‘He wouldn’t heed my pleas to leave me alone,’ Seungjun thought, a bitter taste in his mouth, ‘yet now, when I finally agree to meet, he claims to be busy?’ Nam Yiwon delivered his parting shot before Seungjun could even open his mouth. It had been less than a minute since Seungjun had initiated the call.
–I’ll come find you later~
The voice, laced with amusement, abruptly cut off. Seungjun, still clutching the disconnected phone, blinked blankly.
“That crazy bastard—.”
Seungjun slammed his clenched fists down onto his pillow. Then, he buried his face into the crumpled pillow and collapsed forward.
****
‘How long has it been since I’ve edited a drama?’ This sudden thought prompted a sigh from Seungjun. Today, having arrived at work seething with anger, he had been sitting at his desk, repeatedly calling an unanswered number and grinding his teeth in frustration, when PD Lee Seonggyu approached him, asking for help.
Rather than an actual request for help, it was more of a casual suggestion: ‘If you’re just going to sit around, come do some minor editing.’ Regardless, it suited him. Staying idle would only lead to him leaving dozens more missed calls for Nam Yiwon. More honestly, he was also glad for the drama work itself.
Though not to Seungjun’s personal taste, PD Lee was skilled at producing vibrant, youthful romance dramas. This latest one seemed to be receiving a good reception as well. Propping his chin in his hand, Seungjun watched the drama he was editing.
–”A man like that CEO? He’s absolutely not my type.”
–”What do you mean a man like me isn’t your type? A handsome, wealthy, and capable man?”
–”A man who can’t communicate.”
–”You seem to be mistaken. What I’m proposing is a contractual relationship. I’m not trying to scheme my way into anything real with you.”
“She said no, you bastard!”
‘Wealthy, self-important individuals were all cut from the same cloth.’ To think that a man who ignored clear rejections and only spoke his mind could be the male lead of a romance drama was truly a sign of the times. ‘Inevitably, that intelligent woman would surely fall head over heels for that scoundrel.’
‘This is why I despise romance,’ he muttered.
A long sigh followed his quiet declaration. Seungjun pressed his knuckles firmly against his throbbing temples, trying to alleviate the headache. Having been agitated all day, his entire body felt rigid with tension.
‘Should I really go to the South Pole? It might be cold, but it would definitely be less stressful. Perhaps I could even film a documentary there while working on scripts in my spare time….’
“Hello?”
At the sudden burst of the door opening, Seungjun flinched and lifted his head. Above the fluttering hem of a trench coat, Nam Yiwon’s fair face appeared. His cheeks were flushed, perhaps from the wind or simply from excitement.
His appearance was quite striking, as if determined to announce the arrival of autumn, sporting a trench coat and even a beanie. The jacket-like shirt, of unknown origin, and the snake-scale tie also lived up to expectations. The memory of Nam Yiwon’s absurd claim about choosing ‘fun-looking’ clothes surged, making Seungjun’s anger flare. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had become entangled in the whims of a man who chanted ‘fun, fun’ like a mantra.
Seungjun sprang to his feet and grabbed Nam Yiwon by the collar.
“You bastard, when did you do that interview? Huh? Were you trying to screw me over? I clearly said I wouldn’t do it, so what on earth possesses you to go around telling everyone that you’re working with me?”
“Romance is fun too, isn’t it?”
Nam Yiwon glanced obliquely at the drama Seungjun had been editing as he asked. The moment his gaze returned to Seungjun’s face, Seungjun tightened his grip on Nam Yiwon’s collar, pulling him closer. If Nam Yiwon crossed the line any further, if he uttered one more word, Seungjun was ready to throw a punch.
Nam Yiwon chuckled, his face so close their foreheads nearly touched. As his lips stretched into a wide smile, a fresh, invigorating scent wafted from him.
“
Seungjun gritted his teeth at the abrupt pronouncement. The title of his work, ever-present in his mind, made him wonder for a moment if he had misheard. Kim Youngsik, the protagonist from the synopsis he had read so many times he knew it by heart—a name that felt real, perhaps even like that of his closest friend, as he constantly envisioned his life. Hearing the name of a character he had created emerge from someone else’s lips, his chest fluttered, if only for a brief instant.
He didn’t want to betray his agitation under Nam Yiwon’s scrutinizing gaze, but it was already too late. Nam Yiwon smiled, revealing his pristine white teeth.
“I’ve read all the scripts you’ve written, Senior. I believe the framework is solid, the subject matter is intriguing, and there’s ample potential for it to be an engaging story.”
“…Potential?”
“It’ll do well if we cut what needs cutting and add what needs adding.”
His audacity in offering unasked-for critiques was truly next-level obnoxiousness. ‘From the sound of it, he doesn’t even think highly of my work, so why is he being so persistent? Does he have too much time on his hands, perhaps harboring a desire to torment the person who annoyed him relentlessly back in his distant undergraduate days?’ Seungjun shoved his foot between Nam Yiwon’s shoes and growled through clenched teeth.
