The Third Work (4)
Filming for Itaewon Revolution was progressing with almost suspicious speed and smoothness.
The reason was simple: the two leads, who accounted for more than half the screen time, had yet to produce a single NG and were powering straight through every take.
Of course, Go Dongbin, seated in the cinematographer's chair, was hardly taking it easy.
Having wrapped shot #24, Go Dongbin looked over at Park Hajun and Seol Soyoung standing side by side on set.
From a distance, they made a fine picture—no question about it. Those two, destined to lead the next generation of actors, chatting amicably with each other? There was no way that image could come out looking bad.
Yes. As long as you only watched from afar…
"Your eye line at the end was a little off. Were you spacing out?"
As always, Park Hajun turned to Seol Soyoung with that easy, good-natured smile.
Seol Soyoung returned an identical smile, as if she'd long grown used to this, and answered.
"My, how could that possibly be? The director let it pass without a word. I suspect you simply misread it, sunbae. Oh, and by the way—your cue on the opening line came in a touch late. You didn't forget your lines, did you?"
"That's a funny one. I've already memorized the script through #35. No chance of that."
"Then, if it wouldn't be too forward of me—might I ask what Gang Cheol says to Yu Ara in the opening scene of #31?"
Park Hajun answered without the slightest hesitation.
"'I never thought this would be easy. But I'm not alone—I've got all of you with me. So Ara, just trust me a little more.' That answer enough for you?"
He recited it letter-perfect. In turn, he asked Seol Soyoung for Yu Ara's first line in #33, and she delivered the correct answer just as lightly.
It was like watching two absolute masters from a martial arts novel cross blades—gauging each other's skill through a duel of words.
Listening from the side, Go Dongbin stared at them with a thoroughly exhausted expression and thought, We've only finished shooting episode six, and those two are already rehearsing episode eight…
Go Dongbin managed a bitter smile.
If their acting had been subpar, he would have chewed them out on the spot—told them to focus on the scene in front of them. But that kind of scolding held no power over these two, who were nailing every take without a single NG.
Still… they exchanged useful feedback often enough. So it was fine, in its own way.
"Anyway, keep matching my tempo on the next scene the way you just did."
"Hmm? Hold on. Anyone watching could tell I was the one leading you just now."
"Sunbae. If Writer 927 heard you say that, I'm fairly certain he'd laugh in your face."
"That person, laughing at something I said? Actually, I'd take that as a compliment."
"…?"
Uh… maybe?
For the record, this wasn't a particularly strange sight to Go Dongbin or anyone else on set. Those two had been like this from their very first meeting.
As mentioned earlier: from a distance, they looked like nothing more than a friendly senior and junior. Up close, listening to their conversation, the atmosphere was less "friendly" and more "mortal enemies."
And the reason they were so intensely aware of each other came down to one shared point.
They were the only two actors in this production of Itaewon Revolution who had been cast by Writer 927's personal choice.
So what did 927 mean to each of them?
To Seol Soyoung, he was a lifelong benefactor—and the object of her affection. She approached every performance determined to repay the faith of the person who had cast her as the lead, delivering acting worthy of his expectations.
Park Hajun was much the same. Any actor who claimed not to have seen Writer 927's work would be lying. Somewhere along the way, Park Hajun had become a devoted fan, burning with the desire to appear in one of 927's productions.
And then, as if reading his heart, Writer 927's side had reached out first with a casting offer. Not just any role—the male lead of the third work…
How 927 had noticed him and decided to cast him wasn't particularly important to Park Hajun. What mattered was proving, with everything he had, that the eye of the writer who had chosen him for this project had not been wrong.
Because their mindset toward acting—and the person they were performing for—were so similar, a strange sense of kinship had already begun to form during script rehearsals.
If it had stopped there, they might have become the warm senior-junior pair Na Yeongjin had once described to Seo Eunwoo. But both of them were greedy to live up to 927's expectations, and both were deadly serious about their craft. That was how the current rival dynamic had taken shape.
