"Rather than saying I know them…"
Bong-gun paused for a moment, searching for the right words.
"More like… someone I remember one-sidedly?"
"That's quite unusual."
"There's probably no one as unusual as that person. There's this group called the Seoul Joint Theater Club — basically an alliance for people around the capital area."
The name sounded grand, but in truth it wasn't anything impressive. It was mostly for networking, sharing plays, or taking turns watching each other's performances. Since Bong-gun was in charge of writing scripts, he'd mostly interacted with other writers.
"I met them there. They weren't a university student… Where were they from… ugh, can't remember. Anyway, the funny thing was — they never told anyone their real name."
"Why not?"
"No idea. Always wore a hat pulled down deep. You'd think they were hiding from the law or something. But—"
Bong-gun stopped mid-sentence. In his hands was the script. He'd only skimmed through it briefly, but—of course. As expected.
"They wrote damn well."
Well enough to burn the memory into his mind. That first shock of freshness — and jealousy. It was a piece filled with individuality and density that any writer would envy.
"It was so good it made me mad."
"Wow. That's incredible."
"Everyone pretended they weren't bothered, but inside? They all thought the same. We exchanged feedback a few times, and then, one day, poof — gone."
"You lost contact?"
"Yeah. They just stopped uploading. But the alliance is huge, so people come and go all the time. I figured maybe they'd be back next week… but nope. That was probably… last year…"
He couldn't remember exactly when — it had been a while. He shook his head; the date didn't matter.
"Anyway, they finally finished it, huh. Their one flaw was how slow they wrote — they'd plan everything so meticulously. It's a good trait, but honestly, who else designs every little habit of how a character eats?"
"Most people wouldn't, right?"
Instead of admitting he didn't really know, Mu-yeong just nodded along.
"I tried doing the same once — thought it might be the secret to good writing — but nope. Didn't suit me. You've got to stop somewhere."
Bong-gun clicked his tongue, lost in memory. A masterpiece he'd thought would never be finished — and now, here it was in his hands.
"Mu-yeong, mind if I read this?"
"It's fine, but I've got to practice for the audition."
"Can't exactly print it out… oh!"
Bong-gun snapped his fingers as an idea hit him. He hurried to his desk and powered on his laptop. Mu-yeong peeked over his shoulder.
"What is it?"
"There's some stuff A-Ok — the writer — posted on a café ages ago. Let's see… unless they deleted it…"
Click!
"There it is!"
[
Three attached files. Bong-gun downloaded them and sent them to Mu-yeong's SNS.
"I read fast. Mind waiting a bit while I go through these? Please. The beginning probably hasn't changed much. They're slow, but once they write something, they never revise it."
He clasped his hands in earnest. Honestly, before meeting A-Ok, Bong-gun had thought of himself as a pretty good writer.
There's arrogance, and then there's that kind of arrogance.
No one realizes how small they are until they meet a true genius.
"I really want to see it — how they wrote, and how they ended this story."
Mu-yeong nodded, looking at the files in his inbox. How could he refuse when his roommate wanted it that badly? Besides, the gift seemed a lot more useful than expected.
"Go ahead."
"Awesome! Thanks, seriously!"
Bong-gun grabbed the script and glanced toward his two friends still gaming. Their chatter filled the dorm.
"Jeez, how many people are in this room?"
"Retreat! Retreat and re-enter!"
"I'm heading to the lobby for a bit."
"See you. Hey, can I borrow your laptop?"
"Go for it!"
The lobby would definitely be quieter. Mu-yeong sat at Bong-gun's desk and opened a file.
Click.
The first thing that caught his eye was, of course, the Character Notes.
[Jannie: Age nine. Neglected childhood; long black hair down to her waist. Small, delicate face. Burn marks on her wrists (mistaken as self-harm scars, making her a target for criminals). Hates beans, loves chocolate-]
The child protagonist appeared first. Each character had five or six pages of detailed notes.
The content was tangled — like a brainstorm dumped straight onto paper. Mu-yeong scrolled down, searching for Louis.
"Oh, here."
[Louis: Age twenty-one. Brown curly hair. Suffers from affection deprivation. Runs a small corner store near the FG factory with his grandmother. A mathematical prodigy, but his environment prevented him from shining. After his grandmother's death, he fell into depression and attempted suicide, but was discovered by Jannie — the store's only customer — and failed. Since then, he follows her devotedly. Loves being patted by Jannie. Always keeps chocolate in his pocket-]
"So that's where the chocolate came from."
It was Louis all along.
Some details differed slightly from the current script, but the background stories filled in many blanks. Mu-yeong read carefully, letter by letter.
"Louis… Jannie…"
He whispered their names — the two central figures.
The deeper he read, the more he felt drawn into their world. What had started as just another audition script was no longer that.
I really want to do this.
He wanted to be them — the ones who lived in that mesmerizing world. If possible, those two caught in their strange, tragic love — Louis and Jannie.
Rustle.
Mu-yeong took out his notebook and began copying down all the character notes by hand — dozens of pages worth. He figured memorizing them this way would help.
"Ugh, finally— done?"
"Okay. We did a lot."
By the time the others finished gaming, dawn had already broken.
Park Moon-sung and Choi Hwan stretched and glanced around the dorm.
"…Didn't midterms end?"
"Why's he sleeping there?"
"Wait— is Bong-gun crying?"
"He's totally crying! Phone, get the phone!"
Mu-yeong was furiously writing something, while Bong-gun, not to disturb him, had fallen asleep on Mu-yeong's bed — clutching the Plague script to his chest, tears at the corners of his eyes.
