Chapter 624

“Aaaagh!”

In an old bar tucked away in a Chungmuro alley, there was one man clutching his head in fury over the joyous news.

He wasn't alone.

The others around him were rubbing their foreheads as well.

Even as a warm wind swept through Korea's frozen film industry, their hearts remained ice-cold.

No—if anything, the blockbuster's ten-million-viewer success only made them suffer more.

“How does this make any sense?”

They were film directors.

“The Korean film industry is dead...”

“People actually go to theaters to watch this? It'll be on NetHolics soon anyway.”

The success of 〈Faster Than the Law 3〉 left an irreparable wound on the pride of Korea's film directors.

When the first film hit ten million admissions, they laughed it off.

When the second one did the same, they sighed and chuckled bitterly.

But now the third film had crossed ten million as well.

At this point, they simply couldn't take it anymore.

“What kind of movie is that? It's just shoving sensationalized pornography into the hands of audiences obsessed with cheap commercial pleasure, saying, 'Here, play with this.'”

“You're absolutely right, senior. Does a film without artistic merit have any value? Someone ought to have a word with Gong Mujin.”

“He sold his soul for money. Leave him alone. You think he'd listen?”

Among everyone present, however, the one suffering the most was none other than one of Korea's great masters.

Eom Gyun.

“Ugh...”

The other directors watched the man who represented the pride of Korean cinema do nothing but groan as though he'd been shot, and their hearts ached.

It felt as though the downfall of Korean cinema was finally looming right before their eyes.

“But we've still got you, senior!”

“Haebeom and Baekyeong will save it somehow. That's what we're counting on—”

Eom Gyun couldn't bring himself to say a word. His lips merely trembled.

‘Baekyeong... Ah... Baekyeong...’

His face looked haggard as he silently dwelled on the one name everyone naturally thought of first.

Then someone cautiously spoke.

“But... I heard the actress you're casting this time... isn't Baekyeong...”

“Whaaaat?”

“Don't talk nonsense!”

“If it isn't Baekyeong, then who the hell could play that role?”

The directors had already been quietly passing the script among themselves.

Every one of them believed only a single actress could pull off that role.

Without question, Dong Baekyeong.

On this point, the public, cinephiles, and directors alike were in unanimous agreement.

“...”

Eom Gyun's silence drained the color from the faces of the directors who had been laughing only moments earlier.

“Don't tell me... even you got hit with a parachute casting...?”

“No! If investors want to chase money, they should stick to television! Do they even know who Senior Eom is?”

“Must be some insane investor.”

“...Wasn't the lead investor Ji Haebeom?”

“Who are you going to cast instead of Baekyeong? Forget the age—who could possibly match her acting?”

Eom Gyun couldn't bring himself to admit that the insane investor in question really was Ji Haebeom.

His chest burned.

“Don't tell me! Han Yeoreum?”

In any casting discussion these days, it was only natural for the hottest actress in the industry to come up.

But not here.

No...

Not here of all places.

“Come on...”

“No way...”

“Right?”

The last remaining pride of Korean cinema.

Its final living line of defense.

The directors' lips trembled with fear that Eom Gyun—one of its two wings—might actually fall.

“...”

Silence meant affirmation.

The moment they saw Eom Gyun's reaction, the directors shot to their feet.

The table shook violently, sending glasses crashing onto the floor, but not a single person cared.

“So she's getting a little attention in America and suddenly she loses all sense? This has JC written all over it!”

“That devil Jegal Rok!”

“JC has completely lost its mind!”

“No, seriously! How is she supposed to play Kim Bomi? Just because she's pretty and cute doesn't mean you hand her the lead!”

“Exactly! Being cute isn't enough!”

“You idiots! Whose side are you on?”

“This can't happen! Absolutely not! Do you even know what kind of film this is? Senior Eom poured his blood and tears into—”

Their voices grew louder and louder.

Then a man who had been sitting with his back to them finally spoke.

“Keep your voices down. You think Chungmuro belongs only to you?”

The obvious provocation instantly put the already furious directors on the offensive.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Mind your own business!”

“What do you even do?”

The man, who had been quietly drinking alone at the bar, turned around.

The moment they saw his face, the directors froze.

“Psycho?”

