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Nam Yiwon arrived without warning, though Seungjun had never told him which hospital he was in. Seungjun had successfully chased off his peers with a litany of excuses—claiming he felt on the verge of collapsing from pain or too exhausted to open his eyes—but hadn’t had time to tidy himself up. He was hastily washing his face, attempting to salvage his shabby appearance, when Nam Yiwon made his entrance. Nam Yiwon’s attire was even more striking than the colorful fruit basket Seungjun’s friends had brought.
“I’m here. I thought about buying flowers, but I heard they might not be good for patients.”
Seungjun had worried that the get-well gift might be as overwhelming as Nam Yiwon’s outfit, but thankfully, Nam Yiwon arrived with a simple box of beverages.
Seungjun squinted, staring blankly at the box of Dezawa. It wasn’t the kind of drink typically given as a boxed gift, and its high caffeine content made it particularly unsuitable for a hospital visit. He briefly wondered why Nam Yiwon had chosen it, but then decided it was fine, as it happened to be a drink he enjoyed. Besides, he wasn’t overly sensitive to caffeine, and he was quite used to the cycle of dozing and waking up in bed.
As Seungjun immediately tore open the box and pulled out a can of Dezawa, Nam Yiwon dragged a chair over and sat down. Seungjun’s silent hope that he would just say hello and leave proved futile; Nam Yiwon seemed intent on staying in the hospital room for a while.
‘Just get out of here.’ Seungjun clutched the can of Dezawa in both hands, silently praying. Nam Yiwon asked gently,
“Are you feeling a bit better?”
“Oh, well. It’s nothing much. Just bad luck, I guess.”
Seungjun scratched his temple as he replied. He could have simply claimed the joint surgery was causing him pain and sent Nam Yiwon away, but he loathed showing any weakness in front of him. He refused to admit that this was his own doing, compounded by terrible luck. Clearing his throat, he changed the subject, his gaze falling upon the laptop bag Nam Yiwon was carrying.
“Why did you bring your laptop?”
“You must have been bored, Senior? I finished up the footage we almost completed and edited it. I brought it for you to see before we submit it.”
Nam Yiwon took the laptop out of his bag, placed it on his lap, and rolled up one sleeve. While he fiddled with the laptop, bringing up the finished video, Seungjun stared blankly at his focused face.
‘Nam Yiwon edited the entire video. While I was lying in the hospital.’
“There.” A sound of satisfaction finally escaped Nam Yiwon’s lips. He adjusted the laptop’s position so Seungjun could see it clearly, then smiled.
“You’re going to like it.”
Seungjun bit his lower lip and gripped the sheets tightly. He didn’t want to know what kind of trickery the self-assured, smiling guy had pulled in the editing. Whatever it was, it was sure to be far from his intentions.
‘I let myself be swayed by a comment about it being boring, added an ending that wasn’t there, and couldn’t participate in the editing at all. I also severely injured my knee. What for? To put my name on a competition entry that’s no longer mine, a competition where the winner is already decided?’
[It’s Nam Yiwon, after all. For an obscure competition like that, he’s a guaranteed winner.]
The faces of his peers, filled with scorn and mockery as they scoffed, flashed in his mind.
“No.” As soon as he hardened his resolve, Seungjun spoke. At his blunt, single word, Nam Yiwon looked up. Seungjun met his gaze directly and said,
“I don’t think I need to see it. I’m not doing it.”
“What?”
“It’s finished, so you can submit it. But please take my name off it.”
Nam Yiwon quietly furrowed his brow. He rolled his eyes around for a moment, as if trying to understand, then asked again,
“Why?”
“Isn’t it already decided that you’ll win the award anyway? I’m out.”
“…”
“You already won the screenplay award, and—”
He didn’t like the tone of the words that had burst out. Seungjun quickly added, “Everyone says you’ll win the award again this time, so why bother trying so hard? It’s already become ridiculous, and I just want to pull out now.” The longer he spoke, the fouler his mood became. It was natural to feel miserable, lying there injured with nothing to show for it, but it wasn’t just for that reason.
Nam Yiwon was smiling with an expression Seungjun had seen somewhere before. His eyes were narrowed, and the corners of his lips were curled into a smirk. It was the same face he’d seen in the hallway after the critique session, when people were loudly chattering, arms slung over broad shoulders. [It’s all just jealousy.] [I know.] That exact face, twisted into a wide, mocking smile as he looked back.
“I’m not just saying this, you can really submit it under your name. You shot it with me, after all.”
Having no desire to say more, Seungjun pulled the blanket over himself, signaling an end to the conversation. His injured knee throbbed, but he showed no sign of it. “I’m sorry you came all this way for that. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to rest. I’m feeling a bit tired.”
