A Day of Scouting and Squabbles

Seungjun gripped the sandwich, his gaze sweeping the luxurious interior. Of course, it was a baguette, practically designed to unleash a storm of crumbs. The sheer opulence of the car made him acutely aware of every potential mess.

“Can I really eat this in here? I’m bound to make a mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” Nam Yiwon replied smoothly. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Nam Yiwon merely shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. Seungjun racked his brain, certain he’d seen that insufferable face before. Then it clicked: it was the same smirking arrogance he’d witnessed in a meeting, when Yiwon had airily dismissed a proposal with, ‘Were you perhaps trying to devise a surefire way to fail?’

‘Eat comfortably? What a load of pretentious nonsense.’ Seungjun, a man not known for his delicate eating habits to begin with, purposefully dug his teeth into the crusty baguette. He devoured it with exaggerated crunching sounds, making an even bigger mess than usual, simply to spite the man beside him. He loudly brushed the cascading crumbs and stray lettuce from his thigh, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, with deliberate casualness, smeared it onto the seat. When Nam Yiwon risked a sidelong glance, Seungjun escalated his torment, repeatedly dropping the paper bag to the floor and retrieving it, all while maintaining a look of innocent concentration.

By the time the sandwich was devoured, the passenger seat had become a veritable battlefield of crumbs and stray ingredients. Seungjun cleared his throat with an ostentatious ‘ahem’ and smirked.

“Oh dear. Looks like someone’s got some cleaning to do, wouldn’t you say?”

“Did you enjoy it?” Nam Yiwon asked, his tone unnervingly even.

“Yeah. Didn’t you have any?” Seungjun retorted.

“I’ve tried it before,” Yiwon replied. “But you seem to be enjoying it immensely, Senior.”

A warmth spread through Seungjun; was Yiwon subtly shaming him for wolfing down his food? If so, it was a small victory. If this minor act of vandalism allowed Yiwon even a sliver of insight into the irritation Seungjun felt at having to spend his last day off with him, then it was worth it. A distinct improvement in his mood, Seungjun offered a lopsided grin.

“What, is this another one of those Michelin-starred, ‘number one in the country’ places, then?”

“No, not at all. Just a decent local spot that I thought was quite good,” Nam Yiwon replied.

Seungjun snorted, a brief, derisive sound, before turning his gaze to the passing scenery. While he still found Nam Yiwon’s ostentatious display grating, the pleasant weather made cruising in a sports car surprisingly tolerable. As they emerged from a narrow alley, Nam Yiwon spoke again.

“Have you perhaps considered any neighborhoods for the protagonist’s residence? If it’s in Seoul, I’d like to visit it first.”

“And where exactly are you planning to go?” Seungjun countered.

“I’m thinking Jeonju or Suwon. Suwon seems like the better option, given its proximity.”

Recalling a handful of popular filming locations, Seungjun pressed him.

“Suwon Hwaseong Fortress?”

“Yes. I scouted it for my last drama, and it was quite lovely. We didn’t end up filming there, but it left an impression.”

“We are not making a romantic comedy,” Seungjun stated flatly.

The locations Nam Yiwon favored were precisely the kind sought for picturesque, youthful backdrops in romantic dramas, a point Seungjun absolutely had to address. He could tolerate many things, but injecting romance into a genre drama was anathema. Yet, Nam Yiwon remained utterly unperturbed, as if his suggestion hadn’t carried any such romantic implications.

“I simply thought it would make a suitable neighborhood for the protagonist’s residence.”

“Let’s just go there first,” Seungjun conceded, then added, “Oh, and for the protagonist’s office, I’m considering either the Sillim-dong or Euljiro area.”

Seungjun maintained a deliberately stiff tone, intent on asserting that the ultimate decision-making power lay with him. Without a firm boundary, there was no telling how far Nam Yiwon might intrude. Yiwon was precisely the sort to not only cross lines but to gleefully stomp all over another’s metaphorical foot and then, for good measure, launch himself into the air from it.

