Chapter 40: Hello, I’m the Blockbuster Writer (3)
Following Pyo Bong-soo’s summons, Kim Jin-man stepped out of the meeting room, head bowed like a guilty man.
“What’s going on?”
Pyo asked, his voice barely containing his anger.
“Well… one of our staff said something unnecessary to Writer Kim,” Jin-man admitted.
“What?! What did they say to make him react like that?!” Pyo demanded.
As Jin-man recounted the incident, Pyo’s face contorted.
“Jin-man, do you not get the situation? We’ve been handed a golden opportunity, and you can’t even hold onto it!”
“I’m sorry,” Jin-man said.
“Ugh… Jin-man, think back. Remember how I groveled to please Writer Kim Hee-jin? Kim Si-woo’s easy by comparison. Is he asking you to fetch coffee? Demanding absurd fees? Meddling with the shoot? No, he just wants a say in casting. You can’t manage one AD?”
Pyo scolded Jin-man, recalling the grueling days of catering to a star writer’s whims—someone who repaid past mistreatment with doubled arrogance.
“You think you can secure Kim Si-woo a year from now? He could live off movie scripts alone for life!”
Both Pyo and Jin-man knew Si-woo’s value. In less than a year, the rookie writer’s career had skyrocketed, outshining most veterans.
“Jin-man, you want to be a CP, a director, right? You’ve seen his script—it’s a guaranteed hit.”
“I know,” Jin-man nodded.
“Do better, please. Send that staffer to Team 1.”
“Understood.”
As their conversation wrapped up, Si-woo, sensing the escalating tension, stepped out to address Pyo.
“Chief, it’s not PD Kim’s fault. He’s been great from the start.”
“Is that so, Writer Kim?” Pyo asked.
“I just got heated hearing something negative. Don’t be too hard on him.” Si-woo urged.
“If you say so, I’ll let it go. Jin-man, get back in there.”
Pyo said, apologizing to Si-woo and encouraging him to call if issues arose before leaving.
As Pyo left, Si-woo apologized to Jin-man.
“Sorry, PD-nim. I caused trouble.”
“No, Writer-nim, you had every right to be upset,” Jin-man replied.
“Thanks for understanding. I just thought we should address it. Personal grudges shouldn’t disrupt a meeting.”
Calling Pyo was a calculated move to assert his authority while maintaining respect. Jin-man, conflicted, realized Si-woo, at 28, was no pushover despite his youth. Flattery wouldn’t control him.
Back in the meeting room, Jin-man called out the offending staffer.
“Come with me.”
“Yes…”
The staffer mumbled, following him out and immediately apologizing.
“PD-nim, I messed up. I’ll apologize to Writer Kim—”
“Pack your things and go to Team 1,” Jin-man cut in.
“What? But they’re in the middle of a shoot, and Team 1 and 2 don’t get along. I’ll be—”
“It’s the Chief’s orders. Can’t tell what to say or not? If Kim Si-woo takes this personally, you taking responsibility? Ugh, just learn to navigate this industry. It’s a workplace. No more talk—go.”
The staffer was reassigned to another drama team mid-production. Jin-man returned, resuming the meeting as if nothing happened.
“Alright, let’s continue. The key role is Han Young-jin. Writer-nim, you agree?”
“Yes,” Si-woo nodded.
Han Young-jin’s name had a list of actors beneath it.
“He needs a sturdy presence.”
Jin-man said.
“I think a middle-aged actor with light makeup could work, as long as it’s not obvious. Anyone else have thoughts? I’m here to discuss.”
The PDs and ADs, wary of Jin-man’s mood, hesitated until he nodded, prompting suggestions. Three actors were shortlisted. Si-woo wanted to see their performances in person, but asking senior actors for auditions clashed with Korean norms.
“We’ll send the script to these three. They might not respond, so we’ll see,” Jin-man said.
“Sounds good,” Si-woo agreed.
“Next, the five students. Our picks differ significantly from yours, Writer-nim,” Jin-man noted.
“Honestly, your choices are a bit…” an AD ventured.
Si-woo boldly excluded late-20s actors.
“I think we should stick to late teens to early 20s for authenticity.”
“Understood,” Jin-man said.
Debate ensued—some prioritized proven actors for stability, others valued experience. Si-woo offered a new angle.
