Chapter 2
A semi-transparent window floated in midair.
[MBS drama A Summer Cantabile confirms the casting of Jeon Sera, known as the fairy of the advertising world. Director Lee Beom-un has expressed that through A Summer Cantabile, he aims to portray the innocence of first love…]
Even after waving his hands at it, the semi-transparent window didn’t disappear.
The text scrolled across the screen like a teleprompter, and when the announcer finished speaking, it vanished with a pop, as if the power had been turned off.
At first, I thought it was a hallucination caused by the side effects of narcotic painkillers. But I wasn’t nauseous, and nothing hurt at all.
In fact, I felt so light that I could practically fly.
And this cramped studio apartment—a filthy room that could pass for a landfill—was the very place I had lived in for three years, up until the end of my twenties.
“Is this like the flashback before you die?”
A few hours later, I was still lying in that room. Slowly, it started to feel like this was real.
I was starving.
***
“Was I like this?”
The next day, I stared intently at my 20-something self in the mirror.
My sparkling eyes brimmed with ambition, and my healthy physique, adorned with well-toned muscles, exuded vitality.
I had become the sturdy young man who could pull all-nighters for days and still remain full of energy.
[MBS drama A Summer Cantabile has confirmed Lee Jugeon as Jeon Sera’s co-star. Director Lee Beom-un, known as the monster rookie who debuted with MBS’s one-act play Song of the Angel…]
Once a day, the semi-transparent window appeared, and the announcer’s voice played.
Last night, I stayed up watching all the dramas airing on TV. Based on that, I confirmed that this was about past events—yet it was news from the future in the current timeline.
I grabbed a notepad and pen to jot things down.
- I’ve returned to the past.
- I’m seeing and hearing strange things.
- What should I do next?
As I circled “What should I do next?” on the notepad, the paper tore. My grip had been too strong.
I had climbed to the highest position as a producer, and now I had to start all over again from the bottom?
Blocking roads for shoots and getting beaten up by drunkards, enduring harassment from seniors, and having my results stolen.
There were even times when the company went bankrupt, leaving me unpaid for months, forcing me to skip meals.
And yet, I had stayed in the drama industry because learning the ropes was genuinely fun. I loved creating dramas.
The problem was that I had already been through all of it.
“Do I really have to go through that all over again?”
Flopping onto my back, I stared at the ceiling and blinked as the house phone rang.
“Wow, that still works?”
The moment I picked up the corded phone, a string of curses greeted me.
[Hey! Kim Doyun! Damn it, are you not coming to work? Have you lost your mind…]
“No, I’m not coming.”
Without hesitation, I slammed the receiver down.
Ah, who else could it be?
Bae Shin-Ho PD.
‘A bastard of a superior.’
He was notorious for stealing juniors’ achievements rather than teaching them, despite being an early entrant into the industry.
‘From Bae Shin-Ho’s perspective, it must be shocking that a rookie is rebelling. But so what? I’m quitting.’
Currently, my social position was that of a first-year PD at H Productions, a den of bastards.
There were set clock-in times, but no clock-out times—basically slavery.
The only logical choice was to part ways quickly with H Productions. I turned off my cell phone since submitting a resignation letter in person would’ve been a waste of time.
But to think they’d harass me on the landline.
‘This should be enough of a message.’
Yet…
The house phone rang again.
“So damn noisy.”
I picked up the receiver and unleashed all the words I’d held back in my previous life.
“Hey, Bae Shin-Ho. I’ve already told you I’m quitting because there’s nothing to learn from an incompetent bastard who can only shake tambourines in front of directors. And why am I a bastard? Do you even know me?”
But why was it so quiet?
Had Bae Shin-Ho ever listened to me this attentively before?
[PD Kim Doyun, this is Jeong Woon-young.]
Gulp! It wasn’t Bae Shin-Ho—it was Jeong Woon-young.
Jeong Woon-young was the company president.
He was a former director from a network broadcasting station and had started a drama production company with funding at the time.
“I apologize. I thought it was PD Bae Shin-Ho. Anyway, you’ve called at the right time. Please consider this my resignation. I’ll hang up now.”
Honestly, I was curious why Jeong Woon-young had called, but I decided not to care.
I didn’t want to waste my life grinding my body and soul for a company that didn’t recognize my value.
I had a knack for identifying what would succeed and what wouldn’t.
Talent.
At the time, I didn’t realize it, but later I couldn’t deny it—I had the ability to assemble the perfect combination for success.
For a drama to succeed, it wasn’t enough for the writer to produce a great script.
Even if a great script was visually expressed well by the director, the drama would fail if the actor’s performance was terrible.
Even when the script, visuals, and acting were all perfect, social scandals could still kill the ratings and lead to a bitter conclusion.
Actor scandals, directors’ abuse, sensitive issues like child or animal abuse.
Staff injuries, illegal dumping during outdoor shoots, and so on.
Unforeseeable events frequently occurred during drama production.
I had a remarkable ability to match writers, directors, and actors perfectly and to manage crises discreetly, resulting in many masterpieces.
A genius drama PD, the Midas’ hand.
Meeting Kim Doyun was said to be equivalent to having your name engraved in drama history.
Still, it’d be a lie to say I had no regrets.
Even if the drama industry was a mess, there were genuinely good people and companies I had always wanted to work with.
