WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈
Chapter 19: Broadcast (2)
──────
By the end of June, summer had begun in earnest.
It was not as bad as in the era I had lived through, but summer was still hot and muggy.
As for ordinary changes...
“It’s a shame. Today’s our last day...”
“Even if we weren’t filming, we’d get heatstroke if it got any hotter.”
With the broadcast only a week away and additional filming for the latter half of the drama underway, my runs with Ryu Cheong-a were over too.
Since it was our last day, I accepted her suggestion to have a light meal and came to a nearby barbecue restaurant.
How had things ended up this way?
I thought about it, then stopped.
Even after going through one regression, I still knew that choices were not easily undone.
I knew even better that there was no point complaining about them afterward.
Once a choice was made, the responsibility was entirely mine.
I did not want to keep whining like some pathetic loser.
As I cut the meat, Ryu Cheong-a spoke.
“N-next week, it airs...!”
“Yes. I think we got this far thanks to everyone’s hard work.”
“It’s a shame. If I’d done a little better, maybe we could’ve gone with a pre-produced production... Ah! I’m not saying the director or the rest of the crew did badly! It’s just...”
“I know. You’re not the sort of person who’d mean it that way.”
“Ugh...!”
“Enough. Eat. It’s the home stretch, so you need to keep your strength up. I’ll pay.”
“No! I was the one who suggested we eat...”
“It’s fine. As long as I’m not paying for drinks.”
“...I don’t drink anymore.”
That work dinner must have left quite an impression.
Seeing her face burn up at one mention of it, I could roughly guess what had happened.
‘The Ryu Cheong-a from before my regression must have gone through something like that at least once.’
That was why the Ryu Cheong-a I knew never touched alcohol.
Even now, whenever I looked at Ryu Cheong-a, I was often caught somewhere between familiarity and discomfort.
The Ryu Cheong-a who had just entered society and the top star Ryu Cheong-a often felt like entirely different people who merely shared the same face.
Would this Ryu Cheong-a become that Ryu Cheong-a if she kept learning more?
Whenever I thought about it, one thought would suddenly occur to me.
‘Wouldn’t Ryu Cheong-a be much happier as a small-time actress?’
Knowing everything surrounding her, I could not help reaching that conclusion.
But it was a pointless assumption.
A talented person would eventually stand out.
Unless she had never stepped into the entertainment industry at all, Ryu Cheong-a was bound to become someone great somehow.
“This is delicious. Hehe...”
It was a ridiculous fate for someone so delighted over a piece of pork belly, but still.
“Yes. Let me know if you want more.”
“Ah, can I?”
“Yes.”
Could I not spare this much charity for someone penniless?
By now, all her appearance fees had probably gone into those people’s pockets before disappearing elsewhere. It was not something I could refuse as a matter of basic decency.
Whether she knew what I was thinking or not, Ryu Cheong-a kept chewing happily.
Afterward, she even mixed rice into soybean paste stew. By the time we left, she looked more alive than ever.
“Thank you for the meal!”
“Yes, you certainly ate well.”
“Ah...”
“It was a compliment. Sorry if it sounded sarcastic. I’m not good at changing the way I speak, so I act like this sometimes when I’m comfortable.”
“You’re comfortable around me?”
That was an odd question.
She looked so bright, as though she had never even considered the possibility.
‘...Have I drawn the line too firmly?’
I had no intention of becoming any closer to her.
Still, there was no need to say something so decisive after coming this far.
“We’ve been running together for over a month. Wouldn’t it be strange if I still felt uncomfortable?”
“...!”
“Anyway, I’ll be going now.”
“Ah, um...!”
“Yes?”
“Do you, um... have someone you’re planning to watch the drama with?”
She avoided my eyes as her voice trailed off.
‘Does she mean watching it together with everyone?’
She asked whenever the filming team had a group gathering, so I assumed it was the same thing this time.
“Sorry, but I have plans.”
“A woman?”
“A man. My closest older friend.”
I felt a sense of déjà vu.
“Do you like movies?”
“There’s a crazy guy among my close friends, so I get dragged along. At least once or twice a week.”
“A woman?”
“A man.”
Something about her never-changing repertoire of questions was amusing.
And the fact that she asked so many questions felt strangely identical to the Ryu Cheong-a of the future.
“An older male friend...!”
“Is that a problem?”
“No!? That’s great!? You’re so loyal!!!”
Seeing her grin from ear to ear, I figured it was probably fine.
“Then I’ll see you next time.”
“Yes, next time! Definitely!”
She gave me a polite ninety-degree bow, then turned away. She glanced back, met my eyes, and gave an awkward smile.
Ryu Cheong-a disappeared from sight in that restless manner.
Only then did I turn toward home.
It was really time for the broadcast.
