Career Path (3)

Unlike the other nervous examinees, I approached the story composition with a big, cheerful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smile on my face.

The reason I'd fretted so much over the oral interview was simple: if I just nailed that interview, my acceptance was essentially locked in.

Honestly, story composition was a piece of cake for me. And the reason could be summed up in a single phrase.

I'm Writer 927, after all.

The story composition exam was allotted a total of two hours. If I couldn't even properly fill about two sheets of A4 paper in that time, provisional retirement or not, I'd have to actually retire for real...

Anyway, as long as it wasn't some completely absurd problem, I'd be fine.

"We'll begin the exam now."

With the invigilator's words from the front, the exam papers were distributed in order starting from the front seats.

Hmm... let's see.

At the very top of the exam paper were two photos and a single prompt word.

Obviously, anyone could tell the setting should be the alley in front of a house, and the characters were a grandmother and a police officer who, for some reason, were smiling together despite feeling different emotions.

Honestly, this was on the easier side of compositions. Creating a warm story as the prompt required, using only those elements, wasn't particularly difficult.

For example: a grandmother who doesn't know how to work her phone accidentally places a call to the police station. An officer who responds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the call realizes what happened and kindly teaches her how to use her phone, ending the incident on a heartwarming note.

Composing something along those lines would be perfectly fine.

But.

Still, this is an entrance exam. If it's too ordinary, the score will drop accordingly.

It was obvious most applicants would try to construct something like that, and if I became just another one of them, getting a high score would be hard.

Huff...

That's why I found myself deliberating even more carefully about what to write.

Usually, when composing a story like this, putting weight on the prompt word made it easier to create impact.

The prompt word here was "warmth."

Warmth...

When I thought of warmth, what word came to mind first?

It was a purely personal thought, but "family" was the first thing that came to me.

My father from my previous life, who would hand me a drink and offer kind words during hard times—and the family in this world who cherished and believed in me.

Just thinking of them made my heart feel warm on its own.

So the thought suddenly struck me: what if the police officer and the grandmother were family?

Images began forming more and more clearly in my mind.

The setting of this story, as shown in the photo, was an alley in front of a house.

Yes...

If I was going to do this, a cold winter day with the first snowfall would maximize the warmth even more.

I began writing the story that was forming in my head onto the exam paper without hesitation.

Until just a few years ago, the Video Production Department at Hanbit Arts High School had been the most minor department.

That made sense—with the Entertainment Department, Applied Music Department, and Applied Dance Department standing tall on either side of the lineup, there was no way Video Production would catch students' eyes.

Even now, looking purely at application rates and competition ratios, it still ranked last among all departments. Even that had jumped roughly twofold from 3:1 to 7:1 starting last year, all thanks to a certain writer.

Growing students were at the age of heaviest media exposure. In other words, they were the first to encounter the hottest news of the day and were highly sensitive to trends.

So what about the works of Writer 927, which had been the talk of not just Korea but the entire world over the past year?

Countless students had surely watched them—whether live, rebroadcast, or highlights. Just looking at Seo Eunwoo's school alone, you could barely join a conversation if you didn't know the content of Writer 927's dramas.

Thanks to that, the fun of drama had been introduced to nearly every student, and for some, it may have even provided a goal.

An intense goal of wanting to create works like that someday...

The reason application rates for Video Production Departments had risen not just at Hanbit Arts High but nationwide starting last year was because so many young people had come to hold such goals.

Meanwhile...

Listening to the symphony of ballpoint pens and mechanical pencils gliding across paper, a man standing at the teacher's desk wore a satisfied smile.

Looking to be just in his early thirties, he was Han Donghun, the invigilator for Class B of this year's Hanbit Arts High Video Production Department entrance exam.

Han Donghun continued gazing forward with that same satisfied smile.

Though students applying to the Video Production Department filled the classroom to capacity, somehow not a single grating noise could be heard.

Only silence. Only the sound of writing on paper echoed through the classroom...

They probably couldn't even hear that right now. You could tell just by looking at those identical expressions on all their faces.

Immersion.

Every student in the classroom was lost in their own world.

This was the beauty of the story composition exam. Forgetting at some point that it was even an exam, and simply writing down their own stories.

As a teacher, how could he not smile at this sight?

Han Donghun, who taught the first-year Scenario Creation practical class in the Video Production Department, was purely delighted as a teacher that so many students had taken an interest in this field and applied since last year.

This, too, was all thanks to the 927 Magic.

Society referred to the social phenomena arising from Writer 927 as the "927 Magic." The public's outrage against the Japanese government and the flash mobs were prime examples.

In any case, it was a good thing that more young talents in this field had emerged thanks to that writer. Perhaps among these young talents here, a screenwriter who would one day surpass that writer might emerge.

Of course...

It would be extremely difficult.

As a teacher of the Scenario Creation practical class, Han Donghun knew just how extraordinary Writer 927 was.