Click!
"What kind of dream makes you cry like that?"
It was the mix of jealousy and fulfillment — the satisfaction of witnessing a masterpiece completed.
While Bong-gun sniffled in his sleep, Mu-yeong shook his aching wrist and smiled faintly.
Perfect.
As he organized the dozens of character lives, the story's entire flow — its rise and fall — unfolded naturally in his mind. Every action came from character, and every character drove the story.
I can do this.
To become Louis — more perfectly than anyone else.To summon him, the man who lived in that two-dimensional world, into reality.
Under the desk lamp, Mu-yeong's eyes gleamed.
"Geum Eun-dong! How long has it been?"
"I told you, it's Na Geum-dong! Honestly."
"Sit, sit. Wow, you're looking sharp today."
Na Geum-dong, dressed in a neat suit, sat before a table laid with a grand meal. President Mongnette chuckled as he took off his coat.
"Work's busy, huh? You're starting a new project soon, I hear."
"Yeah. It's a bit different from the usual format, so things are hectic."
"So the rumors are true? That there's a pre-cast actor already decided?"
"You've got sharp ears, huh."
Normally, production companies and directors chose the cast after confirming the project and began filming afterward.
But this time was different.
Because the lead actor had already been decided, everything else was being coordinated around them.
"So, how's it going? Everyone on board?"
"More or less. It's Director Jin Kyung-moon's project, after all — most people are positive about it."
Jin Kyung-moon himself seemed satisfied with the casting lineup, barring a few exceptions. The actor images matched shockingly well, so even the investors were in a good mood.
"Other than two or three roles, everything's practically locked. Things are moving fast — must be fate."
"That's good news. So that means a few spots are still open? I heard the writer's got quite the stubborn streak though — how'd you manage that?"
"Don't even ask. My staff had a rough time. We managed to get a list of alternate actors, and if that doesn't work out, the writer agreed to hold an open audition personally."
At first, the writer had been adamant. But once things began progressing, they took a step back. After all, what writer doesn't dream of seeing their work adapted and shown to the world?
"But why are you asking about this?"
"A rookie actor joined us recently."
"Oh ho! A rookie? At Big Win? What's this about?"
"His name's Ha Mu-yeong. Kid's got an eye for scripts, I'll give him that. He saw the Plague script and begged me to let him try for it. Oh, and he's a hardcore fan of Moonshot."
"A rookie, you say? How old is he if he knows Moonshot?"
"He's a freshman in college. So… I was wondering if you could maybe arrange a meeting—"
"Hm."
President Mongnette crossed his arms, thinking. The two or three open roles were actually quite important to the story.
"A twenty-year-old rookie, huh… not exactly a role that fits right now."
"Has Louis been cast yet?"
"Louis? Oh, that one's Lee Hee-jun from Siling. Pretty much finalized. Scheduling's already sorted out. There's still a meeting with Director Jin, but…"
If both sides wanted each other, there was no reason for it to fall through.
President Mongnette picked up his chopsticks, sighing a little.
"Bit parts would be fine, but a major role… that's tough."
"Come on, hyung. Please, just one meeting — with Director Jin and the writer, maybe? Just once."
A rookie had joined after a long while — one who'd turned down other good opportunities to sign with Big Win. He was trusting them completely.
Since it was a project he truly wanted to do, his manager's heart ached to at least give him a chance.
"The kid's acting is incredible, seriously."
"Oh, come on. He's twenty. How good could he be?"
"No, really. You'll be stunned when you see him. And his face — absolutely camera-ready."
"Haha! You get more sentimental with age, don't you? Sounds like he's Big Win's lucky charm, huh?"
"That's right. Our lucky charm!"
President Mongnette popped a piece of sashimi into his mouth and gave a hollow chuckle.
Well, they'd known each other for a while — it'd be cold to just shut him down after sharing a meal.
"I can't promise an official meeting."
Still, tossing him a rice-grain-sized chance wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't be a big role, but like he said, bit parts were always welcome.
"Just drop by, show your face. The writer and director are meeting with the cast soon. I'll send you the time and place."
"Thank you so much!"
"Alright, enough shop talk. How's your wife doing?"
"She's great, doing fine."
"Was it five years ago I last saw her?"
How far that little grain of opportunity would grow — that depended on the actor. Mongnette and Na Geum-dong exchanged drinks, their glasses clinking.
"I'll be right back, restroom."
"Yes, sir."
And while Mongnette stepped away, Na Geum-dong — slightly drunk, his head spinning — managed to send a text with shaky hands.
[Muyeong ah I got you a meeting [email protected]]
[A meeting?]
[Nah just like bump into them kinda thing]
[Ah, understood. That's still something. Thank you, boss. Get home safe.]
[Okkay!]
After receiving Na Geum-dong's message, Go Kyung-min immediately called Mu-yeong.
"Hey, Mu-yeong. You busy?"
—"No, go ahead."
What's with his voice?
It sounded unusually subdued — like wet newspaper soaked in gloom. Go Kyung-min checked the screen, wondering if he'd called the wrong number.
"Uh… so the boss just called. Apparently there's a Plague meeting soon. Most of the roles are already set, so it's not a casting meeting per se — but you should go, at least to show your face."
—"Yeah. I understand."
"Get ready in case they ask for anything."
—"…Hmm."
After a brief pause, Mu-yeong replied.
—"I guess I'd better get my hair done. I'm thinking brown… and a perm."