That realization was moving, and naturally, a little frightening.
But time did not wait for my heart to be ready.
The first Wednesday evening of the third quarter, 9:57 p.m.
Broadcast day had arrived.
“All right, it’s almost starting! Why are there so many commercials?”
“Those commercials are what keep your household fed.”
“I wish they wouldn’t put them on the shows I watch.”
“You really are an ungrateful bastard.”
“Ahem. It’s called selective focus!”
I sat in front of the television with Seong-hun.
My heart beat low and heavy.
No matter what, I knew that my writing was about to enter the world through that screen. It could not help but feel this way.
I forced myself to settle down.
Then I looked straight ahead.
Before long...
“It’s starting!”
With Seong-hun’s fussing, the broadcast began.
* * *
South Korea was a country with an enormous population for such a small piece of land.
Naturally, every city contained families of every sort, each with their own distinctive traits.
Still, as of 2014, there was a household rule so universal that it could practically be called common sense.
“Oh, right. A new drama starts today. Honey! Hand me the remote!”
Every Wednesday and Thursday at 10 p.m.
At that hour, housewives took control of the remote.
The head of the household, Kim Seong-taek, pouted and grumbled.
“Another drama? You watched the last one all the way to the final episode last week.”
“That’s why I’m watching a new one. This one’s a historical drama. A historical drama.”
“What historical drama? All those dramas in this time slot are just men and women slobbering all over each other, bawling their eyes out, and carrying on like hell.”
“Why do you have to say it like that? Just give it to me.”
He was a department manager at a respectable mid-sized company and carried himself with some authority outside the house, but his rank within the family was not particularly high.
No, even before rank came into it, his two daughters were clearly siding with their mother and wanting to watch the new drama.
At this hour, he was supposed to watch a documentary and then go to sleep.
That was what Seong-taek thought, but he was a husband and father who loved his family nonetheless.
That was why, two hours a week, he handed the remote to his wife without complaint.
“Ugh, I should just go to bed.”
“Why don’t you watch it with us?”
“Why would I watch young people talk about love?”
“No, apparently it’s not that kind of drama. There are gangsters in it.”
“Why would there be gangsters in a historical drama?”
That caught his interest a little.
No matter how old men got, they were animals who went crazy for stories about other people fighting.
“Do you know anything about it?”
“No? I just saw the preview, and they said the male lead is really handsome.”
When his wife said that, their daughters chimed in.
“Right? He looked incredibly cool! I think he’s a rookie.”
“Na Jin-geon? I think that was his name. Wait... Ah, that’s right. It’s his first leading role.”
It was an era when smartphones had just become widespread and people were adapting them to everyday life.
The younger daughter showed him a photo.
The man had a rugged, distinctly Western-looking face that shattered the prejudice that male Korean celebrities were all skinny and frail.
No wonder his daughters liked him.
Their rooms were full of posters of Western actors.
In any case, hearing it was a historical drama with gangsters made him a little less resistant.
It was still too early to sleep.
Seong-taek sat back down on the couch.
“Ahem...!”
“You were bored, weren’t you?”
At his wife’s affectionate teasing, Seong-taek snorted and crossed his arms.
At that moment, the commercials ended and the drama began.
There was one common prejudice about dramas.
Their beginnings were usually incredibly boring.
But then...
“Huh? Isn’t that a construction site? You said it was a historical drama.”
The footage began in an abandoned construction site.
As Seong-taek was briefly taken aback by the opening, which strongly evoked a gangster film, his wife and daughters squealed over the male lead’s face.
“Holy shit! He’s insanely handsome!”
“Isn’t he so masculine? There aren’t many Korean actors with that style!”
He felt a little left out, but his interest was piqued.
Seong-taek focused on the screen again.
The handsome young man his daughters were losing their minds over was collapsed against a pillar.
He breathed roughly and stared forward with furious eyes.
A menacing middle-aged man who looked like a boss stood there, lighting a cigarette.
[Do you know the difference between a dog and a wolf?]
[...]
[There’s only one difference. Dogs can be tamed. Wolves can’t.]
The man’s voice was deep and heavy.
Soon, after letting out a long breath, the boss spoke.
[That’s why you’re dying. You’re a wolf pup. I can’t tame you no matter what, so I’m putting you down.]
Seong-taek’s posture changed.
His crossed arms and attitude of “let’s see what this is about” were gone. Without even noticing, his eyes had become fully focused.
[Why did you do it?]
[Couldn’t you just live as a dog? Did you have to live as a wolf?]
Without needing to consciously consider the conflict or the interests at stake, they naturally sank in.
A cliché.
It removed the strain of understanding through familiarity, planting easy anticipation and pleasure directly into the mind.
Noir tension did not discriminate by age or gender.
