WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Why Do My Dramas Keep Becoming Hits!? ◈
Chapter 40: Fake Madness, Real Madness
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Studio Miracle kept trying to persuade the writer.
“Please, reconsider just once more. Either push the broadcast slot back, or target a global OTT platform instead. That’s the way to save this project.”
They had several reasons for pleading with the writer until they were blue in the face.
Baek Min-hee and Hong Eun-seo were towering obstacles, of course, but it was also a thorough business decision that accounted for every other factor.
For one thing, given the work’s heavy noir qualities, an OTT platform free from the strict content-review regulations of the Korea Communications Commission would be far better suited to give it wings.
Moreover, if they gave themselves more time instead of forcing their way into the brutal July broadcast slot next year, they could bring everything from casting to art direction to an even higher level of perfection.
But in the end, neither MBS nor Studio Miracle could break the writer’s stubborn resolve. They threw up both hands in surrender.
As the writer demanded, the broadcast slot was finalized for the first week of July next year, as a Saturday-Sunday drama set to command the weekend.
The moment the starting gun went off, Miracle and MBS entered emergency mode and began moving like mad.
“Argh! Me again?! This is my third all-nighter in a row! At least give me time to go to a sauna!”
“Shut up and crack open a Hot6! Hey, you! Has the Busan location still not been confirmed? Send the newbie down there right now and get that contract signed!”
“At this rate, the review board is going to start picking at us over KCC regulations again... I’m seriously losing my mind...”
“Hey, you bastard, if you take direct-impact shots out of noir, is it even noir? It’s Pororo! Find some way to make storyboard panels that get around the review!”
Urgent shouting and irritated profanity burst out from every direction like popping popcorn.
The phones in every department shrieked as though having seizures. Staff with bloodshot eyes and dark circles hanging to their jaws ran madly through the halls, scripts and production proposals clutched in both hands.
There was less than a year until the drama’s first broadcast, an absurdly tight deadline.
And their opponents were Baek Min-hee and Hong Eun-seo, the greatest monster writers of the age, names alone enough to make it hard to breathe.
To survive a head-on clash with them, they had to deliver flawless quality without even the slightest margin of error. There was good reason everyone was running themselves ragged.
But.
In this chaos, where everyone was rushing around as though their feet were on fire, there was one person who alone seemed to live in an entirely different time and space.
“Oh my. Everyone’s working so hard.”
Pyo Won-ho arrived at work in rumpled clothes.
Holding an iced Americano in one hand and sipping through its straw, he let out a carefree laugh at the office, which looked as though it had been bombed.
“Nice to see. Youth, youth.”
He tossed out that irritating appraisal as though watching a fire from across the river.
Just as he was about to stroll leisurely to his desk, Nam Tae-jin approached from afar with a look of utter disgust.
“Sunbae, what have you been doing, showing up this late?”
“Charging up on caffeine?”
“...”
Nam Tae-jin clutched his throbbing temple and let out a deep sigh.
He had a mountain of things to say, but every second was precious, so he got straight to the point.
“This isn’t the time to leisurely sip coffee. You need to get into the planning meeting right now.”
“Huh? Is it already that time?”
“...We’re already well past it, so let’s go.”
“Hmm. Can’t I finish this first? The writer probably isn’t here yet anyway.”
Pyo Won-ho put the straw back into his mouth and calmly turned toward his desk again.
Nam Tae-jin delivered a blunt blow.
“The writer is already here. He arrived five minutes ago and is waiting in the meeting room.”
“What? He’s here already?”
Life gradually returned to his hazy eyes, which had been thick with annoyance.
Then Pyo Won-ho spat out the straw between his lips, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
That writer had rejected the compromise proposed by the exacting higher-ups at Miracle and MBS without hesitation, insisting on crawling into that hellish broadcast slot.
For some time now, Pyo had been dying of curiosity about who this writer was.
What kind of nerve did he have? What was he thinking, pulling something so crazy? He had wanted to ask outright.
“Okay. I finally get to see what this writer looks like?”
All traces of reluctance vanished from Pyo Won-ho’s gait, replaced by instant energy.
He shoved the half-full Americano into Nam Tae-jin’s arms, then hummed as he strode ahead toward the meeting room.
“...Sunbae, watch your mouth in front of the writer.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“The department head warned you too. It’s not like people have only been looking the other way for a day or two. So don’t say stupid crap like last time and wreck the whole thing.”
Pyo Won-ho only waved his hand dismissively as he walked on without a word.
Watching his back, Nam Tae-jin clutched his aching head.
‘That fucking lunatic...’
What was the point of telling him? He would obviously cause another incident.
With that grim premonition, Nam Tae-jin let out yet another sigh.
#
“Oh? You’re already here?”
