WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈
Chapter 28: Finale (2)
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A drama with ratings in the 40% range carried symbolic weight.
It might not reach the prestige of a 50% drama, supposedly watched by half the country, but it had undeniably earned its place among the works that defined an era.
You only had to look at the few days after the finale aired.
[Drama Geomgye Ilgun achieves 40% ratings with a “splendid finale.”]
[What Yeongho left behind. Ending with a smile from Ryu Cheong-a, who played Hyang-dan.]
[WBS sets its highest drama ratings of the year. 2014 belongs to Geomgye Ilgun.]
It was time to pop champagne.
Even the WBS newsroom briefly reported on Geomgye Ilgun’s ratings. By the next day, affiliated news outlets, online portals, and real-time search rankings were covered in Geomgye Ilgun-related keywords all day long.
It was a celebratory salvo fired by the network itself.
With ratings like these, they could proudly say, “This is what we can do.”
It was a major victory in the constant battle for market share among the three terrestrial networks, which snarled at one another whenever they had the chance.
How could they not brag?
Amid that wave, the public and critics were the most enthusiastic.
Their main reactions could be summarized like this.
[It was truly an outstanding work. It clearly ended sadly, yet it was never tragic. Only a deep afterglow remained, making me reflect on the story that had passed.]
[Without question, the greatest work of the year. And the greatest work since the 2010s began.]
[I wish there were more dramas like this instead of love stories. I can’t believe it was written by a rookie writer. The level of completion was incredible.]
Those were the online reviews.
And in real life, starting Friday, the day after the finale, Geomgye Ilgun came up wherever people went.
“Did you cry?”
“You too?”
“Just a little?”
“Right? It wasn’t like it was screaming, ‘Cry!’ but it still got to me.”
“Assistant Manager! Did you watch the finale last night?”
“I couldn’t sleep until dawn after watching it.”
“Ah, so that’s why your eyes are red.”
“What about you, Yurim?”
“Oh, mine are red because I cried.”
“You’re sensitive, Yurim.”
“Manager Kim! We should have a work dinner today!”
“Yes, Vice President!”
“Manager Kim watches dramas too? The one I watched all summer ended yesterday...”
“Was it Geomgye Ilgun, by any chance?”
“What!? You watched it too, Manager Kim!?”
Public empathy and support were a drama’s greatest assets as major media.
A story that persuaded the overwhelming majority spread from word to word, and from one review to another, ending in triumph.
Of course, the celebration was far from over.
[WBS3 to rebroadcast every episode of Geomgye Ilgun all weekend under the slogan “Since You’re Watching, Watch Until the Finale”!]
[Geomgye Ilgun special scheduled for next Wednesday and Thursday at 10 p.m.]
[First variety show teaser released for Ryu Cheong-a, who played “Hyang-dan.”]
Having achieved this much, all that remained was to reap the rewards.
Before the heat died down, before the cheers faded, the network began burning its final flame.
* * *
I had slept poorly the night before.
Ridiculously enough, I had a nightmare on a day like this. It had been an unpleasant, terrifying sort of dream.
A dream that seemed to tell me everything that had happened so far was only a dream, that I was still lying on an operating table dreaming.
A dream where the anesthesia wore off halfway through, and I woke up on the operating table with my chest still open.
A dream where the doctor said, “Oh? You woke up? Does it matter? The surgery failed anyway,” before driving a scalpel between my brows.
There was no absurd nightmare quite like it.
Still, I had to thank that doctor for making me realize it had all come from my anxiety.
When I opened my eyes, I was in my studio apartment.
Once I drew back the blackout curtains, sunlight filled the entire place, carrying a warm scent through the home that had sheltered me in my twenties.
I was still in the past I had returned to.
This was my reality.
Only after realizing that did I let out a long breath.
Lying on the mattress, I rubbed my face.
“Ah...”
I exhaled slowly.
Only then, after feeling that everything was real, did a sliver of peace settle in my heart.
