Young and Youth (1)
“Director, the shoot at Korea University next Wednesday is locked in. A few people from the student council and the admin office are volunteering to help out. We've wrapped up the coordination. Well, it wasn't much coordination anyway...”
The skinny guy was talking when the burly, rugged man next to him let out a heavy sigh.
“Fuck, is Korea University the problem? What the hell are we gonna do about Baekun University right now? Ah... this is insane. We've fucked up from the first episode.”
Only then did the skinny guy start gauging the big guy's mood. He was the assistant director on the “Young and Youth” program, which he was helping plan and produce alongside the main PD and his mentor, Gowuseok. The guy looked baggy and mild-mannered most days, but when it came to his show, he turned into an absolute alpha male. For this man to snap like that from the get-go meant he was seriously pissed off.
“Couldn't we salvage it in editing? Make something decent out of it? It's not that bad.”
“Hey, kid, you've been shadowing me for three years—don't you have an eye for this yet? You watched it too and you're saying that shit?”
“Well, the cast isn't that much worse than previous seasons...”
Thwack!
“Bullshit.”
Gowuseok slammed the table, and the guy flinched.
“Sure, editing can pull out a killer scene or two. We could force in some laughs. But how far do you think that'll get us? Viewers these days are sharp as hell. Who even watches live anymore?”
The days of freaking out over ratings charts were over. Not just the young crowd—even middle-aged folks were glued to their smartphones more than TVs. Ratings still mattered as hard numbers, but views across platforms had become the real barometer of a show's success or failure.
In the end, buzz was king. Once shorts started circulating and word spread, the public tuned in. And once they did, ads followed. From broadcast to platforms, it was all symbiotic, pumping up production budgets.
But force a few gimmicky scenes for buzz, and it backfired hard. The internet was a brutal beast. Mainstream appeal drew crowds, artistic merit got praise, clever ideas spawned superfans. Flops? Total oblivion. No second thoughts.
Worse were the overhyped duds—shiny on the surface but hollow inside. Those birthed demons. Anonymous posters on forums wielded their cloaks like weapons: ruthless, cruel, manipulative, stirring the masses. Nobody wanted to waste time or money on trash. So bad reviews spread faster than good ones.
Quietly fade into irrelevance, or take the hate and fight for a comeback?
Gowuseok realized he'd painted himself into a corner with the very first shoot of “Young and Youth.”
“Was it that bad?”
He snorted at the assistant director's question.
“You saw it. The idiots trying to riff off Yoon Hee-seok were amateur hour at best. And that one who caked on makeup like she was shilling an ad—what the fuck was that? Acting like she's some idol?”
“Still...”
“Fuck 'still.' We're biased 'cause it's our show—we'd polish a turd if we had to. Regular viewers? They'd flip channels in seconds. What's our format again?”
“......”
It was a show hoping to capture the fresh, youthful vibe still lingering in elite university kids crushed by endless spec wars. Not about pro comics or pretty idols. Just real, everyday people and moments through the lens.
NGs in comedy shows got laughs. Travel vlogs exploded, celebs jetting abroad for “authentic” slices of life. Viewers, jaded by shock value, craved genuine everyday stuff now. They scoured for fakes like hawks. One “devil edit” post from a cast member, and boom—tainted as scripted forever, facts be damned.
Variety wasn't docu, so directors shaped it. Gowuseok scouted talent ahead, planned meticulously. But he kept it secret from casts, begging accomplices for silence to preserve surprise.
But that fucking section chief—what the hell did he take to sabotage my show?
Park Gi-jun, the section chief. Real power in variety, PD-turned-future-head. Rumors of agency bribes since his PD days. When he pitched Baekun University, Gowuseok got a bad vibe. Brushed it off as connections. Couldn't snub a future boss, and he'd bent rules before without issue.
But arriving on-site? Shock.
“Hahaha, nice to meet you. Shin Dae-won, Baekun's academic affairs director. You hear from Park Gi-jun? We're tight—senior-junior, hike buddies.”
“Ah... yeah.”
The old guy's face gleamed like greased pork. Gowuseok forced a greeting. Then the real nightmare hit.
“I've pre-scouted and booked our stars. Face of the uni—charismatic, talented kids from each department. You'll love 'em. Hahaha.”
Gowuseok nearly passed out. Secrecy ignored, and the director himself crashing the set? Unthinkable.
“Usually you interview the president first, right? Do me instead. I know this place inside out—fire away.”
Skipping the prez for himself? Sketchy. Gowuseok wheedled a student council kid: confirmed.
“Prez's term ending soon. Rumors Shin's gunning for it. He's got profs locked, near retirement, no prez re-run announced—so he's bold.”
“...Fuck.”
Self-promo via uni spotlight, etching himself in faculty minds. Using his network lackey at the station.
“Why pre-rig students too?”
Assistant director explained: prez picks involved profs, staff, student reps. Ties mattered. Those kids? Council connections.
“...Holy fuck.”
Promo and votes secured, station as patsy. No backing out. Variety schedule in shambles—his show footing the bill. No backups; every day a bloodbath. Needed footage now. MCs and guests cleared their day.
