Chapter 32
I’m translating the chapter into clean HTML, keeping the dialogue breaks and styling the section break as required. I’m also preserving the chapter’s pacing by grouping narration into normal novel paragraphs rather than atomizing it.CHAPTER_TITLE: Tempo (1)
At the commander’s remark about pulling Oh Jongman into MEG, Lee Chanhoo answered over the phone, “Ah, so the Oh Jongman you’re talking about means we ignore him as an actor and take him only as a writer, right?”
Jaeha, who understood at once, replied in the same even tone. “Right.”
“Looks like you want him pretty badly. Is he really that good as a writer?”
“He is in my eyes. He’s ambiguous as an actor, but he has real talent as a writer.”
It was true enough. Oh Jongman had said he wrote to relieve stress, basically as a hobby. He didn’t seem especially invested in it himself. And yet his writing had caught Jaeha’s eye. He had likely always had the talent on the page, and the experience he’d built as an actor had only sharpened it further.
“If it blossoms properly, he might end up doing quite well as a writer.”
“Oh? If the commander says that much, then he must be worth something. But why move so fast? I thought you just heard he wanted to be a writer?”
“Because he’s a writer.”
A writer was one of those indispensable people in content production, but in the bigger picture, the position stood a little apart. Solitary. Always fighting a war on his own. There were drawbacks, of course, but if a writer was fast, the results came out quickly. And if you hesitated, someone else could take him away.
So Jaeha was going to plant the bait in advance.
As if he understood, Lee Chanhoo shifted the subject. “Leon won’t make a fuss about it, will they?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, yeah, I guess not. They probably forgot Oh Jongman even exists.”
That was the correct answer. Oh Jongman was almost certainly going to be discarded by Leon. His case was different from Yoon Dayeon’s; Oh Jongman had a clear flaw, a clear incident attached to him. Seeing that Jaeha was certain, Lee Chanhoo let out a faint laugh.
“Anyway, don’t worry about Leon. The actor contract will vanish on its own if we leave it alone.”
“Yes, yes. Then how should we prepare the contract?”
Jaeha went over the contract for writer Oh Jongman in careful detail. The terms, the special clauses, the conditions, everything. After finishing the call with Lee Chanhoo, he lowered his phone. In his mind, besides Oh Jongman, the faces of Director Kwon Seongmin and Director Hong Manseop, both of whom were at the filming site, floated up as well.
It’s not the right time yet, but soon enough, those two will be pulled into MEG too.
Jaeha raised his phone again. This time he searched for something. The keyword was Busan International Film Festival.
Perhaps because the festival was approaching fast, there had been a great many recent articles about it.
[Film Festival] The Busan International Film Festival Will Be Held In Grand Style Again This Year, And The Guest List Of Actors Is Just As Glittering / Photo
The Attention Of Film Professionals Around The World Is Turning To The Busan International Film Festival
The Busan International Film Festival Committee Says, “We Will Present A Variety Of Films Over Ten Days,” And Begins Selecting Works To Screen During The Festival
Then a woman came up behind Jaeha. It was Yoon Dayeon, wearing long, straight hair and makeup heavy enough to suit her character.
“What are you doing by yourself?”
Jaeha lowered the phone and answered with a suitable smile. “You don’t need to know.”
Yoon Dayeon pouted.
“Seriously, you’ve never once given me a friendly answer. Are you trying to pick a fight?”
“Bring it on.”
“No! That’s not what I meant! You really do look like some kind of soldier.”
“Do you want me to be friendly?”
“...Forget it. If you got friendly, I’d think you’d lost your mind.”
“I was checking some information on the Busan International Film Festival.”
“Right, I saw a few articles about it too.”
“Have you been?”
“I have. Just once, though.”
“If Gyeollo manages to get into the Busan International Film Festival, people will be pretty surprised.”
“Because of Gyeollo? Or because of me?”
“Both.”
It made sense. Yoon Dayeon, a has-been with a reputation as a crazy psycho, would suddenly show up as a supporting actress in a short film. And the lead was an unknown, An Jihee. As Yoon Dayeon imagined the situation for a moment, she clicked her tongue.
“I don’t know. People have been talking crap about me forever anyway. More importantly, you sound awfully sure about getting into the Busan International Film Festival?”
Jaeha nodded without concern. “We’ll get in. That’s what I think.”
“......”
Yoon Dayeon stared at him without saying anything. Inside, she was faintly impressed.
What is this baseless confidence? But coming from him, it somehow makes me believe it. I can’t tell whether he’s insanely perceptive or just insane.
She lowered her gaze a little and discreetly looked Jaeha over.
