The Blu-ray Unboxing and the Titan's Blessing
At Tae-yang's grumbling, Yeo-reum beamed up at him with a loopy grin.
"Heyyy! You know it. Thaaat's right. Your noona. drank suh-o much today because of the guudzze. Gotta have the guudzze. Guuuudzze…."
"They're called goods, noona."
Tae-yang, who hadn't listened to a single word of it, unceremoniously laid his sister flat out on the floor and picked up the box.
"They said staggered shipping, but it showed up today after all. Ah — you made me step on the corner of it, you know! Are the postcards inside all crumpled? Honestly, you're so careless about everything."
With his back turned to Yeo-reum without a shred of regret, Tae-yang carried the Pachehi Blu-ray box into his room. It would take roughly one hour and thirty minutes before the unboxing was finished and Tae-yang finally dragged his sister, still sprawled on the floor, inside.
Ae-ta-mi took a deep breath. Today was the first day of the new year, and she was ready to greet it with a purer, clearer heart than anyone alive.
Bathed and freshly scrubbed, she finally reached for the box sitting before her.
"It's here! The Blu-ray-!"
She had bought drama Blu-rays across every genre imaginable. But she could say this with certainty: none of them had ever matched this level of quality.
For starters, the box itself was custom-made in a soft mint color with a cherry printed dead center.
"As expected of the big house. JC really is on another level…."
It looked like an actual idol album package. When she carefully opened the box, a CD printed with imagery straight out of Pachehi lay inside.
The ribbon and necktie of the school uniform, a notebook, a pencil, even a Post-it — the adorable little design on the disc made her smile just looking at it.
"Aesthetic like this, from a drama Blu-ray…?"
Ordinarily, drama Blu-rays were, to put it kindly, clean — and to put it unkindly, boring. But Pachehi was different. Ae-ta-mi checked through the goods, moved nearly to tears.
"Yeo-reum!!"
First up was the student ID, featuring a photo of Yeo-reum in her school uniform. The name tag reading Pi Chae-won was a "present-day version" in a pale pink. Beside it sat a tiny melon soda keyring, topped — naturally — by an adorable little red cherry.
"They even threw in stickers. This is insane value…."
Because the funding had blown past 100%, they'd added extra goods that weren't in the original guide. Ae-ta-mi picked up the envelope underneath the stickers.
"The photocard. The photocard…."
She gazed dreamily at Yeo-reum's selfie photocard, then drew a deep breath.
Now was the time to re-run Pachehi alongside the script book.
"…What even IS all this?"
And Ae-ta-mi was genuinely floored.
The "script book" was barely a script book at all — it was practically a companion analysis volume. You could feel the sheer will to squeeze in every last behind-the-scenes story the actors, Writer Pi, and Director Jjang hadn't managed to share on camera.
"Yeo-reuuuum!"
And the thing that stood out above all was, of course, Yeo-reum.
At that very moment, Reporter Wi was watching the Pachehi Blu-ray footage as well. Among the unreleased extras were interview clips with the cast.
"Since it's a web drama, I figured a lot of teenagers would be watching. So I thought about where that loneliness Chae-won shows at a glance actually comes from — so people could relate while watching."
"You'll notice Chae-won values efficiency. She says she never made friends because she was studying, but there's a scene where she almost seems to envy Hina. I had a feeling Chae-won might have once fallen out with a friend over her studying."
"You know how it is. After school, Chae-won has to head to the academy while her friends go off to hang out. I think they got hurt feelings after she bailed on them a few times. At that age, the time you spend playing together matters too."
"So I imagined that a wounded Chae-won closed the door on her heart entirely — told herself she didn't need friends at all — and that's why she watched the world with those dead-fish eyes early on. When I acted, I gave her a slight tendency to look at the friends around Hina with a kind of pity. Like, 'You'll split into different classes in a year and never see each other again — why go on about friendship? It's pathetic.' That's what I imagined Chae-won might think to herself every single break time, standing apart from everyone, before she ever fell into the shoujo manga world."
The Pi Chae-won that came through Han Yeo-reum's mouth felt as though she truly existed right beside you.
Yeo-reum had even changed her handwriting to match the character — and yet, when asked to sign something for the Blu-ray, her face had gone bright red.
"I don't actually have a signature made yet…. Could I check InTube for just a second? Really quick. It's almost finished…."
"Why InTube?"
As if to answer Reporter Wi's question, the red-faced Yeo-reum murmured softly,
"There's a video I've been watching to practice…."
Then the video Yeo-reum had been studying popped up on a small screen.
"CUTE-!!!"
Reporter Wi slammed her fist into the bed. Even with a plush mattress, she'd hit it so hard that her hand went numb.
An actress who showed this kind of sincerity even in a ten-minute web drama. Reporter Wi's heart tingled.
"No wonder Strange Tales is impossible not to look forward to…."
Just imagining how Yeo-reum would carry a sixteen-episode series made her giddy — and she'd already read the original web novel in full.
"But how is she going to handle it, though? It's a historical drama."
