"More like... someone I unilaterally remember?"
Kim Bong-gun paused, mulling over the right words.
"A really unique guy. Probably no one as unique as him. There's this thing called the Seoul United Theater Club—literally a coalition for people in the capital area."
The name sounded grand, but it wasn't anything special. Just a group for networking, sharing works, or mutual theater-watching like a favor exchange.
In Bong-gun's case, since he handled playwriting, he'd focused on mingling with other writers.
"Saw him there, but he wasn't a college student. Affiliation... damn, can't remember. Anyway, the funny part was he never gave his real name."
"Why not?"
"Beats me. Always wore a cap pulled way down. Like he'd committed a crime or something—no personal info at all. But—"
Bong-gun hesitated briefly. His eyes flicked to the script in his hand. He'd skimmed it, and yep, the masterwork was a masterwork.
"The writing was insanely good. Stuck in my brain like glue. That first shock when I read it. And the jealousy. Any writer would envy it—packed with originality and density."
"So good it pissed you off, huh?"
"Wow. Epic."
"Everyone acted cool on the surface, but deep down, same thought. We exchanged feedback a few times, then poof—ghosted."
"Lost contact?"
"Yeah. No more posts. But the coalition's huge, so people drop in and out all the time. Figured he'd show next week, maybe the one after... then total vanish. Must've been... last year..."
It had been a while; Bong-gun couldn't pinpoint the date. He shook his head, changing tack. That wasn't the point.
"Anyway, it's finished now. He built characters so meticulously, his only flaw was slow writing speed. Good habit, but honestly—who details eating habits and all that?"
"Usually, yeah?"
Moo-young gave a vague reply instead of admitting he wouldn't know as a non-writer.
"Tried copying it myself, thinking it was the secret. Ugh, not for me. Gotta know when to stop."
He stuck out his tongue, lost in nostalgia. A masterpiece that seemed endless was now complete in his hands.
"Moo-young-ah. Mind if I read this?"
"Sure, but I gotta practice for auditions."
"No time to print it... Ah!"
Bong-gun snapped his fingers like he'd struck gold, then bolted to his spot and fired up his laptop.
Moo-young peered over his shoulder at the screen.
"What're you doing?"
"Aok posted stuff on the cafe before. Lemme see... if he didn't delete it..."
Click!
"There!"
— Old Cafe Post —Three attached files:
[
[
[Up to Scene 78. HWP]
Bong-gun downloaded them and sent to Moo-young's SNS.
"I read fast. Wait a bit while I check? Please? Front parts probably unchanged. He writes slow but sticks to it once done."
He clasped his hands, pleading earnestly. Before meeting Aok, Bong-gun had fancied himself a decent writer.
Arrogance like that doesn't exist.
You don't know your own mediocrity till you meet genius.
"Wanna see how he wrote it, how he wrapped this up."
Moo-young nodded at the files on his SNS. Roomie begged this hard—who could say no? Plus, the gift seemed more useful than expected.
"Take your time."
"Yes! Thanks, man!"
He snatched the script, glancing at his gaming friends' backs. Their chatter was deafening amid the game frenzy.
"Man, how many people crammed in here?"
"Tutu! Pull out and rejoin!"
"BRB, lobby."
"See ya. Hey, can I borrow the laptop?"
"Go for it!"
Lobby'd be quieter than this zoo. Moo-young sat at Bong-gun's spot and clicked the files.
Click.
First to catch his eye: 'Character Bible'.
Jeanie: Age 9. Neglected childhood left her black hair cascading to her hips. Chubby-cheeked face. Burn scar on wrist (looks like suicide mark from outside—makes her target for creeps). Hates beans, loves chocolate—
Child lead's info first. Pages per character—A4 sheets worth of detail. Stream-of-consciousness mess, everything jotted down. Moo-young scrolled for Louis.
"Here."
Louis: Age 21. Brown curly perm. Affection-starved. Runs hole-in-the-wall store near FG factory with grandma. Math genius stifled by rough life. Grandma dies of illness—triggers depression, suicide attempt. Busted by sole customer Jeanie, fails, decides to follow her. Loves her pets and strokes. Always pockets chocolate—
"So that's where the chocolate keeps coming from."
Louis was the source. Some diffs from current script, but filled backstory gaps nicely. Moo-young pored over the behind-the-scenes, word by word.
