Chapter 12: I’m Glad I Became a Writer. (1)
“Writer, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?” Kim Ji-hyun asked warmly.
“I’ve been chilling. How about you, Ji-hyun?” Kim Si-woo replied.
As they caught up, Kim Ji-hyun sat on his other side, chatting affectionately. Their conversation continued until the theater lights dimmed, signaling the start of the film. In the quiet, Kim Si-woo turned to Shim Ji-young.
“What were you going to say earlier?”
“Forget it. Have fun with the pretty actress next to you,” she said, sounding sulky.
“No, I…”
Scratching his head, Kim Si-woo turned back to face the screen, flustered by her tone.
The movie was even better than he’d imagined. Seeing scenes he’d only envisioned in his head come to life on the big screen doubled the thrill.
- Wow…
Everyone gasped at the same moment.
- Ugh…
Everyone winced at the same scene.
- Sniff…
Everyone teared up at the same moment.
When the film ended, applause erupted, and the staff guided everyone to a new area for the Q&A. Kim Si-woo, fascinated by the crowd of journalists, glanced around as the actors took the stage for individual and group photos before sitting at a table with chairs.
The Q&A began with introductions, starting from the left with the director and ending with Kim Si-woo on the right.
“I’m Kim Jae-ho, the director.”
“I’m Kim Min-ho, playing Choi Do-hyun.”
“I’m Shim Ji-young, playing Choi Do-hyun’s mother, Lee Soo-yeon.”
Finally, it was Kim Si-woo’s turn.
“Hello, I’m Kim Si-woo, the writer of Revenger.”
After his uneventful introduction, the journalists’ questions began.
“Hello, I’m Choi Dong-jin from Kim Sang Daily. Director, what do you expect for the film’s performance?”
“Ahem, with the best actors, director, and script, it’s bound to be the best, right?” the director answered smoothly.
The questions continued, moving from actor to actor under the moderator’s guidance.
“Kim Ji-hyun, this is your first film. Were you nervous?”
“Um… yes! Honestly, I was worried every shoot that I might be a hindrance,” she admitted.
“Who helped you the most during filming?”
“Well…” Kim Ji-hyun hesitated, then glanced at Kim Si-woo.
‘Why’s she looking at me?’
“The writer,” she said.
“Oh? Really? Sounds like the writer’s quite the talent,” the journalist remarked.
“Yes! He explained the story’s details and pointed out awkward parts in my acting, which helped a lot,” she added.
“I see. Thank you,” the journalist said.
The questions moved on, reaching Shim Ji-young.
“Actress Shim Ji-young, you’re known for your bad luck with projects. What do you think about this one?”
The question was blunt, clearly meant to provoke her. Kim Si-woo glanced at the journalist, who wore a sly smile. Then he noticed Kim Min-ho, sporting a Similarly smug grin.
‘Is that guy one of Kim Min-ho’s cronies?’
Kim Si-woo shot a worried look at Shim Ji-young, but she, accustomed to such jabs, answered calmly.
“It’ll do well. I’m just a supporting role this time.”
The journalist tried a few more provocative questions, but Shim Ji-young’s unruffled responses left him with nothing to say, and he eventually gave up.
“Veteran actress Shim Ji-young, what was the hardest part of filming?” another journalist asked.
She pretended to ponder, then glanced at Kim Si-woo before answering.
“Of course, filming is always tough. But I, too, got a lot of help from Writer Kim Si-woo.”
“…”
Kim Si-woo, caught off guard by being mentioned again, looked around, flustered.
“Seems the writer’s a favorite among the actresses,” the journalist teased.
- Hahaha.
Laughter filled the room, and Kim Si-woo’s ears turned red.
Finally, it was Kim Min-ho’s turn. As the popular male lead, he was bombarded with questions, especially from the journalist who’d targeted Shim Ji-young, who now lobbed only softballs his way. Just when it seemed to be wrapping up smoothly, the journalist fired a final arrow.
“One last question. I heard the ending was changed abruptly. What happened, and wasn’t that inconvenient as an actor?”
“Well… I’m an actor, so I just did what I was told. I said it’d be tough, but what can you do? You follow orders. That’s what being an actor is,” Kim Min-ho replied, feigning resignation.
The journalist ended his question vaguely, but it ignited a spark among the others.
“Director, what’s your take on this?” another journalist asked.
“Uh… I just heard they wanted to change the script…” the director stammered.
“What exactly happened? Was it pressure from the production company?”
“Pressure? Watch your words!” Kim Dong-su from W Films shouted from the back, incensed.
The journalists, fueled by Kim Dong-su’s reaction, pressed harder, ignoring the moderator’s attempts to rein them in. As the room descended into chaos, Kim Si-woo quietly picked up the microphone and stood.
“I did it.”
His admission didn’t calm the frenzy, so he took a deep breath and bellowed.
“I DID IT!”
The deafening shout made everyone—actors, journalists, staff—cover their ears. Stunned, they stared at Kim Si-woo, who smiled calmly and continued.
“I’m the one who changed the script. Moderator, please continue.”
