Growth (2)
Seoul, Gangnam. A small conference room occupying the entire second floor of a cafe.
A light drizzle had been falling since morning, and the sound of raindrops gently tapping against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows echoed softly through the room.
Eun Chae-won and Choi Hyung-tak, folding their umbrellas as they entered, bowed their heads upon spotting Director Mo Yeon-hee seated at the far end of the long wooden table.
“We’re sorry for being late. The rain slowed us down.”
“I arrived early because I like this cafe. Don’t worry about it.”
Even after taking her seat, Eun Chae-won couldn’t take her eyes off Director Mo Yeon-hee for a while.
The sharp gaze behind her sleek glasses, the neat blouse and jacket, the graceful yet precise way she lifted her teacup.
The name Mo Yeon-hee was already well-known in the film industry.
Having built her career through several short films and independent features, she was the one who had brought romance films—virtually extinct in Korea—back to the box office.
Her direction, which drew audiences in solely through detailed emotional lines and fresh dialogue without any sensationalist melodrama, was truly unique even in Chungmuro.
Despite her youth, it seemed only natural that she was already being called the next-generation master based on her skill alone.
“Well then, let’s talk comfortably. First, what did you all think of the script I sent?”
Director Mo Yeon-hee smiled as she set down her cup.
“What is there to say? It was excellent.”
“I’m glad to hear that Kidari’s CEO thought so highly of it.”
“A film by Director Mo is basically a guaranteed hit, isn’t it?”
“I’ve also heard that I don’t follow formulas, so I’m not sure it can be called guaranteed.”
Choi Hyung-tak, seated beside them, dropped his usual authoritative tone and spoke with an almost exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Is there really such a thing as a success formula for romance films? They’re all the same old Cinderella or Kongjwi and Patjwi stories anyway. Your work has the power to make those clichés feel fresh, and that’s what I consider the guaranteed charm of a Mo Yeon-hee film.”
Knowing Choi’s usual personality, Director Mo Yeon-hee let out a light laugh.
There was always a reason when that arrogant head of a major agency went out of his way to flatter someone.
“You’re too kind. I simply tell my own stories in my own way.”
Eun Chae-won sat quietly but nodded in agreement.
She had been captivated the moment she received the script, and by the time she passed it on to Tae-san, her decision to take the role was already firm.
Director Mo Yeon-hee regarded her with a steady gaze.
“More than anything, I was surprised that you contacted me right after receiving the script, Chae-won. I’m curious why you wanted this role. Could you tell me?”
Eun Chae-won took a moment to steady her breath.
“……Because the character you wrote feels so different from who I am.”
She paused briefly, then continued while clasping her fingers together and lowering her eyes to her coffee cup.
“I wanted to understand what romantic feelings or the anxiety of facing marriage are really like.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee’s eyebrows rose slightly at the admission that she still didn’t fully grasp the kind of realistic worries most women her age would have experienced at least once.
“I’ve played nothing but chaebol heirs, detectives, nurses, and superpowered characters since I was young. I’ve never taken on—or lived—the role of an ordinary twenty-something college student or office worker.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee narrowed her eyes and nodded.
“I see. So you want to immerse yourself in this role and explore that kind of life together with the character.”
Choi Hyung-tak chimed in from the side as he watched Eun Chae-won nod silently with a faint smile on her lips.
“It’s a story about youth wavering between reality and ideals, disguised as a romance. How perfect is that? I can already smell success with this film. I can smell it.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee took a sip of her warm latte and looked back and forth between Eun Chae-won and Choi Hyung-tak.
Her new film, on the surface, appeared to be a typical campus romance centered on the ace pitcher of the university baseball team, a female art student, and an elite engineering student—two male leads and one female lead whose relationships intertwined.
“But this male lead… Usually, a baseball player would be portrayed as popular and good at romance, yet in this script he feels quite different.”
“That’s right.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee answered Choi Hyung-tak’s question immediately.
“He’s the type who’s oblivious to romance but loyal. He has no romantic feelings for the female lead at all. They bicker constantly, yet he still looks out for her. From the audience’s perspective, it feels like those two could never stay just friends, so they keep wondering when the romance will finally happen.”