“One more advantage: new actors have lower fees, reducing production costs. That means higher net profits and bigger bonuses for everyone.”
“Oh…”
The PDs paused, considering the financial upside.
“And if it flops.”
Si-woo continued,
“It’s better to fail with less spent than go big and crash. If it tanks with my picks, blame me.”
Offering a fallback, Si-woo’s confidence swayed the room. All eyes turned to Jin-man for the final call.
“How about this—auditions?”
Si-woo proposed.
“I’ll bring my actors for live auditions. If you, PD-nim, and the Ads aren’t impressed, I’ll drop it cleanly.”
The decision was made to give Si-woo’s chosen actors a shot. He could’ve forced his picks but chose to persuade, wary of further souring the mood after one staffer’s reassignment. The grueling meeting ended, and an exhausted Si-woo returned home.
“Ugh… thank god W Studio’s shooting next year. Should I just tell them to handle it themselves?” he muttered.
***
Days later, Saturday arrived—the release day for ‘Don’t Forget’. At 9 a.m., Si-woo’s phone buzzed relentlessly. Barely awake after two hours of sleep, he answered groggily. It was Shim Ji-young.
— “Si-woo!”
“Hey, Ji-young noona?”
— “Saw the news? Seoul theaters are sold out!”
“That’s great…” he mumbled.
— “What’s with you? I’m the only one excited here?”
“No, I’m happy, but I’ve only slept two hours…”
He’d been writing until dawn, making sleep more precious than box office news.
— “Oh… well, I called to say thanks. This is all because of you. Great work.”
“You worked harder, noona. The director, actors, crew—everyone did. Hope it does well.”
— “It will. This feels like my first film all over again.”
Ji-young was so confident in ‘Don’t Forget’ hitting 10 million viewers that she’d bet her career on it. The script, direction, acting, and visuals were flawless.
— “Get some rest. I’ll call later.”
“Thanks. Good luck with your broadcast, noona.”
As he tried to sleep again, another call came. “Hello?” he answered, testier.
— “Writer-nim? Were you sleeping?”
It was Jung Se-yeon’s higher-pitched voice.
“Se-yeon-ssi? What’s up?”
— “All Seoul theaters are sold out!”
“Yeah, I heard…”
— “Aren’t you excited? Every theater!”
She said, raising her voice.
“I am, but… two hours of sleep…”
— “Oh, sorry. I’ll call later then.”
Click.
Another call followed as he shifted to a comfortable position. Over ten actors, staff, and production team members called, dragging the morning into the afternoon. Lunchtime arrived.
“Ugh, no sleep at all…”
Si-woo groaned, dragging himself out of bed.
“Damn it, these people…”
He was irritated but couldn’t snap at them—they were just sharing good news.
“Whatever, I’ll write.”
He wasn’t focused on the immediate results, but as days passed, the soaring attendance—3 million in five days—kept everyone buzzing. Demand outstripped supply, with some traveling to rural theaters for early screenings and posting reviews.
The film was a smashing success, but Si-woo’s life was a mess. Every million viewers brought another celebratory dinner from Ji-young, Se-yeon, and the team. This was the third one, and Si-woo, who hated going out, felt trapped—they’d threatened to show up at his house if he refused. His parents would’ve welcomed the actors with open arms, gifts and all, making it impossible to say no.
“Better I go than they come here,” he grumbled.
At the dinner, Si-woo aimed to end it quickly, pretending to sip while targeting the instigators with complaints. First, Ji-young.
“Noona, don’t you have to watch your image? Is it okay for an actress to drink this much?”
“It’s fine. I’m taking a break after this. I’ll hit the gym when the screenings end.”
‘Fail.’
Next, Se-yeon.
“Se-yeon-ssi, you’re a singer. Shouldn’t you protect your voice? Drinking’s bad for it.”
“Oh, that? My doctor says my throat’s naturally strong. I’m good.”
‘Fail.’
Third, Park Woong-deok… Si-woo spotted him with the lighting and sound directors.
“I’ll just head to a corner.”
As he turned, a chilling voice stopped him.
“Writer Kim! Over here! Been waiting for you.”
‘Fail… no, save me.’
Somehow, Si-woo survived the third dinner, using the next day’s drama audition as an excuse. But at the audition, a new issue arose.
“Writer Kim… you sure about this?” Jin-man asked.
“This is a huge variable.” an AD added.