Sketch Release Day
"Ah—hello. Looking forward to working with you!"
Director Hwang Min-gwon entered the conference room bowing at a full ninety degrees to an actor more than ten years his junior.
In name he was a director, yet his only feature had flopped and the rest of his résumé was student shorts; in commercial film he was still a pure rookie.
"Looking forward to working with you as well, Director Hwang Min-gwon, Director Jeong Yo-han."
At the sight of Ryu Yeon-woo’s easy smile and greeting, Hwang Min-gwon’s mouth stretched into a delighted grin.
"Uwaaah—he called me Director Hwang Min-gwon. This is huge."
"Come on, that’s embarrassing. At least try to look a little cool."
The giddy Hwang Min-gwon and his mortified friend Jeong Yo-han took their seats.
"Now that we’re all in the same boat, I think the most important thing is to lock down a solid scenario first—the skeleton of the whole ship."
Both men nodded at Yeon-woo’s words.
"But, as I mentioned last time, I’m good at coming up with concepts, yet when it comes to the, uh…"
Hwang Min-gwon’s voice trailed off; he turned his head away, clearly lacking confidence.
Yeon-woo shifted his gaze to the CG director sitting beside him.
"And you, Director…?"
"I’m a science major."
"Pardon?"
"Anyway, I’m a science major."
Jeong Yo-han fiddled with his glasses frames and likewise looked off to the side.
Watching the two of them, Yeon-woo felt certain they really were friends. He let out a quiet laugh and spoke again.
"So here’s what I was thinking. I’d like to bring in a writer—keep the skeleton exactly as it is and just put some real flesh on it."
"I’m all for it, but in my circle I don’t even know aspiring writers, let alone working ones…"
Hearing Hwang Min-gwon’s answer, Yeon-woo pulled out his smartphone.
"Then would it be all right if I handle the recruitment?"
"Of course—please do!"
Yeon-woo nodded and dialed. Hwang Min-gwon and Jeong Yo-han waited with quiet anticipation, wondering who it might be.
The call connected almost at once. Though it wasn’t on speaker, the quiet conference room carried a bright, cheerful woman’s voice straight to their ears.
"Oh my, what brings you to call me first, Yeon-woo? And congratulations, by the way—so much."
"Thank you, Writer. Though I do call you fairly often."
"Every time you call I feel so undeserving."
After a little more small talk Yeon-woo got to the point.
"You remember the promise you made me last time, right?"
"Of course I do. I’ll do anything."
"Then work on one project with me, Writer."
"Hmm? A project? Right now the only thing I’ve got written is a short-story collection…"
Yeon-woo glanced at the two men in front of him and continued.
"The director brought a concept. I’d like you to come in and put the flesh on it."
"Sounds like this conversation’s going to run long. Anyway, I’m a woman who keeps her promises. I’ll do whatever you need."
"Thank you. I’ll send over the details and the scenario as files. Let’s grab a meal soon, Writer."
After a few more polite goodbyes he hung up and looked at the two men.
"The writer’s on board, Directors."
Throughout the entire call both of them had been dying to know who was on the other end. They asked at the same time.
"Who is it?"
"Writer Kim Jin-ju."
"Ah, right. Writer Kim Jin-ju."
They nodded absently—then looked at each other and asked again.
"…Wait. Who?"
"Just to be sure—when you say Writer Kim Jin-ju, do you mean the star writer who did The Scent of Time and The Road to Mont-Saint-Michel?"
Yeon-woo smiled and nodded.
"That’s right. And she also wrote my first television lead, Star Beyond the River."
The two directors’ jaws dropped so far it looked as if they might fall off.
"H-holy…"
"Dude, ‘holy’ doesn’t even cover it. This is insane."
Yeon-woo watched them with a quiet smile.
"In that case there’s nothing else we can decide right now. We don’t know how the story will change, so casting is still up in the air."
"Just knowing the film is going to be made is more than enough for me. I’ve waited my whole life—waiting a little longer is nothing!"
Yeon-woo nodded at Director Hwang Min-gwon’s words.
"I still have school to deal with, so this project will move a bit slowly."
Click.
Writer Kim Jin-ju sat down at her computer and opened the file Yeon-woo had sent.
"Hmm, a medical action piece? What is this…?"
The first page alone gave her no clear sense of the story.
She settled in and read straight through the considerable scenario without getting up.
The protagonist, Jeong Do-jin, was already being called one of the rising masters among the younger generation of specialists. At a cancer hospital he boasted an overwhelming cure rate; the phrase “he only has to touch them and they get better” followed him everywhere. Appointments required a minimum half-year wait, and terminal patients whose lives hung by a thread lined up ready to slip bribes under the table just for a chance at treatment.
Yet in truth Jeong Do-jin had been thoroughly ordinary in medical school and had never stood out during his residency either. One day the patients under his care simply began recovering at an astonishing rate. Countless people asked for his secret; he only ever answered that he treated them with sincerity.
Jeong Do-jin had a secret he could never tell anyone: he entered his patients’ bodies and treated them from the inside. Not possession—he literally shrank to micrometer scale and moved through the body like a living cell.
One night, watching a patient whose condition only worsened despite every desperate effort, he had taken the sleeping man’s hand, leaned against the chair beside the bed, and dozed off. That was when he first discovered the ability. After dreaming of traveling through a world he had never seen and fighting monsters, the patient’s symptoms began improving as if by magic; not long after, the man was discharged.
"Hmm. The idea of going inside the body isn’t completely new."