“That's me.”

“What's a drama director doing in Chungmuro?”

“Why not? Been listening to your filthy whining this whole time.”

Speaking in his usual blunt tone, Ja Sokhwan lazily bounced one leg.

“Quit talking nonsense. If you're drunk, go home, wash your feet, and sleep it off.”

Looking at the still-silent Eom Gyun, Ja Sokhwan added,

“You too, Senior Eom. This isn't like you.”

The pride of Korean cinema.

A tragic director forced by corporate power to accept a parachute casting.

The other directors simply couldn't stand seeing some mere television director daring to lecture him so boldly.

“The hell are you talking about!”

“Didn't make it in film, so you ran off to television!”

“Hey. What graduating class were you?”

It was true.

Ja Sokhwan had originally majored in film.

Everyone had believed he would become one of the industry's most promising directors.

Then, one day, he unexpectedly left for television.

His seniors were saddened at first, disappointed afterward...

And eventually furious.

[Ratings 55.7%... 'Ja Sokhwan Magic' Works Again! The Young Man Who Dreamed of Becoming a Film Director Conquers Television.]

Every time Ja Sokhwan created another legend, it was the film industry that suffered.

“What if [N O V E L I G H T] we made it a little more like a drama? Like Director Ja Sokhwan...”

“If you've seen Director Ja Sokhwan's work, you'll know it still feels cinematic enough...”

“We could combine the strengths of both genres...”

Investors adored the madman who brought both publicity and commercial success wherever he went.

To film directors, he wasn't just rubbing salt into their wounded pride.

He was tearing it to shreds.

Beginning with his groundbreaking debut, Ja Sokhwan had given birth to phrases like "Ja Sokhwan Magic," "The After-Work Legend," and "Serious Drama Withdrawal Syndrome."

He was public enemy number one in the film world.

“What'd you just call me? Once you ran away, there stopped being any senior-junior relationship. Who are you calling senior?”

Eom Gyun finally spoke.

But Ja Sokhwan was the infamous director who had practically driven the entire nation insane.

Even Eom Gyun's roar couldn't intimidate him.

“Come on, mister. Don't be like that.”

“You little...”

“You all gather together, spend your time tearing apart a junior who's working her ass off, then gang up on some girl barely in her twenties. Tell me, what exactly is so cinematic about that? This is the cheapest thing I've heard all night.”

Ja Sokhwan charged straight at them, seniority be damned.

“You bastard. She made you a fortune, so now you're taking her side?”

“Come on now. You really have terrible judgment.”

Ja Sokhwan wasn't finished.

He pressed Eom Gyun's biggest trigger.

“No wonder you can never beat Director Namgung Cheon.”

Namgung Cheon.

A director celebrated for breathtaking mise-en-scène, flawless storytelling, international acclaim, and the admiration of the Korean public.

Compared to him, Eom Gyun's style was rough and old-fashioned.

Namgung Cheon was someone Eom Gyun could never surpass.

A true master beyond masters.

A level of artist entirely beyond comparison.

“What? Have you lost your mind? You done talking? Get over here!”

“I haven't finished yet!”

Both sides grabbed Eom Gyun's arms as he leaped to his feet.

Staring straight at the genuinely enraged director, Ja Sokhwan calmly said something utterly outrageous.

“You're trashing the actress because you don't have confidence in your own film. Me? I'm going to turn her into America's Sweetheart.”

“You little punk. You've completely lost it.”

America's Sweetheart.

The title reserved for the actresses—or beloved stars—the American public adored most.

Someone with warmth, charm, approachability...

The image of the perfect girlfriend next door.

It wasn't enough to simply act well.

You had to become a defining figure in North American popular culture.

“America's Sweetheart? Don't make me laugh!”

The kind of star who could earn seven trillion won on name value alone.

An actress capable of winning multiple Academy Awards and Golden Globes.

According to Ja Sokhwan, some girl barely in her twenties was going to become that?

Impossible.

“And you, you worship-the-West idiot! Do you think I'm that kind of director? I don't judge success by whether someone makes it big in America! Listen carefully. I'll explain this nice and simply!”

Historically.

Logically.

Statistically.

From every conceivable angle.

It made absolutely no sense.