"Louis... Louis... Jeanie..."
The two key names slipped out. Immersed now, sinking into their world. Started as flower pollen pick, but no more.
I want this. Bad.
Live in that alluring world as them. If possible, these two in their bizarre bond: Louis and Jeanie.
Swish.
Moo-young grabbed a notebook, transcribing every character's pages-long setup. Had to memorize anyway—this way worked.
"Uwaaa—! This far?"
"Good run."
Dawn broke; game over. Park Mun-seong and Choi Hwan stretched, scanning the dorm.
"...Midterms done, right?"
"Why's he sleeping there?"
"Bong-gun crying?"
"Is he? Phone! Phone!"
Mad-scribbling Moo-young; Bong-gun crashed on Moo-young's bed to not disturb, clutching script, eyes teary.
Snap!
"What dream makes him cry?"
Tears of jealousy and masterpiece bliss. As Bong-gun sniffled, Moo-young shook his aching wrist, smiling.
Perfect.
Dozens of lives sorted—plot's rise-fall flowed naturally. Characters drove the story.
I can do this.
Become the ultimate Louis. Pull him from page to reality. Desk light gleamed in Moo-young's eyes.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇"Geum-dong-! Been ages!"
"Na Geum-dong, I said. Jeez."
"Sit. Sit. Damn, suited up today?"
Slick-suited Na Geum-dong faced a spread feast. Mongnett's boss grinned, shedding his coat.
"Busy, right? Project incoming."
"Yep. Different process this time—chaos."
"Rumors true? Lead actor locked?"
"Ears like a bat."
Usually, company-director pick project, then cast-shoot. Not this: Actor set first, scheduling around.
"Everyone on board?"
"Mm. Jin Kyung-mun's name helps—mostly yes."
Jin Kyung-mun largely approved casting too. Image fit stunned; investors upbeat.
"Two-three aside, mostly set. Smooth sailing."
"Great. So two-three spots open? Writer stubborn, but you navigated."
"Don't remind. Staff slaved. Got backups; worst case, open auditions with writer there."
Started hardline, but progress softened him. Writers dream of screen adaptation.
"Why keep asking?"
"New rookie's in."
"Oho! Rookie? At Big Win? What?"
"Ha Moo-young. Kid's got eye—begged for after reading. Oh, diehard."
"Rookie knows ?"
"Freshman now. So, spot for him...?"
"Hmm."
Mongnett boss crossed arms, pondering. Open roles key story-wise.
"No twenty-year-old rookie fits now."
"Louis cast?"
"Louis? Yi Hi-jun from Ceiling. Fixed early—scheduling first. Jin Kyung-mun meet pending..."
Mutual want—no shatter. Boss picked sashimi, wistful.
"Bit roles fine, but mains... meh."
"Boss, c'mon—set a meet with director-writer?"
Rare new talent, picked Big Win over better offers. Trusted him fully! Wanted dream project—give shot, CEO heart urged.
"Kid acts like a freak."
"Twenty. Whatever."
"No—jaw-dropper. Mask on point too."
"Haha! Getting girlier with age? Big Win's lucky charm then?"
"Yep! Charm!"
Mongnett boss ate sashimi, hollow laugh. Knew each other's plights—harsh no over free meal felt off.
"Can't call full meet."
Tiny rice-grain chance—toss it. No main weight, but bits always welcome.
"Drop by casual. Soon: writer-director-cast gather. Send details."
"Thanks!"
"Work over. Wife good?"
"Yep, thriving."
"Five years since last?"
How far that grain grows—actor's call. Boss and Geum-dong clinked glasses.
"Bathroom break."
"Sure."
Alone, tipsy Geum-dong texted, steadying buzz.
Na Geum-dongMoo-young got a slot!! [email protected]Meeting?Na Geum-dongNah, just pass by.Got it. Where? Thanks, boss. Safe trip.Na Geum-dongYup!!Go Kyung-min, pinged by Geum-dong, called Moo-young pronto.
"Yeah, Moo-young-ah. Busy?"
-No. Shoot.
Voice off—flat, soaked in gloom like soggy newsprint.
Kyung-min double-checked the screen.
"...Boss just texted. meet soon. Casting mostly done—not discussion, but show face anyway."
-Got it.
"Prep what you need."
-Hm...
Moo-young pondered, then:
-Haircut time. Dye brown, perm it.
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