The Trailers Begin
At first, Ju Jun-seo had wanted to kick his way out of his agency for good. They'd promised his career would center on runway work, and yet their ulterior motive — steering him toward acting — was painfully obvious.
Slotting him into a childish web drama like this as some kind of test run felt like they were out to torch his modeling career entirely.
"Thanks."
But the web drama shoot, unexpectedly, opened a new world to Ju Jun-seo. Even off the runway, it gave him the illusion of walking a stage. Han Yeo-reum's eyes, her voice, the way she looked at him—
"Everyone—! The ice cream's here—!"
Maybe his voice had been too quiet. Either Yeo-reum didn't hear him or didn't care, because she flung the door open and barged right in.
Left alone outside, Ju Jun-seo opened the door again and walked toward Yeo-reum, who was beckoning him in. The moment he stepped through, the staff swarmed him like a pack of dogs and robbed him of the ice cream bags.
"Ahh!!! My Melona!!!"
"I'm getting old, I need to eat soft stuff!"
"Chocolate! The chocolate one's mine!"
It was absurd. And so Ju Jun-seo laughed. Not an act — a laugh that came out entirely on its own. Director Jjang watched the two of them with a knowing, rueful gaze.
Inside the JC ENM Center building in Mapo-gu, in the Head of Drama Division's office, the trailer for Pachehi was playing.
"Ugh, maybe I should just drop out…"
On the monitor, Yeo-reum appeared with her signature dead-fish eyes. Then, in a burst of sparkling effects, Ga-eul made her entrance. It was a scene so flamboyant it was almost dizzying.
"Because humans can never, ever live alone!"
"Friends… you know? All it takes is reaching out a hand to each other."
"Hey, want to join a club together?"
And then a tablet pen moved in Ga-eul's hand.
Scritch, scritch—.
With the sound of manga being drawn, Ga-eul's figure dissolved into a panel from the comic itself. Bubbles popping softly mixed into the editing that wove together live footage and illustration.
"No, but what is this uniform."
"No, but what is this class schedule."
"No, but what is this… storage room door!"
Yeo-reum sighing at the absurd uniform design, Yeo-reum taking notes alone amid extras who couldn't be bothered with class or studying, Yeo-reum locked in a storage room yet calmly pressing the 119 emergency button — scene after scene rolled by.
"Pi Chae-won! Answer if you can hear me!"
"…"
"Pi Chae-won!"
"Hello, is this 119? I'm currently trapped inside a school building. Oh — you're reaching the administrative office phone? So that's a trick that works."
Alongside a heartbroken voice calling from outside the door came more of those soap-bubble popping sound effects. But Yeo-reum didn't ask the person beyond the door for help. She called the firefighters herself.
Next came the school scenes Director Jjang had shot with such painstaking care — images so lovely you could call them the very definition of a 'school drama.' Club recruitment flyers, utterly divorced from reality, fluttered down from the sky as if pouring from the heavens.
"We have to do club activities for three whole years~ so honestly, I'm torn. Hing."
And then, almost imperceptibly, Yeo-reum transformed. Styled to resemble Hina, the shoujo heroine, her dead-fish eyes shifted into bright, lively ones.
Yeo-reum was already plastering a grin over her face to become a sunlit heroine. Completely changed from her listless, apathetic self, she sprinted down the street with a slice of bread clamped in her mouth.
Heart-shaped CG effects burst onto the screen with each scene of Yeo-reum struggling her hardest.
The title appeared in an adorable font, and just after it, Yeo-reum's voice drifted through one last time, small and faint.
"…I can't do this."
Then came the rooftop scene once more — Ju Jun-seo and Han Yeo-reum, the only two left up there. Beneath it, the premiere date.
Director Jjang felt a shiver run through his entire body. The trailer alone had come out beautifully.
"And of course, the full episode is way more fun than this!"
He was already itching to see how subscribers would react after watching the finale. Director Jjang sent the video files sitting on his hard drive over to JC ENM's PR team. It was nearly time to fan the flames of anticipation with the press release.
Bzzt— bzzt—.
Not long after he'd delivered the trailer, Director Jjang's phone rang. It was Team Leader Hong of JC ENM's PR department.