Choi Hyung-tak burst out laughing.
“Ah, I get it. The whole ‘guy friend vs. girl friend’ debate is really hot right now, isn’t it? Those are very marketable, crowd-pleasing characters. Ah, not that I’m saying it’s purely commercial, of course?”
“I like the word ‘commercial.’ We’re not giving the movie away for free, and filming costs a fortune. It has to be commercial.”
“That’s exactly why I like working with you, Director Mo. You’re so refreshingly straightforward. Hahaha.”
Choi Hyung-tak let out a hearty laugh before continuing.
“Could you tell us a bit about the supporting male lead as well?”
“Ah, that friend.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee’s expression grew slightly more serious.
“He’s a textbook engineering student—diligent, with a secure future. He’s endlessly devoted to the female lead throughout college. He brings her meals, helps with assignments, stays in touch. A perfect boyfriend role.”
“That’s true, but……”
Eun Chae-won spoke carefully.
“As I read, I noticed he also has a rather obsessive side.”
“Exactly.”
The director nodded.
“On the surface he seems devoted, but deep down there’s a possessive desire to control his partner. Later, when the female lead considers marriage, everyone around her says there’s no better man, yet she feels suffocated.”
“And that’s what leads to the reunion with the main male lead.”
Choi Hyung-tak flipped through the script pages and nodded.
After graduation, the main male lead makes it to the pros but ultimately fails and bounces around the second team. Then, when the female lead is wavering, they happen to meet again and belatedly realize each other’s true feelings.
The two come to understand the hidden emotions they had been viewing their long friendship through a different lens.
“That scene was my favorite. Rather than starting love anew, it’s about looking at an old friendship with fresh eyes. How romantic is that?”
“That’s precisely the point I wanted to make.”
She closed the script one final time and added,
“Romance often isn’t about beginning something new, but about discovering it within a relationship you already know. I wanted to capture that moment of discovery in this film.”
Though the conversation had been brief, the backbone and emotions of the story came through vividly.
Assuming the discussion was largely over, Choi Hyung-tak pulled his chair in closer.
Director Mo Yeon-hee straightened her posture as well, sensing that the agency head was finally getting to the main point.
“We’re in agreement that Chae-won will play the lead, so the only thing left is the supporting male lead.”
Director Mo nodded.
“That role is the most difficult. He has to appear sincere and kind on the outside while subtly conveying something unsettling underneath. If it’s too obvious, it becomes predictable; if it’s too subtle, it falls flat.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
Choi Hyung-tak pointed to a thin clear file resting on the table.
“There’s one rookie actor I’d really like to recommend. What do you think?”
“I’ve seen his clips. They were good.”
Choi Hyung-tak gave a short laugh.
“In daily life he has a bright, kind impression, but once he steps into a scene he transforms completely. He’s perfect for the supporting male lead—someone whose outer and inner selves are at odds.”
“I’ll have to see that for myself on set.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee lifted her mug and took a sip of the warm coffee.
Then, in a decisive tone that signaled the end of the conversation, she continued.
“I’ll post the audition notice tonight. He’ll audition under the same conditions as the other candidates.”
“Hmm. Understood.”
Eun Chae-won, who had been silently listening to their exchange, finally spoke.
“I’ll recommend Kang Tae-san as well.”
Director Mo Yeon-hee’s eyes widened slightly at Eun Chae-won’s words.
“Even you stepping forward to recommend him… That’s unexpected. I suppose you personally like him quite a bit?”
“While acting together, I received a lot of stimulation from him.”
While Director Mo Yeon-hee had remained unmoved by Choi Hyung-tak’s words, Eun Chae-won’s comment brought a subtle look of anticipation to her face, and she smiled.
With a reply that she would look forward to it, Director Mo Yeon-hee rose from her seat first.
As she opened her umbrella and stepped outside, the sound of rain grew thicker between the ribs of the umbrella.
Gazing at the raindrops falling from the gloomy sky, Director Mo Yeon-hee fell into thought for a moment.
It was common for powerful agencies to recommend rookie actors.