The tension of a life-or-death situation instantly seized the viewers and made them focus on the scene. By then, even the wife and daughters who had been squealing were silently watching.
It did not explode, but settled in quietly.
The viewers did not need to analyze the camera techniques or composition being used.
And within that immersion, the boss continued.
[You know how northern nomads raise wolf pups? They say that once the pups are grown, they twist their necks.]
[You’ve worked hard. Rest well.]
A wolf who had tried to remain loyal.
Even at the moment he was discarded, he was a talented man the boss regretted losing.
Men holding knives approached the male lead.
Until the moment he died, the wolf remained a wolf.
[Stab him cleanly. Don’t fumble around.]
His fearless wildness created something solemn.
The camera pulled away from Yeongho, showing the backs of the men as they closed in on him from every direction.
Then someone drew an arm back and thrust forward.
Shnk!
The screen went black.
In that brief scene of roughly five minutes, Seong-taek had already forgotten how to breathe.
Then, immediately afterward, the next scene showed a Joseon marketplace beneath a blue sky.
Suddenly, cheerful sounds poured out in a jumble.
The tension snapped loose.
‘What? Why is this suddenly showing up?’
Then he remembered that this was a historical drama.
It was obvious to anyone who was not an idiot.
‘Ah, Yeongho went to Joseon? A Joseon gangster?’
The supposedly incredible Yeongho had fallen into Joseon.
Then what was Yeongho going to do now? Was he all right for the moment?
Questions arose, but the irritating drama had no intention of answering them at once. Instead, it showed an unrelated tavern.
‘No, so what happens to Yeongho!?’
Just as his frustration rose...
[Three bowls of soup with rice! Enjoy!]
The moment a woman appeared, handing food to customers, Seong-taek’s attention was seized.
She was lovely and refined.
Anyone would have thought, Ah, she’s the female lead.
It was clear even without any prior knowledge.
Yet despite that face, she did not seem elegant.
Before anything else, the word “hardworking” lodged itself firmly in his subconscious.
‘Oh...’
[Hyang-dan! Two bowls of soup with rice over here!]
[Bring us some rice wine too!]
[Just wait a moment! You’re all so impatient!]
Her glances, gestures, brief lines, and the texture of the person speaking them.
The kind of magnetic pull that made people unconsciously follow one person even among a crowd.
That was what lodged itself in Seong-taek’s awareness, making him focus on the female lead.
It was the power called presence.
The power to capture people without adding anything grand.
Ryu Cheong-a’s greatest asset was on full display.
Seong-taek began to focus on every word and action from Hyang-dan.
The process was interesting enough to feel strange.
As he watched, entranced, moments from Hyang-dan’s day passed by.
At last, the scene shifted to night.
[Urgh...!]
While cleaning the tavern, Hyang-dan heard an unfamiliar groan.
Everyone instinctively knew it was Yeongho, and their immersion deepened. The closer Hyang-dan moved toward the sound, the more they wanted to see what came next.
Then Hyang-dan finally found Yeongho.
“So what are those two going to do now? Is this one of those dramas where they slobber all over each other?”
“Honestly, honey! Focus!”
“Well...”
What could he do if he was curious?
He was briefly annoyed with his wife, but did not even have time to glare at her.
Naturally, it was better to watch the next scene.
[Hey! Are you all right!?]
Yeongho wore shabby traditional clothes, his hair long and tangled. He looked exactly like a commoner of Joseon.
Even so, everyone recognized him as Yeongho because he was played by the same actor.
The transition was smooth enough that they simply thought, ‘Yeongho entered the body of a Joseon man.’
The scenes that followed went like that.
With much effort, Hyang-dan moved Yeongho into an empty room at the tavern.
For several days, she cared for Yeongho as he stayed there and showed no sign of getting up.
Then Yeongho woke.
From Yeongho’s perspective, the audience learned in turn that this was Joseon, that he had died and come back to the past, and that he owed Hyang-dan his life.
It also showed the faint emptiness he felt amid it all.
[Why did you save me?]
Everyone in Seong-taek’s family understood those sharp words inwardly.
Of course. Yeongho had lost all the younger brothers he cherished and had not run even until the moment he died. How hollow must this situation have felt to him?
He survived alone again.
That feeling could be faintly sensed.
But there was someone who pierced through that lingering misery and changed the tone.
[I can’t ignore someone collapsed in the street. Enough. Eat.]
Hyang-dan was tough and stubborn as she made Yeongho eat.
A day passed, then another, and life at the tavern continued. Under Hyang-dan’s nagging that he should at least help with work instead of sitting around, Yeongho began doing odd jobs.
Their relationship developed.
[Why do you live such a hard life?]
[What’s so special about it? I eat, sleep, then grow old and die. I eavesdrop on those traveling peddlers’ stories and laugh to myself.]
