WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Genius Writer Who Will Never Fall Again ◈
Chapter 29: Act Two (1)
──────
Being involved in the entertainment industry, you came across all kinds of strange stories.
Some were practically urban legends, like Jo Du-ho’s sexual favors scandal. But there were also stories that naturally made you think, How romantic.
Joo Young-wol and Park Tae-jin’s romance was one of them.
It was a love story for the ages, endlessly talked about in the industry.
Joo Young-wol, a superstar who had shaken the entire country the moment she appeared, suddenly announced her marriage while she was climbing toward the height of her career.
Her partner was Park Tae-jin, a drama producer-director who had only just begun building his career.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been unthinkable.
Public interest and admiration were clearly consumable commodities, and in those days, even dating rumors could send an actress’s standing plummeting like mad.
But this was not dating. It was marriage.
And to the main producer-director of a drama she had worked on.
Considering Joo Young-wol had only been twenty-five then, was it not an utterly insane choice?
Even without online portals, chaos erupted everywhere.
Some people even organized protesters demanding that Joo Young-wol’s marriage be stopped.
Still, Joo Young-wol and Park Tae-jin endured it all in silence.
They went that far, so people clicked their tongues and said Park Tae-jin had ruined the future superstar Joo Young-wol out of selfish desire.
Everyone said she would never show her face on screen again.
She had gone mad with love and turned away from the certain path to success.
That was the prevailing opinion.
Which was why the result shone even brighter.
“In the end, actors speak through their acting, don’t they? After giving birth to Seong-hun, staying home all the time had me climbing the walls.”
Mrs. Joo, seated across the dining table, laughed as she told me about those days.
Her tone was incredibly casual, but no matter how I considered it, all I could do was let out a hollow laugh.
‘She climbed back to the top of the industry through sheer talent. Even after a hiatus of over three years.’
When Joo Young-wol returned to the screen, she reached the top under an even more dazzling spotlight than before.
No, her career afterward was so brilliant that the public could not even question her skill.
That was how the queen of the entertainment industry came to be, a woman who had never once fallen from the very top in every history I remembered.
Through a groundbreaking love, and talent even more groundbreaking than that.
They said celebrities were no different from ordinary people once you met them, but there was such a thing as an aura that unconsciously seeped out.
Sitting before such a giant made me watch my words and actions for no reason.
Mrs. Joo waved a hand.
“Anyway, that’s how we got married and made it this far. I’m not sure whether such an old story was interesting.”
“It was interesting. I already knew the story, but hearing it from someone involved is a different experience.”
“Oh my, Seong-hun really found himself a wonderful friend.”
Perhaps she truly was the original ageless beauty.
People jokingly called her a nine-tailed fox that sucked the life out of others, and her smile had a freshness that did not look her age no matter what.
They said traces of time would begin to show fifteen years later, but for now, no one would doubt she was in her thirties.
Director Park Tae-jin, quietly listening beside her, was also so well maintained that he did not look like someone growing old.
The term distinguished middle-aged man suited him far better.
‘Naturally.’
These were people who spent astronomical sums on upkeep.
And their original looks were exceptional to begin with.
The meal continued, leaving me with a strange feeling of wonder.
The food was suitably good, and the conversation suitably pleasant.
The friend of their son, who had not merely avoided being a complete idiot but had pulled a 40 percent rating with a debut work, was an interesting and welcome conversation partner for the couple.
Even apart from that, much of what they told me as industry seniors was helpful.
Most of all, Mrs. Joo was so warm that I felt no discomfort.
The fact that she readily shared stories involving her personal life was part of it.
“Oh, and thank you again for introducing Cheong-a. I’d been worried because none of the young actors these days had quite caught my eye, then they appeared at just the right time. Life has been so fun lately, you know?”
“I should be the one thanking you for helping me. Since it was a personal connection, I was cautious about making such a request.”
“Ho ho ho! I got a promising actor without lifting a finger, so I should be more grateful! Oh, and Cheong-a, you see...”
The conversation continued like that for quite some time.
“Darling, don’t you have anything to say? Jae-kyung made a hit drama for your network, after all.”
Mrs. Joo turned her attention to Director Park.
From my impression so far, he was simply very quiet.
When I looked toward him, he finally met my eyes.
I had always thought Seong-hun took much more after his mother, but seeing him now, I could also see plenty of his father in him.
That was separate from my personal impression.
“Thank you for coming to us first. Thanks to you, our results were exceptional, and we got through this quarter’s incident without much trouble.”
His tone suggested he saw me less as his son’s friend than as a business partner.
If anything, that made me grateful. It was more comfortable.
‘An incident...’
He must mean Jo Du-ho.
No matter what, Jo Du-ho’s scandal had broken while Geomgye Ilgun was airing, and Du-ho belonged to WBS.
