Would I have been delighted if someone other than Nam Yiwon had proposed co-directing? Was I truly… isolating myself in some impenetrable safe zone where no one could touch my work, just as he claimed? Slowly regressing, clinging to and endlessly revising the same script, chastising myself that I’d rather go to the South Pole, constantly fabricating excuses.
‘Was I running away?’
Seungjun, who had stood gazing at the dead end for what felt like an eternity, finally turned. He walked wherever his feet led him, eventually finding himself in the lounge.
Seungjun absently pulled out a chair and sank into it. He yearned to clear his head, to think rationally, but the emotional fallout of their encounter still churned within him. He clasped his hands together, burying his forehead in his palms, and closed his eyes. ‘Are you running away again?’ Nam Yiwon’s face, uttering those words, remained vividly etched in his mind, even behind his closed eyelids.
“But isn’t that Nam Yiwon guy incredibly strong-willed? I heard Seungjun hasn’t even confirmed he’ll do it yet, and he’s already given an interview.”
Still hunched over, Seungjun caught snippets of conversation from passersby. At the mention of Nam Yiwon’s name, his nerves instantly prickled. The interview that had surfaced today seemed to be the talk of the office. Unaware of Seungjun’s presence, they chattered on without reserve.
“That interview just came out today, so it was probably filmed some time ago. PD Baek must have shot it assuming he’d definitely agree.”
“Even so, if they’d wanted that part not aired, they would’ve contacted them for an edit. Isn’t it obvious they released it specifically for Seungjun to see?”
“But won’t PD Baek eventually agree? I heard rumors that if he collaborates with Director Nam Yiwon, it could even be the follow-up to
“You’d think he’d be a fool not to, right?”
“Yes.”
“But Baek Seungjun is exactly the type to do that. That guy is truly a stubborn bastard.”
He could tell who it was just by their voice: PD Gu Wonho.
His tightly shut eyes grew warm from the heat accumulating in his palms. When he frowned, the muscles between his brows twitched, pressing against his skin.
“But how did Director Nam Yiwon get immediate approval for a synopsis that wasn’t even his, one that had just been floating around for ages, to be scheduled as a follow-up to a popular show? Is it the director’s influence?”
“Oh, if it’s Nam Yiwon, he’d get that kind of treatment anywhere he goes.”
“Aren’t you disappointed, PD? The follow-up to
“If it’s after Nam Yiwon, it’s actually better. It’s bound to be more successful than
The voices gradually receded. Seungjun lifted his head, peeling his forehead from his palms. As his vision abruptly returned, his surroundings spun momentarily.
Even Gu Wonho, whom he had expected to be the most aggrieved, acknowledged Nam Yiwon’s talent. Everyone around him was asserting that it wasn’t the director’s influence but his sheer skill, that they yearned to learn from Nam Yiwon, that they *had* to learn, that it was an unparalleled opportunity.
Only he alone was resisting, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that truth.
As the dizziness gradually subsided, a rigidity settled in his heart. Seungjun buried his face in his hands, letting out a hollow, mirthless laugh.
****
When he returned to the editing room after a full hour of aimless wandering, Nam Yiwon was still there, replaying the drama Seungjun had been editing.
As the door swung open, Nam Yiwon tilted his head slightly, shifting his gaze. He seemed utterly unperturbed when they met again, as if he had known all along that Seungjun would return. Even the neatly groomed eyebrows beneath his beanie struck Seungjun as offensively calm.
“You’re back?”
“…….”
“Do you need more time?”
“I’ll do it.”
Seungjun forced out the words, his voice strained and rigid. Nam Yiwon’s impudent remarks still rankled, and his anger hadn’t fully dissipated, yet he knew he had no choice but to engage. Having come this far, he was resolved to see it through, to give it his absolute best. Properly.
“However, we’ll be doing this ‘together.’ You won’t be arbitrarily re-editing my work.”
“Of course. I look forward to working with you.”
Seungjun had anticipated defiance, yet Nam Yiwon simply stood and politely extended his hand for a handshake. Seungjun’s gaze flickered between the man’s brightly smiling face and his large hand before he reluctantly clasped it. Though the hand he held was of ordinary warmth, it felt strangely alien to his touch.
Any past entanglement between them was ancient history. Seungjun couldn’t begin to comprehend why Nam Yiwon was suddenly interested in co-directing with him now, making his distrust entirely natural. He had agreed to the collaboration, but knew their path ahead would be anything but smooth. Amidst this whirlwind of relief, irritation, and turmoil, Nam Yiwon gave the hand he held a gentle tug and smiled.
“Then we should assemble a team and schedule our first meeting. We’ll also need to secure a writer, as script work will begin in earnest. But first, Senior, what are you doing tomorrow?”
The instinctive lie of being busy almost escaped his lips, then retreated. It was futile to lie when they worked in the same building.
“Working, of course.”
“But it’s the weekend?”
“In our line of work, there’s no such thing as a ‘weekend’.”