I smiled silently to myself.
It would have been embarrassing if anyone had seen me, but so what?
Forty percent ratings, a splendid finale, the glory yet to come.
Putting all of that aside, the simple fact that it had aired through the final episode without incident made me this happy.
It had been far too long a wait for me.
How painful had those moments been, when I could not even believe that I was someone capable of doing this?
When even the belief that I could become anything if I persevered to the end might have been nothing but a hopeful, convenient prediction about a future that had not yet come.
Those small anxieties had torn at my heart.
I endured and endured, and even that had not been enough. Only now, after time itself had rewound, was I finally able to be properly evaluated.
Of course my heart surged wildly.
But then I realized.
‘More.’
One was not enough.
This joy and relief were not emotions that made me stop where I was. They pushed me on, telling me, “You’re someone who can do this. You can do even more.”
It was different from impatience.
It was closer to anticipation.
I wanted to do better.
I wanted to succeed.
I wanted proof that I had not been wrong, to stand somewhere higher...
‘...What am I being so sentimental about this early in the morning?’
Feeling awkward for no reason, I stopped thinking about it.
I got up.
‘Maybe I drank a little too much at the wrap party.’
The moment I stepped down from the bed.
Crunch!
“Gyaaaah!!!”
“???”
I had stepped on something, and a scream rang out.
When I looked down, Min Byeong-gi was writhing on the floor.
“...Director, why are you here?”
The moment I asked, I remembered what had happened the night before.
“Writer Han! I’m not going home! Drink more! We’re partners, you knooow!”
“Iwannagowithyoutoo! Iclearedtomorrow’sschedule so we could really party! Let’s go have just one more drink!”
...Right. High on our 40% ratings, Min Byeong-gi had kept pouring alcohol down his throat, put an arm around my shoulders, and followed me all the way home.
Ryu Cheong-a had mistaken soju for water and taken a huge gulp, gotten completely drunk, and tried to follow us too. Then her manager dragged her away.
I had been pretty drunk myself, so I could not shake him off before we got home.
As soon as we arrived, Min Byeong-gi collapsed on the floor and fell asleep, and I passed out too.
“...”
“Uh, Mooom... waaater...”
Watching Min Byeong-gi gasp through his hangover without even being able to open his eyes, I suddenly thought:
‘Maybe my senior was right.’
Maybe Min Byeong-gi was the type who only functioned properly when treated more harshly.
It was a morning that gave me too much to think about.
* * *
Min Byeong-gi woke up in my home, scratched the back of his head awkwardly, and bowed deeply in apology. Ryu Cheong-a sent another absurdly long apology message, piling them up like bricks as usual.
As I wondered whether I might one day be able to build a house out of Ryu Cheong-a’s brick-like texts, I remembered something she had said at the drinking party.
“I was going to part from you in a really cool way and grow up and come back, but then there was the wrap party and the awards ceremony, so it all got ruined. I’m really upset, but I actually want to be closer to you too, so I don’t hate it...”
She had said it casually, so the latter part had been hard to make out, but it was a commendable thought.
We would probably continue seeing each other as people.
Still, since she had already chosen her next filming project, we would truly go our separate ways in business.
In the end, Geomgye Ilgun had been Ryu Cheong-a.
It had begun with Ryu Cheong-a, and in a sense, Ryu Cheong-a had brought to an end what she had once been unable to carry through.
Feeling that the end of such an eventful process had finally arrived left me with complicated emotions.
The past few days had been spent washing those feelings away.
Over the weekend, I even looked up social media posts from viewers who had not yet finished Geomgye Ilgun.
I spent my time smugly thinking, So this is what life with 40% ratings feels like.
Success.
That was the appropriate word for where I was now, but my life had not changed dramatically.
I still woke in the morning and slept at night.
It was an era before delivery apps had become commonplace, so I ate at restaurants near my home and handled work-related calls and messages the rest of the time.
I was exactly the same, but other people seemed different.