But what’s this? His body looks like it’s gotten a little better. Is he working out? He’s definitely got way better physicality than when I first saw him.
From a filming zone set a bit farther away, An Jihee glanced over at the two of them and muttered to herself with a hint of regret, “I’m jealous. I want to join in too.”
And in her head too, I want to talk to Manager-nim.
Right around then.
Director Kwon Seongmin, after finishing his explanation of the composition to the key staff, walked over to Jaeha. He pushed his glasses up and announced what was now all but certain.
“Dayeon-ssi, Manager-nim. I think filming will be finished by this Friday.”
That meant there were roughly four days left until the cranking up. Jaeha nodded calmly on the outside, but inside he smiled.
Faster than the schedule I expected.
The next day, morning of the 7th. Leon Entertainment.
Yoon Dayeon, An Jihee, and Manager Kim Daeyong had already gone straight to the filming set, but Jaeha headed to the meeting room as soon as he arrived at work. There was someone he needed to see.
Oh Jongman.
When Jaeha opened the meeting room door, the gangster seated inside sprang up. No, Oh Jongman. His face looked even rougher than before, though it was probably just because he was nervous and taking everything seriously. The moment he saw Jaeha, he greeted him immediately.
“Ah, hello, Manager-nim.”
“Yes. Good morning.”
“Pardon?”
“Good morning.”
“Ah... haha! Yes! Good morning.”
Oh Jongman, quickly recovering from his confusion, showed the same eager courtesy he always did. Once Jaeha sat down, Oh Jongman pulled out a chair across from him and took his seat. It was Jaeha who spoke first.
“We covered the broad outline over the phone yesterday, so let’s skip over that. There’s just one more thing I want to confirm.”
“Yes.”
“You’re cutting ties with the actor side and focusing as a writer, correct?”
“Yes! I’ve made up my mind.”
“Since you’ve decided, you’ll need to devote yourself to writing.”
Jaeha measured the man’s firm nod for a brief moment, then gave a thin smile.
“Looks like your wife backed you up with everything she had.”
Oh Jongman’s eyes widened.
“H-how did you know that?”
“Your eyes have changed. You look like you’re aiming for one desperate final shot. You’ve got a good wife.”
“...Thank you.”
Even as he answered, Oh Jongman felt that Jaeha was no ordinary man.
Last time too, and now again, he’s got this weird... calm? Indifference? But he’s sharp. Like he can peel apart what’s going on in someone else’s head.?? The man’s aura is incredible.
Whether Oh Jongman thought that or not, Jaeha went on.
“And don’t tell Leon that you’re shifting over to being a writer.”
“Huh? Is that okay? You’re part of Leon too, and it seems like telling them would be better.”
“I am with them, but your writer route needs to be handled separately. I recommended it personally.”
“Ah—”
“To be blunt, it’s not an area Leon can really touch. Writer Oh Jongman is free, if you want to put it that way. And if possible, it’s better for your actor contract with Leon to disappear.”
“I think so too.”
Once the actor contract binding him was gone, he’d be able to run far more freely as a writer. As for the actor contract itself, there was no real issue. They could just leave it be.
Soon Jaeha crossed one leg over the other.
“Next is your direction as a writer. First, write a one-act drama script.”
“You mean a single-episode drama.”
“Yes. You can revise something you’ve already written, or start fresh.”
“Since it’s a one-act, I’ll try to pack novelty and entertainment into a short runtime, haha. And after that?”
“There are the annual one-act competitions run by the broadcasters and others. There are other methods too, but that’s the usual route.”
“Ahh.”
“Anyway, whichever path you take, the priority is to get a script finished. We can adjust the direction as we go.”
Oh Jongman nodded energetically and took notes on Jaeha’s remarks in his phone. Watching him for a moment, Jaeha finally got to the main point. It was time to mention MEG.
“If you’re unknown, or a rookie writer, things get easier when you have support.”
“You mean a writer agency or management?”
“Yes.”
“Haha, that would be nice, but what agency would sign someone like me and support me?”
“Naturally, nobody would even look at you right now.”
“Oof. That’s true, but it hurts a little.”
“Still, there are rare places that look at the script or the writer’s potential and invest.”
“Oh—”
Jaeha tapped the thin stack of papers he’d brought with his index finger. It was the short script Oh Jongman had once said he’d written as a hobby.
“It’s unfinished, but let’s send this around to agencies.”
“I don’t mind, but... I really wrote that without thinking much of anything.”
“It was that script you wrote without thinking much of anything that made this situation happen.”
“!!”
“Send it out first. If anyone contacts you, meet them.”
“Yes, yes. Understood.”
Even as he answered, Oh Jongman thought, There’s no way anyone calls. What agency would ever sign me?
