Chapter 49: Sniper Drama (3)
“TA-nim? No way…”
Si-woo stammered.
“Hello, I’m Lee Yoo-jin, who called earlier,” she confirmed.
The person Professor Kim Woo-soo recommended was none other than his teaching assistant, Lee Yoo-jin.
“What about school?”
Si-woo asked, surprised.
“I quit. The professor was supportive.”
Yoo-jin replied. Her dream was to become a film director, and she’d even made an independent film under her name.
“I told the professor this might be my only shot at an opportunity like this.”
Si-woo recalled their frequent eye contact during dinner—her intense gaze had been her longing to work with him. Yoo-jin was a huge fan, having watched ‘Revenger’ and ‘Don’t Forget’ multiple times, and she knew Si-woo was backed by industry titan Park Woong-deok. For anyone aspiring in film, working with Si-woo was a no-brainer.
But Si-woo’s expression remained neutral, unlike Yoo-jin’s eager one.
“This might not be what you expect.” he cautioned.
“That’s fine,” she said confidently.
“Listen first, then decide.”
He insisted, repeating the same spiel he’d given the team: the project was driven by his personal vendetta. But Yoo-jin saw beyond that.
“What happens after your revenge?”
“Hmm… I haven’t thought that far. Probably make regular web dramas, maybe produce films with YouTube revenue.” Si-woo mused.
“You don’t have a problem with me, do you?” she asked, suddenly worried.
“No, it’s not that,” he reassured.
“Then I’m in.”
Yoo-jin nodded, satisfied, officially joining <Revenge Film> as director and CP.
At the office, her reputation as the “beautiful TA” preceded her—team members already knew her.
“This is Lee Yoo-jin, our new director and CP.” Si-woo announced.
“Pleased to work with you.” Yoo-jin said.
“Yoo-jin CP-nim, discuss with the team and buy the necessary equipment.”
Si-woo instructed, handing her the company card before stepping outside to call Shim Ji-young.
“Noona, I’m ready.” he said.
— “Alright, let’s meet at the scheduled time,” Ji-young replied.
A few days later, Si-woo was at Ji-young’s YouTube shoot.
‘This studio’s huge’
He thought, watching her command the set as an MC with the same poise she brought to acting.
‘She’s even great at this…’
Soon, it was his turn.
“Today, we have a special guest. I mentioned him in my acceptance speech—writer Kim Si-woo!” Ji-young introduced.
Si-woo shuffled awkwardly to her side.
“Hello, I’m Kim Si-woo.”
He said, and they began a light Q&A.
“What’ve you been up to?” Ji-young asked.
“Keeping busy with this and that,” he replied.
“I heard you started a YouTube channel. Tell us about it.”
“It’s called <Revenge Film>. I’m planning to upload short web dramas,” Si-woo explained.
“The youngest 10-million writer’s web dramas? Can’t wait! The link’s in the description, so subscribe and stay tuned. I’ll pop up as a surprise guest someday,”
Ji-young added, also promoting Si-woo’s upcoming drama ‘Our Teacher’. The shoot wrapped smoothly.
“How’s that? Enough buzz?” Ji-young asked.
“More than enough. But, noona, are you sure about this? You know what I’m doing—blowback could hit you.” Si-woo warned.
Ji-young shrugged.
“You’re targeting people who committed crimes. I’m on your side.”
“If you’re okay with it…” Si-woo conceded.
As Ji-young’s video was prepped for upload, the <Revenge Film> team began shooting, already editing their first episode. When Ji-young’s video dropped, Revenge Film’s views and subscribers skyrocketed. Si-woo’s phone buzzed nonstop.
“Hello?” he answered.
— “Writer-nim!”
Jung Se-yeon’s voice burst through.
— “Why didn’t you shoot with me? I have more subscribers!”
“Uh… it’s complicated…” Si-woo stammered.
— “Are you discriminating?”
“No, it’s not that!”
— “Then come on my channel the day after tomorrow,”
Se-yeon demanded.
— “I’ll promote the hell out of it.”
Caught off guard, Si-woo agreed to appear on her channel too. Ji-young’s video alone pushed <Revenge Film> to 50,000 subscribers. Then, their first episode dropped: <Best Driver>.
It dramatized a Chocolate Entertainment YouTuber who returned after a six-month hiatus following a DUI. The story was cleverly altered to avoid defamation—vetted by Hae-soo beforehand—allowing Si-woo to post with confidence.
The response was explosive. Viewers quickly connected the dots, criticizing Chocolate Entertainment’s DUI-affiliated YouTubers. Some left hate comments on <Revenge Film>, which Si-woo ruthlessly blocked. “Don’t like it? Don’t watch,” he muttered.