And here, let's pause to note something: the historical drama was one of the easiest genres in the world to bait into a flame war. Reporter Wi's occupational disease kicked in. A comment section swirled dizzily through her head.
"…Absolutely not."
Reporter Wi shot up from the bed. Whatever her excitement for Strange Tales, an ominous dread had crept over her. She'd worked as a reporter long enough to run into far too many disasters.
Today, as always, Jegal Rok wore an immaculate suit. The deep dark circles under his eyes suggested another all-nighter, yet there wasn't a single crease of disarray to be seen.
"I-I'll have a mojito."
The bar sat near JC ENM's new Cheongdam headquarters. Director Jjang, awkwardly studying the menu, ordered the only thing he half-recognized.
"A mojito for him. And I'll have my usual."
So even a man like Jegal Rok has a usual order, huh. Director Jjang marveled, careful not to show it. A moment later, what appeared before the two of them were a refreshing mojito — and a cocktail that looked exactly like coffee.
"The reason I asked to see you today, Director, is the scenario work ahead."
Strange Tales, adapted from the original web novel, would keep its broad framework intact. Only the portions reworked for the screen would pass through Director Jjang's hands.
And that was where Director Jjang felt the crushing weight of responsibility.
'One slip and… it's a disaster!'
However much Strange Tales was built on ghost stories, the original web novel's lightness was impossible to escape. Director Jjang's own directing style leaned trendy too, so he had no confidence yet in delivering the heavy atmosphere audiences expected from a ghost tale.
'But if it's too light, it won't be scary at all….'
He was caught exactly in the middle, unable to move in either direction. The specific scenes he'd sketched in his head were vivid enough, but how to weave them together and season the dish into something delicious remained a mystery.
To this agonizing Director Jjang, Jegal Rok said simply:
"Do as you wish, Director Jjang."
At those words, Director Jjang began to suspect the man was drunk.
No Chinese investment money, no support from the Ministry of Culture or the film council, not even brand PPL to fall back on — in a situation where every single frame would need painstaking care, and this man was telling him to do whatever he liked?
"A-are you drunk, sir?"
"No. You're the only one drinking, Director Jjang."
What Jegal Rok had ordered wasn't a coffee-lookalike cocktail — it was actual coffee. Director Jjang shook his fogged head side to side.
"Everything will be replaced with fiction. The country, the figures, even the period costumes."
"Th-then what about the question of authenticity—"
"In exchange, one thing. One thing alone needs to carry that authenticity."
"…And what would that be?"
Jegal Rok took a sip of his coffee, and his dark eyes gleamed.
"The ghost stories."
Summarized, Jegal Rok's point was this: no matter how perfectly you tried to make it, the nature of the material meant audiences would never accept it as 100 percent authentic. He had long since reached theRealm where every possible flare-bait was already mapped out in his mind — countless programs had made him impervious to it.
[Public Vote for the Nation's Idols? An Idol Made With My Money — "Even Dreams Are Bought Now?" Heated Debate Rages]
[Imported Variety Show Goes Public Utility — "Ideas Belong to Everyone," Claims Producer Gu, Amid Controversy]
[Censors Beeping Everywhere — Is This Acceptable? "Hip-Hop That Only Pretends to Be Edgy Isn't Cool"]
"We simply render exactly what is written in Korean ghost tales. Where a tale overlaps between Japan and China, cut it out without hesitation — preserve authenticity only in the parts that remain ours."
A fictional nation, fictional figures, a fictional era — the entire setting would be invented from scratch. It meant that Strange Tales' roots needed to lie in the ghost stories alone.
"Keep the weight strictly in the ghost story scenes. For everything else, do what you're best at, Director Jjang."
Then, draining the rest of his coffee, Jegal Rok added one more line.
"Don't worry about the budget."
Not you needn't worry — but don't allow yourself to worry.
And in that instant, as if by magic, the pressure that had been crushing Director Jjang evaporated. The heavy shackles clamped around his ankles vanished too. Every blocked thread of the story came flooding in all at once. His head filled to bursting with spine-chilling ghost tales.
"I-I'm terribly sorry, but I—!"
"Yes. Go on, get going."
As if he understood exactly what was in Director Jjang's heart, Jegal Rok gave a small nod. Scrambling to grab his coat, the director bolted for the door. Watching his retreating back, Jegal Rok rose from his seat as well.
"Well then. I suppose I should get to work myself…."
For Jegal Rok, there was clocking in, but never clocking out. As he headed back to the JC ENM building, he placed calls to Manager Ma and Team Leader Hong.
"Build the skeleton as a fictional world — and channel every remaining effort into preserving Korean authenticity within it."
The story belonged to Director Jjang. The image of the work belonged to Manager Ma. And smothering every potential controversy this production could ignite, before it ever began — that belonged to Team Leader Hong.
And the most important thing of all:
"Yeo-reum! The revised script for episode one of Strange Tales is here!"
"Yes sir! I'll check it right away!"
The attention of the viewers who would come to watch this production was the actor's to carry.
Yeo-reum turned the first episode of Strange Tales over in her hands, and began to read.