The meeting room door swung open, and Pyo Won-ho, a PD from Studio Miracle, walked in.
The faces of Department Head Park Ho-seong and the planning producer seated beside him immediately twisted.
“Ha ha. I’m terribly sorry for being late. The elevator broke down, so I had to run up the emergency stairs.”
“...Hey, PD Pyo. This is the first floor.”
“Oh, is it? Ha ha. Anyway, I’m sorry. I hope the writer will kindly understand?”
Park Ho-seong looked ready to scold him on the spot, but then he glanced at me and let out an awkward cough.
“Ahem. Writer, I’m sorry. He isn’t usually like this, but he made a mistake today.”
“It’s all right. I only just got here myself.”
After Park Ho-seong’s excuse, Pyo Won-ho, who had taken a seat, wore a pleasant smile and gave me a light bow.
I discreetly studied Pyo Won-ho’s face.
‘So this is Pyo Won-ho.’
I had seen him from a distance a few times while coming and going from broadcasting stations, but this was our first time sitting face-to-face.
Of course, I had heard his name often enough in the industry before meeting him in person.
Not in a good way, either.
He had a brilliant instinct for directing, but he was lazy and self-indulgent by nature.
He half-assed everything and blurted things out bluntly without a filter, with the social skills of a complete disaster.
Among writers in particular, he was considered the number one person to avoid.
It was common for him to ignore a script’s intent, tear up the storyboard panels to suit his own tastes, and overturn the on-set direction.
That was why, when he succeeded, he produced insane masterpieces that broke through the ceiling and into the sky. But when he failed, he crashed all the way to the depths of hell.
A hit or a flop. High risk, high return.
He was a double-edged sword that might stab its wielder.
As I considered those fierce descriptions, the corner of my mouth curled up slightly.
A double-edged sword that might stab its wielder?
Who in the world would strap a blade like that to their side and head into battle?
But I was the exception.
No, better yet.
‘Perfect.’
As I smiled inwardly, Pyo Won-ho, who had been about to take his seat, held out his hand for a handshake.
“So you’re the writer? Wow, you make a good impression. I look forward to working with you. I’m Pyo Won-ho.”
“Yes. I look forward to working with you too.”
I stood and took his offered hand.
The moment our handshake ended and I was about to sit down again, Pyo Won-ho began firing off questions like bombs.
“Oh, and there’s something I want to ask. You’re not the type to get hung up on something as trivial as ratings, are you?”
“...?”
“Ahaha, right? If you were going to play it safe and make dramas based only on ratings, you wouldn’t have considered going head-to-head with Baek Min-hee and Hong Eun-seo. Isn’t that right?”
The meeting room’s atmosphere froze below zero at his direct provocation, which was so brazen it bordered on shameless.
Unaffected by the sudden chill, Pyo Won-ho continued saying what he wanted.
“If that’s the case, I’m thinking I won’t get worked up over ratings either, and I can freely pursue my ‘art’... What do you think? That’s okay, right, Writer?”
They had gone to such lengths to secure the broadcast slot, only for the man in charge of directing to declare at the very first planning meeting that he would throw away public appeal and indulge his own artistic obsession.
Department Head Park Ho-seong went white, veins bulging as he slammed the table with a bang.
“Hey, you punk! Pyo Won-ho! Will you shut that mouth of yours?! What kind of crazy shit are you spewing at the very first meeting?!”
He looked ready to grab Pyo by the collar and drag him out.
I lightly raised a hand to stop Park Ho-seong, then looked at Pyo Won-ho with clear eyes.
“If that is truly what you think, who am I to stop you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Honestly, I feel the same way as you, Director. Rather than a merchant obsessed with shallow commercialism and popularity, an artist who makes their own art is far cooler.”
At my gentle reply, Pyo Won-ho’s fingers, which had been spinning a pen, came to an abrupt stop.
“Yes. Please feel free to do whatever you wish with my script to create the art you want. Even if the ratings are poor, even if the drama fails entirely, I will never blame you or hold a grudge against you.”
Heavy silence pressed down on the meeting room.
Pyo Won-ho, who had been smirking just moments ago, froze with his mouth hanging open.
Then, after a moment.
Pyo Won-ho finally came to his senses and forced the corners of his mouth upward with a laugh.
“A-Ahaha! Ah, I really like this writer. Heh heh.”
After laughing for a long while while clutching his stomach, he even shed a few tears before extending both hands toward me again.
“Good, Writer. We’re really on the same wavelength. I look forward to working with you. Shall we start the meeting now?”
I firmly took his outstretched hands again and gave him a beaming smile.
Exactly. We really are on the same wavelength.
Footnotes:
Pororo is a popular Korean preschool animation series. Calling a censored noir “Pororo” jokes that it would become harmless children’s entertainment.
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