‘How long had it been since I’d chattered on with such excitement? Sometimes—no, quite often, in fact, infuriating as he was—accepting Nam Yiwon’s proposal had been a good decision.
The drama was good. Good enough to endure the time spent with that lunatic.
The lunatic, catching Seungjun’s eye, revealed a flash of pearly white teeth as he grinned brightly.
“Shall we decide on the names for the additional main characters right here?”
“Yes. What names would be good?”
“How about Seo Yewon for the female lead, and Bae Jeonghu for the male?”
“So you’ve already thought of everything, have you?”
Instead of replying, Nam Yiwon turned his tablet PC towards Seungjun. It displayed a memo where he had meticulously renamed all the characters, from the leads to the supporting cast, and organized them.
While Seungjun wasn’t thrilled that Yiwon had unilaterally decided everything, they had already agreed to add two more main characters. Thinking of him as an utterly disagreeable fellow, Seungjun gazed out the window at the setting sun. It was already past six. Perhaps from talking so much, he felt a pang of hunger. Yet, he certainly didn’t want to eat dinner with this guy, and Seoul wasn’t that far from here anyway.
“What should we eat? You must be hungry, right?”
Had his hunger been so apparent in his eyes? Nam Yiwon asked, as if reading his mind. Taking back the tablet, he searched for something, then showed Seungjun an appetizing photo of *sotbap*.
Beef bulgogi, a large grilled dried pollack, and an assortment of side dishes. Seungjun swallowed hard, his mouth watering at the high-definition image, so vivid it felt as though the food were right before him.
The very next moment, Nam Yiwon turned off the tablet. As Seungjun looked up from the black screen, Yiwon’s smiling face was right before him. He had been so engrossed in the photo that he hadn’t realized Yiwon had moved so close.
“I saw it when I was looking for the cafe earlier; turns out there’s a great restaurant nearby.”
Continuing to speak, Yiwon lightly placed a finger on the back of Seungjun’s hand. His neatly manicured fingertip leisurely stroked Seungjun’s skin. The sudden contact and Yiwon’s nonchalant demeanor felt less surprising than utterly outrageous.
Watching Yiwon’s long finger move across the back of his hand, Seungjun was reminded of the time he had grabbed him by the collar.
[You’re scared I’ll make this a huge hit, aren’t you?]
Even as he said those words, Yiwon continued to caress Seungjun’s hand. Seungjun remembered every detail of that moment: the subtly irritating tickle, and the deep-seated frustration and uncontrollable rage that had surged within him.
Seungjun couldn’t let his guard down. There was no doubt that this guy had approached him and proposed a co-directing role simply because he thought it ‘would be fun.’ Seungjun had to give his best to create the drama, but he also had to remain vigilant. He refused to be made a fool of by someone like this again.
Seungjun stared silently until Nam Yiwon withdrew his hand. Yiwon, who had been waiting with his chin propped up, finally curled his fingers and slowly withdrew.
Only after Yiwon had fully retracted his hand did Seungjun speak.
“I’ll have dinner at home. Let’s head back now.”
“Oh, really?”
Nam Yiwon rose from his seat with a slick smile. The man who had been so pleasantly conversing just moments before now seemed entirely different.
‘Keep your wits about you.’ Seungjun mentally reaffirmed his resolve, then followed behind him.
****
“Huu… I’m going to drop dead.”
A groan escaped his lips the moment he turned off the ignition. He had barely made it to the broadcasting station, chewing on anti-sleep gum the entire way.
He had practically stayed up all night, agonizing over how to weave the new main characters into the episodes. The story flowed smoothly, and he found himself so engrossed in personally incorporating the additional settings that he lost all track of time until the sun rose. While the writer would eventually have to rewrite it, Seungjun wanted to infuse as many of his own ideas as possible, given that it was his brainchild, and he had given it his all.
Having pulled an all-nighter, he had generated quite a few ideas. Once a writer was chosen, they could discuss them together to produce the best possible outcome. Although not entirely smooth sailing, the progress filled him with a sense of accomplishment and excitement. With a flutter in his heart, Seungjun forcefully opened the car door and stepped out.
He would conquer today as well. No matter how Nam Yiwon tried to mess with him, Seungjun would focus only on the important tasks. Hadn’t Oscar Wilde always said to forgive your enemies? Nothing would infuriate Yiwon more than that.
He was reaffirming his resolve when he stood before the elevator. A man who had been loitering nearby suddenly addressed Seungjun.
“Hello. You’re Producer Baek Seungjun, aren’t you?”
The man bowed deeply in greeting and offered a business card. Actor. Seungjun, confirming his profession, nonchalantly pressed the elevator call button.
“I’m an actor named Kim Doyun.”
“Not buying it.”