“What’s your reason for constantly trying to meddle with my work? Surely this isn’t about something from the past, is it?”
“Senior’s ‘thing.’ If you don’t break that stubbornness, Senior, you won’t be able to achieve anything in the future.”
A flush of red spread across Nam Yiwon’s face as he spoke, an expression suggesting he could barely contain his excitement. It was the moment the minimal politeness he had been feigning until now peeled away, revealing his true nature. He was deliberately overstepping boundaries, observing Seungjun’s reaction.
Seungjun knew that an intense reaction would only further delight Nam Yiwon, yet he couldn’t restrain himself. He clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms.
“Don’t delude yourself. It’s not that I dislike anyone meddling with my work; it’s that I refuse to work with *you*.”
“Is that truly the case?”
Nam Yiwon tilted his head forward, raising his long-folded eyes. He was so close that Seungjun’s own reflection was visible in his large, clear gaze. It felt as though Nam Yiwon’s fervor, his excitement, might contagiously spread to him.
“You’ve been clinging to a story with no chance of being broadcast for years, revising it while steadily regressing, only to end up filming a documentary you have no passion for. Is there truly a reason you dislike me enough to reject my proposal?”
“You absolute bastard!”
For a moment, his vision was consumed by a blinding white haze. Even as rage blinded him, Nam Yiwon’s eyes, stretched into a long smile, remained vividly clear. As his vision slowly returned, he saw his fist still gripping Nam Yiwon’s collar. His hand, veins bulging, trembled almost imperceptibly. Nam Yiwon gently covered that hand, raising an eyebrow, his voice far calmer than before.
“Think carefully, Senior. Is it truly because of me that you’re refusing? If someone else had proposed co-directing, would you have accepted immediately? If it were a PD known for creating high-quality dramas, would you still mind if they completely revamped the story you wrote?”
The piercing questions made his heart plummet. Unable to answer, his throat constricted. Nam Yiwon, still held by his collar, merely smiled serenely. After glaring at his tilted lips for a long moment, Seungjun finally broke the suffocating silence.
“If I’m regressing, as you claim, then why are you asking me to work with you?”
“Are you afraid I’ll make a huge hit out of this?”
Nam Yiwon’s fingertips leisurely brushed over Seungjun’s hand. It wasn’t a probing question but one brimming with absolute certainty. Under the unwavering gaze fixed upon him, Seungjun blinked blankly. It felt as though his blood was chilling. As his head grew cold, the sensations elsewhere in his body dulled. Nam Yiwon’s voice resonated, a low hum in his ears.
“If I succeed by revamping your story, you’re afraid it’ll serve as a reconfirmation of your own incompetence, aren’t you?”
‘…….’
“In truth, aren’t you simply wishing to remain trapped indefinitely within that safe zone of excuses? Deep down, Senior, you must know.”
“That no drama is ever made alone.”
As the strength drained from each of his knuckles, the bulging veins on his hand flattened. Simultaneously, the tension abruptly released, and a hollow laugh escaped him.
‘He was a man not worth another word. A piece of trash who fed on others’ misfortune for his own amusement.’ Seungjun gritted his teeth and turned his back. Just before he took his first step, Nam Yiwon’s single remark struck him from behind.
“Are you running away again?”
‘Again? Running away? Me?’
Seungjun spun around, his eyes wide. Nam Yiwon, who had been standing with his head tilted askew, slowly straightened it. His previously pale skin was now flushed with an overwhelming joy.
“You crazy bastard. Your delusions are top-notch.”
Seungjun curled his lips into a sneer as he cursed. He slammed the door shut and, lifting his head, saw the long corridor stretching before him. Without knowing where to go, he began to walk aimlessly.
****
Seungjun wandered aimlessly through the corridor, circling around. His mind wasn’t functioning properly; he merely drifted like a ghost, without purpose, in the same spot. He couldn’t distinguish if the recent conversation had actually happened, if it was a scene he’d glimpsed in a drama, or if it was merely his own delusion. A feeling not of simple anger, but of an indescribable emotion, clung thickly to his chest, making him feel suffocated.
[Deep down, Senior, you must know.]
[That no drama is ever made alone.]
Reaching the end of the corridor, Seungjun stopped. He stood staring blankly at the wall. Upon the pristine white surface, memories of creating his last drama unfolded. It was a project everyone had built together: shouting, getting angry, feeling proud, some even crying, running around, staying up all night, skipping meals, talking incessantly, offering opinions, and working tirelessly day and night.
No drama is made alone.
As someone who had navigated numerous arduous production processes, this was a truth he knew all too well. If he were to produce a drama, the process of refining, compromising, and adjusting the elements he stubbornly called ‘his own’ would be inevitable. Nam Yiwon had certainly crossed a line, but Seungjun couldn’t help but ponder the questions the man had thrown at him.