Chapter 31
"Director, you must be so busy, yet you made time to meet in person. Thank you."
Kang Minjae bowed deeply, and the assistant director gave a wry smile.
"Not really."
"Pardon?"
"I quit after butting heads with the head director."
He remembered how the director's verbal abuse had been vicious enough to shatter anyone's sanity. But he'd endured it, figuring that was just how the broadcasting world worked. This news came out of nowhere. They weren't close, but it was still sudden.
"You mentioned defamation and insult charges before, Lawyer. After years of dealing with that kind of bullshit that could land someone in legal hot water, I figured what was the point of sticking it out? So I quit."
"...I see. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. It woke me up. A senior I know runs a film production company—I'm heading there. It'll be tougher than here, but they pay better. Better place to build experience, too. A blessing in disguise, haha."
"Glad to hear it."
Maybe I'd just changed another person's life. A bitter taste rose in my mouth for a moment, but as he said, the assistant director might end up with a better one. Wasn't that a good thing? I consoled myself.
"So, what brings you here? Isn't the Kim Yeonjun case wrapped up?"
"It is, but this is about another matter."
The assistant director's eyes widened in surprise. Seizing the moment, Kang Minjae gulped down his coffee and lowered his voice.
"Mind if I ask about some rumors floating around the station?"
"Sure. Anything I can share."
"You know the writer Jeong Hyejin? The drama writer."
"Yeah, of course."
"Any talk about her?"
Instead of diving straight into plagiarism, it was better to start with general bad rumors about Jeong Hyejin and build from there. You never knew when something might prove useful in court, and jumping right to the point could make the source tense up.
"Hm. She's such a hitmaker, the station bends over backward for her. Even veteran actors do whatever she says without complaint—play dead if she asks."
"I see. Does she make them do things they'd refuse?"
"Yeah. Like casting a dignified veteran actress for a classy role, then suddenly adding a bankrupt backstory and turning her into a gritty old granny. No consultation with the actor."
"That's considered rude in the industry, right?"
"Obviously. They have CFs and a lifetime image to uphold."
"Hm, anything else?"
"She started at the station but now she's with Blue Island Media. Word is, she's married to the CEO there."
"That's news to me. First I've heard."
"Yeah. They keep it hush-hush—maybe don't want it public. Everyone just knows through the grapevine. She's not the type to show up at official events like other writers. Mystery strategy, I guess."
Married to the Blue Island Media CEO. Husband and wife as co-defendants—how intriguing.
"And there's this: after her first big hit, she hit a slump, got terrified of low ratings, couldn't create anymore. So she tells her assistant writers to prep scripts on their own, uses those, and promises them debuts. I heard this straight from assistants when I was in the drama department. Ambitious ones desperate to debut hand over their scripts through tears."
Not exactly like Na Eun-seong's case, but similar in stealing others' work.
"Oh, and about Blue Island's script contest—she's a judge every year. They say she cherry-picks ideas from meh entries. Specifically the rough ones."
"Specifically?"
"Yeah. She's out of ideas, so if there's a good one, she thinks her writing chops can cover the rest. The originals are so bad, no one compares them seriously. The original writers feel off about it but let it slide."
Just what we wanted. But the question remained: why had Jeong Hyejin, who'd been slyly plagiarizing all this time, gone so blatant now? Maybe, as I'd guessed, her rip-offs kept succeeding without backlash, emboldening her.
"Thank you."
"No big deal. Hope it helps."
"It does. Tremendously."
"Good. Oh, and I'm off till year's end, starting at the film company next year. If you need me as a witness for trial, call before then."
"If it comes to that, definitely!"
Kang Minjae shook his hand with a warm smile. I turned off the recorder. As expected, insiders knew the broadcasting world's dirt best. Meeting the assistant director had been the right call.
"Let's reach out to those assistant writers. Not the ones who debuted under her wing—the ones who got dropped."
"Got it."
The pieces were starting to fall into place.
"Taesik!"