Maybe it was a process of realizing how important social status was.
A lot more people suddenly wanted to see me.
It made me experience people’s two-faced nature firsthand.
[Jae-kyung, are you really not coming...?]
“Have you ever seen me go somewhere like that?”
[Well, that’s true, but...]
“Weren’t those guys the ones who disliked me back in college? Why are they making such a fuss about wanting to see me now?”
There had been a group in college who constantly talked behind my back.
I still remembered one thing they had said: “He thinks he’s so good.”
The guy who had said that all the time was now making a huge fuss about wanting to invite me to the alumni gathering for our club.
It was not an emotion I could not understand.
This industry was small, and jobs were often connected through personal networks and creative circles.
Of course there would be people looking to pick up scraps.
Of course, there were also plenty of people who enjoyed those gatherings and the admiration they received from others. I did not think that was wrong.
Everyone had a different way of accepting the rewards for their achievements.
I just was not that kind of person.
“I’m busy.”
[Even though the drama’s over?]
“Am I never going to write another project? I need to start preparing soon.”
The moment I said that, Seong-hun’s tone changed.
[You’re writing? You are? What is it?]
“Later.”
[No, just the genre at least...]
“It’s not concrete yet. Later.”
Even after I said that, he kept clinging on, so I hung up.
Then he started clinging to me through text messages.
[Seong-hun: You know you’re having dinner with my parents next month, right? You’ll have something by then, won’t you? I’ll wait, okay? I’m waiting. I’m telling my father that Jae-kyung is writing a new project too???]
I laughed in disbelief.
He really was consistent.
Separate from that, there was the dinner with the bureau chief.
Privately, he was Seong-hun’s father. To me, he was also the head of the company I was contracted with.
‘There was no reason for us to meet professionally before.’
Almost all official business had been handled through Go Young-chan.
Still, I knew Park Tae-jin was someone who had supported us generously behind the scenes from the moment results began to come in, as well as someone with considerable decision-making power.
And Seong-hun’s mother, Joo Young-wol, was not only a top-tier actor herself but also the CEO of Ryu Cheong-a’s agency.
Neither of them was someone I could afford to treat carelessly.
Suddenly, I remembered the time before my regression.
‘...No, the situation was different back then.’
To be honest, neither of them had particularly liked me then.
It was only understandable. If I were them and some total fucking disaster had latched onto the son I had raised so dearly, I would have been more than willing to beat him until he let go. So how could they have felt any differently?
Whatever the case, that was no longer something that had happened.
Nor would it happen in the future.
This invitation was the clearest proof of how different this life was.
They were people busy in both their public and private lives.
If someone thought they were inviting me purely because their son’s friend had succeeded, they ought to get their brain checked for how innocent it was.
‘They’re probably trying to assess me as a writer.’
I prided myself on knowing quite a lot about Bureau Chief Park Tae-jin.
A writer was not an employee tied to a single broadcasting station.
If you did one project well, you had to deepen your relationship to secure the next contract.
And if flaws appeared, you drew a line.
Whatever the case, there was a high chance he was attending this dinner to judge me with his own eyes and make a decision.
For a moment, I wondered whether I should bring armfuls of gifts.
‘It’s not a meeting between families.’
I opened my laptop.
It was a new model I had bought after making some money.
‘Could I write as far as two episodes in a month?’
It was an extension of business.
I had told Seong-hun that nothing had been decided, but I had already outlined the rough structure of my next work.
What mattered was how I showed it, and I was beginning to get ideas about that.
This project would be the turning point.
‘This is my last chance.’
I knew the future.
The era when broadcasters held absolute power was ending.
Smartphones would become more widespread, and online platforms would begin swallowing up the share held by legacy media.
Cable television was entering its twilight.
The age of OTT platforms that would replace it was about to begin.
So...
‘If I want to break 50% for certain, now is my only chance.’
After this, there would be too much uncertainty.
This was the only period when I could definitely reach that goal.