“Yes, of course.” Nam Yiwon replied compliantly, then quietly rose from his seat. In a situation where it wouldn’t have been surprising for him to explode in anger, demanding to know where Seungjun had heard such baseless rumors, he remained utterly composed.
‘If it wasn’t true, he would have denied it. He’s not angry because he’s going to get the award anyway, and he just needs to keep up appearances.’ A bitter laugh escaped Seungjun at the absurdity of it all. He’d been unlucky enough to catch the eye of some lunatic during the critique session and had suffered for it. To think he almost let himself be manipulated by such a madman to the very end—it was good he pulled out, even if late. Finally, it was over. Seungjun put on his earphones and started playing music. He closed his eyes, focusing only on the song reverberating in his ears, diverting his attention from the lingering scent of Nam Yiwon’s cologne in the room. Somehow, it didn’t feel as refreshing as he had imagined.
It was only later that Seungjun learned Nam Yiwon’s name wasn’t on the list of award winners. He heard that Nam Yiwon hadn’t submitted the video.
****
“…What the hell, now what?” His voice, still thick with sleep, cracked irritably. The alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, but his phone’s incessant vibrating had jolted him awake. Seungjun fumbled through the sheets for his phone, finally bringing it into view. Among the mountain of messages, the most recent one caught his eye first.
[LMAO just do it already. At this point, it’s love.]
[11:35 AM]
‘What’s all the fuss about? Did Nam Yiwon put out another ridiculous article?’ He blinked several times, and his vision sharpened. Checking the attached link, Seungjun flinched and tightened his grip on the phone. The very next moment, he shot upright with such force that he felt dizzy. His prediction that it involved Nam Yiwon was correct, but everything else was wrong. It wasn’t an article, but a video. Specifically, an interview preview, meticulously produced by a YouTube channel boasting millions of views. To make matters worse, it came with an even more audacious title.
[Preview] ‘A Challenge in Co-Direction’: Star Director Nam Yiwon’s Arduous Efforts and Passion
“This crazy bastard, seriously!”
Seungjun screamed, kicking furiously at the air. Just looking at the arrogant, smiling thumbnail, he could infer the interview’s overall tone. Nam Yiwon, dressed in a flamboyant patterned blue suit, had his hands clasped demurely. Seungjun pressed his thumb hard against that insufferable face.
True to a preview, the video opened with lively background music, and Nam Yiwon’s entrance was edited with dazzling flair. Seungjun let out a hollow laugh as the camera panned from Nam Yiwon’s gleaming shoes, up his long legs, and finally to his face. Immediately after showcasing a string of famous dramas Nam Yiwon had directed, his pale face filled the screen.
Perhaps he’d worn makeup for the broadcast, as his complexion appeared brighter than usual. For an educational channel that typically interviewed experts in various fields to zoom in so closely on a mere PD’s face, even showing his perfectly curled eyelashes, was utterly pathetic. Seungjun gritted his teeth and dragged the playback bar. Lacking the patience to watch the entire preview, he skipped randomly, landing on a scene where the interviewer was laughing and even applauding.
—”Your outfit today is quite flamboyant; rumor has it you often dress like this. Are you particularly interested in fashion?”
—”I just wear whatever looks interesting.”
—”Ah, forgive me for saying this, but hearing that, you seem to have a bit of an attention-seeking streak…”
—”Given my profession, I’m naturally sensitive to trends. I’m always thinking about how to make things more engaging.”
—”You manage to connect it like that, too?”
—”Of course. It all aligns perfectly.”
Nam Yiwon replied smoothly, smiling, not yielding an inch. Seungjun swiftly skipped through the scenes, searching for the part about co-direction. Every time the playback bar stopped, he saw Nam Yiwon striking various absurd poses—spreading his arms, crossing his legs, folding his arms—and Seungjun’s blood boiled.
As he skipped around, he finally found the segment where co-direction was mentioned. Seungjun leaned in, his ears perked up.
—”I really wanted to co-direct with PD Baek Seungjun, so I chased him down and persuaded him. I liked PD Baek’s synopsis that much, and since PD Baek Seungjun was my senior in college, we had a connection from our university days.”
—”Ah, so you’ve been close for a while?”
—”Yes. We even took classes together and have memories of preparing for a competition…”
“Memories, my foot!”
Unable to bear it any longer, Seungjun yelled at the screen. He shut off the video and scrolled down through his text messages. Since he hadn’t saved the number, he had to dig through spam messages to find Nam Yiwon’s. After a long search, Seungjun finally located the number and immediately pressed the call button.
Nam Yiwon answered after only a few rings. It was as if he had been waiting for the call, as he even omitted saying “Hello.”
—”Senior! To think you’d call me first.”
—”You bastard, where are you right now?”
—”Are you finally accepting? I’m thrilled.”
—”I asked where you are!”
—”I’m a bit busy at the moment, could I call you back later?”