D-3, The Voice That Fills the Silence

“I won't listen. I'm not listening….”

Director So had a pretty good idea of what the music director was about to say. A sense of dread crashed over her all at once.

“Our broadcast slot….”

“Nope. Didn't hear that… I know nothing about a schedule change….”

“It's been moved up to two weeks from now…!”

Back-to-back ratings failures on the drama currently airing had ended in early cancellation. The plan was to wrap it all up in a hasty finale next week, then fill the gap with Not Interested At All before the next drama was set to begin.

“Th-that's insane…. You're joking… right?”

Director So tried to deny the news she'd just heard, her voice shaking. The music director, who understood exactly how she felt, felt his own eyes grow damp.

Right now — with less than half of the music needed to complete the show's atmosphere finished—

“AAAGH—!!!”

The airdate for Not Interested At All had come barreling down on them. This was an emergency.

“Wow. Do Gyeo-ul….”

First, second, and third place on the entertainment news rankings. The entire upper region where public attention pooled hottest was occupied by Do Gyeo-ul.

Hours in, the feverish interest showed no sign of cooling. News of Do Gyeo-ul's next project had drawn hundreds of comments on every community board.

“Swept away in an instant.”

My article had already been buried somewhere far down the page. It really hit home that the entertainment industry was a relentlessly cutthroat arena — a world where anything that stopped showing off sank without a trace.

Then again, given my current position….

I had earned the title of Iconic Rookie, but the gulf between me and Do Gyeo-ul, who filled my entire monitor screen, was painfully obvious.

Even after more than two years without a single project, the public still wanted Do Gyeo-ul.

As if they'd simply been waiting for her to come back.

I understood, once again, what Myeong Je-ha had meant.

Hate Do Gyeo-ul all you want — just never underestimate her influence.

Do Gyeo-ul, seated in the place of honor at the Le-el Style Awards, was still vivid in my memory. So was the thrill of stepping onto that podium and looking down at her for the very first time.

Next time, I want to look down at her holding something even bigger.

Suddenly I wanted an award everyone knew by name alone.

“…Oh, right. What network is Do Gyeo-ul's drama on?”

I was just scrolling back up without thinking when—

Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.

My phone vibrated.

“Director So, hello.”

Director So's voice sounded far more frantic than usual. What was going on?

Ding—!

The moment she finished explaining, a status window bloomed before my eyes.

Director So, unable to reach a conclusion on her own, sighed and gathered her breath. Then she said, forcing strength into her voice:

In that instant, only one thought surfaced in my mind.

That I might be meeting Do Gyeo-ul at an awards ceremony far sooner than I'd imagined.

Do Gyeo-ul's next drama was on the same network as mine. MBS.

The post-recording booth was sealed off on every side by soundproofing. So Ye-sol looked carefully at Han Yeo-reum as she put on her headset.

One week left now….

The article about the early cancellation had gone up, along with news of Not Interested At All's airdate. There truly wasn't much time remaining.

They'd barely managed to finish the OST….

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unease Director So had felt had proven prophetic. Several slots on the planned OST list had been left empty. The drafts that existed showed gaping holes everywhere.

“What do we do, Director So…?”

The music director, who had pulled all-nighters for days on end, had dark circles carved deep under his eyes. Director So, who had stayed up alongside him, had no better answer to offer.

She closed her dry, gritty eyes for a moment. Starved of proper rest for too long, they wouldn't quite focus.

Is this really… how we have to finish it…?

Then Jung Yeon-doo came into sharp relief — the Jung Yeon-doo of a scene she had edited and re-edited hundreds of times. No, thousands. With fatigue soaking through her and every sense gone numb, Yeon-doo's face as seen through that screen, her voice….

Wait. Hold on….

Something came to her — something that could fill the empty stretches of sound. Sentences Jung Yeon-doo of Not Interested At All might reveal only in her inner heart flooded Director So's head in a heap.

This wasn't in the plan, but….

Director So slowly opened her eyes. Less than seventy-two hours remained.

Still. It's worth a shot, isn't it…?

So Ye-sol hammered at the keyboard like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a woman possessed. Her mind, foggy as an overcast sky, snapped into focus. It was all Jung Yeon-doo.

“Director, please get the booth ready for narration post-recording.”

“Narration?”

“We're going to fill it in. Properly fill it in — properly.”

And now, Director So was certain she had made the right choice. Yeo-reum's voice, reading the script I had poured out in front of the microphone, had made her certain.

“Seoul housing prices. A deposit of eighty million won, monthly rent of sixty-five. Fifty thousand for the maintenance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fee. That's hardly pocket change. At this point, surely I've earned a little of the same kindness and warmth back. So why is it that I always….”

Music Director — listening to the narration ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beside Director So — gave a small nod. D-3 until airdate.

This… is going to work.

The anxiety was something she'd long since forgotten. If anything, an even greater expectation than before had begun to bloom in Director So's heart.

Nine-thirty in the evening. An office worker worn down by overtime stood in line for the red bus heading out to Gyeonggi Province.

God, I'm so tired I could die….

Three hours round trip, every single day. Even so, in the spirit of a true Gyeonggi resident, she somehow endured. The humid, clinging summer night air had left her back soaked with sweat.

Hot. So annoying….

She finally sank into a seat on the red bus, angled the air conditioning vent toward herself, and out of pure habit picked up her phone.

People said to use the commute for self-improvement, but for a Gyeonggi resident even that much energy felt like a luxury. Just waiting for the bus already felt like she'd spent the last of her strength.

Something to watch….

It was an awkward Thursday, still a day shy of the weekend. Killing time on the ride home, the office worker scrolled idly through her phone in search of a drama to ease the boredom.

Huh? Isn't that Pi Chae-won?

Then she spotted a familiar face. Pi Chae-won of Pachehi — the very drama that had recently had her kicking her blanket in excitement — was front and center on the MBS thumbnail.

Never even heard of this title. What's it about?

Thanks to the long, long commute she endured every day, the office worker wasn't a hardcore drama nerd, but she knew her way around the genre pretty well.

Which meant her standards were reasonably high. She had no interest in a drama that would make a boring commute even more boring.

But if it's Pi Chae-won….

It had only been a single work, yet somewhere along the way Pi Chae-won had already become an actor she trusted to deliver.

The drama had just started airing, too. The office worker decided to spend tonight's hour-and-a-half journey home with Pi Chae-won.

Not Interested At All

She clicked on the exhausted-looking face. And what appeared next was the inside of an office.