As soon as the after-party ended and I came home, my parents and Sanghyun looked at me with concern.
I flashed a bright smile and first hugged my parents.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
At Mother’s words, I laughed and hugged Sanghyun tightly as well.
“I’m fine. I’ve got Mom and Dad around me, Sanghyun too, and so many good people. Why would a silly award matter?”
“Still, leaving the award up there was…”
“There’s a long story behind that. Ha-ha.”
Father stroked my hair and said, “All right. If you say so… there must be something we don’t know. You’ve worked hard, son.”
“Ha-ha…”
I lay alone in my room and stared at the ceiling.
It’s not that I don’t get angry, but thanks to the people around me who get angrier on my behalf, I actually felt better.
‘Those bastards! Make a movie that smashes them all!’ —Kim Eun-ha’s furious words.
‘Chanhyeon, I believe in you. You can make a ten-million-viewer film. You’re different.’ —Jinsu hyung’s encouragement.
‘Ten million might be a stretch… but since it’s you, I’ll try believing once?’ —Even Junseong’s doubtful faith.
Such comforting words made me chuckle.
And as the alcohol wore off, my head started to ache a little. A ten-million film…
Even as of 2023, only twenty Korean films (excluding foreign releases) have ever surpassed ten million viewers.
Most of them were movies impossible to make with current CG technology.
The only ones we could manage were easy-to-watch popcorn movies packed with catharsis.
“Hmm…”
Whether drama or film, destroying a chaebol that represents negative forces always gives people a thrill.
Then… let’s blend that in well…?
The next day.
Kang Junmo, chair of the Daedong Film Festival organizing committee, frowned at the newspapers laid out before him.
[Director Gyeong Chanyheon wins Trend Setter Award. Daedong Film Festival fairness controversy…]
[Director Gyeong Chanhyeon, who shook up Korean cinema. Effectively no award?]
[Gyeong Chanhyeon throws away his trophy.]
Below the articles was a photo of the Trend Setter trophy left alone on the podium.
Feeling as though they were scrambling to take Gyeong Chanhyeon’s side, Kang Junmo stuffed those newspapers into the trash.
“Looks like KMD’s putting out articles too. Acting all righteous… ended up paying the press, huh?”
In contrast to the trashed articles, the papers backed by Taesan Group money praised the prize-winning films at the festival as if they had no interest whatsoever in Gyeong Chanhyeon’s work.
[<Our Boss> achieves six crowns! Rewrites the history of Korean cinema!]
[Director Kim Surin: It’s all thanks to good actors and crew…]
[The star of the Daedong Film Festival is Director Kim Surin of <Our Boss>!]
And there were occasional articles criticizing Gyeong Chanhyeon as well.
[Judges displeased by Director Gyeong Chanhyeon’s rude behavior…]
[Director Gyeong Chanhyeon: Behavior without a shred of humility; viewers frown…]
“Ha. That crazy bastard. Let’s pump out more articles. We gave him something so he wouldn’t raise hell about not getting an award, and he tosses it away like that?”
The secretary standing before Kang Junmo nodded with a smile.
“Yes, sir. He’s completely insane, isn’t he? How can he leave the award up there and—”
Kang Jun-mo gnashed his teeth, recalling Lee Junseong and Gyeong Chanhyeon striding out of the hall, smiling as though refusing to stay in a filthy place.
The better they seemed to feel, the fouler Kang Junmo’s mood became.
He’d thought he’d dealt them a blow, but since it didn’t seem to land, he felt rather uneasy.
“Times like this, I should call in that well-trained slave bastard and slap him around…”
Go Sangwoo was one of his amusing toys: grin when called an old friend, scowl when slapped, but with no one to complain to.
Letting such a fellow go so easily now felt like a mistake.
Lee Junseong—maybe he’d grown some petty sense of justice since high school; the guy who’d always irked him now irked him even more.
“Tsk…”
“We’ll begin the acquisition of Future Film Studio now. And the next project will be Director Kim Surin’s <Our Boss>.”
“Right. Tell him to start planning the next film immediately. If he can’t beat Gyeong Chanhyeon’s movie with it, he’s fired on the spot.”
“Yes, sir!”
A few days later I went out drinking with Kim Seunghun and Lee Jungwoo.