In the original history, I remembered the network suffering considerably because of that scandal.
This time, however, because Du-ho had been pushed out after receiving disciplinary action at the level of suspension and removal from the post due to their conflict with me, I remembered that cutting Du-ho loose entirely had not been particularly difficult.
They had avoided as much risk as possible, then covered it up with Geomgye Ilgun’s success, so the network’s damage had been minimal.
I did not go out of my way to point all that out myself.
It would only be an unpleasant topic to bring up.
“I would also like to work together again if the opportunity arises. I met such an excellent production team.”
It was right after I said that.
“I heard you’re writing a new script.”
The words I had been waiting for came out.
This was, in effect, the main purpose of today.
Should I pull it out at once as if I had been waiting?
Then I realized there was nothing to gain by appearing so impatient.
“Yes. I have completed a first draft through episode two.”
“Is that so?”
“There is much to revise, but it is a piece I personally like.”
Writers, as a species, generally had terrible social skills and could not use their position well in business.
Usually, they were either people who fussed endlessly about a writer’s authority without any accomplishments, or people whose egos soared to the sky after succeeding and who could no longer see anything else.
But sales did not work that way.
Value increased when you appropriately highlighted your accomplishments and presented yourself with appropriate courtesy.
Having produced a 40 percent hit, I was someone who could afford to be a little more confident.
I was not asking to be treated specially. The priority was making it clear that I was not unconditionally in the weaker position at the negotiating table.
“I’m enjoying writing it. For now.”
“If it is a script Writer Han is satisfied with, then I have high expectations as well.”
Then he added more.
“If you’re willing to do your next project with us, could you show it to me?”
“You mean...?”
“I think Writer Han is someone we cannot afford to miss.”
Even an idiot would understand.
It was a gesture saying he hoped WBS would be the first to see the script, whatever it turned out to be.
‘If I play hard to get any more here, that would be a mistake.’
That was when my thoughts reached that point.
“...I do have a version I printed out to review whenever I had time. If that is acceptable, I can show you the first draft version.”
I cast the bait.
Director Park answered immediately.
“Of course. If the foundation is good, the details can be worked out during production.”
That was welcome news.
I handed him the script from the bag I had brought.
Of course, it was not normal to sit before someone and read a script running hundreds of pages on the spot.
Director Park carefully gathered the script and placed it beside the table, and the meal ended that way.
“Come visit again sometime!!!”
“Yes, thank you for inviting me today.”
“I suppose I’ll see you at the awards ceremony. Or perhaps before then.”
Director Park held out a hand for a handshake.
I took it and bowed my head slightly.
“Yes, whenever.”
Then I left the house.
It had been a rather meaningful meeting, and not as uncomfortable as I had expected.
‘Have I crossed one major ridge?’
As I thought that and looked up, I heard someone sniffling.
“Jae-kyung, I’m touched.”
“?”
“To be honest, I was worried today too. I kept watching for a chance to step in, wondering what I’d do if you treated my parents the way you treated professors in college, but from beginning to end...!”
What an absurdly sentimental person.
Then again, that was why he still cried his eyes out watching animation at his age.
I shook my head.
‘Naturally.’
How long would it take them to take the bait?
Even now, I was not particularly worried that they would dislike the script.
After all, there had never been a single time in my life when my writing was bad.
‘And I mixed in proven material, too.’
The question was only how shockingly they would receive it.
* * *
The evening after Jae-kyung and Seong-hun left, Tae-jin finished a light workout and stood under the shower, letting the water pound over him as he sank into thought.
‘He’s an interesting fellow.’
He had heard a great deal about Jae-kyung.
His son had praised this friend endlessly ever since their university days.
Setting that aside, Jae-kyung was also someone with an exceptionally good professional reputation within WBS.
Perhaps it would be best to say he was not writer-like, in a good way.
‘He has manners, and he thinks.’
Tae-jin himself had risen from assistant director to bureau chief solely through on-site achievements, so he knew the unavoidable nature of the industry quite well.
That meant he was close to someone who knew writers’ behavior could be worse than the rumors in some respects.
Even to Tae-jin, Jae-kyung had a decent character for a writer.
Above all, the fact that Jae-kyung could make even Go Young-chan, who was sick of writers, grin from ear to ear was the greatest proof.
Of course, work was not decided by a person’s character.
The script mattered most.
The project developed from it mattered.
First, it had to be a project that could appeal to a broad audience. It also had to answer the question, “Can this project realistically be made?”
Absurdly, that was all this industry was, which was why writers’ disastrous social skills were still tolerated.
That was what he meant.
Tae-jin recalled Jae-kyung’s script, which he had checked before going in to shower.
‘It works.’