He didn’t have even the smallest expectation.
Several days later, on the 10th, Friday. Early afternoon.
The location was near Gwangju, Gyeonggi Province. A fairly large open lot attached to an abandoned building. Broken construction materials and trash were piled up here and there, as if the site had been left half-finished in the middle of some project.
At one side of that lot, nearly thirty people had gathered.
“Action!”
It was the Gyeollo team. Though today it wasn’t just Director Kwon Seongmin’s Gyeollo production team. There were also the broad-faced CEO Jeong Taewoo of Munbak Film and his staff, Lee Chanhoo trying for no reason to look imposing, the other actors besides Yoon Dayeon, whose filming segment had already ended, and more.
And then.
Jaeha, with an expressionless face, watching the shoot.
In a way, it wouldn’t have been wrong to say that everyone connected to Gyeollo had gathered here.
The reason came from the staff members as they began preparing for the next shot.
“Cut! Good, Jihee-ssi! Let’s do it once more from the full shot!”
“Hoo. Time really flies, doesn’t it? It’s already the last filming day.”
“Right? Last filming day—maybe because it’s a short film? Three weeks went by like a bullet.”
“More precisely, it didn’t even take three full weeks.”
“Yeah. At first the director seemed a little awkward, but once he found the rhythm, he just kept the cuts coming.”
“That director’s going to get even better. We’ve done filming a hundred times over, but for some reason today especially feels... strange.”
Today was the final day of shooting for Gyeollo, and once the scene being filmed at this site wrapped, it would be over.
Perhaps because of that, there was a mix of fighting spirit and tension in An Jihee’s eyes as she went through her solo shoot.
Wow. The final shoot? I can’t believe it. That I’ve come this far.
After taking a breath, she looked around and then fixed on Jaeha. He gave her a calm thumbs-up. It was nothing more than a simple gesture, but to her it carried weight.
Yes, Manager-nim. I’ll do my best until the end!
It gave her a huge burst of strength.
Director Kwon Seongmin, seated in front of the monitor, was more earnest and more serious than ever. He had been like that throughout the shoot, but today his focus was especially sharp. The key staff members who had just finished talking with him were practically clicking their tongues at the sight.
“Our director’s really locked in.”
“It’s the last shoot of his first work. I’d be the same.”
“Then let’s pay even more attention too.”
Then Director Kwon Seongmin’s forceful cue rang out again.
“Action!”
An Jihee’s expression changed in an instant as she began acting. The emotional line ran from blankness to grief, from violent grief to hollow emptiness. The camera moved from a medium bust shot into a gradual close-up.
Before long, tears welled in the corners of An Jihee’s eyes.
But her mouth was smiling.
Most of the actors watching her performance were moved, even shaken. Yoon Dayeon was no different.
“......”
“......”
It was partly because of An Jihee’s acting, but also because the thought that this was the final destination made a flood of emotions surge through them.
One cut, then another.
Before they knew it, the filming had been going on for more than an hour. Yet no one complained or grumbled. They simply watched the rolling shoot, the final full stop, in silence.
Then, at last.
“......Cut!”
Director Kwon Seongmin shot to his feet and shouted loudly. “OK!! Thank you all so much for your hard work!”
It was the signal for the crank-up, the signal that filming was over. Thanks to that, Director Kwon Seongmin’s eyes had gone red, and An Jihee, stepping out of character, began bowing over and over in a storm of thanks.
“Thank you for your hard work! You all worked so hard!!”
Applause erupted among the staff.
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!
Even as he expressed endless gratitude, Director Kwon Seongmin took in the entire set with his eyes.
Filming’s over... me, I made it this far?
For a moment, he flashed back to the days when he had drifted from construction site to construction site. The despair, the frustration, the sense of failure. But now everything was different. He was standing here as the director, as the one who had delivered the final cue.
I’m so grateful to everyone. Truly.
Whatever else happened, filming for Gyeollo was done here.
Gradually, the set began to grow noisy and chaotic. In the middle of it, Jaeha slipped away a few steps from where he had been standing. The atmosphere was thick with celebration, and it didn’t suit him at all. He preferred watching people from the back, their faces and expressions. The staff, the actors, the people involved. Their feelings came through vividly.
And then.
“...Hm?”
As he was looking at the key staff members greeting Director Kwon Seongmin, Jaeha’s vision suddenly lurched. A familiar sensation followed, a sense of déjà vu.
Deja vu.
Jaeha, having seen a scene that wasn’t reality and returned from it, smiled.
Money smells.
It was a Déjà vu thick with the smell of money.
“Looks like I’ll need to buy some land this time.”
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