WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
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◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈
Chapter 22: To You, Who Will Be Sunny and Blue Tomorrow (1)
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A year had passed since the day Ryu Cheong-a died.
That was how long I had spent investigating by every means possible because I could not accept her death.
In the process, I learned far more than I expected, and realized there was even more I did not know.
Her background was one example.
“Adopted?”
“Yeah. There are adoption records. She was adopted by the Ryus when she was seven.”
Her original name had been Seo Cheong-a.
She had grown up in an orphanage without knowing who her parents were, then had finally been adopted by the people she now called her parents.
Digging deeper, it was not hard to learn that, despite being raised by a business-obsessed couple, she had received nothing beyond a public education.
The information came from Ryu Cheong-a’s former homeroom teacher.
They said she spent a great deal of time alone, was overly mindful of others’ reactions, and gave the strong impression that she was being neglected.
“Cheong-a really loved her parents. She knew they were busy, so she thought she shouldn't complain... She was very mature.”
It was an extremely uncomfortable thing to hear.
Not that her parents cherished her, but that she cherished them.
There was something unsettling in the subtle gap between those two things.
It would have been easy to call it needless worry, but there had been something in the teacher’s eyes as they said it.
That was where it began.
A question came to mind.
Were the Ryu couple really the sort of people who would sacrifice themselves for their daughter?
No matter how I looked at it, I could not shake the unease.
That was why I investigated Pa-ran Entertainment after becoming suspicious of it.
Only then did certain things become clear.
“They're living off her.”
“Isn't that jumping to conclusions?”
“No. Too many things fit.”
Ryu Cheong-a was a top-tier actor.
How astronomical do you think her annual earnings were?
How astonishing must the advertising revenue have been for someone who stood as an icon of the era?
Yet the Ryu Cheong-a I knew was modest.
At times, she seemed excessively strapped for cash.
“What? A meal costs more than ten thousand won?”
“Ah, movie tickets keep getting more expensive.”
“Oh, I'll pay today. I was the one who suggested we eat...!”
Ryu Cheong-a had strong penny-pinching habits.
Some might have seen it as the thriftiness and financial sense unusual for a celebrity, but I had spent enough time in the industry to know better.
When someone earned that kind of astronomical money, a certain comfort inevitably followed.
There was definitely a point where a person stopped obsessing over money itself.
Ryu Cheong-a did not have that.
If anything, she often gave the impression that she was struggling to an abnormal extent.
Why?
Even if she had been adopted and had experienced her parents’ business failing, why?
Why go that far?
Why would someone who had already earned enough to escape a lifetime of poverty live like that?
That was when I remembered something Ryu Cheong-a had once said in passing.
“Ah, I live on an allowance. I'm not good at managing money... I don't mean I spend recklessly! Savings! Investments! Things like that...!”
There was a high chance Ryu Cheong-a did not know how much money she earned.
It sounded absurd, but it happened quite often in the entertainment industry, so I pursued that angle.
Sure enough, it was true.
What I learned with Seong-hun hyung’s help was deeply shocking.
“Pa-ran Entertainment is full of holes.”
“What?”
“I heard something through my mother’s connections. They repeatedly tried to expand their business too aggressively. They represented quite a few celebrities, but Ryu Cheong-a was the only one who brought in a proper revenue stream. They couldn't even recover the other celebrities’ labor costs... And their contracts had plenty of poisonous clauses. There were also a lot of rumors that it was hard to leave once you joined.”
“Then...”
“They were using Ryu Cheong-a’s money to cover the company’s losses. That's what it looks like, no matter how you see it.”
The industry was full of bizarre rumors, but it was absurd that the subject was Ryu Cheong-a’s agency.
It was absurd that they had hidden it so well.
Still, the reason they had been able to do so was clear.
“You know this. Pa-ran is Ryu Cheong-a. As long as Ryu Cheong-a was alive, these weren't topics anyone could casually bring up.”
Who did not know the power that came with being an icon of an era?
How many people were foolish enough not to understand how burdensome it was to get tangled up in a scandal involving Ryu Cheong-a?
It was ridiculous.
Everything about it had been ridiculous from beginning to end.
“...Ryu Cheong-a held up a giant full of holes all by herself.”
“She must have had no choice but to struggle. She probably only vaguely understood why she was struggling.”
“...”
“Jae-kyung, you know this too. Family can be pretty sickening in this industry. If you try not to doubt them, you can go your whole life without understanding your own circumstances.”
How had Ryu Cheong-a been treated when she was little more than a bottomless well to parents who never stopped trying to expand their business?
There was an image I could not help but imagine.
An adopted child raised in neglect.
A household atmosphere poisoned by her parents’ failed business.
