Pen and Paper Translations

“What—just a hunch, I guess. I kinda suspected as much.”

“Huh?”

“Baek Jin-cheol is an ex-gangster. It’s not like we don’t have our sources.”

Kim Eun-ha crushed the dropped cigarette under her foot, then ripped open the pack we’d brought with her teeth. She offered me a cigarette from inside.

“Want one?”

“I told you, I quit.”

“Lucky you.”

Lighting a fresh one, she exhaled and asked, “So, what’s your plan now?”

“I’m going to cut off The Film H’s arms and legs.”

“Baek Jin-cheol’s pretty thorough, though. He’s got leverage on a bunch of reporters.”

“That’s okay. I know.”

“What…?”

She let out an awkward laugh, apparently taken aback by how casually I said it.

“You just said ‘that’s okay’? Have you seen the news? They’re talking about you nonstop.”

“If you and I work together, we can fix that.”

“What?”

“Don’t you still want to make films?”

At my question, Kim Eun-ha took a deep breath.

“No. I’m done.” She spat rudely onto the ground.

“Movies? What I made isn’t a movie. It’s trash—stuff you can’t even recycle.”

For a moment, she gazed into the distance, then started recounting what had happened during her film shoot.

I already knew all of it. I just nodded while listening, and Jun-seong frowned, getting angrier by the second.

“What the hell is wrong with those creeps? They even messed with your script?”

“Right. You think I wanted to make that third-rate comedy? They kept yammering about ‘family movie this, family movie that,’ so I revised it. Then I realized it was hopeless and tried to quit, but…”

She trailed off, voice catching in her throat. It was probably the first time she’d confessed this to anyone.

“And, well… it was money that dragged me back in.”

Her story was an eerie mirror of my past life. From beginning to end, it was the exact same scheme. It was impossible not to clench my teeth in rage.

She noticed my tightly clenched fists and gave a tiny smirk.

“I’m the one who got screwed—why are you so mad? You barely even know me.”

“Because we were classmates.”

“Classmates? You barely said hi to me, ever.”

“Neither did you, so that’s on both of us. Not saying hello is usually a two-way thing, right?”

She burst out laughing at my retort.

“So they call you the ‘Mad Dog of K-Arts,’ huh? Shouldn’t a mad dog bare its fangs at least once?”

“Mad Dog? That’s ancient history.”

She repeated the nickname to herself a few times, as if she missed it.

“I can’t even bite or bark anymore. I’ve been through too much crap.”

“Then let’s bite back together.”

“Together?”

Both she and Jun-seong turned to look at me simultaneously.

“For now, how about we go inside and keep talking? It’s boiling out here.”

“Hold on. It’s not very gentlemanly to barge into a lady’s home, you savages,” she snapped, cheeks reddening.

I sighed and said, “Fine. Take a shower and come on out.”

Glancing down at her rumpled clothes, she muttered a curse under her breath.

“There’s a decent café downstairs. We’ll wait for you there.”

“Okay.”

Still clutching the cigarettes, she hurried back inside. Watching her go, Jun-seong draped an arm around my shoulder.

“Well, that worked out in the end, huh?”

“Now it’s time to chop off Baek Jin-cheol’s limbs, and we’ll save the head for the main course.”

“What are you, a cannibal? That’s gross.”

We couldn’t just take Baek Jin-cheol’s head in one blow. Who knows what’s backing him. In 2022 he was doing even better, having started an entertainment agency and becoming a notable figure in the industry. It’d be best to make sure we have everything lined up before making a decisive move. If we rushed it, we could fail.

We headed to the café we told Kim Eun-ha about and waited for about thirty minutes. When she finally walked in, she looked more like a person again, cleaned up and wearing fresh clothes.

“So, how exactly are you planning to do all this?”

“Head-on confrontation.”

“What?”

“I’m holding a press conference as soon as possible—if you’ll agree to help.”

If we went into hiding or just stayed quiet after a scandal like this, the rumors would become reality in the public’s eyes. And waiting for the controversy to die out would take way too long. Especially with Night in theaters, we didn’t have that luxury. We had to face it directly.

“Trust him,” Jun-seong interjected seriously. “Everything turns out fine if we follow his plan. Even if it’s… unconventional.”

He was right. My approach might be considered insane in 2001. Usually, if a celebrity or public figure got tangled up in a major scandal, they’d disappear from the spotlight for a while. Whether the allegations were true didn’t matter; what mattered was letting the rumors fade away.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, so we need to blast through. Just like a mad dog.”

“I want to… but…” She hesitated and let out another sigh.

“You’re worried about your family, right?”

“How can you…? It’s like you’re reading my mind. Who are you?”

“He moonlights as a fortune-teller,” Jun-seong joked.

“A clairvoyant? Or something?”

She scrunched her face skeptically.

Whack!

“Ow! Why’d you hit me?” Jun-seong complained after I smacked him upside the head.

“Don’t make it sound real, idiot. It’s just a figure of speech. But trust me, my hunch is usually right. Everything’ll be fine.”

---

Back at The Film H, President Baek Jin-cheol was humming happily to himself while scanning through scripts piled atop his desk. He was looking for projects that wouldn’t cost much but would rake in decent profits—just the kind of films he needed.

His concentration was broken by an out-of-breath staff member who sprinted into the office.

“B-boss… right now… that jerk Gyeong Chan-hyeon, he’s—huh… huff…”

“What? Why? What’s that fox up to now?”

