Even Better

"...I really don't think this is right."

That was all Sua said. For a moment, the air around her went perfectly still.

She braced herself. The fallout headed her way was bound to be enormous, and she meant to meet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it head-on. What happened instead caught her completely off guard. The two people in front of her looked relieved.

A moment later, each of them offered a line.

"Right? Not doing this would be pretty wrong, wouldn't it?"

"I mean, Sua's heard of Director Go Taemin, at least. Of course she has."

Sua caught up a beat too late.

They never even considered I might say no.

In Kim Iseo's head and in Seo Yeon-ju's, the idea of turning this script down simply did not exist. Whatever face Sua made, acceptance was the floor they were standing on.

Well... she did call him a big fish. More than once.

Sua could see how they'd gotten there. Kim Iseo had leaned on that word, big fish, and stressed it again and again. A rookie like Sua, refusing a casting like that? The possibility had never once crossed their minds.

Even so, she couldn't let the mood roll over her and swallow what she actually meant to say.

Not when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the thing in question was a Grade 7 script. Especially not then.

"No. What I'm saying is..."

Sua stole a glance at the two of them.

"I really do mean that I'm not taking part."

Silence, again.

Kim Iseo and Seo Yeon-ju nodded at each other.

"Ah. So that's what you meant. You're not doing this project."

"I see. Sua isn't doing this one."

And then, all at once—

"...!"

An invisible bolt of lightning might as well have struck them both over the head. Their eyes flew wide, and in the next instant they had closed the distance, hemming Sua in from either side.

"Sua. Sua, what did you just say?"

"Sua, what did you say just now?"

She felt oddly guilty, but all she could do was say it again. She wasn't doing this.

Kim Iseo's face collapsed, as if the sky itself had come down.

"Sua, how could you..."

"Sua, do you have any idea how incredible Director Go is? His hits land close enough to Director Kim Jungi's that people lump them together as the same kind of master, but the way the industry actually treats them is completely different!"

Seo Yeon-ju piled on without missing a beat.

In truth, all Kim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Iseo had asked of her was to fan the flames a little. But nothing about the way Seo Yeon-ju was talking now was an act. It was sincere, and the reason was simple. Even through her own eyes, this was an enormous opportunity.

"That perverted piece of trash and Director Go Taemin aren't even on the same plane. People hold him in real regard, for one. And he's ridiculously hardworking. You hear about somebody spotting him somewhere or other all the time."

"Mmm. I believe both of you."

Sua twisted the ends of her hair between her fingers, sheepish.

"And I understand how amazing he is."

Honestly, she was one of the people who wanted this.

A master director's film. I want in. I want in so badly.

She had no plan at all for what came after Special Task Force 808, and a filmography worth anything meant that gap had to be filled, and soon. If the thing that filled it happened to be a master's film, wasn't that perfect?

The problem, as ever, was the information the Special Privilege insisted on handing her.

Grade 7. A number far too outrageous to wave away.

Fine. Say the grade being 7 is one thing. I can't actually accept that, but say I do. What about the realization factors? Why on earth are the realization factors insufficient?

Insufficient realization factors. The implication was serious. Ordinarily, no matter how low a script's grade fell, the experience itself was still possible. This one wouldn't allow even that. As if the script were too crude to be realized at all. A script still half-formed, maybe. Was she supposed to call it unfinished?

When was the last time I ran into insufficient realization factors? Probably...

Sua turned her memory over.

When I first received the Special Privilege. That simulation where I killed the chef on impulse. That script was insufficient, too.

The thought landed, and a light came on.

Wait. What if they lock the casting first and fill the scenario in afterward? So it starts at Grade 7, and the grade climbs as the thing gets finished?

It was a reasonably sound guess. Hadn't she already lived through exactly that? A script grade rising on the strength of the influence she herself brought to a work. A high grade from the very start was best, of course. But if this project's ceiling sat high enough, that alone would do. It would only mean a tremendous sweetness waiting at the end of the hardship.

The question was out of her almost before she finished thinking it.

"Um, CEO."

"Yes, Sua."

"Do movies cast first, unlike dramas? Is it the sort of thing where the scenario gets finished only after the casting is done?"

"So."

Kim Iseo quietly took hold of her own chin.

"What I'm hearing is that you want to know whether Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo is still at the storyboard stage, or whether they're scouting actors with a finished scenario already in hand. Have I understood you?"

