The Three Otaku
Overnight, a wall that hadn't been there before sprang up as if by magic.
The agents mixed brick veneer into the concrete as a design element and finished the job every bit as skillfully as a professional interior firm. Of course, concrete still needed time to cure, so a goods shop couldn't move in right away—but Saebyeol hadn't expected to sign a contract that quickly anyway.
The next morning, Han Hae-un and Yeon-woo met at the Chinese restaurant now split in two.
"Hmm. You must have worked pretty hard to get this done in a single day."
"Lee Gyu-jin was surprisingly fired up about it. Turns out he actually likes this kind of work."
"Is that so?"
"More importantly—how much should we set the rent at?"
At Hae-un's question, Yeon-woo gave a small smile.
"Well, it's basically taking money out of the right pocket and putting it into the left. Still, charge more than the surrounding commercial rates. We'll funnel the rent here into the agents' welfare fund."
"You know how it is, Team Leader. When have we ever enjoyed any real welfare benefits?"
"Call it welfare if you want. Just use it for meal expenses and miscellaneous costs."
Hae-un swept his gaze around the interior of the Chinese restaurant. Even split in half, the kitchen section that would serve as a secret passage didn't take up much space, so the hall itself was still quite large.
"If we calculate this by the pyeong and charge a bit more than the neighborhood rates, the amount's going to be too big to just call meal money."
"Whatever's left, pad the operating funds a little and slip it into the agents' monthly bonuses. We've got a big eater among us, after all. He'll be happy if the food budget goes up."
"Understood. I'll handle it that way."
Yeon-woo lightly touched the still-curing concrete and brick veneer, then spoke again.
"More than that—I think Saebyeol should run its own security team."
"A security team, sir?"
"Looking at SL Electronics' security team this time, a private security outfit could become some pretty useful manpower if we run it right."
Rather than Saebyeol operating a security team in-house, it seemed better to leave it to Kim Su-hyeok—have him set up a private security firm and take exclusive contracts as an outsourced service. Even setting Baeksol-related issues aside, the more actors they signed, the more events would require serious security attention.
Once Yeon-woo explained the operating model, Hae-un nodded.
"As it happens, Kim Su-hyeok mentioned he has quite a few trustworthy former military colleagues."
"Still, run thorough background checks."
"Of course."
They wouldn't hand the security team anything involving sensitive or critical information, but it was still better to handle this kind of thing cleanly.
"So the Okinawa operation will start after the goods arrive in port. Generously speaking, late autumn or early winter."
"Yes. The dry season will also make it easier to disguise as a simple fire."
Yeon-woo nodded at Hae-un's words.
"Until then, let's each focus on our day jobs. Kim Su-hyeok's already handling the basic work on his own now."
"Yes. We'll need to keep a low profile until the goods dock. It's not just Baeksol—we have to stay off the Americans' radar too. Still, having Kim Su-hyeok around has made things a lot easier."
They had used cover identities as much as possible and moved along separate routes, but carrying out the operation in Brazil had inevitably brought Yeon-woo and the agents' paths together at a single point: São Paulo. If someone truly set their mind to tracking the agents' overseas movements, it would be difficult—but not impossible.
In a situation like this, the best move was classic and brutally effective: go dark. When an overseas op forced heavy exposure, simply staying quiet for a few months afterward made further tracking nearly impossible. Even if someone grew suspicious, they would find no subsequent trail to dig into.
"Then I'll just finish setting up the security firm under one of the cover identities and hand everything over to Kim Su-hyeok."
The agents had spent the whole night building the wall and were surely dead asleep by now, so Hae-un headed straight to the Northern District Prosecutors' Office while Yeon-woo went up to the company.
"Come to think of it, the family gifts I shipped from the airport should arrive today."
Yeon-woo checked the time on his phone and called his younger sister, So-hyeon.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"It's lunchtime, right?"
"Yeah."
Like most siblings, her answers were dry. Yeon-woo smiled faintly. From the noise around her, her friends had clearly noticed the call from her older brother.