[The tavern? This is where I lived with the mother who picked me up and raised me. How could I leave? I’ll protect it for the rest of my life.]
[But why were you collapsed somewhere like that, mister? What did you do before? Do you have family?]
They shared small, trivial stories.
But the premise itself carried an easy emotional arc.
Through a girl doing her best to live each day, the process of a man who had lost everything slowly healing was quickly conveyed by showing only its essential moments.
It was heartwarming, perhaps.
And just as Seong-taek was sinking into that flow...
[Is anyone here~!]
Clang!
A gang of thugs wearing chipped swords barged in roughly.
[Aren’t those Sword Brotherhood bastards?]
[They are! Those scum came all the way here...]
Whispered voices.
Hyang-dan, the owner of the tavern, gripped her skirt tightly in a tense scene.
She was clearly terrified, but both Yeongho and the viewers knew why she did not retreat.
The tavern was the last remaining memento of the only family she had ever had.
[What brings you here? If you’re here to eat, there are empty seats over there...]
She tried to speak bravely, but everyone knew that bandits carrying swords had not come for a quiet meal.
One of the Sword Brotherhood thugs looked Hyang-dan up and down, then approached with a chuckle.
Anyone could see he intended to harass her.
As everyone there, even the viewers, swallowed dryly...
The drama returned to its first promise.
Yeongho stepped forward.
With an angry face, he strode out, curled his hand into a fist, and drew back his arm.
Then he pulled it to his shoulder.
And released it like a spring.
Smack!
Everything, all the way to his fist striking the man’s cheek, was composed with such energy that it was impossible to look away.
It felt as though the long preparation happened in a single breath.
[Urgh...!]
The Sword Brotherhood thug crawled across the floor, unable to breathe properly.
Behind him, his three comrades recoiled in shock.
‘Holy shit!’
Just as Seong-taek was about to cheer at the satisfying sight, Yeongho glared fiercely through his long hair and growled.
[You came to a place that serves food, so eat your damn food. Don’t try anything else.]
Just as the tension was about to rise even further...
[Could you want my love~]
...the image froze and turned gray.
A cheerful song that felt completely out of place began to play.
A huge banner for a famous coffee franchise appeared at the bottom of the screen.
Seong-taek was dumbfounded.
No, the entire family was dumbfounded.
The drama was over.
No matter how much they rubbed their eyes, it was over.
Even as they were abruptly torn from the peak of their immersion, as though waking from a sweet dream, advertisements for investors and highlights from episode one rolled past.
“???”
“What? It’s already over?”
“Ah! They can’t stop there!”
Seong-taek’s hands and feet trembled.
“C-can’t we see what happens next?”
“They’ll show it tomorrow! Ugh, these writers are so cruel!”
And so, Seong-taek realized.
Cliffhanger mastery.
He had fallen victim to the malice of twisted, perverted lunatics who took joy in controlling other people’s emotions and spent all day wondering, ‘How do I make them watch this again tomorrow?’
The same thing was happening in homes across the country that had watched the first episode of Geomgye Ilgun that day.
“What? Why end it there!?”
“Ah! Agh!!!”
“Couldn’t they at least let him beat up that one guy before ending it!?”
It was the great information age.
That explosion of emotion was immediately reflected in the real-time search rankings.
“Who’s in this drama? Let’s at least look them up!”
It was the first broadcast of the quarter.
No famous actors had been cast.
Its only advantage in promotion was that it was a newly scheduled drama on WBS, one of the three terrestrial networks.
Even so, the rankings were remarkable.
[1. Geomgye Ilgun]
[2. Can You Take an Advance on Love?]
[3. WBS Rerun Schedule]
[4. Geomgye Ilgun Cast]
First place in real-time searches.
It was the record Geomgye Ilgun achieved the moment its first episode aired.
* * *
A party room on the outskirts of Seoul.
The Geomgye Ilgun production team, whose on-set atmosphere had been especially good, gathered to watch the drama together.
Which meant they were all together when the ratings came in as well.
“...No way.”
Everyone sat with their mouths hanging open.
Every last one of them looked as though their souls had left their bodies.
Because of the number displayed before their eyes.
[4.1%]
Was that a good number?
There was someone who showed them the answer with his whole body.
Thud!
Byeong-gi fell to his knees.
He covered his eyes with trembling hands.
Then a metallic groan slipped from his mouth.
“Ah, ah...!”
People who had tasted meat knew its flavor.
But the only meal Byeong-gi had tasted before was “the drama flopped.”
“THIS CAN’T BE REAAAAAL!!!”
“Hey, hey! Stop the director!”
“Director!!! Please calm down!!!”
Director Min Byeong-gi’s PTSD had flared up in full force...!
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