"Yes."

Exactly that. A small, neat Sua-nod.

The answer that came back was not the one she expected. Kim Iseo shook her head.

"The scenario for Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo was finished a long time ago. It's been through several revisions, and I think it's fair to say it's close to perfect by now."

"...What?"

"Which is why there was even an open audition. Someone you know was there. Park Dohui. She didn't pass, in the end."

"...?"

Sua's thoughts dropped even deeper into the maze.

The scenario is finished, and it's a Grade 7?

How was that possible?

Wasn't a master supposed to be someone incredible? They're masters because they're incredible, right? So why is every master who shows up for me just...

In truth, she had been genuinely grateful that an offer had come to her at all. A master Kim Iseo had called a big fish, over and over, had even yielded on the date to put the script in her hands.

But...?

Grade 7...?

Even Director Kim Jungi, an actual criminal, was a Grade 6...?

This was worse than that trash of a director.

And that one, at least, I could experience.

Even that criminal's screenplay had been experienceable. Director Go Taemin's work would not allow her even that. Sua reached her verdict quickly enough. She understood that Director Go was a very impressive man. You still could not let a Grade 7 pass on goodwill alone.

Right. An arctic fox runs cold. Sua ran colder.

That was when Kim Iseo caught her hand and held it tight.

"Sua, just think it over one more time. Are you really sure about this?"

Sua slid her eyes toward the script nearby.

That was enough. Higher proficiency had given her the trick of it: she no longer had to step inside the hotel to check the rough of a thing. A hologram window would show her. Like a speech bubble stuck to the script itself.

Crescendo. A musical term meaning gradually louder.

...Does it mean the disaster crescendos?

The thought came and went. Looking at it again, there was no question the material had to do with music, and that only made it worse. If it could have been the spark that finally let her graduate the Musician trait she carried, that would have been something.

Ah. And then one more thought arrived.

Come to think of it, which of these roles is mine?

She still hadn't checked the part she was meant to play. Meanwhile Kim Iseo was busy laying out the virtues and the benefits of a Go Taemin film, as if she were a traveling quack hawking wild ginseng.

"Sua, you've been searching everywhere for a script that has to do with music, haven't you? And now the perfect chance has come. No. There is no better chance than this. I guarantee it. Go Taemin is a master you can count on."

"I understand. Before that, what's my role?"

"Your role?"

Kim Iseo pressed a hand to her forehead, a moment too late.

"Look at me. I never actually heard it stated outright. But the circumstances tell us enough. It's probably the role Ms. Dohui auditioned for. The part should be fairly substantial. The name of it was..."

The answer, unexpectedly, came from Seo Yeon-ju.

"Kim Sohee, I think? Kim Sohee. The girl who's great at piano."

Kim Sohee. Confirmed.

Fwaaah—! Sua flung herself straight into the Special Privilege space, dove into the payphone booth, and had Kim Sohee pulled up in the space of a breath. And there, she found her clue.

"Huh?"

That Kim Sohee is experience-unavailable?

A 001 tag ought to mean the most important role of all, and yet this was the one marked insufficient. At least the reason was clear now. This role was what made the script unstable.

Sua left the Special Privilege space at once.

Fwaaah—! Her vision snapped back in an instant. Seo Yeon-ju and Kim Iseo were still watching her, eyes shining.

"Sua."

Kim Iseo blinked.

"What is it? What are you thinking right now?"

Sua drew a long breath.

A few hours later, Kim Iseo picked up her phone in bleak spirits.

A few rings, and the other party answered at once.

Kim Iseo hated trailing off at the ends of her sentences, but this once she couldn't help it. The words she meant to speak kept catching in her throat and refusing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to come out. For her, that was only natural.

How am I supposed to say we're turning down Starting Tomorrow, Crescendo? It feels like punting a lump of gold across the room.

Having already read what she couldn't bring herself to say, Director Go Taemin went straight to the point. Kim Iseo let out a heavy sigh and conceded.

By then a vast sense of wrongness had settled over Kim Iseo.

This was nothing like Kim Jungi.

There was none of that air about it. How dare you refuse my film? If that's your answer, say it again to my face. Nothing of the kind.

No. If anything, it felt like the exact opposite.

Director Go Taemin had, without question, grown even more eager. And he had reached that eagerness through the very call he had just shared with her.