"A package I sent from the airport should arrive today. I put Min-su hyung's name on it. It's from me, so just take it and use it. I labeled whose is whose on the shopping bags."
"Shopping bags? Don't tell me you bought presents in Brazil?"
"Yeah. Clothes, bags, that kind of thing. I just grabbed whatever was at hand, so I don't know if you'll like any of it."
"Well, your fashion sense is trash anyway."
Yeon-woo's brow twitched slightly. He stayed calm in any situation, yet somehow his little sister's digs always managed to sting a little.
"…Just wear them properly. And you're studying hard, right? The CSAT's only a few months away."
"Ah, the signal's bad in the cafeteria…? Got it. Thanks!"
Click.
She had clearly sensed the lecture about studying coming and hung up in a hurry.
Hmm…
Still, their mother had mentioned that So-hyeon was studying fairly hard because she wanted to get into a school in Seoul.
"She'll figure it out. These days you don't have to graduate from a top university to live well."
Even Ju-hyeong, who was right next to him, attended Korea University—and still nearly hyperventilated at the idea of becoming an assistant writer.
Come to think of it, Ju-hyeong's parents might hit the roof if they found out the truth.
Yeon-woo scratched his head.
"It's his life. He'll manage somehow…"
"Manage what?"
At the voice behind him, Yeon-woo turned. Son Jin-uk was walking over, waving with one hand while holding a cucumber in the other.
"Jin-uk hyung. On a diet?"
"Photoshoot tomorrow."
Yeon-woo nodded. Come to think of it, he was still the freest person at Saebyeol. His market value had risen so high that both commercial offers and photoshoot requests had dropped off—and he was turning down even those.
"Hmm. I should start packing my schedule more seriously too."
"You're heading into a film soon, right?"
"Yes. We'll shoot for a while, then pause when Parabola starts and alternate between the two."
"Whoa, is that even possible? Two projects means two characters. I don't think I could switch back and forth between two roles at the same time. It's not like living a double life."
Yeon-woo scratched his cheek. He had only considered the schedule; he had never really thought about the difficulty of alternating between two characters.
"You're right."
"Don't tell me you never thought about it."
"A double life… If I analyze the scripts carefully and immerse myself, it should be fine, right?"
In truth, he was already an expert at double lives, which might be why the thought never occurred to him.
"And the film's crank-in might come earlier than expected. I want to knock out a lot of shooting over the summer."
"Really? Let me know if you need a cameo."
Yeon-woo smiled.
"Hyung, if you show up as a cameo again, that'll be three projects."
"Yeah, but never a film."
"True."
Son Jin-uk chewed his cucumber with the world's most unenthusiastic expression.
"You're shooting with that new person, right? Hong… what was it…"
"Actress Hong A-yun."
"Right, her. Cheol-min hyung says her fundamentals are rock solid."
Yeon-woo had heard that Jeong Cheol-min was giving acting lessons to Jeong Su-yeon, Han Byeol, and Hong A-yun.
"Is that so? We'll find out soon enough once we start working together."
"It's a romance, right? So is there a kiss scene?"
Yeon-woo thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"The skeleton's finished, but they haven't written the detailed script yet. I don't think there was really a place for one…"
"Huh. A romance without a kiss scene feels a little weird, doesn't it?"
"Hmm. Does it?"
In the end he would just do whatever the director wrote. Whether there was a kiss scene or not hardly mattered. It wasn't as if he was some twenty-something whose heart still raced over that sort of thing.
Ah. I am in my twenties, though…
Yeon-woo scratched his head with a faintly bitter look.
A few days later, the moment the semester ended, Kim Ju-hyeong called as if he had been waiting by the phone. He was clearly itching to start work as soon as possible. In a world ruled by salary thieves, where else could you find a worker burning with this much passion?
Yeon-woo quickly collected Ju-hyeong and headed for the outskirts of Ilsan.
