Lee Jun-seong stood for a moment outside his family’s home, eyes closed, for the first time in ages.
If he claimed he wasn’t at all jealous when he was crashing at Chanhyeon’s place, that would’ve been a lie. But he did his best not to show it.
Yet maybe it did show.
“Seeing me with my parents, it’s all over your face how jealous you are, you little punk.”
Recalling what Chanhyeon had said, Jun-seong let out a little laugh.
Ding-dong.
“Who’s…?”
His mother’s voice came weakly through the intercom and then cut off. A moment later, the main gate swung open, and someone rushed out.
“Jun-seong? Is that you, Jun-seong?”
His mother practically bolted out in her bare feet, yanked open the gate, and threw her arms around him.
“You brat… you terrible brat… sniff…”
After that, his father and younger sister came out, too.
Unlike his mother, his father’s face showed no sorrow or happiness—only a faint anger.
“So you’ve finally decided to listen to me?”
“Your son’s come home for the first time in ages—why would you say that right away? Have you eaten, dear? How’ve you been getting by all this time?”
“First things first, we need to settle what needs settling.”
As soon as she heard his father, his mother glanced at him like she was blaming him for being so curt, but it didn’t seem to faze him.
Even after six years, his father really hadn’t changed. The look in his eyes, like he was seeing some kind of mutant, still made Jun-seong’s body freeze up.
But if he caved again, he was sure he’d never walk the path he wanted. So he clenched his fists.
“Father’s right. Mom, there are some things that need taking care of first.”
“….”
But she did smile a little at him, probably relieved he’d finally come home.
Stepping back into the house for the first time in so long, he saw that it looked even better than before, almost like all the financial worries from the IMF period had turned out to be for nothing.
“So you’ve made a decision?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then go study abroad first.”
“No. That’s not the path I’ve chosen.”
At that, his father’s brow creased more deeply.
“What?”
“I came here because I want your recognition.”
“Recognition…?”
“Yes. My friend and I recently worked on a film.”
“A cheap little piece of entertainment?”
His father’s words were sharp.
He’d sworn on the way over not to get emotional, but that was easier said than done.
“Movies aren’t something you can dismiss like—”
“Dismiss? TV is what really moves the world. What exactly can a movie do?”
“But—”
“That’s your problem. Why can’t you look even one step ahead?”
Jun-seong clenched his fists again.
He’d already run away from home six years ago because he couldn’t stand not being heard. But compared to the insults and condescension he’d faced at part-time jobs, this was nothing.
“It might be true that TV moves the world, but film moves way more money than TV ever could.”
His father seemed taken aback by that response.
“You ran away because you wanted to make movies, and now you’re talking about money?”
“You’re saying movies have nothing to do with money?”
“Of course. Has there even been a successful film in this country? Movies aren’t a profitable art form.”
Lighting a cigarette, his father went on,
“The art that makes money is that kind of thing, the kind whose value grows over time.”
He pointed to a famous painting behind him. He’d bought it cheap years ago, and its value had been rising ever since, something he’d bragged about since Jun-seong was little.
“I’m going to pursue an art business that doesn’t get tossed around by time.”
“Business?”
His father took a long drag, exhaled, and locked eyes with him.
“What are you trying to say?”
“I didn’t realize it before, but I guess I’m a lot like you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Flicking the ash off his cigarette, his father waited, curious what he meant.
“I used to think I had some artistic talent, but I don’t. The more I get into filmmaking, the more I find myself obsessing about costs.”
“Costs?”
“Yes. Whenever I see a movie, I wonder how much it took to make it, or how they could’ve done it for less. It’s always on my mind.”
“Then you should’ve listened to me from the start and studied business—”
“No.”
It was the first time in his life he’d ever cut off his father mid-sentence. And yet he wasn’t afraid. Nor was he emotional. He was simply acting on clearheaded logic.
“I’m interested in the film business. Investors, production, distribution, and even entertainment agencies—right now, it’s all a blue ocean.”
“What…?”
He was sure his father still saw him as that same kid who ran off six years ago in some movie-fueled delusion. In his father’s eyes, the current Jun-seong couldn’t be much different from the old one.
“If we do what I have in mind, we’ll make a lot of money.”
“Probably just in the local market.”
“No.”
His quick response made his father frown again. He realized his son wasn’t just spouting nonsense; it felt like he’d come prepared for every question.
“If I work with my friend, Director Gyeong Chanhyeon, we definitely won’t be stuck in a local niche.”
“A friend?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t I teach you that friends are the most useless thing in the world? Especially in business…”
“This one’s different. He’s really talented. And I’m actually crashing at his place right now.”
“Huh, so you run away from this house and mooch off someone else?”
“Yes.”
“…”
His father looked visibly rattled.
“You sure he’s not after something?”
“He once told me, ‘Just because a crazy rich guy has money doesn’t mean he’s not still crazy.’ And he really doesn’t seem to expect anything from me.”
“That’s kind of funny. So you’re saying this friend of yours isn’t swayed by money?”
“That’s exactly why I want to work with him—me as the producer, and him as the director.”
His father just glared at him, thinking how much had changed in six years. The whiny kid who’d run out of the house crying was gone; he almost felt like he was staring at a younger version of himself.
