Grab That Writer, Now! (3)
Veteran PD of the tvM Drama Bureau, Woo Youngtaek.
Judging purely by his years of experience and the filmography he'd stacked up, he should have long since been sitting in a department-head office with his hands behind his back, twiddling his thumbs. So why was he still out in the field, sweating and busting his hump?
Because the higher-ups disliked him? Because he lacked ability?
Heavens, no. It was purely due to his pathological obsession with directing.
And through all those years of ceaselessly shuttling between sets, he'd churned out hit after hit. At some point, he had become a master whom even star writers and A-list actors couldn't afford to treat carelessly.
But this writer — just what was he?
—Ah, please stop calling me. I'm hanging up.
"Excuse me? Writer? Writer?!"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Staring down at the phone that had been unceremoniously cut off, Woo Youngtaek felt his pupils tremble ever so slightly.
"You... you actually hung up on me?"
He'd called again and again, tried every opening he could think of, but the response on the other end never wavered: Not interested, so stop calling. And when his missed calls passed five, he'd been outright blocked.
"......."
This was a man who had weathered every storm the industry could throw at him, a man who had steered countless prideful star writers through fire and brimstone. Especially with a rookie writer fresh out of debut, it had always been Woo Youngtaek who set the tone, held the cards, and ran the table.
So what was with treatment worse than a dog's? His pride stung. But bigger than the sting was the hunger — the director's hunger to somehow, by any means necessary, bring this insane script to the screen with his own two hands.
In the end, Woo Youngtaek decided to toss his measly pride to the dogs. He shamelessly borrowed his juniors' cell phones, kept reaching out with dogged persistence, and at last managed to talk the man around.
"Th-thank you! Please call us anytime you're available! We'll head straight to wherever you are, Writer!"
—Yes, well... I suppose that works.
Click.
The call ended on that dry reply. As Woo Youngtaek stared blankly at the darkened phone screen, he realized his palm had gone damp with cold sweat.
"Phew... I actually managed to turn him around."
Relief washed over him at having at least secured the meeting. But it lasted only a moment before a crushing weight settled on his chest like a boulder. The short conversation they'd just shared kept swirling through his head.
"...What kind of man is this guy?"
The terms he'd offered weren't just bold for a rookie — they were the kind of conditions that would make even an established, mid-career writer foam at the mouth and faint. And the reaction?
Surprise? Delight? Even a flicker of fluster?
Woo Youngtaek could swear on his life there hadn't been one percent of it. The man had simply listened, indifferent, as if to say, That's all? Anything else?
The truth, of course, was that Ji Yeonwoo had been struck too dumb by the sheer scale of the offer to say a word — but Woo Youngtaek had no way of knowing that, so he had no choice but to draw exactly the opposite conclusion.
"This is not a man to take lightly."
Dry-washing his face and letting out a long, deep sigh, he trudged back to his office on heavy legs.
"PD Woo! How did it go? Did things work out with the writer?"
"Got a meeting scheduled."
"Whaat?! Seriously?!"
Unlike the youngest PD, Ahn Jiyoung, who bounced on her toes cheering, Woo Youngtaek sank heavily into his chair and roughly yanked loose his tie, his expression still grim.
The urgent fire was out, sure. But now he had to figure out how on earth to court this inscrutable oddball at the actual meeting — and he hadn't the faintest idea how. His gaze drifted to the script cover lying on his desk.
Writer: Ji Yeonwoo
He glared holes into the three printed characters, then muttered under his breath.
"Ji Yeonwoo... never heard the name. Where the hell did this guy even crawl out of?"
"Ah, PD. Funny you should say that — I've been digging around a little myself."
Ahn Jiyoung came over, eyes sparkling.
"The way this writer builds his mise-en-scène and structures character relationships felt strangely familiar. So I looked into it, and there's exactly one person who came to mind."
"What? Who?"
"Writer Seo Eunhye."
The name 'Seo Eunhye' dropped like a bombshell. But Woo Youngtaek just scoffed, as if to say don't talk nonsense.
