Looks Like We'll Be Working Together Again
The CEO's office at Nine Entertainment.
"I'm sorry — what?"
Choi Yoona was well aware she sounded like an idiot repeating herself. She did not care.
"I said I've secured the writer. Once we coordinate with TVK, we can start taking meetings immediately. However, the writer currently has a day job, so I'd like you to schedule everything after 7 p.m. I can't do today — Actress Ha Eun-yul has an evening shoot. The writer also needs to gather the project materials, so starting tomorrow should work."
Choi Yoona pulled the phone away from her cheek and checked the caller's name one more time.
Team Leader Lee Jaewook
What on earth?
The time in the corner of the screen read 4:27 p.m.
She pressed the phone back to her face.
"Team Leader. I asked you to look into this writer a little before noon. Do you happen to remember that?"
"Yes. Does the time matter?"
"No. Wait — actually, yes. Yes, it matters. I just wanted to make sure you didn't grab some random person off the street, smack them around, and tell them, 'From today on, you're Na Malchul. If anyone asks, your job is writer.'"
"……"
The silence on the other end stretched. Choi Yoona filled it with something that sounded almost like a complaint.
"I know. That was a stupid thing to say. But how many people in this situation would just take that at face value? This isn't even about whether I trust you or not — realistically, it doesn't make any sense, does it?"
"The writer says the materials from when they originally wrote it are still intact on an old laptop, so that should serve as verification. I'll have them bring it to the meeting. Asking them to print everything out would probably be better."
Choi Yoona raked a hand through her hair.
Unreal. Too unreal, even for this.
Yes. She had asked. And she knew — she had known from the start — that it was an absurd request. So she hadn't expected much. No matter how brilliant Lee Jaewook was, no matter that he had been a chief aide whose mind she couldn't even begin to keep up with.
She had even felt guilty about it. Making a shameless request for something she knew was impossible.
And still, knowing all of that… she had asked anyway.
If it had been easy, every company in the running would have scrambled to lock down Writer Na Malchul the moment TVK laid out that condition. Nobody had even glanced in that direction.
Because they all knew it couldn't be done.
You'd need time, at the very least, just to dare to start looking.
But Choi Yoona had gone looking for Na Malchul anyway. The fact that the old script Kim Taewoo had once given her was the same one — that had been a shock, and a wave of longing, but it wasn't the real reason.
She answered him.
"Do you know why I was trying to find Writer Na Malchul?"
"Because it was the only thing you could do."
Choi Yoona bit down lightly on her lower lip. So this was what a fact bomb felt like.
"…That's right. It was the only thing I could do. It's not like we had a writer lineup sitting in our existing talent pool. And it's not like we were attached to a production company and already in talks with writers. We had nothing going for us. Nothing at all."
She was trying to explain how difficult this was — how the whole situation simply did not make sense — when the voice on the other end of the line replied, perfectly even:
He was showing off, and yet his tone was so unhurried — the way a person might remark that a persimmon tastes like a persimmon, as if stating the most self-evident fact in the world.
But that unhurried voice planted a fierce conviction in Choi Yoona. She hadn't seen a single scrap of proof, and still.
It's real. He actually found the writer…!
Not just found them — he'd already gotten a verbal yes. The moment the certainty landed, dolphins erupted into a victory dance inside her skull. A wild, uncontainable excitement wrapped itself around her and squeezed.
"W-wait, wait…! Okay! Um! Right! First of all — got it! Stay by your phone, you hear me?!"
She hung up and bounced in place. What was she supposed to do first at a time like this?
Choi Yoona burst out of the CEO's office and went looking for Kim Misook.
"Auntie! Auntie!"
The break room at Nine Entertainment.
General Manager Kim Misook, who had grabbed Director Choi Yoona by the wrist and dragged her in, narrowed her eyes.
"I told you not to call me Auntie in front of the staff. It undermines your authority."
"Auntie, Auntie, what do I do? Huh? What do I do? What am I supposed to start with?"
"Start with what? Did you get pregnant?"
"Auntie!"
Choi Yoona squawked. Kim Misook shook her head.
"Oh, so that you can hear just fine. All right, settle down and talk to me. What is it? What's got an unmarried girl hopping around like that?"
"It's — that thing I mentioned earlier… Ha. My heart's still going crazy……"
While Choi Yoona tried to wrestle her flushed excitement back under control, Kim Misook filled a cup of water and held it out.
"Drink."
"Haa… thank you."
Choi Yoona drained the full cup in one go and finally managed to still her trembling. Then:
"The TVK drama. Writer Na Malchul."
"The thing you asked Team Leader Lee to look into, and then felt embarrassed about? What, did he send you a text telling you it was too much? Did he throw a fit and say you were being unreasonable?"
"Noooo…! Would our Team Leader Lee ever do something like that?"
Kim Misook cocked her head at that answer.
"Since when did he become our Team Leader Lee? Weren't you the one saying you couldn't read him at all?"
"He found them. And not just found them — the meeting's already on standby. They've agreed to work together!"
Kim Misook's head tilted a little further.
"You said you didn't even know who they were. No contact info, nothing, not a single thing."
"That's what I'm saying! Isn't our Team Leader Lee incredible?"
"……"
"What do I do first? I should call TVK, right? Right? Or do I call Team Leader Lee back and tell him I want to meet the writer myself first?"
Kim Misook, who had been watching her through half-lidded eyes, let her expression ease.
"…Call TVK. No — just go in person. It's still work hours, so go, look them in the face, and tell them. Shoulders back. Like you mean it."
"In person?"
"Yes. This is the kind of thing you have to do yourself if you want your authority to actually stick. You build the relationship that way too. And don't release the writer's information before the meeting. The sooner the meeting happens, the better. This is time-sensitive."
