Two Flaws in the <em>Justice</em> Episode 20 Script
Having passed the first point that Lee Kang-sik had mentioned, Woojin began to bring up the remaining one.
“Lee Jung-hyuk’s absence?”
The word “absence,” following “contradiction,” captured Kim Soolim and Seo Min-kyeong’s eyes and ears.
“Yes. Starting from the scene where they assault the Blue House, the buildup gradually draws toward Lee Jin-tae’s final moments. But it’s ironic that Lee Jung-hyuk’s presence is thoroughly excluded from this process.”
Woojin continued in a low voice.
“Of course, the source of the tragic ending is Lee Jin-tae’s overwhelmingly powerful thirst for revenge, but Lee Jung-hyuk’s will and emotions to stop it are just as strong. That’s why the story could progress into a father-son confrontation from the midpoint onward.”
Lee Kang-sik, listening beside him, nodded quietly.
“That’s exactly why I called it ironic. The two protagonists of the emotions driving the story right up to the end are Lee Jin-tae and Lee Jung-hyuk, yet in the actual conclusion, Son Min-seok is in the spot where Lee Jung-hyuk should be.”
As actors who understood the characters far better than the director or writers ever could, this was the part that gave Woojin and Lee Kang-sik the greatest sense of disconnect. The power balance, tautly maintained between the protagonist and antagonist up through episode 19, shattered far too easily just because of one new character, Son Min-seok.
“Lee Jung-hyuk realizes too late that his adoptive father’s final target is the Blue House and rushes over, but by then, Son Min-seok’s gunshot has already rung out toward Lee Jin-tae. Because of that, in the scene where Lee Jung-hyuk holds the fallen Lee Jin-tae and sobs... honestly, that sadness didn’t hit me hard.”
No sooner had Woojin finished than Lee Kang-sik jumped in.
“Exactly. I even thought, ‘What the hell was he doing that he shows up now?’”
“Yes, I felt the same as you, sunbaenim. If I may add a bit, I personally think the conversation they shared in the Golden Triangle was the most important. It was a turning point in the story, and for Lee Jung-hyuk, it planted the goal of his life.”
The part Woojin was referring to was the scene they’d filmed at Monsoon Valley Vineyard. After barely surviving a gunshot to the heart while trying to save Lee Jung-hyuk from the “Thai mafia,” Lee Jin-tae had, for the first time in his life, opened up to his son about his own story.
“To Lee Jung-hyuk, the existence of Lee Jin-tae is far greater than anything we could imagine.”
Woojin spoke with conviction, having experienced Lee Jung-hyuk’s feelings toward Lee Jin-tae directly and indirectly through the virtual world.
“In the process of helping with his father’s revenge, Lee Jung-hyuk must have thought, ‘What if innocent people get sacrificed?’ Even so, there was only one reason he helped Lee Jin-tae!”
Woojin held up his index finger.
“He believed that if he could just relieve his father’s pent-up resentment, they could live happily ever after.”
Woojin’s expression, tone, and gestures made it seem like he was recounting his own real-life story. Everyone listening intently to his opinion gradually became immersed in his tale.
“The key point is, it wasn’t alone. He hoped to live an ordinary life ‘together with Lee Jin-tae.’”
With that one wish, Lee Jung-hyuk had ignored the fact that his father’s revenge wasn’t justified. And yet...
“That’s why Lee Jung-hyuk turned back to stop his father. ‘Stop’ didn’t mean letting him die—not at all. It meant ‘persuading’ him to abandon the revenge...”
Unknowingly, Woojin’s voice trailed off.
In his thirty years of tumultuous fate, Lee Jung-hyuk had only Lee Jin-tae to lean on. Just articulating it stirred a surge of emotion in Woojin’s chest.
“Hup... Woojin-ssi.”
“Yes?”
“Your left eye...”
Woo Seung-hyun PD, with a dazed expression, pointed to his own left eye.
Woojin touched his eye immediately. Something moist stained his finger.
“Aigoo, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize, I just...”
“Aigoo, son~ Look at that overflowing sensitivity, haha.”
As Woojin flustered over the sudden tear and composed himself, Lee Kang-sik lightened the heavy mood with a gentle joke.
The directors, along with Kim Soolim and Seo Min-kyeong, brightened up as well.
“Alright, now actor Baek Woojin from the Hong corner will give his final remarks.”
While working on a role, the character becomes another “self” for the actor. Though Woojin was speaking as himself, the tears revealed the emotions of the role he’d fully embodied. Lee Kang-sik seemed pleased by it, tossing another light joke to keep the atmosphere from turning awkward and giving his junior space to continue.
Woojin flashed a mischievous smile at Lee Kang-sik—so playful—before opening his mouth again.
“As I’ve explained at length, doesn’t it feel too pitiful that Lee Jung-hyuk doesn’t even get a chance to ‘persuade’ his father in the finale? Revealing Son Min-seok as the one who turns Lee Jin-tae into an avatar of revenge is fine, but it feels like the protagonist is unnecessarily sacrificed.”
“Hmm... I get what you mean, Woojin-ssi.”
“Yes, Writer-nim. It’s off.”
It was feedback that cut sharply, beyond mere boldness. Kim Soolim, looking a bit muddled, fell into thought for a moment before glancing at Seo Min-kyeong.
