Chapter 51: Division (1)
The moment the second episode, ‘Hidden Face’, dropped, the reaction was explosive—largely thanks to Jung Se-yeon’s 8-million-strong fanbase. Once again, Chocolate Entertainment YouTubers and others were dragged into the spotlight. Si-woo’s awards speech resurfaced, with speculation growing that he was systematically burying criminal YouTubers through his videos.
Yet, the real target, Choi Dae-ho, remained untouched.
“So what if the YouTubers get hate? It’s not like it hurts me,” he sneered.
To him, the YouTubers were disposable—replacements were a dime a dozen.
The irony? The real damage was hitting <Revenge Film> itself.
‘What the hell is this…’
Si-woo thought, staring at the growing rift within his team.
After the veteran cinematographer’s harsh day on set, the atmosphere had shifted. Two factions emerged:
- Team Yoo-jin/Si-woo: Staff and actors loyal to the vision.
- Team Lee Soo-jin: A disgruntled actress and her followers, now openly complaining about “unfair treatment.”
Their Initial passion had evaporated. Under Soo-jin’s influence, they grumbled constantly about pay, roles, and conditions.
Yoo-jin, worried, confided in Si-woo first.
He was *pissed*.
He’d hired them *despite* their inexperience. Growth would come with time—he didn’t care. This wasn’t a one-off; they’d gain experience and benefit everyone.
“Just watch for now,” he told Yoo-jin. “If it gets worse, I’ll handle it. Focus on the work.”
“Understood, Writer-nim.”
He hadn’t seen the complaints firsthand, so he decided to wait.
***
<Revenge Film> pressed on with the third shoot. Scripts were plentiful—no time to waste.
The third script: **“Popular Gangster”**
A former mobster-turned-YouTuber/internet broadcaster, fresh out of prison, now glorified online. The drama didn’t just target the criminals—it criticized the fans who *funded* and *celebrated* them.
“Will this be okay?”
Some asked, citing the **stigma effect**—permanently labeling ex-convicts could hinder rehabilitation.
Si-woo disagreed.
‘They hurt people, served time, and now brag like it’s a badge of honor?’
They boasted about crimes on streams, got drunk, and turned threatening—yet fans threw money at them.
In an era where school bullying scandals ended careers, these men lived lavishly off victim glorification.
“Have they even apologized to their victims?” Si-woo asked.
“Probably not.”
Yoo-jin murmured, face darkening.
The team’s expressions souled. These weren’t petty crimes—these men belonged in prison.
***
Winter outdoor shoots were brutal.
“Equipment holding up?” Si-woo asked.
“Yes, sir. Fully functional,” the tech replied.
Cold could freeze gear, so indoor shoots were preferred—but outdoor scenes were unavoidable.
“Thanks for helping again in this weather,” Si-woo said to the lead actor.
“No, thank you. So many actors would kill to be here,” replied Park Jun-ho, the hulking, rough-looking actor from ‘Don’t Forget’ who played the bully tormenting the protagonist’s daughter.
Despite his intimidating appearance, Jun-ho was cheerful, diligent, and even a bit shy—often told he didn’t match his looks. But when the camera rolled, he transformed. Staff and actors watched in awe.
Tattoo makeup complete, Yoo-jin called, “Action!”
The team had improved—especially Yoo-jin and a few actors. Movements were smoother, more natural. Si-woo nodded, satisfied.
But then—the mood shifted.
Jun-ho kept glancing around. Yoo-jin looked uncomfortable. Staff fidgeted.
Si-woo scanned the set and heard it:
From a corner, muffled complaints.
— “They’re favoring certain actors…”
— “Do we really deserve this treatment?”
Then, Lee Soo-jin’s voice:
— “I didn’t come here to play extras!”
Si-woo walked over.
“Hey.”
He said, voice low and cold—switching to informal speech for the first time.
“Yes?” Soo-jin replied, startled.
“If you’re going to half-ass factions, just leave. Don’t make others uncomfortable,” Si-woo said coldly.
He expected an apology, but Lee Soo-jin doubled down.
“What are you talking about? I’m making people uncomfortable? Who fed you lies, Writer-nim?”
“Who? I heard you whining about ‘favoritism’ five minutes ago,” Si-woo shot back.
Soo-jin deflected. “Don’t talk down to me!”
Si-woo sighed.
“So that’s why they say don’t pick up strays.”
“What did you just call me? A stray?” she shrieked.
“Yeah. Problem?”
“You think you can handle the fallout?”
“Fallout?”
“If I spread what just happened, you’re fine with that?”
‘Threatening me now?’
Something snapped in Si-woo’s head.
“Apologize now and own your mistake, and I’ll let it end quietly.” he said, voice like ice.
“Apologize? Me? You promised lead roles, then stuck me in bit parts! Don’t I deserve a chance at a lead?”
Soo-jin spilled her grievances. Si-woo’s gaze turned arctic.
“Done?”
“…”
“Then go home. Don’t come back. Fact: you’re in extras because you can’t act. Stop blaming others, learn your craft, and quit name-dropping me at bars.”
Soo-jin’s face flushed crimson. She stormed off, cursing.
Si-woo turned to her clique.
“Anyone else? Bring complaints to me, not drag others down. Or quit. Your choice.”
They avoided his eyes.
For all their gripes, this job was a golden ticket—especially compared to peers struggling post-graduation.
The storm passed. Soo-jin’s allies now tiptoed around Si-woo, fully aware:
‘He’s the real power here. We’re on his shitlist.’
Yoo-jin reassured him it was fine, but Si-woo reflected:
‘Was I too hasty starting YouTube?’
He’d known issues might arise, but not this fast.
‘Need more veterans next time…’
No regrets firing Soo-jin, though.
‘Rot spreads. Cut it out fast.’
***
Filming wrapped smoothly. Park Jun-ho approached, concerned.
“Writer-nim, you sure about YouTube? Those kids don’t seem to grasp who you are…”
Jun-ho was stunned someone dared talk back to Si-woo—the youngest, most influential writer in film. His circle alone proved it. Word was he took care of his own.
If Si-woo wanted, Jun-ho would’ve joined <Revenge Film> himself.
“Haha… I don’t even know sometimes. Thanks for worrying, Jun-ho-ssi. Great work in the cold.”
Si-woo himself struggled to gauge his own stature. How could rookies who’d never stepped into the industry understand the respect he commanded?
***
Days later, the third video, ‘Popular Gangster’, detonated.
Not just viewer backlash—the criminal YouTubers themselves reacted.
Some apologized, others raged. A few went full gangster:
— “10-million writer? Does that make him punch-proof? Stab-proof? I was gonna live clean post-prison, but guys like this force my hand. Wait for it—real education’s coming.”
— “Never made a mistake in his life, huh? I’ll send my boys to shake him down. Watch your back at night.”
Si-woo shook his head. ‘Just farming engagement.’
Then—one actually showed up.
CRASH.
A deafening smash. Yoo-jin screamed from the office window:
“KYAAA! Writer-nim—your car! Call the police!”
Everyone panicked—except Si-woo, who smiled.
‘Things just got interesting.’