"Oh, Team Leader Hong! You saw what I sent, right?"
"…I did."
"What's wrong? Why does your voice sound like that?"
There was something off about Team Leader Hong's voice.
"Well, you see…"
"Oh, come on, just spit it out! What? What is it?"
"At the rough-cut screening…"
Once the edit reached a certain level of completion, the director, PD, and writers all gathered for a private screening — a way to polish the final cut. Director Jjang naturally assumed Team Leader Hong was dragging out the conversation because he wanted to attend the rough-cut screening.
"Oh, of course you can come. It's fun, isn't it? Huh?"
"Th-the thing is, Jegal Rok…"
At the name Jegal Rok, Director Jjang's heart began to pound like a drum. The entertainment and broadcasting worlds might be crawling with madmen, but even among madmen, Jegal Rok, Head of Division at JC ENM, sat at the very top of the food chain.
"…He says he'll be attending."
Director Jjang's mouth fell wide open.
Jegal Rok. He'd only ever heard the name — never once had he imagined that a man like that would personally set foot in a production of his.
"WHAT??!!!"
Simply exchanging video files was one thing. Showing up in person carried far more weight than anyone might guess. Director Jjang couldn't even remember how he'd ended the call.
For Jegal Rok to care this much meant one thing only: he intended to push this project all the way. Jegal Rok and Han Yeo-reum flickered back and forth through Director Jjang's mind. And then, like a stray spark, even the Lighting Director's words came back to him.
"That kid… is going to go somewhere incredible."
Director Jjang clicked on the trailer once more. He gazed at the rookie actress filling the screen — Han Yeo-reum.
"I… more than I realized…"
Web dramas were, in the eyes of the InTube-and-SNS market, small-scale, childish things — Snack Culture, mere time-fillers.
"…found a better actor than I knew."
And he had a powerful premonition that this web drama was about to rewrite the rules of that entire game. At that very moment, Team Leader Hong, who had read the situation just as instinctively as Director Jjang, put out a press release with far more care than usual.
It was one week before the trailer went live.
A tense air hung over the Head of Division's office.
"Do I look all right today?"
"How many times do I have to say yes?! Look at me for a change — my sweater is covered in lint!"
All because of Jegal Rok's visit. Unless it was a major production, a heavyweight of that caliber simply didn't set foot in a rough-cut screening. Not for anything short of the finished file, anyway.
Director Jjang swallowed dryly. Sixty seconds before the appointed time. He ran one last bit of self-suggestion through his head.
You did well. You did! More than enough. You did well…
It was the most nerve-wracking moment of his directing career. Director Jjang recalled the first episode that had turned out so beautifully. It was superb entertainment — not a single lagging stretch, not one awkward cut. And above all, the protagonist, Han Yeo-reum's—
Thud. Thud.
A steady set of footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. Perfectly even, perfectly rhythmic. Jegal Rok.
"Good afternoon, sir!!!"
As Jegal Rok stepped through the office door, everyone bowed their heads in greeting. Polished to a mirror shine, his shoes, sharply creased trousers, immaculate coat — an appearance that told anyone, at a glance, that this was no ordinary man. With deep dark circles hanging beneath his eyes, Jegal Rok folded his arms, took his seat, and spoke.
"Play it."
Gulp.
With the sound of someone swallowing hard, episode one of Pachehi began to play.
Jegal Rok. A single line was enough to explain him.
No other descriptors were necessary. Born and raised in a broadcasting family, Jegal Rok's eye was different from the very start, his instincts themselves a functioning organ of the mass media apparatus.
Simply put: when Jegal Rok furrowed his brow, a project was scrapped. When Jegal Rok tilted his head even once, that project became the flagship of the quarter.
That he had climbed to the executive ranks at a relatively young age was due purely to talent. And it was a project this man had ordered — a rough-cut screening that this man, of all people, had chosen to attend in person, one of the precious few.
"…"
When episode one of Pachehi ended, Jegal Rok said nothing for a long moment. He didn't furrow his brow. He didn't tilt his head. He simply sat there, arms crossed.
The silence stretched on and on. And then, at last, the man who had stayed quiet the entire time opened his mouth.