He envisioned Kim Youngsik’s law office, founded by the protagonist himself, nestled within a slightly disheveled, narrow alley. It felt fitting for a hero, one who championed the unjustly wronged, to possess such an unassuming, everyman background. His hope was that viewers, enduring their own arduous daily lives, would watch this drama not to escape reality, but to draw strength and solace from it, perhaps even discovering their own versions of Kim Youngsik within their personal struggles.

Nam Yiwon, of course, would never grasp such profound intent. It was all too easy to imagine him spouting something like, ‘A problem solver’s office this cramped? Unacceptable. Young people today despise anything so shabby. He must be utterly mad to court failure like this.’

Seungjun was inwardly rehearsing the very words Yiwon would undoubtedly utter, his facial muscles twitching in a silent grimace, when Nam Yiwon abruptly thrust his phone forward.

“Oh, Senior. Take a look at this. It’s been getting quite a lot of positive buzz.”

The video playing on the phone was none other than PD Lee Seonggyu’s romantic comedy, the very one Seungjun had assisted in editing some time ago.

‘Ah, so it must have aired by now.’ A flicker of curiosity stirred in Seungjun, prompting him to hit play. The scene that unfolded showed the female lead, tears streaming down her face, speaking to her grandfather, who lay in a vegetative state. She recounted only pleasantries, carefully suppressing the bitterness she’d endured at the hands of the arrogant male lead. ‘Grandpa, don’t you worry. I had such a wonderful day today! You wouldn’t believe what happened…’

As her beautifully fabricated lies continued to flow, the unconscious grandfather’s finger twitched ever so slightly. The female lead, witnessing this subtle movement, clasped his hand tightly, a radiant smile blooming on her face.

“Grandpa? Can you hear me? I love you.”

“This is truly insufferable.”

Seungjun let out a derisive snort, only then remembering that he wasn’t alone. Nam Yiwon cast a fleeting glance his way.

“Why?” Yiwon prompted.

“It’s just ridiculous.”

“What is?”

Seungjun attempted to dismiss it casually, but Yiwon proved tenacious. With an air of bored indifference, Seungjun finally replied.

“The whole elaborate charade of lying to a dead man.”

“He’s not dead, though,” Nam Yiwon countered.

“If that’s not dead, then what exactly is it?” Seungjun muttered, his gaze drifting out the car window.

After muttering disinterestedly, Seungjun turned his gaze out the car window. He expected further probing, but Nam Yiwon remained silent. It was only when Seungjun began to drift into a light doze that the other man finally spoke again.

“By the way, Senior, you’re not still dwelling on what I said during the meeting, are you?”

“Not in the slightest. Business is business. You, on the other hand, need to learn to separate the two,” Seungjun retorted, his expression unreadable.

‘Such was the truth of his feelings, but there was no need to reveal them. Not to that perverse bastard who clearly thrived on the torment of others.’

Without another word, Nam Yiwon’s eyes crinkled into a sharp, knowing crescent. The subtle curve of his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips—it was a smile that seemed to say he knew everything, and it made Seungjun’s gut twist with irritation.

‘I’ll just sleep,’ Seungjun decided, crossing his arms and leaning back, his eyes fluttering shut.

****

Racing down the highway in the sports car, they reached Suwon in what felt like the blink of an eye. Having agreed to maximize efficiency, they promptly parked and made their way directly to Haengnidan-gil.

Seungjun walked beside Nam Yiwon, their paces perfectly synchronized. It was a remarkably beautiful late autumn day, the clear sky showering them with brilliant sunlight.

Being particularly fond of walking, Seungjun found his spirits lifting with each step. He inhaled the crisp, fresh air deeply, continuing his stroll. Nam Yiwon, bless his heart, maintained a respectful distance and remained silent throughout their walk. Though Seungjun occasionally felt Yiwon’s gaze, he was simply grateful for the quiet and chose not to provoke him.

“If we were to film now, the autumn foliage is at its peak; it would be quite beautiful, wouldn’t it? A bit of a shame.”

After a considerable stretch of walking, Nam Yiwon finally broke the silence. The trees, their late autumn leaves ablaze with the fiery hues of sunset, presented a stunning tableau. Seungjun slowly took in the beautiful vista before responding.

“No. A winter backdrop would be far more fitting. It would better complement the unjustly wronged, those who possess nothing, much like these stark, skeletal trees.”