Couldn't confront Park—he'd dump blame back. Hell, maybe he rigged this.
That asshole would. But not now.
Gowuseok swallowed rage for staff. Shot anyway. Soon after intros...
“Goddamn it, unwatchable.”
Cast check: fury boiled. Cuts nonstop. That day, he sensed the show's doom. Raw footage confirmed it now.
“Jae-hoon, stay the fuck away from that section chief. I'll block all top-down pushes from now on. Let those 'doom it' assholes rot. Don't get near him—dodge weird asks. Got it?”
Lee Jae-hoon, assistant director and Gowuseok's underling, felt wronged.
“I didn't ask for that rec letter ride. ADs got no pull. Won't get me in shit with your senior?”
Gowuseok glared.
“Debuts start at six years here. Tough it out. Stick with variety, I'll hook you up post-season. Build experience. I've got pull. PDs thrive on skill, not strings. Seen string-pullers succeed lately?”
“Sweet talk's fine in doses. But editing direction? I'll rough cut, you review—but touch it wrong, it'll show.”
“Cut the gag idiots around Yoon Hee-seok. Unwatchable. Even blind, you see he's forcing it—viewers will too. Beef up those two accidental couples. The makeup monster... Literature major? Pair her crush's video letter, save it. And... Yoon Se-hee?”
“Ah, yes! She was decent-looking, right? Writer said best of the bunch.”
“Hm. Better in person than pics, but no goddess. Curious enough, though. Focus on her, make clips. Teaser with her as main. Poor Hyun writer—sorry. Fuck, weak PD staining her face.”
“Variety writers deal. She can't boss the station.”
“Sigh... How'd mighty Gowuseok end up like this...”
The world flipped. Platforms and vloggers swarmed; stations chased trends desperately.
“Hope Korea University delivers. Swap with Baekun for ep 1? Opener sets tone—start bad, momentum dies.”
“Don't overhype. Korea U screams genius, not laughs. Quiz kings, maybe. Fuck, I'm out for a bit.”
“Where? Not confronting Park?”
“Crazy? Too old for tantrums. Gym. Skipped yesterday, day before. Stress? Workout's best.”
“Gym now?”
“To clear my head. Hour tops. Later.”
Gowuseok waved and bolted.
Seonghwan faced his trial with grim resolve.
“So, quit the part-time, restore my allowance like before?”
Despite the stern glare, Seonghwan stared back firmly.
“Dad, you're skipping steps, generalizing—makes me sound like a brat.”
“End of story: you want old allowance back, right?”
“Well... not wrong, but...”
He'd agonized before asking. Dad's tone was off. He'd never whined for cash.
“One-month trial? Whined it was impossible after?”
“No. I worked hard, enjoyed it, got boss praise. But couldn't keep up studies. Thought it through.”
“How'd I know? Didn't see it.”
“For real. Never lied about this. No talent for books, but not lazy with labor. Heard I suit fieldwork over studying...”
Seonghwan trailed off as Dad's face darkened. Sharp eyes screamed discomfort.
“Spouting that crap—that why the rambling?”
“N-no.”
“Middle school—beat for nonsense, still at it? Refresh your memory?”
“Huh?”
Middle school: Seonghwan nearly quit studies for vocational school. Family tight on cash—early job could help. Win-win: his no-talent, parents' need. Bro covered academics.
Bravely pitched at dinner... Got ass-whooped near death. Mom couldn't stop raging Dad.
“Crushing my pride to the dirt? Think I'd cheer early grease-monkey cash? See us thrilled by kid's sweat?”
Broomstick hell; Seonghwan speechless. Never mentioned quitting again. Dad buried it too—humiliating. Bringing it up now? Danger zone.
“Dad, not quitting studies. Need to quit job for studies?”
Gauging the scowl, Seonghwan treaded lightly. Dad eased slightly, still glaring.
“Earning easy? That cash is fleeting—earn to spend. What's the point? Real money sticks around. So study. Got it?”
Full circle to study. Seonghwan held tongue—sensed lecture ending, answer coming.
Chin-stroking Dad concluded:
“Can't just give. Needs trade.”
“Trade?”
“Yeah. Don't trust you yet. 'Studying hard'—how long? Advance it.”
“Advance? Repay later...?”
“What else? Get semester hardship. Not midterms—vacation payback. You weren't studying break anyway. No more playtime. Work breaks to fund semesters.”
“Ugh? Forever? Wait, no full-library plans, but had study schedule. Few rest days aside.”
“Not full break. One month at my company. Odd jobs—warehouse, admin. Light stuff, half-days max. Staff briefed. Study afternoons if quick. Covers allowance.”
“Eek?”
One month half-days for four months' cash? Huge win. But Dad's oversight daily...
Traded one hell for another?
No spur-of-moment plan. Long-brewed.
“Got it. Tell Mom: allowance from next month.”
'Allowance'? Like payroll?
Tone shifted ominous. That thrill-word since school...
Vacation.
First time, Seonghwan dreaded break.