Above all, I always regretted the “projects” that never saw the light of day.
If I were ever reborn, I’d always thought about creating those kinds of works.
And Eun Jihoon!
Eun Jihoon, who had suffered through years of obscurity and financial hardship before making a name for himself as a villain, ultimately committed suicide.
He was one of the very few people in the entertainment industry whom Kim Doyun considered truly “human.”
The reason Doyun held Eun Jihoon in such high regard was because he was a consistent person, inside and out.
This likely made it difficult for him to survive in the drama industry.
Choice!
Doyun began planning the storyline for this new life.
A drama with Kim Doyun as the main character unfolded vividly in his mind.
‘Add revenge-driven catharsis to a story of success, and mix in a spoonful of healing.’
Having made up his mind, Doyun began packing his things.
***
On the eastern coast, in Jeongdongjin.
Walking along the narrow path from the two-lane road, a vast sandy beach stretched out before him.
But not many tourists visited this place.
If you went just a little north, there were Gangneung and Sokcho; if you went south, there was Mangsang Beach, which made Jeongdongjin easy to overlook.
Some tourists seeking a quieter sunrise than Gangneung or Sokcho would come to Jeongdongjin, but only for one day each year!
Not many people were willing to invest in Jeongdongjin for just that one day.
‘Later, it’ll become a famous tourist destination when word spreads about its use as a drama filming location.’
Jeongdongjin was Doyun’s hometown, and here his mother ran a small snack shop to make ends meet.
Despite their poverty, his mother had diligently saved money and purchased nearby fields and a hill next to the two-lane road.
She had planned to retire and farm there someday.
But just a year before Jeongdongjin’s development began, she sold all the land because she needed a large sum of money.
Soon after, Jeongdongjin transformed dramatically, and she was forced out of the single-story house where she ran her shop.
They demolished the house to build a coffee shop.
A large, ship-shaped café was built on the hill across from the land that had once been hers, along with accommodations and restaurants.
Seeing this had deeply upset his mother.
“Why are you here at this hour?”
As she stirred the tteokbokki, his mother, Shin Sun-ok, asked in surprise.
‘You were beautiful, Mom.’
The image of his mother healthy and lively made his nose sting with emotion.
Whenever he thought of her, he remembered her suffering from terminal cancer, which had always been painful for him.
It seemed both his mother and Doyun carried cancer genes, as both had passed away from the disease at a young age.
Accepting that he had returned to the past, Doyun resolved to put his family first. Work and success would come second.
And even that success wouldn’t just be for himself; he wanted to feel the satisfaction of achieving something that brought joy to many.
“I took some time off so you can go to the hospital. I’ll watch the shop.”
“Why should I go to the hospital? I’m not sick.”
His mother subtly tried to avoid the issue, as if unwilling to waste money on unnecessary tests.
Anticipating this, Doyun gently pulled her by the shoulder.
“I just came back from scheduling a colonoscopy.”
“Why do I need a colonoscopy? No, I don’t want to—it’s scary.”
“I already paid, and it’s non-refundable. I even brought the prep medication, so take it and get the exam. Otherwise, I’m not going back to Seoul.”
In the end, unable to overcome Doyun’s insistence, his mother underwent the exam at a hospital in Gangneung.
The result? Twelve polyps were found in her colon. Thankfully, none had turned cancerous yet.
However, one of the polyps was quite large, requiring removal and observation during a brief hospital stay.
‘Thank goodness. At least I’ve prevented her from dying of colon cancer.’
***
Even after moving to Jeongdongjin, the semi-transparent window appeared without fail, accompanied by an alarm sound.
Since the news from the future was all things he already knew, he wasn’t particularly surprised.
…Or was he?
[MBS drama A Summer Cantabile faces continued controversy despite confirming its lead casting. Reports claim that writer Han Jiseon and director Lee Beom-un exchanged heated words and insults at a Gangnam Japanese restaurant. The Drama Writers Association is taking the situation seriously…]
‘Why are they fighting like this?’
Jeongdongjin was the filming location for ‘A Summer Cantabile.’
After the drama aired, praised for both its ratings and artistry, Jeongdongjin became a famous tourist destination.
But what would happen if the drama was canceled or if the director or writer were replaced? Would Jeongdongjin no longer be a filming location?
Why had the future changed? Could it be because of me?
‘I did quit the company, but surely it’s not because of that?’
Thinking carefully, Doyun realized that in the past, he had been assigned to writer Han Jiseon’s projects.
He would bring her coffee and sandwiches, listen to her complaints about directors, and essentially act as her emotional trash can.
Occasionally, when she got stuck, he would even suggest ideas to help her write.
Thanks to this, Han Jiseon had been able to ease some of the burdens of writing the drama, and conflicts with Lee Beom-un had been avoided.
“Whether they fight or kill each other, it’s none of my business. But the drama must be filmed in Jeongdongjin.”
When the beautiful scenery of Jeongdongjin was shown in the drama, his mother had been thrilled that the place she had lived all her life had left a positive impression on so many people.
Seeing his mother and siblings glued to the TV, unable to take their eyes off the drama, had filled Doyun with pride.
[Hey, didn’t our brother recommend this location to the director? It used to be our little secret, right?]
[Our house is in it too! Haha, how cool.]
After much deliberation, Doyun finally made up his mind.
—
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