The Third Work (5)

"Did you watch Itaewon Revolution yesterday?"

"Yeah. It was fun."

"Come on, that reaction is so you. It's been forever since Writer 927 dropped a new project, and everyone's completely losing it. Still, an average rating of thirty-seven ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠percent from the very first episode is a little terrifying."

I shrugged at Cha Musik's words.

Just as he said, the first episode of Itaewon Revolution had posted the highest premiere rating of any drama in history. A big part of that was the fact that it was my next work, but it also helped that every single program airing in the same time slot had either shifted its schedule or postponed entirely just to get out of Itaewon Revolution's way.

If a heavyweight show was on the board, you placed everything else as far from it as possible. That was basic network strategy—keep the smaller programs from getting slaughtered. Thanks to that, Itaewon Revolution had the golden Saturday-night eight-o'clock slot all to itself.

Now the real question was whether these absurd numbers would hold all the way to the finale.

"Heheh."

That was when it happened. A distinctly unpleasant little laugh drifted over from beside me. I glanced over on reflex and found my friend hunched over his phone, typing a comment into some community board.

I carefully peeked at his screen out of the corner of my eye so he wouldn't notice.

Those had been the relatively "normal" comments. What my friend was typing right now was something else entirely.

Yeah……

If it had stopped there, I could have just shrugged and moved on. Of course there would be people who hated me if there were people who loved me. The problem was that my friend's comment did not stop there.

……

What the hell kind of cult has this guy joined lately?

I felt like I had just witnessed something I was never meant to see. And when I looked closer, the username matched perfectly with the guy who, a few days ago, had said he wanted to lock me in a room and force me to write scripts.

"Musik. You a Writer 927 fan by any chance?"

I asked it with my friendliest smile.

"Huh? Yeah? Wait—why are you rolling up your sleeves all of a sudden? That's scary."

"Oh, this? I've been under a lot of stress lately, and I'm pretty sure you're one of the causes."

"So?"

"Since the Writer 927 you love so much is me, I figure I can take one clean hit for you, right?"

"……Huh?"

Cha Musik tilted his head like I'd just started speaking pure nonsense. From the look on his face, he clearly did not believe for a second that I was 927.

I let out a sigh. Fair enough. If a guy you'd just been hanging out with as a normal friend suddenly claimed to be the genius writer currently setting the whole country on fire, I wouldn't believe it either.

"Haa… whatever. Since you're a Writer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠927 fan, let me ask you one thing."

"What?"

"If Writer 927 finished this project and then suddenly announced retirement, how would you react?"

"That's an ominous question out of nowhere…… It'd depend on the reason, I guess."

Cha Musik went on. If the reason was unfair, he said, he'd feel a massive sense of betrayal—and that would naturally turn into rage at Writer 927.

Then what about the opposite?

What if the reason was justified?

.

.

.

"So the 'justified reason' you're talking about is excessive pressure and public outrage over the next work?"

"Exactly."

"Hmm……"

Cha Musik's face grew serious as he considered Seo Eunwoo's words. At last his tightly shut mouth opened again.

"Hey, Seo Eunwoo. My dad's still vice president of Muhan Newspaper, you know? Thanks to that I have a pretty decent idea how the world works and how the public thinks."

"And?"

"……If it was for the reason you just described, people would go completely insane. Communities, news outlets—every single media platform would demand a national apology from Writer 927. And……"

"Oh, really?"

I'd already gotten the answer I wanted, so there was no real need to hear the rest. And inside, Seo Eunwoo thought:

If that was going to happen, maybe I should have just done it sooner.

"Well… that answers it well enough, I guess."

Watching his friend act strangely today of all days, Cha Musik only managed a bitter smile. The last thing he'd meant to say had fizzled out unfinished, but it hadn't been important anyway.

What he'd been about to tell Seo Eunwoo was only a hypothetical—the absolute worst-case scenario.

Writer 927 was beloved not just in Korea but around the entire world. The mere fact of that writer's retirement would already hit everyone like a shockwave; if the reason turned out to be the Korean public itself?

Criticism from every corner of the globe would rain down on Korea. And there would definitely be people who saw it as an opportunity.

For example……

They might try to approach Writer 927 and lure the writer into emigrating to their own country. If Writer 927 had already grown thoroughly sick of Korea, those offers might actually be accepted.

Honestly, Cha Musik did not want to imagine what came after that. This was the worst-case scenario in the purest sense, and he sincerely hoped it would stay nothing more than a hypothetical.

Time flew, and before long October arrived.

Itaewon Revolution, which had premiered in the summer, climbed steadily from the first episode all the way to the last. The finale hit a staggering 40.2 percent. The public reaction was just as glowing—another reminder that Writer 927 never missed.

The unstoppable path of an ordinary man named Gang Cheol must have delivered pure catharsis and raw stimulation to viewers who had compromised with reality, and to those walking the same hard road as Gang Cheol himself.

Honestly, for the first few days after the broadcast ended, I was content with the response and the numbers.

Then, two weeks later, a call came from PD Na.

Unfortunately.

In just two short weeks, the inquiry calls to Studio NMIX had started up again—exactly like last time. The content of the calls was identical too. The overwhelming majority were pressure calls demanding to know when Writer 927's next work was coming out.

I hadn't expected anything different. Until I took some kind of action, their attitude was never going to change.

Fine. I decided to treat this as a good thing.

A hobby was only a hobby. Maybe this was the perfect chance to retire properly and look for a different path……

"Different path, my ass."

The moment the thought of a new career crossed my mind, another one followed right behind it.

How much had I actually earned as a writer so far?

From my first work, Welcome to Café Violet, all the way through the third, Itaewon Revolution, I had taken Studio NMIX stock instead of cash. Last year a single share of Studio NMIX had been worth roughly ten thousand won; now it had jumped elevenfold to a hundred and ten thousand. If I converted the shares I held into cash, the number of zeros on the end started looking weird.

At this point you could call me a major shareholder without anyone batting an eye. Was that why Director Park Yongo had always been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so carefully polite around me?

Anyway.

Yeah… okay.

It wasn't about the money. The thought just hit me out of nowhere: this was the field I was best at, and the field I loved most.

That did not mean I was reversing the retirement decision. Just as Cha Musik had told me, a proper period of reflection from the public was a necessary step. So instead of permanent retirement, what about a provisional one—until the public's attitude improved?

And just to be clear one more time: this was absolutely not about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the money.

……Really, it wasn't.