“You mean helping PD Lee with the editing, right? I’ve already asked Heeseung to take care of it.”
“What?”
Had he anticipated this, and made arrangements beforehand? Lee Heeseung hadn’t uttered a single word about whose side she was on. She would undoubtedly be thrilled to hear he had accepted Nam Yiwon’s proposal. As Seungjun offered a bitter smile, Nam Yiwon abruptly leaned his head closer.
“Shall we meet tomorrow? Outside the station, that is.”
“Why would I meet you outside of work?”
Work was already stressful enough; did he expect Seungjun to endure him even after hours? When Seungjun replied with an expression of utter revulsion, Nam Yiwon placed a hand over his own chest.
“I don’t know about you, Senior, but I genuinely care about the people I collaborate with. We’ll be working face-to-face for months, so a tense atmosphere simply won’t do. It’s unfair to the staff we’ll be working alongside. A good relationship between us is crucial for the project to succeed.”
“So, you want us to go for a drink or something?”
“This.”
Nam Yiwon produced an envelope from within his coat and extended it. Upon seeing the pristine white envelope, Seungjun’s brow furrowed mercilessly.
Was he truly trying to placate people with money now? Perhaps he’d always lived comfortably, buying favor with cash, but it wouldn’t work on Seungjun. With a furious retort, Seungjun smacked the envelope away with the back of his hand.
“I’m not taking that.”
“Please accept it. Consider it a gesture of my goodwill.”
“What do you take me for, you bastard!”
To be forced to create a project about a righteous lawyer with *this* kind of guy—the grim reality made Seungjun’s temper erupt. He lunged, grabbing Nam Yiwon by the collar, but the man merely laughed. Tilting his head, Nam Yiwon rested his cheek against Seungjun’s hand, his lips parting as he whispered.
“Do you enjoy art exhibitions?”
An invitation ticket was clutched in the man’s hand. Seungjun’s gaze darted between the opened envelope and the ticket before he hastily withdrew his hand from Nam Yiwon’s lapel.
‘It wasn’t money after all.’
He’d misjudged the situation, assuming the worst from a man who constantly spoke of bribes. It was only natural to misunderstand when he’d so smoothly offered the envelope, urging Seungjun to accept it as a gesture of goodwill. His face burning with embarrassment, Seungjun averted his gaze as he replied.
“I don’t particularly care for them.”
“Why don’t we go see it together? It’s quite interesting.”
Nam Yiwon carefully refolded the envelope once more and tucked it into Seungjun’s coat. Instead of replying, Seungjun let out a long sigh.
Since they had agreed to work together, both of them undoubtedly wanted the collaboration to succeed. There would be plenty of infuriating moments ahead, and he couldn’t afford to lose his temper like this every single time. As Seungjun gave a reluctant nod, Nam Yiwon lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Senior.”
With that brief farewell, he exited the editing room. Seungjun, who had stood frozen in place for a long moment after the door closed, finally collapsed onto a chair as if his legs had given out.
‘Making a drama with Nam Yiwon.’
It felt utterly surreal, yet the faint trace of Nam Yiwon’s cologne, subtly clinging to the paper envelope, persistently lingered, reminding him of the situation again and again. Seungjun pushed the envelope aside and redirected his attention to the drama he had been editing. As he glanced at the screen to resume his work, the very scene Nam Yiwon had likely been watching unfolded before him.
—”I’ll do it, the contract relationship. What will the compensation be?”
Seungjun stared intently at the woman’s face, which, despite her brazen tone, was flushed crimson with humiliation. Her plight—cornered and ultimately forced to yield—felt disturbingly close to his own, leaving him with a heavy heart.
—”How much do you desire? Whatever sum you name, I will give you double.”
“Name 10 billion won.”
Seungjun muttered at the screen. However, befitting a romance drama protagonist, she, without greed, asked for half of the necessary hospital fees. Annoyance flared, and his fist instinctively clenched, but he quickly shook his head, dispelling the anger.
‘Just get to work.’ He steadied himself once more and resumed editing.
He had no time for dating, let alone a girlfriend, so why should he spend this precious weekend meeting Nam Yiwon?
Seungjun sipped his coffee and checked the time. 1:27 PM. He had agreed to meet at 2 PM at a cafe across from the Museum of Modern Art, but he had deliberately arrived early. Having set the meeting for an ambiguous 2 PM to avoid having lunch together, he had already eaten alone and was now leisurely enjoying his coffee. If Nam Yiwon were to suggest they sit and have coffee, he planned to refuse, claiming he’d already had some.
Of course, there was another reason for his early arrival besides ‘minimizing time spent with Nam Yiwon.’ Seungjun pulled out his phone and scrolled through the exhibition information he had found and saved yesterday.
Unlike himself, who possessed no knowledge of modern art—or any art, for that matter—Nam Yiwon seemed to enjoy visiting exhibitions. Normally, spending time together might involve movies, meals, drinks, or games, but the fact that he had offered an exhibition invitation as a gift suggested it was likely his regular hobby.