Who was Seo Eunhye? The reigning monarch of Korean drama, a living monument. The undisputed number-one star writer in the country — Seong Yura wasn't even in the same weight class. To be honest, Woo Youngtaek had thought of Seo Eunhye's name first as he read the script too. But the instant it surfaced, he'd dismissed her from consideration.
For a titan like her to submit to a cable network's open contest? It made no sense. And that wasn't even the main reason — Seo Eunhye had already declared her retirement.
"Jiyoung. Say something that makes sense. When exactly did Seo Eunhye break her pen?"
"I know, obviously."
"Then why is Seo Eunhye even coming up?"
"No, no. I'm not talking about Seo Eunhye herself — I'm talking about the assistant writer who worked under her."
"...?!"
In that instant, Woo Youngtaek's stiffened expression froze solid.
That's it... why didn't I think of that?
2015. Writer Seo Eunhye, drowning in the grip of a vicious slump, had abruptly brought on an assistant writer. She had insisted on flying solo her entire career — had it actually paid off? The moment the assistant joined, she had miraculously conquered her slump. No — more than that, she'd begun unleashing a torrent of monster-quality scripts that surpassed even her own prime.
Naturally, some sneered: what power could one lowly assistant possibly wield, stop making a fuss. But the industry's hushed whispers told a different story. That assistant was no ordinary helper — he was, in effect, a co-writer, and the rumors were rampant that even the imperious Seo Eunhye had entrusted the entire framework of her scripts to him.
And with talent like that, why had he refused to shed the assistant label for years? Because of a fierce, deliberate will to hide himself.
No one knew why, but he had an extreme aversion to putting himself out in the open. His years-long insistence on staying in the assistant's chair stemmed from the same reason — if he'd gone public as a main writer, outside appearances would have been unavoidable.
"Remember all the talk when Seo Eunhye retired last year? The rumor was she'd clashed with the assistant, he quit, her game fell off a cliff, and she finally decided to retire — that sort of thing."
"So what you're saying is... that legendary assistant is Ji Yeonwoo, the man who submitted this script?"
Ahn Jiyoung nodded slowly.
"I can't be certain, but I'd give it even odds. Setting aside the prose that's pure Seo Eunhye, the timing is just too perfect. Besides — a rookie wrote a script of this caliber? Isn't it far more reasonable to assume he's a veteran writer who's been going by a hidden name all along?"
"...."
Woo Youngtaek couldn't bring himself to answer right away and leaned back into his chair. The puzzle pieces churning through his head began clicking together with chilling precision.
A flawless script worthy of Seo Eunhye's golden age. The bizarre, elusively hidden track record. And above all — that nonchalant, imperious attitude, brushing off a veteran network PD's promise of top-tier treatment in the industry without so much as a dismissive fart.
If it's really him... then that attitude makes perfect sense too.
He'd have spent years watching sycophants grovel and tremble at Seo Eunhye's side. Of course his eye level would be fixed on the very summit.
Woo Youngtaek's gaze locked onto the script on his desk once more.
No way. Could it actually be...?
Two days later, the meeting date with the tvM PDs arrived. The venue: a premium hanwoo beef specialty restaurant in Yeouido.
I'd suggested just meeting at a decent café nearby, but they carried on so pathetically — please, at least let us treat you to a meal — that I'd reluctantly given in.
"Talk about pointlessly upscale interior. What kind of rich people even come to places like this?"
They're not expecting us to split the bill, right? They definitely said they were treating me....
Just as I stepped inside, tapping out a frugal mental calculation, my phone rang.
"Hello? Writer, have you arrived?"
"Ah, yes. I just walked in the front door. Where should I go?"
"Please come to Room 12."
Following the staff member's directions, I opened the door to Room 12. Inside, a man and a woman sat side by side, the air of barely contained nervousness written all over them. The moment I glanced blankly their way, my eyes met the bearded man's.
"Ah! You'd be the Writer, I presume?"
"...."
The male PD sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, and I flinched in spite of myself. The title "Writer" still felt foreign enough to make my ears itch, but I gave a light, practiced nod, letting nothing show.