Yes.
At this point, any romance between them was already impossible—you could say that without exaggeration.
And this crucial fact was something Seo Eunwoo would only come to realize later.
Though… it wouldn't be all that far in the future.
Knock, knock—
"Excuse me."
Meanwhile…
Na Yeongjin had come to Yoo Yeonjung's office over adjustments to the production budget.
Ordinarily, when Yoo Yeonjung and Na Yeongjin discussed business, they stuck to only what was necessary—clean, brief, and done. Conversations ended almost as soon as they began.
But ever since Yoo Yeonjung had returned from her business trip to Japan last year, the pattern had shifted a little.
"So? Any word from the writer lately?"
"Well… not really. He's never been one for personal conversation."
Once again, Yoo Yeonjung was checking on Writer 927's news through Na Yeongjin. In a way, this conversation was the real agenda—more so than the budget adjustments.
She often received updates on 927 through Na Yeongjin. She had a sense she was somewhat disliked, and of course Writer 927 would never open up to her about his true feelings. The only people close enough to casually exchange words with him—and pass along any extra news—were PD Na and Jo Yongseok from Planning & Production Team 1.
In any case.
Lately, Yoo Yeonjung had been keeping a close eye on Writer 927. The reason was the bombshell declaration he had made not long ago.
…Retirement.
Yoo Yeonjung's expression darkened sharply.
Writer 927's third work. The moment news of Itaewon Revolution's production went public, the coercive pressure from the public toward him had dropped off as if they'd been waiting for the excuse.
By now, everyone was no doubt waiting for his third work to air, hearts full of anticipation.
But did they know? What effect their careless behavior—chasing immediate entertainment and thrills—had left on Writer 927's heart…
Yoo Yeonjung was certain. Even after this third work finished airing, the public's attitude would remain much the same as before. And if that happened, no one would be able to stop his retirement.
Frankly, Yoo Yeonjung believed Writer 927's decision to retire was close to the correct answer. Unless something delivered a major shock to the current public, that coercive attitude would continue—and in the end, it would only harm everyone involved.
But.
What worried Yoo Yeonjung was the possibility that he would retire and never return to this industry again.
…Yes.
That worst-case future had to be prevented. Absolutely. By any means. Without fail.
Of course, Studio NMIX's interests and future were part of it—but more than that, she simply didn't want to watch a genius writer like 927 disappear because of other people's greed.
The reason she had been so persistently asking Na Yeongjin for news of Writer 927 was to find even the slightest clue that might keep him from leaving.
"Ah—come to think of it, something a little strange happened recently."
"Strange?"
Na Yeongjin suddenly recounted the time Writer 927 had asked about the atmosphere at Park Hajun and Seol Soyoung's script rehearsals—then hung up out of nowhere.
"Something about Eunwoo that day felt… unfamiliar."
"Now that is rather interesting."
And hearing that, Yoo Yeonjung smiled with a look of conviction for some reason.
In truth, she had already half-guessed that the key to solving Writer 927's retirement problem might be surprisingly close at hand. Which was why, a few days earlier, she had given her husband Park Yongo a certain assignment.
When discussing the drama production with Writer 927, casually sound him out about his relationship with that "actress." She'd even prepared the lines in advance so he wouldn't mess it up.
Fortunately, her husband had carried out the mission splendidly. According to him, the moment the topic came up, the writer had looked thoroughly flustered.
And now, with PD Na's story on top of that, the pieces seemed to be slowly falling into place.
"Hmm. No matter how I look at it, it has to be her."
"…What are you talking about?"
At Yoo Yeonjung's muttered words, Na Yeongjin, seated across from her, tilted his head and asked.
"Oh, just something. I think I've found the key that will hold our free-spirited writer in place."
Yoo Yeonjung smiled faintly and thought to herself.
Hmm… no.
In this case, "lock" might be the better word than "key."