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“It’ll ruin everything if we add a love line. You can have all the romance you want in your next project, but for this one, you’ll have to resist.”
“I’m just suggesting a touch of tension.”
‘It would be fun,’ Nam Yiwon thought, lightly gripping Seungjun’s forearm with a smile. They had already changed the protagonist’s name and age, even adding a female colleague who wasn’t there before. Curious to gauge the full extent of this guy’s intentions, Seungjun probed further.
“Are you going to make the protagonist forty?”
“How about early thirties? A young, competent lawyer isn’t entirely unrealistic. They inherited enough wealth to open their own office and passed the bar exam on their first try—a true prodigy! People love a genius protagonist, after all.”
Nam Yiwon chattered excitedly, rattling off his ideas. It seemed as if, having had such a smooth life himself, he assumed everyone else lived with the same carefree ease. A young, competent male protagonist in his early thirties, living with an attractive female colleague who was also a lawyer? It was utter nonsense that completely disregarded Seungjun’s initial premise of wanting to focus on the victims’ stories. Seungjun tilted his head, reiterating what he had already said in the meeting, speaking clearly into Nam Yiwon’s ear.
“A thirty-something can’t possibly have such firm convictions, I tell you. What would they even know at that age?”
“You’re in your early thirties too, Senior,” Nam Yiwon whispered, turning his head.
Having leaned in with the intention of drilling ‘absolutely not’ into his ear, Seungjun found Nam Yiwon’s breath so close it brushed his cheek. As Seungjun stubbornly held his ground, unwilling to yield, Nam Yiwon’s gaze slowly swept across his face.
After throwing out a remark that clearly required further explanation, he fell silent for a long moment. During that time, his gaze lingered intently beneath Seungjun’s chin, then by his ear. Unable to bear it any longer, Seungjun was the first to speak.
“Why are you bringing me into this?”
Nam Yiwon blinked, as if only then remembering they were in the middle of a conversation. Despite the uncomfortably close proximity, he remained rooted to the spot, hands tucked into his coat pockets.
‘He’s doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Calling me ‘Senior, Senior’ with those wide, innocent eyes, all while looking down on me.’ Seungjun met his stare, refusing to back down.
Finally, Nam Yiwon let out a short sigh. As he watched Nam Yiwon’s eyebrows curve upwards, the man stretched out a long leg, nudging his shoe between Seungjun’s feet. Forced to evade the encroaching foot, Seungjun ultimately took a step back.
He lifted his eyes to meet Nam Yiwon’s long, narrow ones. With his head tilted at an odd angle, it was hard to tell at a glance if he was smiling or maintaining a neutral expression. What was certain, however, was that his expression was different from when he had been talking about Kim Youngsik.
His lips parted, revealing perfectly even, pristine teeth. Seungjun looked up. Nam Yiwon was smiling.
“You also have strong convictions, Senior, don’t you? Your desire to convey a clear message through the drama, and to comfort those who’ve suffered through it, is quite evident.”
This was the very reason Seungjun had first picked up a pen and started writing the script. Nam Yiwon was now citing Seungjun’s own creative intent to bolster his argument for a thirty-something protagonist—the very intent he had previously seen and ignored.
Though it chafed, Seungjun couldn’t refute it. He knew himself to be somewhat stubborn when it came to his work, with a clear vision of what he wanted to achieve.
‘That bastard.’ Seungjun stomped roughly across the floor towards the exit. Nam Yiwon followed, chattering.
“Alright, alright, we’ll make him forty. But we’re changing the name, right?”
****
Before diving into detailed character settings and plot revisions, it was an undeniable reality that a private discussion with Nam Yiwon was necessary. Since they couldn’t afford to schedule a meeting only to end it with another power struggle, Seungjun decided to agree to Nam Yiwon’s proposal: to reach substantial agreement today, even if it meant staying late.
They moved to a cafe for their discussion. Unsure where to go, they searched for cafes in Suwon, only to find reviews primarily from couples. Though his mood was already soured, he resigned himself to the fact that there was little choice, given the cafe’s popularity. Among the options, Nam Yiwon chose one with a review titled, ‘Recommended as a romantic Suwon cafe date spot I visited with my oppa!’
The prospect of going to a place with Nam Yiwon that he’d never even visited with a romantic partner was unpleasant, but unavoidable. They settled into a retro-themed cafe, which had been converted from a residential house. It was bustling with people, especially couples, on a weekend, but other places would likely be no different.
The vibrant energy of couples enjoying a sunny autumn day together echoed through the spacious area. ‘Must be nice,’ Seungjun thought, looking around indifferently, as Nam Yiwon placed a tablet PC in front of him.
“I heard you initially worked on the script with a writer.”
“Ah… yes, I did.”
Seungjun drew out his words, clicking his tongue. It was almost embarrassing to call it a collaborative effort, as Seungjun had written nearly everything himself. The previous writer had left out of exasperation precisely because Seungjun had completely disregarded their input. They had stormed out, exclaiming, “I should have known better when everyone warned me against working with you! This is all my karma!” and then quit.