Every America's Sweetheart the American media had ever embraced shared one essential quality.

Someone who felt like the friendly girl next door.

Without exception.

Every single one of them had been white.

“My film doesn't suit her! And now you're saying I should cast her because she'll do even better in America? You don't have a shred of national pride!”

“Don't let her slip away and regret it later. Think carefully.”

Ja Sokhwan picked up the coat he'd tossed aside as though the place had become too filthy for him to stay.

“By the time you come crawling back, begging, you won't even be able to afford her fee.”

Everyone burst into disbelieving laughter.

How could Han Yeoreum possibly become the kind of actress beloved by audiences of every age across North America...

The kind whose name alone could sell hundreds of billions of won worth of tickets?

Utterly drained, Eom Gyun collapsed back into his chair.

His colleagues continued cursing Ja Sokhwan, but their voices barely reached his ears.

‘Don't let her slip away and regret it?’

He took back every thought he'd ever had that Ja Sokhwan was someone like himself.

The man was completely insane.

He had written this screenplay while enduring agony so severe his teeth felt loose and headaches that threatened to split his skull.

He would sooner die than hand it over carelessly.

‘It's not about the actor.’

Actors were merely the medium.

The true message always lay within the work itself.

If Eom Gyun had placed Han Yeoreum's growing fame—or the rumors about her visiting NetHolics headquarters and becoming an even bigger star—as his highest priority...

He never would have made this film in the first place.

〈The Good Old Days〉 was the work Director Eom Gyun had wagered the rest of his life on.

The government might retaliate.

He might never hold a megaphone again.

Even so...

It had to be shown to the world.

‘That's the resolve I made!’

The brighter the spotlight shone on Han Yeoreum, the farther the audience's attention would drift from Kim Bomi.

After the film's release, people would talk less about the work itself and more about Han Yeoreum's transformation, her leap into film, and her astonishing career.

Eom Gyun emptied his glass in one swallow.

The bitterness lingered in his mouth.

* * *

“Damn... it's freezing.”

Pulling his coat tighter around himself, Ja Sokhwan grumbled as he left the bar and headed down the street.

He had once been a film student himself, so he couldn't say he completely failed to understand their reaction.

“There are people who break the mold, you idiots.”

But Han Yeoreum wasn't merely an actress who surpassed the standard.

She was an actress who became the new standard.

Why was the highest praise across every medium always, "It feels like a movie"?

An astonishing animated film.

An exceptionally written novel.

A breathtaking painting.

A stunning photograph.

People praised them all the same way.

"It feels like a movie."

Cinema.

The overwhelming art form that conquered every one of the audience's senses at twenty-four frames per second.

There simply wasn't another phrase capable of expressing that level of visual domination.

The highest point any visual medium could ever hope to reach.

People who had spent their lives looking down from the summit built by history and the masses were naturally bound to possess deeply rooted prejudices.

Among them, no one clung to those prejudices more stubbornly than Eom Gyun.

He was obstinate and narrow-minded, but he had devoted his entire life to a single road.

Like a charging bull that never once looked to either side.

He was simply the kind of man who could do nothing except create films that condemned the times.

“You've got to learn to see farther... broader. Tsk.”

It seemed Eom Gyun still didn't realize that this era itself was calling for Han Yeoreum.

Ja Sokhwan had already reached his own conclusion.

One person was destined to lead both the legacy media of Korea and the golden age of new media.

Han Yeoreum.

She was cinema itself.

Ridiculous talent.

An indomitable spirit.

The kind of protagonist who made you believe she would absolutely succeed in the end.

The kind of actress who made people anticipate a happy ending.

Watching Han Yeoreum grow felt to Ja Sokhwan like sitting through the runtime of an extraordinary film.

Sometimes...

Reality was even more cinematic than fiction.

To calm the tightness in his chest, Ja Sokhwan drew a deep breath of the February night air.

Winter was still bitterly cold.

But spring would come soon enough.

“The beautiful days of spring aren't far away~.”

Humming to himself, the director walked lightly through the streets of Chungmuro.

* * *

‘This is killing me...’

On the plane to New York, I clenched my fist and let out a sigh.

‘I really wanted to walk around Hollywood Boulevard... even if only for a few minutes.’