Parents clinging to her in order to turn things around.
The sense of self-worth she would have felt from that shallow affection and expectation.
How many wretched incidents had things like that created in this industry?
Then came another question.
Why?
I understood the circumstances.
But I could not understand why she had taken her own life.
I began digging into the situation in earnest to understand what had happened then.
Only then did I learn it.
“Pa-ran Entertainment was on the verge of bankruptcy.”
Even after using Ryu Cheong-a until there was nothing left to take, the agency had failed to make up its losses and was on the verge of collapse.
“...There was somewhere Ryu Cheong-a’s parents signed a contract with on her behalf.”
The Ryu couple had taken a hand they should never have taken, claiming they would recover their losses somehow.
Claiming they would use it as an opportunity.
It happened while Geomgye Ilgun was still in production.
Ryu Cheong-a did not know about it until after it aired.
“You and I have people protecting us, so we would never have gotten involved... But, Jae-kyung, not everyone has that.”
There was a cancer in the industry.
Everyone knew it existed, but no one could casually name it.
A massive cancer that operated above the law.
“The first week hit 19%. Geomgye Ilgun was a successful show. It was going to become even more successful, and that was the problem.”
Because my work had raised Ryu Cheong-a to even greater heights.
“Demands were made, and she had to comply. I think that's what she found out.”
“If she had refused. If she had broken the contract.”
“You know the answer better than anyone.”
That was why Ryu Cheong-a had to die.
The truth sank deeply into my chest.
“Jae-kyung. I know I have no right to say this, but let's stop now.”
“Stop what?”
“That matter. If Ryu Cheong-a had endured, you might have been in danger too. You feel it now.”
“...”
“...I'm sorry. You come before Ryu Cheong-a to me. So let's stop here.”
I remembered Ryu Cheong-a at the end.
I remembered the soft smile on her face before she left after leaving me only a word of apology, as though something happy had happened, saying she would share the news with me later.
Only after learning everything did I understand what she had wanted to tell me.
When Geomgye Ilgun’s success had become certain, Ryu Cheong-a had signed a contract for a home.
She had only just decided to leave her parents and live on her own.
How had things turned out this way?
For a long time, that question would not leave my mind.
Ryu Cheong-a had been a bright, brilliant star, enough to illuminate even someone like me.
She was the person who made me think that even someone like me could become something.
I simply could not understand why someone so extraordinary had to fall so far.
I thought and thought without end.
It was such a long period of thought that the act itself became painful.
In the end, I came to understand one thing.
The brighter a star burned, the farther its light spread.
Sometimes, light that was too bright reached dark holes it should never have reached, claiming even the admiration of the cockroaches hiding in the depths.
Ryu Cheong-a had been too bright a star.
Yet she had not been strong enough to shake off the cockroaches who dared try to seize that star in their hands.
That was why too much greed and malice had wanted Ryu Cheong-a.
That malice, which would destroy everything if it could not get what it wanted, would have reached me if Ryu Cheong-a had not died.
Ryu Cheong-a died because she knew that.
It was no different from me killing her.
Having reached that conclusion.
It felt as though it would destroy me.
In the end.
I chose to deny it all.
“First, this says, ‘The validity period of this contract shall run from the date of contract until the completion of broadcast for two sixteen-episode miniseries produced by the agency.’ So it is an exclusive contract based on broadcast completion. It sounds like the writer has to work around the actors represented by the agency.”
“N-No! It's not like that...”
“The next clause explicitly states, ‘When writing scripts, the writer must give first priority to actors represented by the agency and may not refuse Party A’s casting proposals without legitimate reason.’ What else could it be?”
I could not accept it.
“And there is a comprehensive copyright transfer clause. This is interesting too. Yes, you even thoughtfully specified that it is permanent.”
That Ryu Cheong-a had needed to die like that.
That, at the moment she died, I had been a helpless person Ryu Cheong-a had to protect.
More than anything.
“And this hidden between the clauses is a penalty for failing to follow instructions.”
I could not accept that people like this had destroyed Ryu Cheong-a, my star.
It was too unfair and too absurd that Ryu Cheong-a, who had been more remarkable than anyone and should have become even more remarkable, had to die because of people like them.
“This is a slave contract.”
So I would leave Ryu Cheong-a’s death unsolved for the rest of my life.
I would erase the answer that would break me if I accepted it and fill the blank space with something else.
“Why exactly should I sign this contract?”
“Writer Han! I've listened long enough, and now you...!”
“Let me ask.”
I would put an end to this sickening misfortune.
I would go where Ryu Cheong-a had been.
I would go higher than that.
“Does Ryu Cheong-a know? That you put clauses like these in your contracts so you can fleece amateurs?”
“...!”
I would prove it.
