Enemies Meet on a Log Bridge - Chapter 43
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Sometimes, enemies meet on a log bridge.
And often, film directors do too.
"...What are you doing here?"
"What about you?"
"This committee chair really...!"
Jeong Seo-hoon of Breakthrough That Day, which drew 7 million viewers.
Yi Myeong-su of White Wine, with 8 million.
And Choi Bong-man of Camping Wagon, hitting 10 million again—
The three of them scowled at each other's faces from the jury seats at the Busan International Film Festival.
No wonder they'd stayed tight-lipped about the jury list right up to the end. They'd gone and stuck together the three directors who had the second-worst relationship in all of Korea.
As the gaunt Jeong Seo-hoon and the skeletal Yi Myeong-su glared at each other, the plump Choi Bong-man puffed out his shoulders, trying to look bigger somehow.
The other two clicked their tongues in pity at the sight, of course.
"Got time to be at a place like this, Director Jeong? You shot Breakthrough Day so expensively that 7 million barely breaks even. Shouldn't you be running from your creditors?"
"Heh heh, what about Director Yi, getting trashed by critics left and right? They said the wine all turned sour and curdled."
"Hahaha!"
"Heh heh heh!"
"Ahem, as for me—"
"Ah, the guy who makes snack flicks should just eat those potato chips over there."
"......."
With their different preferred genres, different sensibilities, and—most decisively—different core themes they valued most, the three directors were busy bickering as always.
Their petty sniping continued even as the festival progressed and wrapped up.
Yet when it ended, they all piled out together and headed to a bar anyway.
"It's kinda meh... There aren't many standout films like there used to be."
"Always the case."
"The festival itself was better back in the day. No late-night bars meant we'd just do street parties—real romantic vibe."
"Spreading newspapers on the sidewalk and pounding booze? Street party my ass."
The three settled at a decent pocha and ordered soju first.
Even as famous directors, no deep conversations emerged. It was just the usual middle-aged guy talk: this side dish sucks, pour more booze, kids these days, etc.
But even that idle chatter soon petered out.
After exchanging glances, it was the gaunt Jeong Seo-hoon who finally broached the topic.
"So, has anyone snagged that rookie actor here?"
"Hmm..."
"......."
The vague reference was clear to all.
Kang Min.
What film director wouldn't covet that flashy swordplay from episode 6 of King and Sovereign, captured in a single long take?
The three hadn't even been in touch with each other lately, but they were certain these enemies wouldn't have sat idle after seeing it.
They observed each other's gazes for a few seconds.
Then, without anyone leading, they all sighed in unison.
"Nope. Tried through connections, but total radio silence."
"Same here. I heard he's focusing till the drama wraps..."
"But I didn't think he'd straight-up ghost us."
For the three directors, it was downright baffling.
Excluding a couple of outliers playing overseas, they were among Korea's top directors. A mere rookie ignoring proposals from directors even A-listers begged to work with? Unthinkable.
With egos the size of boulders, their pride was inevitably bruised.
"He's impressive, sure. Amazing guy... but..."
"His nose needs a good tweaking. Too uppity."
"Exactly. And that drama he's in now... what was it, King and Lord or something?"
"King and Sovereign."
"Right. What's so gripping about it? Bluntly, it's a third-rate drama scraping by on direction, story, and acting that rides whatever's trending. Lame excuse!"
Successful film directors, surprisingly, weren't too bound by the work itself.
Big poster? Great. Ride an actor's fame? Fine. Spout nonsense for buzz marketing? Whatever. More viewers, more wins.
But getting dragged down by the film itself? No way.
That was why King and Sovereign was the exact type of drama they despised.
"From the start, what's the theme? If you're doing rom-com, do rom-com—don't pivot just 'cause Hui-yul randomly blows up!"
"Exactly! Teasers suck up ratings, smirks suck up ratings, kid-rescuing and one-on-one duels suck up ratings, then one-vs-many battles suck up more..."
"Why even need main leads? They do jack shit!"
"Gotta cut the newbie writer some slack, but honestly, disappointing that actor Kang Min saw potential in that script."
"Come on, easy now. The actor's a rookie too."
"Rookies can't pick projects? With skills like that?"
In truth, Kang Min had no choices, but it was a common misconception no one called out.