Imagining the frustrated haters unable to leave comments brought a sly smile to Kim Si-woo’s face.
Five days after posting the drama, things escalated. Wrecker YouTubers began amplifying the drama, and the targeted Chocolate Entertainment YouTuber, unable to withstand the flood of hate comments, started spiraling downward. Other YouTubers with DUI histories began closing their comment sections one by one.
Meanwhile, Revenge Film exploded in popularity with just one video, thanks to the backing of mega-YouTuber Jung Se-yeon. Her channel, with over 8 million subscribers, gave Si-woo a massive boost.
“It’s a bit underwhelming, though. I want to speed up production,” Si-woo muttered.
Despite the success, there was a hitch. Even with Lee Yoo-jin, who had directed an indie film, leading the team, the quality fell short of Si-woo’s expectations. While the web dramas were competitive with other channels, Si-woo aimed higher.
“We need to step it up. At least match that level.”
He needed seasoned professionals to guide the team.
‘Park Woong-deok’s the only one who knows every aspect.’
Si-woo thought, but doubted Woong-deok would agree to a YouTube project.
“Should I just ask? No, he’d probably laugh it off. He’s a film guy—YouTube might feel beneath him. For now, I’ll tweak the actors.”
The next day, Si-woo gathered the actors.
“I called you here because, honestly, the quality isn’t where I want it. I’m making some changes.”
He said bluntly, aware his words might sting but unapologetic. The industry was cutthroat, and they needed to face their reality. They might be stars at school, but in the real world, their talent was commonplace.
“For now, none of you will take lead roles. I’ll assign parts, and I’m bringing in an outside actor for the lead.”
Si-woo announced. The actors’ reactions varied, but most seemed to accept it.
“Prepare thoroughly. If anyone wants acting feedback, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll review you.”
Some bristled at the idea of Si-woo, a writer, critiquing their acting, despite his fame. Their pride was wounded, but it was the insecurity of small-town stars.
***
A week later, Si-woo chose Jung Se-yeon as the first guest star, not Shim Ji-young. Ji-young had shot the YouTube promo first, but Se-yeon insisted on being the first web drama guest, leaving Si-woo no choice.
“Hello, I’m Jung Se-yeon. Looking forward to working with you all.”
She greeted. Everyone except Si-woo stared, wide-eyed. They’d expected a lead actor, but not someone of Se-yeon’s caliber right out the gate.
“What are you all doing? Get ready!”
Lee Yoo-jin snapped, jolting the team into action.
“They’re so fresh.” Se-yeon remarked.
“Fresh? They’re your age.”
Si-woo said, confused.
“Exactly. I must look that fresh to others too, right?” she teased.
“Uh… no, you’re clearly a veteran.” Si-woo replied.
“Ugh! Can’t you just say I look fresh?”
Se-yeon playfully smacked his shoulder.
“Ow! Anyway, you’re ready, right?” Si-woo asked.
“Of course. It’s my first web drama—I practiced like crazy.” she assured.
Today’s script, <Hidden Face>, tackled school violence. Si-woo had also invited key ‘Don’t Forget’ crew: the cinematographer, lighting, and sound staff. While sound and lighting were crucial, cinematography was paramount—camera work defined a film’s quality. The cinematographer, who’d assisted Park Woong-deok, was an S-tier talent despite his assistant role.
“Director, thanks for coming. Guide these kids, and if they don’t listen, let me know,” Si-woo said.
“Haha, don’t worry. I’m an expert at handling youngsters. Gotta crush their egos to make them grow.”
The cinematographer replied, easing Si-woo’s concerns.
“By the way, call me for your next film, got it?” he added.
“Of course! Just don’t turn me down when you’re busy,” Si-woo teased.
Their relationship was transactional—one favor for another—but Si-woo preferred it that way. Hiring the cinematographer cost 5 million won for the day, a steep price, but Si-woo saw it as an investment. If the team learned from him, it was worth it. Plus, it built goodwill for future collaborations.
Filming began under Si-woo’s watchful eye, but it quickly faltered. The veteran crew’s guidance was relentless, grinding down the younger staff. The actors fared worse—practically shredded. Scenes with Se-yeon exposed their nerves: awkward movements, flubbed lines, constant mistakes.
“Sorry, sorry!”
An actor bowed, apologizing profusely.
If Lee Yoo-jin were directing, she might’ve reassured them, but the cinematographer was no such softie.
“Hey! How many takes is this? We’ll be here till sundown!”
He barked, slipping into informal speech.