Moreover, cases where they pushed their own talent while offering up the main lead were frequent.
Though this was her first time working with Kidari Entertainment, she had heard enough rumors about the industry giant to know that Choi Hyung-tak rarely engaged in either practice. She couldn’t quite figure out why he was suddenly doing both.
‘Does that mean his skills are that good?’
Director Mo Yeon-hee walked on, casually blocking the falling raindrops with her umbrella.
Surviving in the film industry as a female director was never easy.
Whenever someone tried to insert something into the world she had carefully built—regardless of the reason or method—she became especially sensitive.
‘Kang Tae-san……’
Whatever the case, she wasn’t particularly pleased.
***
Atop the rooftop of an old high school, where worn desks and chairs were piled up.
Puddles had formed here and there across the gray cement floor.
Staff members splashed through them as they moved about busily.
Today was the final day of filming for Regression.
The production team had postponed the ending scene until today not for any grand reason like wanting to end on a dramatic note, but simply because they couldn’t afford to rent a water truck.
“Alright, is everyone ready?”
When Director Yoo In-kyu shouted through his megaphone, the staff all nodded in unison.
A large sheet of plastic covered the camera lens to keep raindrops from splashing onto it, and the lighting had been set as dark as possible to match the gray sky.
Kang Tae-san, waiting in one corner, brushed his already soaked hair back.
Despite the cold weather and the chill seeping into his bones from his wet clothes, his eyes remained focused.
“Ready, action!”
The scene began with Yeon Seok-jin and his gang of delinquents surrounding the protagonists, Do Hoon-jae and Ko Young-seok, in the middle of the rooftop.
Yeon Seok-jin, the leader of the group, sneered as he proposed a game he had arbitrarily decided upon to the two victims.
“From now on, the two of you fight. The winner gets freed from being a shuttle. The loser has to do shuttle work for both of you until graduation. Just so you know, I bet on you, Do Hoon-jae.”
In the past, the protagonist Do Hoon-jae had chosen to knock out his friend to escape this hellish reality.
Unable to bear the betrayal of being beaten by the very friend he trusted and the doubled intensity of the bullying that followed, Ko Young-seok had jumped from the rooftop railing and died.
That had been the tragic ending Do Hoon-jae experienced before his regression.
Hearing Yeon Seok-jin’s proposal, Do Hoon-jae felt conflicted even though he knew the future.
Because at the same time, he desperately wanted to escape this hellish reality, even if it meant doing so alone.
The actors playing the delinquents surrounded the two and shouted.
“Hit him! If you don’t, you’re the one who dies!”
Do Hoon-jae’s eyes wavered.
His fist slowly rose.
His lips trembled, and rough breaths escaped from between them.
“I’m sorry……”
It was a short line, but his voice cracked.
Ko Young-seok collapsed to the floor from the desperate punch.
Water splashed up and wet the camera lens.
Do Hoon-jae climbed on top of his fallen friend and raised his fist again.
“If I don’t do this, I’ll die. You understand, don’t you? Right?”
Drops of water—whether tears or rain—streamed down his cheeks.
The staff held their breath as they watched Tae-san’s performance, his face twisted in agony, caught somewhere between laughter and tears.
Yeon Seok-jin, playing the delinquent leader, leaned in close to Do Hoon-jae and delivered his line.
“Yeah, that’s it. You have to beat this bastard to death if you want to live. Look at you, finally acting like a man.”
Only after hearing those words did Do Hoon-jae come to his senses.
Turning to watch Yeon Seok-jin walk back toward his group, Do Hoon-jae bit his lip.
In the end, these bastards were the ones who created this nightmare, but the one who could break the cycle was himself.
Even if he knocked Ko Young-seok down here, the future would never change.
He would once again hole up in his room, consumed by guilt over Ko Young-seok’s death, slowly rotting away.
And these demonic bastards would feel no remorse whatsoever, spend a few months in juvenile detention, then come out and live in luxury.
Rather than repeating that kind of life again—
“You sons of bitches!”
Do Hoon-jae—no, Kang Tae-san—decided to resist the demons, even if it meant dying.