“Seungjun, you *have* to do this. If you don’t, I will. Nam Yiwon, of all people! This isn’t an opportunity that comes around every day. It’s incredibly difficult to make a huge splash in this field.”
“The man who’s already had a massive hit is just feigning modesty. What was that lawyer-prosecutor romance you did last time, `
At PD Lee Seonggyu’s good-natured jab, Gu Wonho waved a dismissive hand.
“Ah, but I haven’t had anything since then either, you know.”
Ignoring the back-and-forth chatter, Seungjun rummaged through his pockets. He shook out a crumpled cigarette pack, only to find it utterly empty. ‘Just my luck,’ he thought with an inward sigh, ‘when nothing else is going right, even this has to annoy me.’ Irritated, he crumpled the empty pack and shoved it deep into his jacket pocket.
“Here.”
The quick-witted Gu Wonho swiftly extended a cigarette. Seungjun hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly took it. In that precise moment, a single cigarette was an absolute necessity.
“Hey, even if that’s the case, Gu PD nurtured Baek Seungjun since he was an assistant director. Should he really be acting so humble? Baek Seungjun, that guy truly lacks any sense of loyalty.”
“He’s ten centimeters taller than me; what do you mean I ‘nurtured’ him? Our Seungjun grew up just fine on his own and made his debut.”
Gu Wonho chuckled good-naturedly, brushing off the comment, and went a step further, even lighting Seungjun’s cigarette for him. He then added, with a sly grin,
“Hey, Seungjun. Later, you should introduce me to Director Nam Yiwon as well. I heard Nam Yiwon is close with Writer Kim Iji. Who knows? Maybe he’ll even set up a connection for me.”
“Hey, ‘close’ is an understatement. They slept together.”
“Really? They dated?”
“No, not dating. They just… sleep together. Nam Yiwon is notoriously famous for leveraging his looks.”
Letting the irritating words wash over him, Seungjun drew deeply on his cigarette. Acrid smoke billowed into his nose and mouth, and for a moment, the pungent bitterness dulled his senses, making Nam Yiwon’s voice fade from his mind. As irritation, anger, and a simmering rage all mixed and muddled together, he felt a fleeting sense of relief. He knew it was merely a temporary effect, yet it was precisely this that made quitting smoking an impossibility.
Unable to bear Seungjun’s silent smoking any longer, Lee Seonggyu finally broke the quiet.
“Why are you stubbornly refusing? That project you’re supposedly working on, you’ve been clinging to it for years, doing nothing but endless revisions. Even the writer who started it with you eventually fled. What exactly are you planning to do? Before you even consider Nam Yiwon ruining your work, you should be worrying about whether you’ll even get to make the drama at all.”
“I won’t do it. If it means going to the South Pole, then so be it, but I will absolutely never work with a man like that.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Even if that’s your stance, what about Heeseung, who followed you all the way to the desert? Don’t you feel any pity for her? Are you truly willing to drag her all the way to the South Pole again, just to uphold your pride?”
As Lee Heeseung, whom he had momentarily forgotten, was brought into the conversation, a sharp throb resonated in his head. She was the sole junior who had persevered under him without ever fleeing. Her skin, deeply tanned from their time in the desert, still hadn’t fully recovered; if he were to suggest going to the South Pole now, she would undoubtedly make her escape.
Although he hadn’t yet discussed the matter with Heeseung, their shared aspirations meant they generally worked well together. Lee Heeseung, a workaholic with decidedly perfectionist tendencies, might also harbor a strong aversion to collaborating with Nam Yiwon. After all, Nam Yiwon’s melodramatic productions were infamous for their impulsive script revisions, his willingness to employ any provocative directorial flourish, and his tendency to grind his staff into the ground to achieve a shot. Anyone who had weathered a few years in this industry could easily predict the outcome without even experiencing it firsthand. While everyone else would undoubtedly advise him to accept Nam Yiwon’s offer, driven solely by the potential for buzz, Heeseung, who had harmonized with him for so long, might just offer a different perspective.
Regardless, he knew he had to broach the subject with Heeseung. As he gazed at the rising curl of cigarette smoke, his thoughts heavy and conflicted, Gu Wonho clapped a hand onto his shoulder.
“Seungjun, just try to look at the bright side. Even if Nam Yiwon is a complete madman, he undeniably makes good dramas. So what if the plausibility gets thrown out the window and ends up in the Middle East? It’s entertaining, isn’t it? That’s a talent in itself, you know?”
Seungjun offered no reply, merely glaring up at the sky. Kim Yuna, as if struck by a sudden thought, gestured, drawing their attention.
“Hey. Speaking of which, Nam Yiwon was absolutely something else back in our college days, wasn’t he? Remember?”
It was just another one of their usual college reminiscences, something they indulged in whenever boredom struck. What was so new about *this* particular story? Instead of Seungjun, who remained stubbornly silent, Gu Wonho’s eyes lit up with eager interest.
“That’s right. You two went to college together, didn’t you? Was Nam Yiwon also in your year?”
“Nam Yiwon was a year below us. Anyway, we all attended together, and he was incredibly famous.”
Famous. It was a singular word that felt almost paltry, utterly failing to encapsulate Nam Yiwon’s extravagant exploits during his college years. Seungjun let out a bitter, hollow laugh.