Seungjun leaned against one leg, watching the elevator slowly descend. Judging by his young, pretty face, likely in his early twenties, he was a rookie actor. It wasn’t uncommon for such actors to bypass their agencies and approach him directly. It was obvious Doyun had come to greet him and ask for a favorable impression ahead of tomorrow’s audition.
The audition, hastily arranged to cast the victims for the drama’s main incidents, was set for tomorrow. After briefly drafting scripts for the audition, they had posted an announcement and filtered through portfolios submitted by various agencies. Perhaps because it was Nam Yiwon’s drama, hundreds of rookie actors had sent in their portfolios, resulting in a shortlist of about two hundred.
Typically, producers only get involved in casting main leads or significant supporting roles, leaving the rest to casting directors, so large-scale auditions like this were rare. However, since the drama was written to tell the stories of victims, casting the victim roles for each incident was as crucial as casting the protagonist, Shin Eui-chan. Seungjun intended to personally oversee the casting of actors for the victim roles in all three episodes, preferably choosing rookie actors with minimal public image consumption, allowing viewers to see them without prejudice.
The audition was tomorrow, yet here he was, fawning instead of practicing. Doyun subtly moved closer to Seungjun, who was openly ignoring him, and whispered in a low voice.
“It’s nothing else, but I heard you’re co-directing with Director Nam Yiwon this time. I briefly appeared as a taxi driver in Director Nam Yiwon’s previous work, ‘Illogical’.”
“Taxi driver? That bastard truly must cast without a second thought.”
Seungjun let out a sardonic laugh and mumbled to himself. Even if it wasn’t a major role, taxi driving isn’t exactly a profession typically held by a young man in his early twenties, is it? For Seungjun, who meticulously reviewed casting for even the smallest roles, it was incomprehensible.
The elevator arrived. As Seungjun was about to ignore him and step in, Doyun urgently grabbed his arm. Frowning, Seungjun looked down at Doyun.
When their eyes met, Doyun offered a gentle, charming smile. A faint blush rose beneath his beautifully crinkled eyes. The hand that had been on Seungjun’s inner arm now slid down to his side. As if the unambiguous touch wasn’t enough, he whispered softly.
“Please give me a good role.”
A warm breath, mixed with the added plea, ‘I’m really good, you know,’ brushed against Seungjun’s ear.
“Hah.”
Seungjun unconsciously let a smirk play on his lips. This kind of cheap trick was new to him, and utterly preposterous. Had rumors of his preferences even spread among actors? Seungjun scanned Doyun’s long eyelashes, then shook his hand off.
“There are no roles for selling your body in my drama, so go look elsewhere.”
Leaving a stiff, flustered Doyun behind, Seungjun quickly pushed his foot into the gap of the closing elevator doors. As he strode inside, Doyun desperately followed.
“PD-nim, that’s not what I meant—”
“You said you worked with Nam Yiwon, so why come to me?”
Seungjun cut him off indifferently and turned around. The mention of Doyun having worked with Nam Yiwon piqued his curiosity. Doyun, unlike his earlier bold demeanor, opened his mouth cautiously.
“Well, uh… Director Nam Yiwon tends to avoid working with actors he’s already collaborated with on a project.”
“Really?”
Just as expected of a guy who never knew when to quit, he certainly had his quirks. Seungjun snickered in response, and Doyun awkwardly chuckled along. As soon as their conversation ceased, the elevator doors opened at a perfect moment. Seungjun strode out first, then sharply turned to stop Doyun, who was about to follow him.
“What was your name again?”
“It’s Kim Doyun!”
“Kim Doyun.”
“Yes. I look forward to—”
“I have a weak stomach, so I can’t work with someone as disgusting as you. If you show up for the audition tomorrow, I’ll fail you, so don’t bother coming.”
Seungjun returned the business card to the frozen Doyun and walked away without a backward glance. As he walked, a wave of contempt rose to his throat.
Such types of people always sickened him. If you’re an actor, you should aim to be cast based on talent, not resort to such brazen tactics. It was a disservice to fellow actors diligently preparing for auditions, and to all the passionate staff working on the drama. His audacious ploy suggested this wasn’t the first time Doyun had secured a role in such a manner.
Seungjun composed his expression and looked up. A familiar head was visible in the distance, adorned even in a suit with a flamboyant pattern that would typically suit a dress or a scarf.
“You’re here? Good morning.”
Nam Yiwon, without exception, greeted Seungjun with a bright smile again today. Seungjun nodded briefly in return and took his seat. As he pulled out his laptop, intending to print out his all-night notes for discussion, Nam Yiwon handed over the documents he was holding.
It was a writer’s resume. There wasn’t much text, so there was no need to take out his glasses. As Nam Yiwon leaned over the desk, supporting himself with his hand, a warm, heavy scent wafted towards Seungjun. Whether it was aftershave, cologne, or shampoo, the fact that he smelled different every time was, Seungjun mused, a talent in itself.