"You know Director Lee Yong-su?"
"Yeah, of course. He's a famous CF director."
Surprisingly, Kim Ju-hyeong had already known who Lee Yong-su was.
"You were interested in commercials too?"
"A well-made CF is like a short film in itself."
"Who said that?"
"Huh? Me."
Yeon-woo snorted at the deadpan answer.
"Anyway, this is also Director Lee's first commercial feature. Combined with your otaku power, I think the synergy will be huge."
"O-otaku power… Ahem. Well, you're not wrong."
Before long, Yeon-woo's car carrying Ju-hyeong arrived at their destination.
"Wow. It's quieter out here than I expected. Feels like a foreign village."
"I thought the exact same thing the first time I came. I already called ahead, so let's go straight up."
Yeon-woo led the way up the stairs to Director Lee Yong-su's studio. The director must have been waiting; the door opened the instant the doorbell rang.
"Ah, you've arrived."
"Director, we're in the same boat now. Please speak comfortably."
"Ahem. Shall I? Come in, both of you."
Yeon-woo and Kim Ju-hyeong stepped into the studio.
"This is the friend I mentioned—Kim Ju-hyeong. He's a Korea University student, and as I told you before, he's an amateur writer and a complete film buff."
"It's an honor to meet you, Director!"
At the energetic greeting, Director Lee smiled and held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you. Korea University, you say? That's awfully high-caliber talent to use as an assistant writer."
"When I asked if he wanted to try assistant writing, I thought this guy was going to stop breathing. That's how full of passion he is."
At Yeon-woo's introduction, Ju-hyeong flushed and scratched the back of his head.
"J-just give me the chance and I'll work my hardest at anything. Being part of a film shoot has always been my dream."
"Good. Perfect timing. Making my own film has been my lifelong dream too."
Two fools who knew nothing but movies had gathered, and the burning synergy was formidable.
"Then for this part, the final scene composition from Director Moon Gyeong-jin's film Viola comes to mind. I think it would be good to reference—just a second!"
"Oh, I know exactly which scene you mean. He was my college classmate. You know Moon's Viola? That's a completely underground film—hardly anyone's even heard of it."
Yeon-woo had thought he had watched a fair number of Korean films, yet the names the two kept tossing back and forth were directors and works he had never heard of in his life.
Wedged between the two otakus, Yeon-woo yawned and stretched while listening to the rough draft of the scenario as sentences were gradually carved into shape.
"My twentieth summer was too vivid to be called a dream, and too full of water-soaked, colorful emotions and memories to be called reality—leaving me thoroughly confused about myself."
In a low, calm voice that flowed like quiet water, Yeon-woo continued the narration.
"Perhaps that is why Shakespeare titled his comedy A Midsummer Night's Dream. The feeling of that summer I remember was exactly like that."
It was the opening narration of the film—the very first words that would be heard while the screen was still black.
Even though he had simply read it in a measured tone, in that brief moment Director Lee and Kim Ju-hyeong stopped their discussion and turned toward Yeon-woo of their own accord. The voice that seized everyone's attention made the "I" of the narration feel powerfully, persuasively like Yeon-woo himself. Even though Director Lee had written the opening, he suddenly wanted to ask the speaker what had happened to him.
"Wow, Director. Honestly, starting with narration felt a little old-fashioned for today's style, but hearing it live… this is definitely the way to go."
"In the end, it's the actor's performance that completes the script after all…"
Kim Ju-hyeong picked up a section of the script he had just written and pressed it into Yeon-woo's hand.
"Yeon-woo. Do this one too."
"Hmm? Sure."
Yeon-woo was every bit as much of an acting otaku as the two film otakus. When the three otakus gathered, an even stronger synergy took hold.
And so the two passionate men poured out script pages, and every finished page went straight to Yeon-woo. Watching the "acting vending machine" who could take a script, press a button, and instantly deliver high-powered performance right in front of their eyes, the two men grew excited and completed the screenplay at remarkable speed.