“Here we are,” Nam Yiwon announced.

Without a word of warning, Nam Yiwon halted abruptly at the mouth of an alley. Seungjun, whose mind had been conjuring images of a pale winter sky and skeletal tree branches, looked up. Yiwon was gazing intently at an old, two-story house nestled in a secluded corner at the very end of the narrow lane.

It was a two-story dwelling, featuring low railings. With two doors on the first floor and two more on the second, it was a spacious, old-fashioned house, capable of housing four families, however cramped. Constructed of red brick, it possessed a charmingly weathered yet robust appearance. Its dark green doors, adorned with traditional landscape paintings, spoke of bygone eras. A small vegetable patch graced the front, and the mental image of Kim Youngsik tending to it struck Seungjun as remarkably fitting and appealing.

To his surprise, it wasn’t bad at all. Not merely aesthetically pleasing, but it felt genuinely plausible as the home of a character like Kim Youngsik. As Seungjun peered into the small vegetable patch, Nam Yiwon squatted down beside him.

“It’s an older house, but charming, isn’t it? A protagonist living in a place like this feels so much more authentic and appealing than one in an apartment or officetel. Apparently, all the units are vacant right now, except for one room upstairs.”

“It’s actually not bad,” Seungjun conceded. “So, other people rent the downstairs units, and Kim Youngsik, as the landlord, lives on the first floor.”

Seungjun chatted animatedly. While the drama wouldn’t necessarily feature the neighbors, he found himself drawn to the idea that Kim Youngsik wouldn’t be living alone here. He liked the thought of a bustling crowd surrounding a seemingly gruff man who appeared to have few friends. He wanted Kim Youngsik to be a character who, despite stubbornly pursuing unprofitable work based solely on his convictions, was beloved by many precisely because of his inherent goodness.

Seungjun pulled out his phone’s notepad, eager to jot down the ideas that were rapidly forming. As he diligently typed, Nam Yiwon’s dark hair unexpectedly intruded into his peripheral vision.

“What if the protagonist has an emotional attachment to this house?”

‘Here we go again.’ Seungjun knew, without needing to hear it, that whatever came next would be pure nonsense. He turned to Nam Yiwon, a forced, sickly smile plastered on his face. Yiwon’s crescent-shaped eyes sparkled above the collar of his vivid blue coat.

Despite consistently referring to Kim Youngsik as ‘the protagonist’—a clear indication that he disliked the character’s name—Yiwon was still grinning widely. Seungjun sighed. It was a question he dreaded asking, but he had to.

“What kind of attachment?”

“Perhaps it’s the sole inheritance left by his deceased parents?”

“…Deceased parents?”

“Yes. What if they died due to some injustice? That’s why the protagonist became a lawyer. He’s steeped in misanthropy and pessimism, unable to trust people. On the surface, he seems indifferent, but in reality, he’s more humane than anyone. It’s a house too large for him to live in alone, but his attachment prevents him from selling it, so he lives here, and the neglected vegetable patch is overgrown.”

Nam Yiwon babbled on, gesturing around the house. His flushed, excited face and almost mesmerized eyes suggested he was completely lost in his own fantasy.

“So, he looks for a housemate to help manage the place, and that housemate also happens to be a lawyer who shares his ideals! A fiery woman would be perfect.”

Seungjun, who had been staring blankly as if watching a madman, flinched, his brows furrowing. ‘A woman?’ A premonition of disaster struck him. He shot up from his squatting position, demanding,

“Suddenly a woman? And you want them to live together?”

“Having colleagues and many supporting characters makes for a richer story. They’d live together, but the house is so big, they’d have separate rooms. Even so, with a man and a woman under one roof, the male lead would be like an asexual, never talking to her about anything outside of work.”

“It’s not a romance.”

“They’d take on cases together, solve them, grow closer, and the woman would develop feelings for this stoic man, and just then, the case they’re working on—”

“No. Absolutely no romance.”

Knowing Yiwon would undoubtedly ignore him, Seungjun cut him off, his tone several times more resolute than usual. A love line in a genre drama was utterly out of the question. He stiffened his expression, emphasizing his point once more.