Kim Seunghun had contacted me the day after the festival ended: ‘Director Gyeong! You were seriously awesome! Let’s have a drink and talk!’
Thinking back, I couldn’t tell whether booze or praise was the main point, and I snorted.
Because Junseong was swamped finishing Kim Eunha’s film, only Kim Seunghun, Lee Jungwoo, and I met for drinks.
When I opened the door of the room-style bar, two men whose faces seemed to glow greeted me.
“Oh! Director Gyeong! You’re here?”
“Yeah. Whew, Jungwoo-hyung, long time no see.”
“Right.”
Kim Seunghun still looked cold but had a hearty personality, while Lee Jungwoo seemed cheerful yet had a chilly nature, his answers always concise.
After a few ceremonial drinks and catching up, Kim Seunghun frowned slightly and asked,
“Are you okay about the Daedong Film Festival affair?”
“Nah, it’s nothing. It wasn’t an important award anyway.”
“Your mindset’s different. I think I’d have expected something.”
“I really enjoyed Desirelessness… but what the hell are those judges watching movies with?”
“Exactly. I couldn’t understand it.”
Their tone and expressions were awkward, as if concealing something behind the praise.
“You’re hiding something, right?”
Kim Seung-hun laughed. “You can fool a ghost but not Director Gyeong.”
“It felt like too much imposition… we were going to get you a bit drunk first, then tell you.”
“Don’t hide it. What is it?”
“Well, you see…”
“Just say it! It’s already decided.”
“One more person is coming today.”
“Huh? Who?”
“Well, apparently you two know each other… I’m kind of close with her manager. He kept pestering me to create a link between the actor he handles and you…”
“So, what’s the name?”
“Kwak Yeonji.”
“What…?”
I never thought I’d hear that name again. Since graduating college I’d never contacted her, nor heard any real news.
As I remembered, she still wasn’t active in the film world—always mired in controversy over her acting skills.
And when the past me shot the graduation film Blue Moon with her… she wasn’t someone I wanted to work with.
“I heard you two aren’t on great terms… I’m really sorry, but I owe that manager a bit.”
“It’s fine. No need to hide that.”
“It’s just a light drink anyway… haha. Thanks, Chanhyeon.”
Kim Seunghun scratched the back of his head in embarrassed apology; Lee Jung-woo looked at him in exasperation.
“But what exactly happened back then?”
“Ah, nothing much. Two years ago for the graduation project, I cast another actress instead of Kwak Yeon-ji.”
“You didn’t use her then? When she was sweeping cosmetics and cellphone ads?”
“There’s an actress named Kim Hyosun. She’s honing her skills in theater now.”
We’d stayed connected, and even now she calls me on my birthday or special occasions.
“I don’t even know the name… Kwak Yeonji’s pride must have been hurt.”
“She seemed pretty hurt.”
Lifting his glass, Kim Seunghun looked at me as though I were impressive.
“You’re definitely different—never taking the easy path. And Park Junsik as the lead of Desirelessness? That guy’s amazing too.”
“Yeah… haha.”
“Anyway, I called her because of my debt… I apologize again—”
“Nah. Just pay for this and we’re square.”
Ring-ring-ring.
Kim Seunghun’s phone rang.
“She must be here. I’ll step out for a moment.”
“Okay.”
When he returned, he was with Kwak Yeonji.
Seeing her after two years, she was beautiful as ever—distinct features, lightly waved hair, brownish eyes that could topple even a stone-hearted man.
“Sunbae-nim, hello. It’s been so long!” Her high-pitched voice pierced my ears.
Thinking back, the main reason I fought with her before regression was also her nasal tone that shattered immersion.
“So during Blue Moon it took quite a while to drop the nasal tone and we never eliminated it completely.”
“Ah, yeah. Long time.”
“I watched the festival yesterday. You were totally cool! Leaving the award up there and coming down! Totally awesome!”
She acted bright to a blatantly forced degree, and I felt a sense of dissonance.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
Seeing my awkward smile, Kim Seunghun looked apologetic and asked carefully. “All right. Shall we toast?”
“Ah, sure. Haha.”
Kwak Yeonji filled her glass too.
“Aren’t you unable to drink?”
At my question she blinked her big eyes.
“Not at all? Cheers!”
That’s odd… I distinctly remember seeing her drink cola at after-parties saying she couldn’t drink alcohol more than once or twice.
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