Back to the Beginning
This was the story up to the midpoint of Part 2, and from the latter half of Part 2, the perspective shifts across multiple viewpoints.
From the third-person perspectives of various characters, it reveals every corner of the cabin...
This is the moment when suspicion begins to bloom in the viewers' minds.
Maybe Hyun-tae is the culprit after all.
Afterward, the drama keeps the audience guessing about the killer's identity all the way to the finale in Part 8.
But the real point of this drama isn't the killer's identity.
Of course, that's intriguing, but the true message lies in the glimpses of humanity's depths revealed through the flashbacks.
How shallow is human trust?
How self-serving is human memory?
How ugly is humanity's true face?
When they finally uncover the killer's identity,
they realize the truth.
We're all accomplices.
That's why the title is Gongbeomche.
A solid script.
The problem, though...
"It's just not fun."
Chae Seo-hee had nailed it.
It dissects the characters down to the smallest details like an art film, but that makes it boring.
Critics might give it perfect scores, but ratings would crash below 1%.
Parts 1 and 2 have strong suspense to hook viewers, so if they grab as many as possible by then, maybe 3%...
Ah, right—this is OTT.
Even worse odds.
No way this thing has high completion rates.
After agonizing over it, he closed his eyes.
Let's visualize the whole drama.
What element could make it a hit?
"Good morning."
"Ugh, it's cold."
"You scouted locations over the weekend, right? How was Gangwon-do?"
"Ugh, it's cold."
"Excellent response."
He bumped into Chae Seo-hee in the lobby, now at the point where they could joke around.
Today marked exactly one week since he started.
With the weekend spent working, that made five days on the job, and now a fresh Monday morning.
The past week, he'd been glued to Gongbeomche.
He'd requested feedback from the script team, watched 24 similar thriller dramas.
He didn't know the exact CE duties yet since he hadn't hit the field, but being able to binge dramas at the office was a perk.
Dramas and movies had always been his hobby anyway.
"Hyun-woo, you're meeting the Gongbeomche writers today, right?"
"Yeah."
"Got your thoughts sorted?"
"Still bouncing back and forth."
He'd come up with good ideas, but wasn't sure how to implement them.
Still, he felt like he was almost there.
Just a tiny hint away from the conclusion.
That's why he was meeting the writers.
He'd planned to reach his own verdict first, but maybe they'd spark inspiration.
Chae Seo-hee, hearing this, looked skeptical.
"That's so cliché."
"What is?"
"The excuses from a CE who can't find direction. Even 'I'll meet the writers at the end' is spot-on."
"...I'm serious."
"Me too. Until you come back empty-handed."
Was she speaking from experience?
"Anyway, don't say that in the weekly meeting. Seniors will rip you apart."
But fortunately—or unfortunately—Senior Joo Young-hoon showed zero interest in his progress.
He seemed rock-solid in his belief that it'd flop anyway.
"So, you're heading out this afternoon for the writer meeting?"
"Yes."
"To revise the script?"
"That's the plan."
"Same old, same old. Thought the exec-recommended newbie would be different."
Exec this, exec that.
What else was a CE supposed to do in script development?
First week, the unreal feel kept him chill, but now he was adapting—and getting pissed.
Plus, Chae Seo-hee said they never dumped a project on a rookie assistant CE like this.
Direction was set by senior CE and CE together; assistants got dispatched with opinions.
But Senior Joo Young-hoon had declared:
He wouldn't interfere—show your stuff if you had any.
"If you have the talent, that is."
Some in the office called it excessive, but with Gongbeomche, they shrugged it off.
Countless CEs had tried already; better to fail efficiently without wasting manpower.
As those thoughts swirled, a word from the senior hooked his ear.
"...full circle!"
"What was that just now?"
"What? You talking back to me?"
"No, no. What did you just say?"
"Ddo-dol-i-pyo!"
Ddo-dol-i-pyo?
Back to the beginning?
Out of nowhere, fireworks exploded in his head.
The final piece to save Gongbeomche.
Go back to the start.
This solves everything...
His face heated up, a burning urge rising from deep in his chest to grab the script right now.
That was the moment.
Suddenly, the conference room started spinning.
He thought vertigo at first, but he wasn't dizzy.
The surroundings just whirled, while his vision stayed sharp, cognition intact.
What the—?
Panicking, he jolted up—and the world went black.
Blind? No way.
A torrent of thoughts raced through his mind, but light returned quickly.
With it came the scent of grass, like deep in the mountains...
"Whoa, this is nice."
"What? We get a place like this on our budget?"
Voices.
"Who booked it? Jeong-hoon?"
And words spilled from his own mouth, unbidden.
Gongbeomche?
Chirrr—chirrr—
Listening to the crickets, he thought:
It's a dream.
He must've dozed off reading the script.
The meeting? All a dream.
Wow, Do Hyun-woo. Proper salaryman now.
Dreaming of getting chewed out by a jerk boss.
Actually, dreaming script content wasn't new.
His specialty was visualizing scripts; diving deep often bled into dreams.
But something felt off.
Recently, something similar happened.
First day, in the conference room.
Crickets then, too. Grass smell.
...Coincidence.
Maybe wind carried the office plant scent.
As he pondered, the Gongbeomche characters stirred.
First-person dream view meant no view of protagonist Hyun-tae's face.
But as Hyun-tae turned, friends' faces appeared.
All actors.
Half he knew by name.
Half familiar faces.
My subconscious casting?
Nice work, subconscious.
They fit the roles perfectly.
Image-wise, no different from his own considerations...
"Oh, right. You bring the grill?"
But voices and gestures sold it—this was better.
Definitely memo on waking.
Paygrades perfect, too.
No big names—ideal for break-even on Gongbeomche.
No mirror check?
Curious about Hyun-tae's face now, but no chance.
One mismatch, though.
"Got the grill, but where's the charcoal?"
He'd imagined a burly cop for the police role, but the voice was sly, thin.
Arms scrawny.
This fits better.
Considering Hyun-tae's lacks and motives, yeah.
His schoolboy complex drove him to cop.
This dream's gold.
Creators always talk dream inspirations—maybe this?
He dove in eagerly.
Please don't wake midway.
"Hyun-woo? Hyun-woo!"
"Ah..."
"Your face is pale as a ghost... You okay?"
"Just a quick dizzy spell..."
"Always something. Tsk tsk."
Seeing worried Chae Seo-hee and scoffing Senior Joo Young-hoon snapped him back to reality.
"You did it!!!!"
"I-I didn't! That was over ten years ago...!"
"Yeah? Then in ten more, you'll forget today?"
The conference room's hush drowned out the desperate Gongbeomche voices.
"You sure you're okay? You look awful."
"L-Low blood pressure. How long was I out—or zoned?"
"Like, three seconds?"
Three seconds?
All that time?
"If you're faking sick to bail on the project..."
Senior Joo's words made him snap his head up.
Bail?
Me?
After what I saw?
"Absolutely not. Just dizziness."
"Gonna actually do it? Confident you can fix the script?"
What would he have said minutes ago?
"Yes," with lingering doubt?
Not anymore.
"Yes. I am."
"Hah, bold."
Caught off-guard, Senior Joo started to retort, then turned away.