Buzzed and sharing their "betrayal," the directors dove into badmouthing Kang Min.
The timing was perfect today, too. King and Sovereign was primed for a "reality check" smackdown.
"TVM's variety show went all-in. Probably blew billions on appearance fees alone."
"Black Forest too. Some grumbling about dropping a nuke right in the teaser, but that'll land with impact. Their direction's smooth overall."
"Meanwhile, King and Sovereign pulls flashbacks now..."
"Jeez."
Every screenwriting manual has that one golden rule: "Don't lose the story's tempo to side distractions."
Flashbacks are the double-edged sword of swords—sacrificing pace and immersion for character depth. Master them, and it's a masterpiece; botch it, and 90% of films/dramas sink.
But King and Sovereign's PD and writer hadn't shown they could pull it off...
"It's over, basically. Maybe they're pausing to explode next time, but with competitors like this?"
"Yeah..."
"Kang Min'll learn even a one-man show fizzles out eventually."
"Yep."
And after that—
The directors chuckled, hiding their schemes.
An hour later, at 9:40, 10-million-director Choi Bong-man pulled out his custom portable folding screen.
The other two clicked their tongues.
"You really bought that wasteful crap...? Tablets are good these days."
"Where am I gonna stick half-assed calibrations? Don't watch if you don't wanna."
"Who said I wouldn't?"
The three leaned in eagerly. Setting aside Kang Min, this matchup was entertaining.
First punch at 9:45: TVM's variety show, Wine Talk.
Behind them, a dazzling lineup twisted their faces in personal gimmicks.
Even the cliché "no one in Korea doesn't know them" rang true with this cast. The directors chuckled and locked on the channel.
Then at 9:55,
Black Forest started bulldozing even that star-studded variety.
The teaser had confirmed the nuke, but the buildup wasn't natural.
The protagonists and allied forces desperately tried stopping the extremists but failed. Black Forest's lead stared blankly at the missile rising into the sky.
All efforts to intercept or halt it went to waste.
Five minutes later,
The nuke detonated over Hamheung—the doomed land.
'Ah.'
Mushroom cloud billowing up.
A city vaporized in an instant.
Amid it, the protagonists realized their known era was gone forever.
But the directors were too busy admiring the direction over the breathless plot.
"Cinema graph before the blast—photo animation—nailed it?"
"Smart move. Impact zone feels alive. Not the level of that PD, Kim whatever."
"Han Ye-seul, probably."
"Figures..."
"If only she had better shooting sense, she'd be real competition."
Smacking their lips as they clinked glasses, the directors half-predicted the outcome.
Variety bulldozing with star power.
Drama squeezing every drop from story and direction.
Meanwhile, King and Sovereign drew the worst card—flashback—and started late. Only at 10 PM sharp, when viewers were hooked on the others.
Choi Bong-man asked,
"Rewind a bit?"
"Yeah."
"Not like there's anything worth watching..."
The nodders and proposer alike expected little.
They all thought the same.
'Sageuk flashbacks are so predictable.'
'Child actors flop, kiddie squabbles...'
'Then bandits attack, fire breaks out, melodrama milking tears.'
Might hook some crowds, but after countless knockoffs, even imagining it bored the veteran directors.
They steeled to flip channels at the first cliché.
And—
From the blacked-out screen with the MBS logo, a voice flowed.
...?
The directors blinked.
Far from expected, the three exchanged looks.
Thud,
Amid faint gayageum strings, footsteps approached.
The screen stayed dark.
But the footsteps weren't one person's.
Multiple overlapped.
And clashes too.
Distant, faint cheers.
The world faintly brightened.
First-person camera.
A starving, emaciated tongue lolling from a corpse; a hand closes its eyes.
Crow-black robes topped by a slightly crooked red sangmo fluttering in the wind.
Gayageum echoes fiercely over parched earth.
Pyeong joins.
Edit joins.
Drums pound thunderously.
Finally, with the drums, majestic music completes.
All Hui-yul's scenes from King and Sovereign overlay,
—and a massive battlefield snaps back to hyper-reality.
Earth-shaking peasant army.
The crow-like man charging at the front.
"?"
"?"
"...??"
The scene kicked imagination into heresy with a side kick; the three directors gaped blankly in unison.
And, well,
".........."
KBC's certain CP, as always.
Maybe it exists after all