed his eyes in resignation.

The genius writer who had appeared like a comet was fifteen years old.

Moreover, a second-year middle schooler restricted by labor standards laws.

If the bureau director found out about this fact, he might just shed tears of emotion.