When Seungjun offered no further explanation, Nam Yiwon continued.
“We’re currently looking for a writer. We’re searching for someone with a bit more experience than a rookie, someone who can develop the script you’ve written. I’ll let you know once we’ve narrowed down the candidates.”
“Alright.”
Seungjun scoffed inwardly. ‘At best, it would be a writer he could easily manipulate.’ Nam Yiwon picked up a stylus and smiled.
“Well then, shall we start by discussing the character settings? I also want to change the title, but we can save that for later.”
“Is the name that important? Kim Youngsik. It’s not bad.”
“I understand you want an ordinary name rather than a cool one, but Kim Youngsik is just too much.”
“Even if the protagonist’s name is a bit old-fashioned, it can become a charming point if the drama’s content is good.”
“If that’s the case, we should go completely old-fashioned. Kim Youngsik is neither here nor there.”
“Haa… What name do you want for the protagonist, then?” Seungjun asked, weary from the bickering. Since he was vehemently against a protagonist romance, he had to compromise on the name. Nam Yiwon answered without hesitation.
“I think something more intense would be good. Like Eunhyeol or Hwiyul?”
‘Ah, damn it.’ Seungjun clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. He nearly swore aloud but barely managed to compose himself in time. ‘That bastard’s previous protagonists had perfectly normal names. He was clearly doing this on purpose to provoke him, and Seungjun wouldn’t be swayed.’
Fortunately, it seemed to be a joke, as Nam Yiwon grinned.
“I thought it would be good to have a character with the Chinese character for ‘upright’ (æ£) or ‘righteous’ (義) in their name, since they’re a righteous individual.”
For Nam Yiwon to utter something so sensible was almost moving. Considering he had even thought about the Chinese characters for the name, it was a considerable effort by his standards. Seungjun readily agreed.
“Not bad.”
“Eui-jin is also a common name, and Eui-chan is good too.”
“Eui-chan is good. It’s a name that a forty-year-old could have.”
“How about Shin for the surname? Shin Eui-chan. It seems to roll off the tongue quite well.”
“I like it.”
The start was promising. Nam Yiwon, quick to secure an agreement, added with a smile.
“Let’s scrap the ‘widower’ setting; it’s too cliché, isn’t it?”
“…Alright. But no romance.”
“And currently, while there’s a versatile supporting role like a secretary, it’s essentially a one-man show for lawyer Shin Eui-chan. I think it would be better to add two like-minded lawyer colleagues and make it a team.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Diverse character relationships make it easier for viewers to find the characters appealing, and they maintain interest outside of the main plot, leading to less viewer drop-off. We’d just be keeping your main episodes and increasing the number of lead characters.”
“You can’t just increase the headcount; those three need distinct roles when solving cases. Otherwise, it would be better to just add more secretaries.”
“If they’re taking on cases that don’t pay well but still employ multiple secretaries, then we might as well make the protagonist a chaebol! Like Batman—quite charming, wouldn’t you say?”
Seungjun narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Nam Yiwon’s smug face. At this point, it was hard to tell if he was being serious or joking.
Nam Yiwon took out his stylus and began sketching a relationship chart on his tablet PC.
“So, we have three lawyers. The protagonist, Shin Eui-chan, one female lawyer who shares Shin Eui-chan’s ideals, and one male lawyer who was originally a prosecutor but was cast aside by the chief prosecutor due to a case he handled, and then became a lawyer. These three were all peers.”
This was a surprisingly well-thought-out setup. Seungjun focused on the relationship chart, listening intently. Nam Yiwon drew a large circle encompassing the three smaller ones.
“From a distance, all three appear to be helping the wronged and pursuing justice. However, for there to be conflict, each character’s pursuits and values must be distinctly different, right? This female lawyer is someone who will use any means necessary for justice, and that puts her at odds with the protagonist.”
Having heard this much, Seungjun could deduce the role of the remaining character. He tapped the last circle with his middle finger, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
“And the guy who was cast aside by the chief prosecutor is there for revenge? Since the chief prosecutor is the main villain of the drama. So, in the end, he’s the one who helps the protagonist bring down the chief prosecutor, but unlike the protagonist who seeks justice, his sole motivation was revenge.”
“Exactly!”
“That’s actually good. It could be fun as a team. If we go that route, let’s get rid of the secretary.”
Listening further, Seungjun found himself intrigued, and the setup wasn’t as preposterous as he’d initially thought; it piqued his interest. He liked that the two characters Nam Yiwon proposed would highlight the ‘good’ that the protagonist pursued. Weaving three main characters with different personalities and values into each case also seemed like it would be enjoyable. Seungjun began actively contributing ideas, even listing several suitable actors and compiling a joint list.
After a long, spirited discussion, his throat began to ache. Remembering his forgotten coffee, he reached for it belatedly to quench his thirst, only to find the ice had completely melted, leaving it watery and tasteless. He glanced at Nam Yiwon’s drink; the rim of his cup was clean, as if he hadn’t touched it once.