“He’s holding… a press conference. Turn on the news!”

“What? Dammit, what kind of crap is that?!”

Baek switched channels—he’d been watching an adult movie—and on the screen were two people who definitely shouldn’t be seen together.

“This is Kim Gi-jun, reporting for Korea Entertainment. You’re saying these recent rumors are false?”

“That’s right. A certain irresponsible reporter used initials in their articles, but it was obvious they were referring to me. So, the so-called ‘victim,’ Director Kim Eun-ha, and I decided to hold a joint press conference.”

“Where have you been all this time, Ms. Kim Eun-ha?”

In the broadcast, Kim Eun-ha looked tense, but she responded clearly:

“I’ve been at home, completely stressed out. Director Gyeong Chan-hyeon and I weren’t even close in college, nor did we have any kind of relationship.”

She paused to collect herself.

“Please stop writing malicious articles that victimize both of us.”

“If we talk about articles targeting you, Ms. Kim, we naturally come to President Baek Jin-cheol’s interview—he implied that you were responsible for the failure of A Country Girl Comes to the City!. Are you saying that you bear no responsibility at all for the film’s poor performance?”

“I, uh…”

She faltered, clearly unsure how to answer.

“Yes, keep your mouth shut, you little bitch,” Baek Jin-cheol muttered at the TV from his chair, lighting a cigarette. “You’d better remember your family.”

But to his surprise, it was Gyeong Chan-hyeon who answered:

“No, Director Kim is not to blame. Producer Lee Jun-seong and I, through our own company, Seong-hyeon Productions, plan to prove that.”

Suddenly, camera flashes lit up the screen.

“What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“I mean we’ll finance and produce her work ourselves. Show you what Director Kim Eun-ha can really do.”

“Why go so far for her, Director Gyeong?”

“Because I respect her talent. She was known for her independent films back in our college days.”

“So it’s purely out of respect that you’d provide this support?”

“A production company isn’t a charity. We’re simply investing in a worthwhile project.”

Furious, Baek Jin-cheol hurled his ashtray at the TV. The glass cracked, sparking briefly before dying out.

“Goddamn it! What the hell? They’re working together to screw me over?! Didn’t you say Kim Eun-ha was holed up at home?!”

“We—we told her clearly she’d regret it…”

“And the reporters we paid off—did they even go?”

“Called them; they said they didn’t attend…”

“What?! Then what do they do for their money?! Am I the only one working here? If we grease their palms, they should earn it! Isn’t that how the world works?!”

Wham!

Unable to contain his rage, he pounded his desk.

“Find Kim Eun-ha’s family. Right now. Hurry! I keep my word, got it? Call our ‘guys,’ the quiet ones. Now!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Damn it, this is insane!”

He couldn’t believe it. Usually, if someone gets slammed by the media, they go underground. But not Gyeong Chan-hyeon. No, he fights back instantly. And Kim Eun-ha, too.

He’d never had a threat fail before; as soon as you bring up someone’s family, they always fold. But these twenty-something nobodies weren’t budging. How the hell…?

---

A few days after our press conference, the rumor didn’t vanish overnight, as expected. But the news and newspapers kept covering our statements, leading to a shift in the public’s attitude. Now, more people were curious about me—this nobody fighting back against a media smear campaign.

So far, so good. But it was time for the next step: crippling Baek Jin-cheol’s network. If we could pull that off, we’d never again be at the mercy of these malicious articles.

To plan our strategy, I gathered with Jun-seong and Kim Eun-ha at a café.

“So, how did you guys manage to secure that investment so easily?” she asked.

“Easily?”

Jun-seong made a face, and I chuckled before answering.

“His dad is Chairman Lee Jeong-ho.”

“Hey, psycho, you don’t just tell people that out of the blue!” Jun-seong grumbled.

“Says the guy who tried to use his family connections not long ago.”

“That was different…”

Watching us squabble, Kim Eun-ha burst out laughing. She didn’t seem fazed by the news that Jun-seong was a chaebol heir.

“But I heard you’ve been living off him at your house, just working part-time.”

“Well, he got kicked out for being obsessed with film. They only recently reconnected after six years,” I explained.

“All thanks to Chan-hyeon. But I made a bet with my dad that I’d bring in 2.5 million viewers if I wanted to keep making movies.”

She frowned. “So that 2.5-million pledge was part of that bet? Are you crazy? 2.5 million isn’t exactly easy.”

“It was the only way to get my dad to listen. If The Film H hadn’t been an obstacle, we’d already be way ahead. Might still pull it off.”

“Wow, I guess I’m not the only one who got called ‘mad.’ You guys are total nutjobs. I’m not even in the same league of crazy compared to you two.”

In just a few days, her gloom had lifted. She was much more talkative and at ease around us now.

“In that case, couldn’t you just ask KMD to nuke all the bad press?”

“He hates the idea,” I said, gesturing to Jun-seong. “Went on and on about not wanting to rely on his dad. Then why even take his money in the first place?”

“Shut it. An investment’s one thing, but using it like that is something else.”

He gave me a lopsided grin, looking far more relaxed than he had days ago.

“But we can still name-drop KMD if we want,” he continued. “As long as Dad doesn’t find out.”

“Like carrying a sledgehammer just to slaughter a chicken—just letting people see the hammer might do the trick,” I said. “And hopefully word of it doesn’t reach your dad.”

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