I wanted to see the stars engraved with celebrities' names.

It would've been great fuel for Han Yeoreum's imagination factory.

Seeing them in person would make it easier to recall them later.

Unfortunately, every minute of my schedule had been packed.

‘Next time. I have to come back.’

Next time I'd walk along Hollywood Boulevard.

Visit the Chinese Theatre.

See the Dolby Theatre where the Academy Awards were held.

Visit the Hollywood Museum...

“Ah... what a shame.”

Every regret only led to another.

Unlike me, the old man looked completely at home in America.

“What's so great about it? There's nothing special here.”

After finishing the photoshoot and interview, I looked back once before leaving.

Myeong Jeha was taking a break while exchanging messages with someone.

Without even looking up, he smiled faintly as he continued typing.

“Well... America only made me really nervous the first time. It's not so bad now. I guess this is my second visit, after all.”

Once because of 〈The Great Garland〉.

And now once again.

I'm practically an experienced traveler to America.

Maybe not on the old man's level, but I'd become much more comfortable in New York too...

“...Huh?”

Apparently not.

I had subconsciously expected treatment similar to what I'd received when arriving in Los Angeles.

Instead...

Everything was different.

The moment I stepped into JFK International Airport, D's hospitality began.

The car NetHolics had sent before had already been enormous.

But this...

I instinctively knew it cost an entirely different amount of money.

“Wow...”

Even Dok Gogyeol—the woman obsessed with money—looked dizzy.

A guard in a black suit and white gloves politely opened the car door.

“Welcome to New York. At the request of our headquarters in France and D's North American branch, our team will be responsible for all transportation and personal security throughout the remainder of your schedule.”

His gentle voice carried a subtle French accent.

Before I realized it, I had bowed a full ninety degrees.

“Thank you very much!”

It probably looked embarrassingly unsophisticated.

But I couldn't help it.

It would probably take years before I got used to treatment like this.

The inside of the car looked like someone had transplanted an entire luxury suite.

“This is incredible! Yeoreum, what is all this?”

“I know! This is insane. Ah... this perfect smell of money...!”

This time they'd prepared a bouquet of pure white peonies.

A ribbon bearing D's logo was tied around it.

Even the cushions inside the car featured the brand's signature Cannage pattern.

Soft fur carpeting covered the floor.

“We've prepared Brut champagne so you may enjoy a light drink before your fitting. Please relax while we take you there.”

As the car began moving, lights hidden in the ceiling gradually illuminated.

They resembled the stars I'd watched through the airplane window on the flight over.

Compared to Los Angeles, the reception here was even more extravagant.

For some reason, it reminded me of those Intube videos the algorithm occasionally recommended.

“So... do you know what this feels like right now?”

INTUBE

[A Poor Girl Suddenly Becomes a Prestigious Heiress?! ~I'm the Long-Lost Daughter of an Ultra-Wealthy Conglomerate?!~] 20:21

122,334 views

“This is exactly how I feel....”

“My dear, couldn't you think of a more cinematic scene? That's awfully underwhelming.”

“My brain's completely frozen right now. That's literally the only thing I could think of.”

I gazed out the window at New York's skyline.

Towering skyscrapers stretched endlessly upward.

The lights sparkled as though the city itself never slept.

Yellow taxis flooded the streets.

Movies.

Musicals.

Advertisements.

The whole world seemed to be shouting at me to look.

It was dazzling.

Overwhelming.

The energy pouring out of the buildings and the people felt as though it might swallow me whole.

‘So... this is the famous Times Square....’

Watching the brilliant displays pouring from the giant screens towering above Broadway, a song I had once heard drifted into my mind.

New York.

Concrete jungle.

Where dreams are made of.

A place where nothing is impossible.

I pressed myself against the window, drinking in every inch of the city.

“Huh...?”

“Isn't that Yeoreum?”

“Where?”

“It is!”

On the side of a building some distance away, footage from 〈Seoul Metropolitan City〉 was playing.

My face.

Meeting myself again in a place I had never imagined.

The moment it registered...

I suddenly wanted to shout too.

Like the people on these streets.

Like the giant billboards.

Like the towering buildings.

I wanted my voice to reach a country so distant I'd never even heard its name.

Look at me.

I'm here.