Outstanding stories and dialogue between characters that felt as if they were alive. Every one of his works left a deep aftertaste in people before vanishing suddenly. Even the timing of each episode's ending was meticulous. Thanks to that, viewers who had lost track of time watching the drama would look at the ending credits and have no choice but to look forward to the next episode.

If Han Donghun dared to evaluate him, Writer 927 was simply a master of drama.

Even Song Hayul, the chairman of Hanbit Arts High School, had praised him to the point of saying that no screenwriter who could surpass Writer 927 would appear in Korea this century.

Still, the appearance of such an irregular gradually changed the world. The examinees before his eyes would now set that writer as their goal and grow at tremendous speed.

...It was an ideal phenomenon.

Then it happened.

A small noise came from somewhere in the classroom. It was the sound of a pen being casually tossed onto a desk.

Han Donghun couldn't help but naturally turn his gaze in that direction. And there, a male student was stretching with a refreshed expression on his face.

That kid...

Han Donghun clearly remembered that male student's face.

When first receiving the story composition exam paper, examinees usually spent about fifteen minutes deliberating how to construct their story. With a total of two hours allotted for the exam, that was just the right amount.

Even across the many times he'd invigilated exams, the fastest student had taken about ten minutes. And honestly, even that had resulted in significant point deductions due to the story's quality suffering.

That was only natural. In this type of exam, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠initial foundation was most important. The shorter the thinking time, the more gaps appeared in the story, and the more places one got stuck along the way.

...But.

That male student had taken less than ten minutes. No, far less than that.

Three minutes.

That male student had deliberated for only about three minutes before beginning to write something without hesitation.

Honestly, even instant ramen these days didn't cook in three minutes. So from a common-sense standpoint, it was even more incomprehensible.

Even Han Donghun himself couldn't construct a story in that short a time. Even if you gave a professional-level writer that prompt and asked them to construct a story, it would take at least five minutes.

And that wasn't the only important thing here.

Fine. Let's say he somehow constructed a story. But what on earth did that stretch mean?

Had he already filled a story of one to two A4 pages? No—not even thirty minutes had passed since the exam started?

Han Donghun was so dumbfounded he let out a hollow laugh for a moment. He wanted to believe that stretch was just to loosen a stiff body for a moment.

So now, how about slowly picking up the pen again and filling out the exam paper?

But...

"Yaaawn..."

For some reason, that male student let out a yawn and then planted his face right onto the desk.

Just in case, Han Donghun slowly walked over beside the male student and discreetly checked his condition.

"..."

But the even breathing of someone sleeping with complete peace of mind reached his ears, and when the scenario he'd imagined didn't miss the mark at all, Han Donghun had no choice but to slap his forehead.

He let out a sigh and returned to the teacher's desk with drooping shoulders.

Well... he understood completely.

The story composition exam was an enormous barrier to entry for beginners who hadn't practiced enough. A student's quick surrender was deeply regrettable as a teacher, but what could he do?

What mattered most was the person's own will. Even if he woke that student up and made him pick up the pen again, it would only backfire. At least he wasn't bothering the other students, so he'd let it slide for now.

And so time flowed quickly by.

Before he knew it, the promised two hours had passed, and Han Donghun delivered the exam-ending announcement.

Some wore satisfied expressions looking at the exam papers they'd written, while others wore faces full of regret.

And some...

"Haaah. That was a good sleep."

...just looked completely blank.

Right. You should wipe that drool off first.

"Thank you for your hard work!"

Once the exam was fully over, the students handed their papers one by one to Han Donghun standing at the teacher's desk and moved on to the next waiting area.

And the last one remaining in the classroom was that male student who still wasn't fully awake.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Pardon?"

The male student stood before the teacher's desk to hand over his exam paper just like the others. Han Donghun asked him with a kindly smile. The male student made a bewildered face.

"I understand. Story composition is a very difficult exam for beginners. But if you just practice enough, you'll definitely get good results later on."

"...?"

At Han Donghun's words of comfort, the male student scratched his head as if wondering what nonsense that was. Then he handed over the exam paper to Han Donghun and immediately left the classroom.

"...That should have been enough words of comfort for that kid."

Han Donghun wore a bitter smile, unable to take his eyes off that student until the very end.

"Well. I might see him again someday, so I should at least memorize his name."

Eventually, left alone in the classroom, Han Donghun read the exam paper given to him by the male student who had been the last to leave.

At the very top, the male student's name was written.

"So his name is Seo Eunwoo..."

Han Donghun continued slowly lowering his gaze. Below that, the exam question content should have been written. From what he'd seen, the kid had held a pen and scribbled something for a few minutes earlier...

Well, shall I take a look?

Out of curiosity, Han Donghun read what the student named Seo Eunwoo had written.

However, even before reading the writing, he felt something strange.

Why... why was the entire exam paper packed tightly with writing?

Just in case, Han Donghun flipped to another page of the exam paper. And when he saw the contents of the back page, he couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock.

Because...

"This is impossible..."

The back page, just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like the front, was also packed tightly full of writing.