The adrenaline surged again. Choi Yoona shot up from her seat — and Kim Misook added one more thing.
"Just wondering. Team Leader Lee didn't grab some passerby off the street, smack them around, and tell them, 'From today on, you're Malchul. If anyone asks, your job is writer,' did he?"
Choi Yoona, already heading for the door, flushed scarlet.
It was mortifying enough that her thought process lined up so neatly with General Manager Kim Misook's, despite the years between them. And hearing it out of someone else's mouth……
"Ah… why did I even say that……"
Late for the afternoon. Still too bright to call it night.
TVK Drama Department.
Drama Bureau Director Yoon Hyunbae lifted his head and regarded the young woman standing in front of him.
"You've secured Writer Na Malchul. That's what you're telling me."
"Yes."
"And they've agreed to write the script."
"Yes, that's correct."
Director Yoon Hyunbae straightened his slightly hunched back, settled against the chair, and studied the woman in front of him. She was trying to hide the nerves and the excitement, but it showed. The youthful face didn't help — and the rest of her, every inch of her, was still broadcasting inexperience. Looking at Director Choi Yoona, he found it hard to feel any real confidence.
Then again, she knows our situation perfectly well. She wouldn't come in here talking nonsense.
The thought was brief. He spoke again.
"I genuinely like that synopsis. I put it on hold because it was still undercooked. But even undercooked, it's got a flavor of its own."
"Yes."
"If I hadn't liked it, I wouldn't have set finding the writer as a condition for coming to me at this stage. You know that too, right?"
"Yes. I do."
"And you know I sat on it because I couldn't find Writer Na Malchul."
"Yes."
Director Choi Yoona answered without a flicker of hesitation. Director Yoon Hyunbae let out a long breath through his nose.
"It's real."
"Yes."
"Then we'll do as discussed. Tomorrow evening, 7 p.m., here. Have them bring every scrap of material related to the project."
"Understood."
The conversation was over, but Choi Yoona was still standing there, waiting. A short puff of air escaped Director Yoon Hyunbae's mouth — a laugh with the wind let out of it.
"We'll talk casting after the writer meeting. In this situation, we don't have time to flip our hands and reverse course. The thank-you can wait until after the meeting too. Writer first."
"Yes. Then I'll see you tomorrow…!"
Choi Yoona bowed at the waist and walked out into the corridor of the TVK Drama Department office. Deputy Department Head Song Il-hoon, who had been watching the two of them for some time, drifted over to Director Yoon Hyunbae.
"Director, where's that one from? She's dressed like she works at some company, but that face is something else……"
Director Yoon Hyunbae let out another short, incredulous laugh.
"Why?"
"She's tempting, that's why. That look is rare. Think she can act? You know anything about her?"
"Do I know anything? Well, I know a thing or two……"
"Like what? Which company? You have a number? Let me get her in for an audi—"
Director Yoon Hyunbae smacked the synopsis on his desk a couple of times.
"Get out of here. Scram. She's not an actress. She's a director at an entertainment company."
"Sorry — a director?"
Sensing the Q&A was about to drag, Yoon Hyunbae's face tightened.
"This little shit keeps getting mouthy with the Bureau Director?"
"Come on, we've been growing old together… if I don't dye my hair now, the gray……"
"Tsk!"
"…Sorry, Director. I'll be going."
Director Yoon Hyunbae watched Song Il-hoon beat a hasty retreat, then picked up the business card lying in front of him.
I looked up from the message and faced forward.
I still hadn't been on many evening outdoor shoots. That made this one feel a little newer.
"Key light's up. Soften it. You're hitting the talent too hard."
"Yes."
"Mm. Bring the top up just a touch more. Ease it up bit by bit."
"This much?"
"Yeah. That's good. Suwon, match the angle. If I hear anyone say the flare went off after we've already shot, you're dead."
"Yes, got it!"
On an evening shoot, lighting mattered far more. Standing on set, you felt in your bones how much more light a camera actually used than people imagined.
Was this… a kind of aide work too? Invisible people, doing everything they could to support the actors who would end up on screen?
It was a rather sentimental thought, unlike me. I kept watching the set. People moved in lockstep at Camera Director Hyeon Jongdeok's orders, and even though the situation was unfamiliar, something about it registered with force.
The Ghost seemed to feel it too. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and whispered.
"It's wrapping up…… another one of our Eun-yul's projects."
"Once a team starts really clicking, you can always see the end coming. It's the same everywhere."
"Was it like that at the assemblyman's office too?"
"Similar. Four-year term, and just when you feel like everyone's in sync, the end is already closing in. Putting together a real team is never easy."
The Ghost's eyes went round as a cow's and welled.
"Then Eun-yul should start looking at new projects soon."
He was right.
One project ending was the same thing as standing on the threshold of a new beginning. In Melancholy Romance, Ha Eun-yul was a supporting role dressed up in the language of "sub-lead." There was no need to inflate it with words like "sub." It was a supporting part. She had a fair number of scenes for a supporting player, which was why someone had called her a sub-lead — but even that would be over within a week.
Judging by how far Melancholy Romance had gotten, crank-up — the end of principal photography — was less than a month away.
Of course, the gap between projects could be anything, depending on who called and what the actor wanted. But at the stage where you were only just starting to build name recognition, a long stretch of empty time was not a good thing.
Stacking projects on top of each other wasn't ideal either.
From a fair distance away, I watched Ha Eun-yul talking with Moon Najin, her face clear in the evening light.
That was when it happened.
Someone exchanged light greetings with the crew as he came — and walked straight toward me. A man I had never once seen on this set.
…And behind him, Gyeon Seongcheol came trotting along, wagging his tail like a little mutt.
The man stopped in front of me and drew a business card from his case.
Just as I thought.
He rubs me the wrong way.