There had been that late-eighties American SF film about a submarine shrinking and entering the body, and Japanese animation that made cells the main characters. On its own the concept wasn’t dazzlingly original.
"Still, tying it to a doctor is interesting… but that alone isn’t quite enough. Then again, the fact that Yeon-woo called me means the scenario must have real power."
Kim Jin-ju began concentrating more deeply.
In the story Jeong Do-jin used his ability to heal patients, gaining wealth, fame, and a genuine sense of fulfillment. Then one day his only younger sister was hospitalized with leukemia. Though it wasn’t his specialty, he entered her body as well. For the next six years he was trapped inside the world of her body, unable to return.
"Hmm, now it’s getting interesting. So does time stop in the real world while he’s inside?"
Kim Jin-ju scrolled rapidly, devouring the rest of the story.
Click! Click!
The mouse never stopped. Before she knew it she had reached the final chapter and fallen into deep thought.
"What is this? The premise and material were excellent, so why does the middle of the story turn into this mess?"
Important supporting characters suddenly betrayed everyone for no reason; spaceships and dinosaurs appeared without the slightest causal link. If this had been a webtoon or web novel, the “drop points” would have been endless.
Only then did she understand why Yeon-woo had called her. Her head nodded of its own accord.
"As an actor it must have been a role he really wanted, but with the story going like this it was a problem."
Kim Jin-ju picked up her phone and dialed Yeon-woo. The line connected almost immediately.
"Yes, Writer."
"I’m taking this project. Not because you asked—because I want to. As a writer I can’t stand watching material this good get ruined by such an absurd story."
While Yeon-woo and Writer Kim Jin-ju were on the phone, Sketch finally opened in theaters across Korea.
Hong Yu-ri had come to the cinema for the lunch screening with her boyfriend Kim Jun-su.
"Jun-su, Yeon-woo’s turning into a complete monster. He’s even winning awards overseas."
"Come on—when we talk on the phone or in the group chat he’s still exactly the same as he was in high school."
Kim Jun-su nodded, thinking of the friend whose character remained flawless no matter how famous he became.
"Still, he’s been so busy we haven’t seen him in ages. The last time was that camping trip last year. Aigoo, my ultimate bias… that day felt like a dream."
"Hey, that was the day I confessed to you. Feels like the dream part of that sentence isn’t about me."
Yu-ri laughed at Jun-su’s pouting lips.
"Nooo, that’s not what I meant."
Jun-su had only been teasing; he quickly grinned and nodded.
"True, I got to do survival shooting and stay in a pool villa with him in the middle of it, but it has been a while. Anyway, we’re here to see him now, right?"
"Hehe, I guess so. Seeing him on the screen still counts as seeing him."
They bought popcorn and cola and sat in the lobby waiting for their screening.
Right behind them a sniffling voice was talking on the phone.
"Hic… Mom… I’ll be better from now on, I promise. Let’s film a video together, okay?"
"What on earth is this nonsense you’re calling me about out of nowhere? What video?"
"Nooo… just film one video with me. So I can remember your voice. Hic."
"You got into some kind of trouble, didn’t you. Mom’s busy right now—spit it out."
It wasn’t only the woman behind them. Every audience member streaming out of the previous screening was wiping tears with a sleeve or sporting a bright-red nose.
"…Noona, what the hell did he make?"
"Didn’t Yeon-woo tell you what it was about when they were shooting?"
"He just said it was a music film with a youth-romance thread. That’s why he was practicing guitar and violin…"
Their screening time arrived. They stood.
"What kind of story is it? I’m dying of curiosity! Let’s go in."
Jun-su and Yu-ri headed for the auditorium.
They were not the only ones walking in.
A gentleman in a sharp suit, hair neatly pomaded, also moved toward the doors.
Kim Ju-seong, the representative who had essentially put up the investment money in Yeon-woo’s place, knew no more about the scenario than anyone else. Yeon-woo himself had accepted Park Chan-hong’s offer and decided on both the role and the investment without even reading the script; Kim Ju-seong had simply trusted the actor he had chosen and offered the contract.
"Hmm. Still, the deal’s already a success."
It was opening day; future box-office numbers were unknowable. Even if the film completely flopped, securing distribution rights to a Golden Bear winner meant the 1.5 billion won investment had already been recovered.
And there’s no way it won’t make its money back.
Director Park Chan-hong had invested three billion; under Ryu Yeon-woo’s name LN had put in 1.5 billion. Yeon-woo’s share was thirty-three percent; in exchange for advancing the money, the company was to receive thirty percent of that share—roughly ten percent of total profits. After the distributor’s cut and other expenses it wouldn’t literally be a full tenth of the gross, but measured against the audience numbers Kim Ju-seong expected, it was more than fine.
Right now Ryu Yeon-woo and Park Chan-hong were names that appeared the moment you turned on any channel. Entertainment programs and YouTube were a given; even the news ran their names all day long. They had raised the nation’s prestige so high that every government official in charge of cultural promotion had collapsed from overwork—so of course the coverage was nonstop.
Proof was everywhere: even on a weekday lunchtime the theater was packed. It was still winter-break season, yet given the heavy snow that had fallen since morning, nearly everyone in the lobby was almost certainly waiting to see the newly opened Sketch.
"The investment is one thing, but more than that I simply can’t stand not knowing what the story is."
Kim Ju-seong loved movies more than anyone; he had ordered even Manager Kim Min-su and Team Leader Jeong Hyeok to keep absolute silence so no spoilers would reach him.
With a face full of anticipation, Representative Kim Ju-seong quietly walked toward the auditorium entrance.