If I reached a place high enough that things like them could not dare extend their hands toward me, then there would be nothing to fear.
That I could crush and kill them all if I wanted.
“Does she know that you are using her name to fleece others?”
I had returned to this revolting industry because I thought it was the only way I could keep living.
I had failed to shake off my misfortune until I had even turned back time.
So I did not have time to laugh cheerfully with Ryu Cheong-a and cling to lingering attachments.
I was still only someone Ryu Cheong-a had to protect.
And because of that, I would feel betrayed again.
This time, I would walk a different path from Ryu Cheong-a.
“You little bastard, what do you know...!”
“A very interesting headline comes to mind.”
I would throw them all into the bottom where I had once crawled.
And from the highest place, I would look down on them and laugh more happily than anyone.
“Headline: Shocking truth behind a child abuse business that brainwashed an adopted child and sent her into the entertainment industry.”
“...!”
“How much do people in this country love gossip? Leaving aside whether it's true, I think this would make a very entertaining story.”
That was what it was for.
“Choose.”
I would start by grinding these bugs beneath my feet as I climbed.
“Should I break the story first? Or will you confess everything to Ryu Cheong-a?”
The cancer would still reach for the star somehow, but this time, that day would be delayed a little.
“Come on. Tell me. I'll give you plenty of time.”
This was all I could do right now with my pathetic sense of justification.
* * *
Every day felt like a dream to Cheong-a.
The entire world was curious about someone who had been nothing until yesterday.
She turned on the television and heard nothing but news about herself.
People around her called her Actor Ryu and gave her a thumbs-up.
So many things she had never imagined before were happening to her.
Most of all, she had been told advertising offers were still coming in.
She had also received good terms for her next project.
Everything had gotten better, and every bit of news promised it would get better still.
Recently, every day had brought Cheong-a nothing but dreamlike happiness.
Yet cruelly, dreams always had to end.
“Isn't that man absolutely horrible!? Huh? We offered him a hand in good faith, and he...!”
“Cheong-a, he's the kind of person you must never get involved with again. Don't go near him!”
Her ears rang.
The words seemed to enter through her ears, pounding against her head and shaking it violently.
Her vision felt as though it were clouding over.
She did not know what expression she was wearing.
But there was one thing she knew for certain.
“Can I ask something?”
“Hm? Cheong-a, Mom hasn't finished talking...”
“Can you show me that contract too?”
Her parents froze.
As they avoided her eyes in panic, she realized something.
‘Ah. So it really isn't.’
What these people felt for her was not love.
She remembered the time she still bore the name Seo Cheong-a.
The time when she had realized that everyone else had parents, but she did not, and had lived as though there were a hole in her chest.
She remembered the time after she became Ryu Cheong-a.
People who were unconditionally on her side.
People who protected her.
People who loved one another.
That was all she had wanted.
But the couple had been busy people, and her loneliness had rarely faded.
They seemed indifferent no matter how hard she tried to show them something.
They smiled when they were together, but acted as though she were nothing once they turned away. That subtle line had been painful.
Perhaps it was because of the disappointment she had felt without realizing it, but she had been so happy on the day she thought she could finally help them.
She had thought things would improve if she did better and worked harder.
But why had this happened?
She had believed the desperation they showed when they finally reached out to her was love, but only now did she understand that it was not.
And so she faced the things she had turned away from.
Yes, she had known.
On the day they first brought her home, she had only entered that house as an accessory for the couple because of her especially striking appearance.
When their home was falling apart, she had merely been another mouth to feed, an obstacle.
Now that their greed was preparing for what came next, she functioned only as a tool for their success.
Facing that truth felt like laying herself down on a bed of thorns. It hurt.
Yet how could these people remain so unchanged?
“Cheong-a, what are you saying right now? Are you doubting Mom and Dad?”
“Y-You're defending that man? Do you know what we went through because of him? Huh!?”
The words that made her ears ring again felt like terrible noise.
Even so, she still could not discard the last trace of attachment she held, and a question slipped out.
“I'll only ask this.”
Please.
Even as she thought it, she already knew the answer.
“If it hadn't been for what happened with Writer Han, would you have discussed expanding the business with me separately?”
Only then did the couple fall silent.
Their silence must have been an answer.
When there was a path someone had lived along, it was easy to know where they would go if they did not leave it.
If this had not happened, she would have ignored the anxiety and unease she vaguely felt for the rest of her life.
Facing it was painful, so she would have closed her eyes and lived believing that this was love.
She simply could not do that anymore.
But over something so small, it felt as though her heart was helplessly collapsing from its very center.
“...Okay. I heard your answer.”
Cheong-a left the house.
It was the end of July, and cruelly, the monsoon rains had come late.
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