"Thank you for making the long trip. Come, come — please, sit here."
"Sure, fine."
I took the seat across from them, but the atmosphere was beyond strange. Between the two of them fidgeting as if they'd sat on a bed of nails, I somehow felt like I was the one on pins and needles.
Why are they all frozen up like that?
It wasn't like I was here for a job interview. I made a show of nonchalance, cleared my throat, and reached for the tongs — and the bearded PD snatched them right out of my hand, quick as lightning.
"I'll do the grilling, Writer."
Treating me to pricey hanwoo beef wasn't enough — now he was going to cook it for me personally? This man was, without question, an angel.
"So, Writer. I'll say it again — the script was genuinely, mind-blowingly good. I read it straight through without even noticing the time pass."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Which is exactly what makes it so frustrating — I want to see the next episode right now, and it doesn't exist. Ah! Not that I'm rushing you, absolutely not! Scripts aren't something that just roll off an assembly line in a day. And more than anyone, you know that a script as polished as Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance demands the kind of pain that grinds you to the bone."
It literally did come off an assembly line in a day, though. That script in particular had been cranked out one part every three hours, so the quality had plummeted straight down to hell — where was all this baseless flattery coming from....
Hmm... better to just stay quiet.
The bearded PD was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, eyes shining. I figured that if I dropped the truth bomb here, I'd only embarrass the passionate fellow, so I nodded along approvingly and threw in my agreement.
Sizzle!
Even as the premium hanwoo sizzled on the grill, the PD's rave review showed no sign of letting up.
"The dialogue just pops, you know? Every single line felt alive and breathing. That back-and-forth between the characters especially — for a second there, I honestly thought I might be reading something Seo Eunhye wrote herself."
Writer Seo Eunhye?
Well, of course it would resemble her. Do you have any idea how much time I put in on Writer Seo Eunhye's set back in my assistant-director days?
Every step of the way, I'd watched her build scripts over her shoulder, and later I'd even made pilgrimages to her office, bearing coffee tribute, to extract writing advice. Since the name stirred something faintly nostalgic in me, I nodded along readily.
"Ah, right. I was influenced by her quite a bit, actually. Picked up plenty just watching over her shoulder and learning as I went."
In that instant, the bearded PD's tongs froze mid-air, hovering over the grill. Beside him, the female PD sucked in an audible gasp.
"Y-yes? Writer. What did you just...?"
"...? Is something the matter?"
"N-nothing at all!!"
What now? Why are they acting like this again?
"Um, PD. The meat's burning."
"Ah! S-sorry!!"
"...."
Unbelievable. They're staring at me like I just detonated a bomb. Did I say something wrong?
"Um... Writer?"
"Yes?"
"What exactly is your relationship with Writer Seo Eunhye, if I may ask...?"
"With Seo Eunhye?"
What relationship, honestly? It wasn't anything grand enough to need packaging.
"Oh, nothing much. We worked on a few projects together back in the day."
"....!!!"
"Oh my god...! Y-you're serious?!"
"???"
The two menaces who'd been popping their eyeballs out of their sockets for the past several minutes finally had their jaws drop clean to the floor. The single phrase we worked on projects together had apparently sent them into complete cardiac arrest. Their eyes had doubled in size compared to before.
Is it really that shocking...?
Writer Seo Eunhye may be a famous star, but this reaction was wildly over the top. It wasn't as if she was the only crew member who'd ever crawled around her set — there'd been plenty of us.
The bearded one looked like he had solid experience under his belt, but I guess his network tenure is shorter than it seems.
Watching them convulse at the mere mention of the name Seo Eunhye, I concluded that both of them had to be greenhorn PDs with little set experience. If I showed them an autographed Seo Eunhye photo from home, they'd probably pass out on the spot.
"PD...! It was real!"
"Unbelievable...."
What are they even going on about now?
Having no earthly clue what had come over them, I said nothing and quietly worked my way through the towering pile of premium lip-edge cuts piling up on my plate.