Nam Yiwon was famous.
While there were a handful of others renowned for their striking looks or esteemed family backgrounds, none possessed the unique notoriety of Nam Yiwon.
For instance, even among those born with a silver spoon, a guy who had an entire building named after his father prominently standing on the university campus, with even all the faculty being acquaintances of his older sister, would leave a far more indelible impression on his classmates’ memories than someone who merely drove foreign cars or decked themselves out in luxury brands from head to toe. While one could readily accept a handsome man dressing impeccably, a person who appeared in entirely different outfits for morning and afternoon classes made one truly wonder what kind of individual they were.
— A silver spoon, born into a privileged family, who had never once known hardship in their entire life.
— The youngest son aspiring to become a PD, whose older sister was the director of the drama department.
— A naive fool with a head full of frivolous thoughts, perpetually surrounded by flatterers.
If he had only stopped there, he might have simply been remembered as an insufferable jerk. But such individuals rarely know when to quit.
Nam Yiwon possessed a particularly twisted hobby.
“You remember Myungseon, don’t you? Im Myungseon. His nickname was ‘Bodhisattva,’ wasn’t it?”
At Yuna’s words, everyone looked at Seungjun. He silently averted his gaze. As he stared at the fluffy clouds drifting across the sky, Im Myungseon’s gentle, innocent face came to mind. He had run into him once or twice, as Myungseon was now working as a sound director.
“He truly was a bodhisattva. Even if a junior threw up on his clothes, he’d just laugh it off. Even if people in his group project were habitually late for meetings, he’d just laugh. Everyone used to say that even if his girlfriend cheated on him, Im Myungseon wouldn’t get angry.”
“How is that even possible? Is he some kind of well-socialized sociopath?”
“No, not at all. He’s just unbelievably kind. Even now, he never says a harsh word. They say that once, an actor kept taking calls and making a huge fuss during sound recording, and Myungseon just kept smiling the whole time.”
“Wow, that’s truly impressive.”
“But that same Im Myungseon once threw his spoon down while eating at the cafeteria and yelled at Nam Yiwon. I’d never seen Myungseon that angry before.”
Exactly how Nam Yiwon managed to provoke Myungseon remained unknown. While Seungjun had never heard the precise details, he could fully understand Myungseon’s frustration. Nam Yiwon had an extraordinary knack for getting under people’s skin.
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know either. Anyway, Nam Yiwon had more than one victim. Back when we were in school, there were a lot of quirky, eccentric, even crazy kids, and Nam Yiwon approached each and every one of them and befriended them all.”
“Why would he do that? Is he a pervert?”
“Seungjun, you should rein in your eccentricity and just work. The rumor about you going wild at work might have spread, and that’s why Nam Yiwon came looking for you.”
As Gu Wonho chimed in with a smirk, a furrow deepened between Seungjun’s brows, who had been listening silently. He cut off the conversation’s flow with a resolute statement.
“He’s just messing with people; why look for a reason in such nonsense?”
Gu Wonho’s awkward chuckle filled the ensuing silence. The problem lay with the one doing the teasing, not the one being teased. Whatever bizarre fetish Nam Yiwon harbored, it was none of Seungjun’s concern. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath.
His gaze drifted aimlessly across the sky, which had grown slightly darker. Fragmented memories of his college days surged in and receded. After recalling several fleeting connections, his consciousness settled on the face of a professor, much younger than he was now. Seungjun still remembered a casual remark the professor had made back then.
[Do you know Nam Yiwon?]
“Oh, and there was also Dormy among our classmates, remember?”
“Dormy? Ah, as in, ‘Do you believe in the Way?’”
“Exactly. He was the kind of kid who’d stop strangers and try to befriend every student in the school, just like Dormy, and Nam Yiwon also…”
“I’m leaving.”
Not wanting to hear any more, Seungjun stubbed out his cigarette and bid them farewell. Since Nam Yiwon’s peculiar antics had captured everyone’s attention, they let Seungjun leave without a word.
Seungjun walked toward the editing room, his mouth feeling dry. Lately, he had been assisting another team with documentary editing. He hoped that by immersing himself in work, he could avoid thinking about anything until the day ended. With the intention of forcefully cramming his mind with tasks, Seungjun quickened his pace.
Amidst the echoing footsteps in the hallway and the murmur of passing people, the professor’s voice seemed to resonate. Even as he walked, eyes fixed straight ahead, memories from the past unexpectedly resurfaced, seizing Seungjun’s consciousness.
[It would be good if you two got along. There’s something you can learn from Nam Yiwon.]
Recalling that memory, still so vivid, Seungjun let out a hollow laugh. He knew the professor, who had always doted on him and offered generous advice, had spoken his honest feelings without any ulterior motive.
Nevertheless, he still couldn’t understand.
What on earth could he possibly learn from Nam Yiwon?
“PD Baek. Is it true you’re co-directing with Director Nam Yiwon?”
“I’m not.”
“PD Baek! Just now, Director Nam Yiwon—”
“I’m not doing it.”
Seungjun replied to the questions he passed by without slowing his pace. It was Heeseung who suddenly blocked his path, having been walking with his gaze fixed on the editing room.
“Sunbae.”
At the familiar voice, his vision finally broadened. Her face, bearing the clear marks of her struggles in the desert, came into view.