“Uh… yes. From now on, anyone causing a disturbance will have their photos and videos deleted, be removed, and banned from publishing articles.”
With the moderator resuming control, journalists eagerly raised their hands.
“Yes, the person in the front,” Kim Si-woo pointed to one.
A question about the script change came immediately.
“Why did you suddenly change the script? Didn’t you consider how it might inconvenience the actors?”
“It was only about five pages that changed. I thought the revised ending was better.”
“Even so, couldn’t such a change disrupt the actors’ immersion after all their practice?”
“When I sent the revised script, there were still two months before shooting wrapped. For a change this small, I believed an exceptional actor like Kim Min-ho would handle it without issue.”
Kim Si-woo’s response left only two people visibly upset: Kim Min-ho and the journalist he’d brought. Not stopping there, Kim Si-woo turned the tables on the reporters.
“I have a question for you all. Did you find the movie boring?”
No one answered. The truth was, the film was captivating from start to finish.
“Of course, I heard Kim Min-ho protested heavily on set about the script change. But as a writer, I did my best for the film’s success, for the people making it, and for the audience who paid to see it. Everyone else—actors, staff, the director, and the production company—agreed. If that was wrong, I’ll take the consequences, but please don’t criticize the actors, director, or staff. Their only crime was working hard.”
Kim Si-woo’s counterattack shifted the focus. The mention of Kim Min-ho’s complaints captivated the journalists, who frantically snapped photos and typed on their laptops.
“Tch…” Kim Min-ho clenched his fists, trembling, but kept a forced smile.
‘An actor through and through, holding it together in front of reporters… Heh,’ Kim Si-woo thought, smirking as he watched.
The questions then piled onto Kim Min-ho, who barely managed to answer through gritted teeth. As increasingly tough questions about his tantrums and dissatisfaction with the new ending poured in, the moderator stepped in to wrap things up.
“That concludes the Revenger press screening.”
The actors and director stood, bowed, and exited. Kim Si-woo followed, heading to the restroom. While washing his hands, someone roughly grabbed his shoulder.
“Hey, you punk! You did that on purpose!” Kim Min-ho snarled.
“Oh? What’s this now? Reporters are right outside. Want me to step out, Actor Kim Min-ho?”
“You… you bastard. Is this because of what I said that first day?”
“How’d you guess? Sharp as ever.”
Kim Si-woo mockingly admitted he’d changed the ending and cut the kiss scene because of that day. Kim Min-ho, speechless, stared at him like he was insane before grinding his teeth.
“Grr…”
“If you’re so mad, why didn’t you become a writer?”
Before leaving the restroom, Kim Si-woo issued a final warning.
“And stop talking down to me. I’m a year older than you, you draft-dodging punk. Don’t even think about skipping military service—I’ll make sure you’re caught up in a scandal if you try.”
Feeling relieved after unloading everything, Kim Si-woo exited with a smile, only to find Shim Ji-young waiting outside, her face full of concern. She rushed over, checking him for injuries.
“Noona? What are you doing?”
“Are you hurt?”
“Hurt? Why?”
She’d seen Kim Min-ho follow him with a murderous look and hurried after, suspecting it was tied to Kim Si-woo’s retaliation against Kim Min-ho’s journalist ally. Feeling guilty, she couldn’t bring herself to explain.
“No, nothing. Let’s go eat.”
“Alright, but you’re paying!”
“Sure.”
Excited for a free meal, Kim Si-woo was stopped by another voice.
“Writer,” Kim Ji-hyun called.
“Ji-hyun? What’s up?”
“Um… have you eaten? If it’s okay, want to grab a meal together?”
Kim Si-woo wanted to say yes, but with Shim Ji-young already beside him, he reluctantly declined.
“Sorry, I’m eating with Ji-young noona. Let’s definitely eat together next time.”
“Oh…” Kim Ji-hyun let out a small sigh, then pivoted to Shim Ji-young.
“Sunbaenim! Can I join you? Please?”
Her aegyo-filled plea made Kim Si-woo’s heart flutter, but it had the opposite effect on Shim Ji-young, whose expression turned colder. Her icy voice, however, targeted Kim Si-woo.
“Kim Si-woo.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“What do you want to do? Should we all go?”
“Well… it’d be nice to go together, right?”
“Fine, whatever.”
With Shim Ji-young’s approval, Kim Ji-hyun thanked her repeatedly and stood beside Kim Si-woo. As they left, Park Chan-young apologized for not managing the situation better, promising to treat them to expensive drinks next time before slipping away, wary of the actresses’ glares.
In Shim Ji-young’s van sat Kim Si-woo, Shim Ji-young, her manager, and Kim Ji-hyun.
“Ji-hyun, aren’t you busy?” Shim Ji-young asked.
“Me? I’m free except for Revenger stuff. Aren’t you busy, sunbaenim?”
“Me? I’m free until tomorrow.”
‘Why are they fighting? Did I come to this screening for nothing?’ Kim Si-woo thought, awkwardly caught between them, nervously watching their exchange.