That was what his instinct, which had once earned him the nickname script savant, told him.
At the very least, it was clearly a groundbreaking concept in the current drama scene.
It was not too far removed from the public, yet it contained elements that would shock them.
Above all, it was a script that could realistically be produced.
If possible, he wanted to proceed with a contract immediately.
But the more he wanted that, the more cautious Tae-jin became.
‘Could my judgment be clouded?’
Tae-jin considered an enormous number of things.
Because his own judgment was more firmly grounded than anyone’s, he applied an even stricter standard of doubt.
Had Park Tae-jin given an overly generous assessment because it was Han Jae-kyung’s next work after a 40 percent hit?
Did Park Tae-jin feel even a trace of indebtedness toward Han Jae-kyung, who had been a great help in handling the Jo Du-ho scandal that had sent chills down his neck?
How much real data had Park Tae-jin relied upon in reaching his conclusions about modern drama trends?
That paranoid tendency to doubt even the unconsciousness of his own intentions was the greatest weapon that had put Tae-jin in the bureau chief’s seat.
Drip. Drip.
Even when he finished showering and came out, Tae-jin had not reached a decision.
‘Still, it would be better to let the people below me see it once.’
The current chief producers at WBS were the sharpest blades Tae-jin had honed.
Each had their own weapon, and when it came to the performance of that one weapon, few in the entire industry could match them. Tae-jin trusted their judgment quite a bit.
He had made his decision and stepped into the living room.
Then Tae-jin froze.
“...”
Young-wol sat on the living room sofa with her legs crossed, reading the script that had been on the table.
Her lips moved ceaselessly as though silently speaking the words, while her eyes raced wildly up and down, devouring each line.
Her facial muscles twisted minutely as she smiled, cried, and grew angry in succession.
She resembled a machine rapidly running through a set of programmed commands.
Tae-jin’s eyes narrowed.
She did not look human.
She was his wife, with whom he had spent his entire life, yet moments like this made Young-wol feel incredibly unfamiliar to Tae-jin.
Still, he knew the meaning behind that behavior.
It was a quirk he had known since they had worked together in their youth.
“What is your standard for choosing a script? The characters, of course.”
“The characters?”
“Yes.”
There was something Joo Young-wol had told him one day, smiling brilliantly and seductively in those days when she was younger than now.
“A good script makes me imagine myself playing that character the moment I read it. And the more characters like that it has, the better the script is.”
Tae-jin’s standards for judging a script centered on its narrative function and whether it could be realized.
But Joo Young-wol’s centered solely on the liveliness of the characters and the depth of their dynamics.
Their standards were so different.
And yet.
“...Ah, honey. You’re out?”
If a script perfectly satisfied two such different standards, what would you call it?
Young-wol had somehow finished the script and looked up with the corners of her lips raised.
Yet there was no expression on her face.
She resembled a porcelain doll.
Something that had exhausted every emotion and left only an empty shell came to mind.
“...I see you were reading the script.”
He spoke as he approached.
When he sat beside her, Young-wol rested her head against his shoulder.
“Yes, it was fun.”
“You usually don’t read them.”
“I was just curious.”
She said it as though it were nothing special, and Tae-jin’s gaze turned toward the dark television.
Their reflections appeared faintly beyond the black screen.
Young-wol still wore that expressionless face with the corners of her mouth raised.
She was looking straight ahead with such chilling clarity that it felt as though she was truly looking at nothing.
Tae-jin thought carefully.
How many people had flashed across Joo Young-wol’s face as she read the script just before?
‘Seven.’
Every major and supporting character who appeared through episode two.
And more than that.
“Hmm hmm~”
Humming as she blankly stared at the dark television, Joo Young-wol still had not let go of the script.
No, she held it even tighter, faintly giving off the impression that she would not let anyone take it from her.
Only then did he realize something.
‘Was her last acting role six years ago?’
It had been that long.
“Do you want to do it?”
He asked, but no answer returned.
At the same time, that was the answer.
A monster lived in Joo Young-wol’s heart.
A monster that only felt alive when it wore someone else’s skin and rampaged.
That monster had starved for far too long, and now it had found prey that looked far too delicious.
Tae-jin knew better than anyone how sharp that monster’s eye was.
Only then could Tae-jin erase his doubts about this script.
More than anything, he had found the weapon that would determine how high its success could climb.
‘We’re going to need a huge budget.’
Joo Young-wol’s per-episode fee was set at an astronomical amount.
He could only hope for a family discount.
The thought that it might fail began to vanish as if washed away.
The next day.
“Chief Go, want to take a look at this?”
“Yes?”
“Read it and tell me what you think.”
Tae-jin handed the script to Young-chan as a necessary part of the process, even so.
And naturally.
“...!”
Young-chan’s shock came quickly.
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
