Lee Junseong looked over Kim Eunha’s production journal in the office.
After Gyeong Chanhyeon stepped in, the shooting pace had become impossibly fast.
“At this rate, he is practically a wizard. How is this even possible?”
When Kim Eunha told him that Chanhyeon had teamed her with Park Jinsu he had doubted the move would do much. Seeing the results with his own eyes left him rattled.
“Incredible, really incredible.”
Back when they did the graduation film, no one saw genius like this. He always had talent as a director, but now he was handling the politics of a film crew with ease. When Junseong first met Chanhyeon, he had thought him an eccentric with no social skills.
No, that was true even two years ago; right up until the grad film he was a weirdo, then he suddenly changed. People say even landscapes change in ten years. For a person to change this much in six, some incident should have happened.
He just went to sleep and woke up a different man.
“Hmm…”
Since the change was all positive, he could not complain. For a business partner it was great. Yet Director No Younghun’s column had once scared him.
When Chanhyeon suddenly started talking about pure artistry again, Junseong worried he would revert. Chanhyeon’s old artistry had never included commercial sense.
To Junseong, that old artistry was stodgy mise-en-scène1 and themes infected with art-disease. He had planned to let him fail hard once and then drag him back to a Night-type picture, but even that film became a hit.
“It’s good, but something nags at me… Was he always this much of a genius? I knew he was talented, but this is another tier.”
While he doubted, the phone rang.
Riiing.
The name of an old childhood friend appeared, Jo Jun. They had been close until he entered film school; after that, with his father’s support cut off, he had avoided contacting anyone. Recently they had reconnected.
“Hello?”
“Lee Junseong, you didn’t forget our meet-up today, did you? I’d be hurt after all this time.”
He checked the clock; it was a date set weeks earlier.
“Ah, I didn’t forget.”
“You know the place?”
“Yeah, I’ll be on time.”
“Good. Baekjin and Junmo are coming to see you too. First time we’ve all gathered in ages.”
“Ha-ha, thanks.”
“Don’t be late.”
Click.
He wrapped up work and left Seonghyeon Productions for Gangnam, arriving on time. The bar felt like the one Lee Daehun had used. A huge man in a suit guided him to a secluded room; expensive whiskey and ice were on the table, and faces he had not seen for years.
“Hey, Lee Junseong! Long time no see. You haven’t changed at all—look just like high school.”
Jo Jun greeted first.
“Ha-ha, you look the same.”
“You ghosted us, hurt our feelings, then suddenly you’re a film producer? Eldest son of KMD Group chairman Lee Jeongho? Ha-ha!”
He sat and looked at Kang Junmo and Son Baekjin.
They’re four alumni from wealthy families.
“I know what a director is, but what’s a producer?”
“Hard to pin down. There’s so much work. Think of me as a film executive.”
Kang Junmo smirked. “What have you produced lately?”
“Desirelessness.”
“Oh, I heard of that…”
“That’s the one with the middle-aged guy, right? Didn’t watch it.”
“I skip anything without a pretty lead actress.”
Junmo poured drinks.
“But the director seems more famous than you. Isn’t a producer just the director’s gofer?”
“Quit picking a fight,” Jo Jun said, tapping his friend’s shoulder, then handed Lee a glass.
“Come on, it’s been ages, cheers.”
Glasses clinked, filling the silence. The friends felt strange to him and probably to them as well.
“What have you been up to? We lost touch at twenty—has it been eight years?”
“Just living. Went to college, worked part-time, did the army…”
“The army? You served?” Jo Jun sounded shocked. Snickers slipped from the others.
“Celebs dodge it these days. One guy bragged about the marines then fled overseas using dual citizenship. Yet the chairman’s son served?”
They laughed openly.
“Is serving a badge of honor? What’s funny?” he asked.
“It proves you lacked power to break your shackles,” Kang Junmo said. “Two years is bondage, idiot. In two years, you could drink hundreds more bottles, meet hundreds more women, tour hundreds of countries.”
Lee clenched his teeth. He had not expected this reception. Maybe these guys were always like this and he used to be as well.
Jo Jun forced a grin. “Let’s change topics. Too heavy.” He refilled Lee’s glass. “Sangwoo, who served with you, is coming.”
“Go Sangwoo?”
“Yeah, he works nearby. Drink, relax.”
At the name Kang Jun-mo laughed. “That guy can come here? Didn’t his family go broke in the IMF?”
“I didn’t know…”
“And you were all, ‘Sang-woo? Sang-woo?’ Ha-ha.”
A knock sounded. The door opened; a worn-out man entered, clothes pilled, shoes faded.
“Ha-ha… hi. Wow, Junseong, you look the same.”
As he tried to sit, Kang Junmo hurled fruit at him. “Who said you could sit? No proper greeting?”
“Uh… haha.” Sangwoo bowed deep. “Mr Kang Junmo, your humble servant Go Sang-woo greets you.”
Lee could not understand. In high school they had all been friends.
“That’s better.”
“What is this?” Lee asked.
Kang Junmo laughed. “You don’t know? That guy borrowed money from me. Until he pays it back he’s my slave.”
“Weren’t we friends?”
“Master and friend are different. You felt that doing part-time jobs. Same thing here.”
He added, “He served too. Maybe you two shackled men can reminisce.”
Sangwoo smiled awkwardly at Lee, eyes full of words. The atmosphere disgusted Lee.
“I’m leaving. Don’t contact me again.”
He stood. Jo Jun said, “We gathered for you…”
“Shut up.” He kicked the door, then remembered Sangwoo. “Damn…” He reentered, lifted Sangwoo from his knees.
Seeing that, Kang Junmo said, “What are you doing? Nostalgic for your part-time days?”
“You keep a slave with daddy’s money? How much does he owe?”
“Thirty million.”
Lee snorted. “Send me your account. I’ll pay. I’m taking Sang-woo.”
“Whatever.”
Lee led Sangwoo out.
“Thanks, Junseong.”
“You came knowing they’d treat you like that… Money, huh?”
He sighed.
“You don’t need to repay me. Just stay away from those jerks.”
“I’ll pay you back someday…”
“Forget that. I just hated watching that punk flash his father’s cash. Go, live your life.”
He did not want these friends to remain as this final memory.
“Maybe the two of us could have a drink…”
“No, go. I have someone to see.”
Sangwoo thanked him repeatedly and left. Watching him disappear, Lee pulled out his phone.
The only person he felt like calling was Gyeong Chanhyeon. He dialed; before the first ring finished, Chanhyeon answered.
“What?”
“Are you some five-minute on-call unit? Waiting for my call?”
“What? I was about to sleep. Talk fast.”
“Going to bed?”
“I spent a fortune today, want to sleep it off. Hanging up.”
“I spent a fortune too… Never mind. Sleep.”
“What?”
Lee fell silent.
“Well? Need a drinking buddy?”
“I don’t know. Life’s…”
“You call when I’m about to sleep and start life philosophy? What… Hold on.”
Rustling came through the phone.
“Where are you? I’m heading out now.”
- Mise-en-scène is a French term that literally means “putting on stage.” In film and theater, it refers to everything that appears in the frame — all the visual elements that help tell the story. ↩︎
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