It was entirely possible.
I was no longer a rookie writer with nothing to my name. I was now a writer among the stars, someone who had delivered a 40% hit.
At this point, the capital and influence available to me were different.
‘Let’s pull in as much as possible.’
So this dinner would be a kind of meeting.
I would create a work too tempting for them not to pour money into.
With that thought, I began tapping at the keyboard.
Tap tap!
Another month passed quickly.
* * *
By then, the buzz around Geomgye Ilgun had mostly faded.
Like any work in the drama industry, once the next quarter’s projects began, the previous quarter’s works were easily forgotten.
Of course, it could not be said that the embers had died completely.
At least, not for the people who had stood at the center of that attention.
[Director Min Byeong-gi: (Photo) I’m thinking of going with this outfit for the awards ceremony. What do you thinkkk? Hehehehehe]
[Ryu Cheong-a: Oh! It looks totally good??? What should I do for the awards ceremony too T_T Hehehehehe]
[Actor Na Jin-geon: (Thumbs-up emoji)]
It was a group chat made by the main cast and production staff.
Looking at it, all I could do was laugh in disbelief.
Min Byeong-gi and Ryu Cheong-a were on the same level. One of them would start a topic with nonsense, Na Jin-geon would send an emoji, and encouraged by that, the two would chat away.
Others chimed in occasionally, but that was generally how it went.
There was only one reason for it.
‘The awards ceremony is three months away now.’
Summer was gradually retreating.
The weather had cooled considerably. It was beginning to feel like a season when I could go running again once it got just a little nicer.
Fourth-quarter dramas had begun airing, and it was nearly certain that their ratings would fall short of Geomgye Ilgun’s. Expectations for awards had naturally risen.
None of them had properly attended an awards ceremony before, let alone won anything, so of course they were excited.
Then again, year-end awards ceremonies were the flowers of the broadcasting industry, and they might become the stars of one. It made sense that their hearts would race.
Today, Na Jin-geon had joined in too.
[Actor Na Jin-geon: Actor Ryu, could you share your salon recommendation, by any chance...]
[Ryu Cheong-a: Ah, yes, yes, yes! I’m worried too T_T They say the awards ceremony cameras are super sharp, so we might end up with embarrassing photos T_T]
[Actor Na Jin-geon: Ah, I feel like I’m going to get acne...]
[Actor Ma Seong-pil: Jin-geon, the awards ceremony is three months away. Calm down.]
At last, one sensible person had set things straight.
I stopped reading there and put my phone away.
I had to focus on my own day instead.
“Ah! Jae-kyung!”
At the entrance to an upscale apartment complex, Seong-hun waved at me from a distance.
As I approached, I steadied my breathing.
Today was the day I would unofficially meet Seong-hun’s parents, the two titans of the industry.
I strode up to Seong-hun and handed him the fruit basket I was carrying.
“I thought it would be rude to come empty-handed, so I bought this. Do you think it’s okay?”
The moment I asked, Seong-hun froze.
“...Jae-kyung, you bought a gift?”
“? Was I supposed to come empty-handed?”
“You developed social ski...!”
Seong-hun covered his mouth with a hand, looking at me with teary eyes.
What exactly did this guy think I was?
My eyes narrowed.
I considered saying something, then decided against it.
“Stop talking nonsense and let’s go in. Your parents must be waiting.”
I followed Seong-hun into the complex.
We took the elevator up and entered through the front door.
By then, I could not help getting nervous again.
Of course.
“Oh my! Come in!”
“Welcome.”
How could I possibly remain calm with the final bosses of the broadcasting and entertainment industry standing in front of me?
Joo Young-wol stood before me in person, smiling.
Bureau Chief Park Tae-jin, with his austere impression, stood properly beside her and looked at me.
Feeling my palms grow sweaty, I bowed.
“I’m Han Jae-kyung, Seong-hun’s junior. First, thank you for inviting me.”
This gathering was the turning point that would lead into my next chapter.
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