Jang Taesik, lounging with his minions in front of the print shop as usual, shot to his feet at the call. The owner stood at the door.
"Yeah?"
"Eaten lunch? We're ordering jjajangmyeon—want in?"
She seemed sorry for the trio circling the area calling "Nabi~" for ten days straight. Now they met daily; she'd brew coffee, even help when swamped.
One day, she'd offered free prints if they made posters to help find the cat. Taesik scoured alleys for strays resembling a nonexistent Nabi, describing it in detail to her. Endless hassle finding a lookalike. Finally snagged one, outsourced posters, plastered the alley.
'Gotta bill that sleazy lawyer for this.'
Gritting his teeth, Taesik fumed over fake cat search costs and poster fees.
"Aw, yeah, thanks. We haven't eaten, hunting for our lil' Nabi—"
"Nabi! Nabi, boss!"
"...skipping meals and all."
"Right. Jjajangmyeon for three?"
"I'll have jjampong—"
Crack! Taesik smacked Daechul's head for trying to switch.
"Shut it, punk. Jjajangmyeon for all three, boss! Thanks!"
"Thanks my ass—you help out sometimes. I'm grateful."
He'd nodded at her offer to help, eyeing the back shelves for Na Eun-seong's script scraps. They targeted portfolio binders of printed works, stacked with Blue Island drama scripts. Famous ones neatly shelved—surely hers was here too. Even ongoing "Distance Between You and Me" episodes.
"Fuck, how do we find that script?"
Post-jjajangmyeon, nursing mix coffees outside, Taesik lit a smoke.
"If we don't, that sleazy fuck'll split my skull and suck the ink from my eyes."
"We'll find it, boss!"
"Hang in there, boss!"
Cheered, Taesik's face hardened as realization hit.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"I do it alone? You assholes pitch in too, got it? Can't just kill ya."
Minions cringed, guarding heads as he raised a hand.
"Wanna die? 'Hang in there' means I come running? Knew you'd slack, you fucks."
"Sorry, boss! Just trying to cheer you—"
"Shut up and check if they're busy. Gotta pretend to help and search shelves!"
"Yes, boss!"
Hyung-sik bowed and dashed in. Taesik shook his head.
"Fuckin' idiots. What do I do with 'em? My damn luck."
"O-one last read-through!"
We were polishing the internet post in the office when Na Eun-seong, who'd arrived midday with coffee, hovered till evening.
Episode 20 would've wrapped filming by now. Post before finale to ride the wave, announce the lawsuit.
She'd nagged us but now chickened out, endlessly tweaking.
"...Looks good. This should work."
Her solo draft became the base. We added similarities, rephrased for legality, appended notes. Long, so a summary too—netizens bailed on walls of text. Past life, Wooshin exposés died unread. Tailored short, punchy, factual comparisons.
"Drama boards, your blog, major portals."
Na Eun-seong hesitated at "post." Kang Minjae hit it for her.
Upload instant. Views spiked—thanks to Taesik's viewbot order.
"N-now what?"
"Wait."
"How long?"
"Till the right signal. Monitor reactions at least. If most call plagiarism, hit 'em with injunction when evidence's ready. Sue simultaneously maybe."
"B-broadcast ban injunction? Will it stick?"
"Nope."
"Then why...?"
"Just to scare 'em. No way they expect a nobody to go this far."
Three hours, tabs open everywhere. No explosion, but way better than her solo post. Decent comments, favorable opinion. Some fights, sure.
"Episode 18 airs tomorrow, so 19-20 done filming."
20 reveals leads' past encounter. If spooked, rewrite, reshoot. Side-script dramas existed; last-minute shoots common. Time wasn't issue. Jeong Hyejin would.
"Tomorrow or next, check lead actors' fan cafes for schedules—get a read."
"Fan cafes? You're joined?"
"Lawyer joined for actor schedules on cases. I grinded posts/comments for rank-up..."
Kang's voice trailed wistfully. Hated it that much? Looked fun—he'd even chuckled at comments.
"Taking a call."
I dialed Yun Se-yeon.