“Right now, the film we made together is being shown in theaters.”
“Schild Cinema?”
That was a local multiplex chain.
“No, it’s at the Agape Theater in Jongno.”
“What?”
“You’d be shocked by the lines out front. Why don’t you watch it and decide for yourself?”
“I’m not watching anything.”
At that, Jun-seong got up. Finally, his mother, who’d been just watching, spoke.
“You’re leaving already? At least have a meal before you go.”
“I’ve got a shift soon. I have to get going.”
Stepping outside, his father remained seated, lighting up another cigarette. Only his mom and sister followed him out.
He ruffled his younger sister Yeji’s hair. It’d been years since he last saw her, and she was already college age.
“How’d you do on the college entrance exam?”
“That’s the first thing you ask after all this time?”
“What, you want me to pick you up in my arms and cry with you or something?”
He suddenly remembered the way Chanhyeon and Sang-hyeon would hug and cry, and had to stifle a laugh.
“You do that, and I’ll kill you.”
“Hey, just don’t cause problems for Mom and Dad, okay? I’m already the freak in the family.”
“I’m a good daughter, you know.”
Yeji pouted, and their mom looked at him worriedly.
“You’re okay living where you are now?”
“It’s great. The guy I’m living with is a total foodie, so the meals are incredible. His family’s super nice, too.”
“I’d like to go see for myself sometime—”
“No, it’s fine. This is my debt, and I need to repay it.”
“The part-time job isn’t dangerous, is it?”
“I’m at a fast-food place. I’ll be careful, so don’t worry too much.”
It looked like his mother was on the verge of tears, seeing her son go again so soon after six long years.
He himself felt tears threaten, so he clenched his fists tighter.
“I’m really gonna be late. I’m off now! I’ll see you next time!”
“All right, be careful!”
“Bye, you ungrateful son!”
As he walked away, getting smaller in the distance, his mother pulled Yeji into a tight hug.
“Thank God, thank God. Your brother turned out all right.”
“He’s still ungrateful, though.”
“But at least he grew into a decent person.”
“I guess I’ll give him that.”
A few days later, an odd rumor sprang up at the theater:
They’d sold out every seat, but only three people came inside.
His dad immediately called him, and he showed up at the theater.
“Must be something rich people do,” he said.
“What? Why would rich folks come here? You know anything about this?”
“Oh, come on, Dad—why can’t rich people watch movies?”
“I mean, why would they come to a small theater like this…?”
“They said they’re here to see The Woman in the Secret Room. You don’t trust your own son’s drawing power?”
“That’s not it, it’s just weird!”
“What’s weird? Looks perfectly normal to me.”
It meant Jun-seong had succeeded.
Three people? So it must be his parents plus… the daughter?
Lee Yeji.
She was the one who ended up taking over the family business instead of her brother, becoming a big-shot female CEO in her 40s, if he remembered the articles right.
He also recalled that she later helped him set up an entertainment agency.
“So some wealthy folks rented out an entire auditorium just to watch your movie?”
“Guess they wanted some privacy.”
“The world’s gone mad. What, they have so much money it’s rotting away?”
“Ugh, I wish that were me.”
“Huh? Remember when you snuck in here alone to watch a movie and I caught you? You ended up with a beating—forgot about that, did ya?”
Grinning, his dad put him in a playful headlock.
“Argh! Dad, that was in high school!”
They’d gotten pretty comfortable with each other by now.
Coming back in time had plenty of perks—especially the chance to fix old regrets.
Knock, knock.
“Boss, someone’s here to see you.”
“Who is it?”
“They’re the person who booked the theater today—they’re saying they’re ‘madam so-and-so.’”
All the playfulness vanished from his dad’s face as he looked at his son.
“You know anything about this?”
“Um… no idea.”
He was sure that Jun-seong wouldn’t want anyone to know his mother was here.
“I’ll stick around. I’m guessing they’re here to see me.”
“All right. Let them in!”
“Yes, sir!”
The door opened slowly.
This woman in her 50s didn’t look it at all—her skin was impeccable, and she was wearing a coat that seemed like real mink, the kind you only see in dramas. But her face definitely resembled Jun-seong’s.
“Hello! I’m Gyeong Jae-soo, the owner of Agape Theater. And this is Director Gyeong Chanhyeon.”
“Hello.”
His dad bowed at a full 90 degrees. Maybe he was being extra polite, thinking she might be an investor.
“Ah, yes, hello. I was looking for the person who made that movie, and here they are.”
“Ah… yes, haha. Um, sir—would you mind stepping out for a second?”
“What? Why? Huh?”
I grabbed my dad’s arm, trying to show him I really needed a favor.
He just blinked at me, and I leaned in to whisper in his ear,
“Dad, I’m begging you. This is super important for me.”
“You say she came to see the director?”
“Yes.”
“Then… is it okay if I wait outside?”
“I don’t mind if you stay, but—”
“Ha ha, I actually need the restroom anyway. You two go ahead and talk.”
Putting on his best act, Dad stepped out of the office.
Now it was time for me to smash the spike that Jun-seong had set up.
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