Seo Min-kyeong gave a slight nod, and Kim Soolim spoke up with a bright smile.
“I agree—no, I admit it. It seems like a mistake on our writing team’s part.”
It was Kim Soolim’s signature cool, no-hard-feelings tone.
“I thought we’d wrapped it up decently, but now I see it’s full of holes. We’ll have to revise.”
“Including today, over the weekend, Min-kyeong and I will squeeze our brains for a better ending.”
“Um, Writer-nim...”
That was when Woojin cautiously raised his hand.
“Sorry, but could I add just one more thing?”
“Oh, hold on then. Let us brace ourselves...”
“Hahaha!”
Seo Min-kyeong’s deadpan response drew laughter from everyone.
“Yes, Woojin-ssi. Go ahead.”
With Kim Soolim’s ready approval, Woojin spoke.
“Revising the script is the writers’ prerogative, so I hesitate to say this, but... I’ll venture it carefully.”
It could be sensitive, but for Woojin, this was the absolute perfect timing. A story that couldn’t be delayed any longer.
It was, “I’ve come up with a rough vision of my own.”
The key to unlocking the mission imposed in the Justice virtual world—Lee Jung-hyuk’s wish.
* * *
The day before the meeting.
“A conditional request?”
“Yes, actor-nim. That’s right.”
The blueprint for the key was all in the request Lee Jung-hyuk had cautiously made to Woojin in the “white room.”
“Speak freely. I’ll help with anything I can.”
“...Yes, thank you.”
After a pause, Lee Jung-hyuk continued, “After learning that his father’s revenge... ends with his father’s death, I tried somehow to stop it.”
He breathed heavily as he went on.
“Attempts to break the fixed frame of fate repeated countless times.”
Woojin felt a pang of bitterness too. The agony of fighting alone, with the flow repeating identically until success...
He’d experienced something similar in the Burnt and Hidden Marks virtual world, so Lee Jung-hyuk’s hard confession felt like a meeting of minds.
“And the end was...”
“Yes. As you’ve probably already guessed, actor-nim, I only faced my father’s death over and over.”
Words that freshly revealed how terrifying a “predetermined ending” truly was. At that time, with death’s shadow creeping over Lee Jin-tae, Lee Jung-hyuk—physically distant from the Blue House—could do nothing.
Knowing he would die, all he could do was hold the corpse and wail.
The Burnt and Hidden Marks mission had been hard only until realizing the hidden hint; it wasn’t impossible from the start. But Lee Jung-hyuk’s attempts were set to “fail” from the outset, making it hard to even respond.
“Then, the meaning of your ‘conditional request’...”
Woojin said with a resolute expression.
“Do you mean changing the script so Jung-hyuk can reach his father?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Lee Jung-hyuk nodded. Woojin realized the true meaning of his “conditional request.”
To realize the picture where Lee Jin-tae lives—Lee Jung-hyuk’s wish—there were two ways to revise.
The first, simplest: just change the script so Lee Jin-tae doesn’t die. Whether he’s persuaded by Son Min-seok alone in the presidential office, arrested, or some other situation arises—simply remove the death scene, and it’s solved easily.
However, if, considering all the prior buildup, Lee Jin-tae must die...
Second: create a gap for Lee Jung-hyuk to intervene before the death.
In other words, either change it outright so he doesn’t die, or provide a situation where he can try to prevent it.
One or the other—that was the “conditional” part.
“If I can just face my father, I’m confident I can persuade him.”
Lee Jung-hyuk’s voice held firm resolve.
“If persuasion fails and I can’t avoid his death...”
With a calm face suppressing heartbreaking emotion just by imagining it, he continued.
“Then it can’t be helped. Still... at least there’d be no regrets.”
Lee Jung-hyuk gave a faint smile.
“Yes, I understand.”
Woojin took his hand.
“I can’t promise I’ll sway the writers exactly as you want, but...”
His grip naturally tightened as he said, “At the very least, I’ll make sure Lee Jung-hyuk is there, at that moment, at that place when his father’s death happens.”
“......!”
“This part, I promise—no, I guarantee it. I’ll do my absolute best.”
“Thank you, actor-nim. Truly... thank you.”
Tears streamed endlessly from Lee Jung-hyuk’s eyes.
Woojin silently patted his shoulder and turned his head with a soft swish.
His gaze fixed on the button in the pure white room.
I’ll make sure you press that button.
With Woojin’s vow, the virtual world had closed.
* * *
“...That’s it.”
Woojin’s presentation began cautiously. From meeting Lee Jung-hyuk and returning to reality until arriving at today’s meeting, he’d brainstormed nonstop, explaining every detail without omission.
Whew.
Woojin let out a silent, short breath. He’d done all he could. Now it was out of his hands.
The choice was...
“......”
“......”
Kim Soolim and Seo Min-kyeong’s expressions were meaningful. A silence stretched longer than “brief.”
Finally, “...I like it?”
Kim Soolim murmured softly.
“Pardon? What did you say, Writer-nim?”
Woo PD swallowed dryly and asked. Everyone, including Seo Min-kyeong, stared at Kim Soolim.
She said it again.
“I like it?!”
With those words, a bright smile finally bloomed on Woojin’s lips.