Chapter 5
“Why are you trying to bring back that rude jerk?”
As he watched Doyun hurriedly leave the shop, Lee Beom-un grumbled with discontent.
“And you’re polite?”
“Excuse me?”
Lee glared, as if questioning whether it was acceptable to call a current, pure-blooded director impolite.
“I’m the one driving. I’m the one paying for all the meals. I’m even buying drinks at rest stops, and you’re saying this?”
“You’re the one who insisted we come to this backwater place.”
“What, do you think I came here to date you? I’m doing this to make things work, so cooperate.”
Suppressing his rising irritation, Jeong Woon-young spoke in a calming tone.
“Do you want to split with Han Jiseon? Do you not want to do this drama?”
“What does that have to do with him?”
“Who was keeping Han Jiseon in check all this time? Kim Doyun.”
“Was he? I only ever talked to Lee Seulgi.”
“And what good is talking to an assistant writer? I gave her two assistants, and neither of them could even open their mouths in front of Han Jiseon.”
Lee fell silent, as he couldn’t argue against that.
But admitting that he hadn’t tried to actively resolve his issues with Han Jiseon was something he wasn’t willing to do.
“What’s this? Shrimp tempura?”
He grabbed a piece of shrimp tempura out of frustration and took a bite.
‘Why does this have to taste so good in such an annoying situation?’
The crispy batter and the sweet, nutty flavor of the shrimp were outstanding.
As he devoured the first piece and reached for another, he muttered,
“Even if we bring him back, it won’t solve everything.”
“You’re wrong. I think Kim Doyun is someone special. You just don’t know how to judge people.”
At that moment, Jeong’s phone rang—it was Han Jiseon.
“Oh, Writer Han! I’m here with Beom-un, searching for a quiet beach on the East Coast. Ha ha, look at all the effort I’m putting in…”
Jeong tried to keep things positive, but Han cut him off.
[President, did Kim Doyun quit? I knew something was off! He hasn’t been coming to the office or answering calls.]
“Well, that’s because…”
[How could you let go of the only person I can communicate with? Do you really not want to work with me on this drama?]
Her voice was so loud that even Lee, sitting across from Jeong, could hear it.
“Oh, actually, Kim Doyun is here with us right now.”
[He didn’t quit?]
“He said this is his hometown. Anyway, he’s decided to come back, so let’s stop being upset and focus on writing episode three, okay?”
[Oh… alright.]
Oh, alright? What was with this sudden change in attitude?
After hanging up, Jeong looked at Lee.
“You heard that, right? You heard her.”
“Are they dating?”
“Will you stop spouting nonsense?”
If Han heard such a rumor, it could lead to a lawsuit. Jeong glared at Lee as if to warn him, then said,
“Remember the photos I showed you? The ones of Jeongdongjin.”
“Yeah, the ones that tricked us into coming here. Those photos must’ve been taken by a professional photographer Han paid for. You can make any shabby beach look good with the right skills. But look around—there’s nothing special here.”
“A photographer?”
Jeong chuckled and pointed to the old camera behind the counter.
“Those photos were taken by Kim Doyun.”
“What?”
That couldn’t be true.
If Doyun could take photos of that quality, it meant he was better with a camera than most cinematographers.
“Stop lying!”
Unwilling to accept it, Lee shouted.
“Want me to ask him?”
“What’s there to ask?”
Fearing it might be true, Lee balked at the idea.
But even he couldn’t understand why he was so conscious of Doyun.
Was it the arrogant gaze that seemed to look down on him?
The insolent attitude?
‘No.’
It was because of that incident.
Lee had blatantly abused his authority over Doyun. He had thought it was acceptable. No, he had wanted to do it.
‘I held on all this time just to try something like that once.’
As a network-trained director, it typically took six to eight years as an assistant director to earn the chance to direct a one-act play.
Finally, after debuting, a director would be judged based on the success of their one-act drama.
But if the drama flopped? While peers moved on to direct mini-series, they’d be stuck on weekend drama B-teams for years.
Fortunately, Lee had done well with his one-act plays, earning him the chance to direct a mini-series for Jeong’s company.
He was the first among his peers to debut with a full-length drama, and it inflated his ego.
[Hey, have you been waiting long?]
In the dead of winter, he had left Doyun standing outside a bar in the freezing cold.
[Don’t you know meeting actors is part of a director’s business?]
After drinking heavily at the second round, he had handed Doyun his car keys and made him act as a chauffeur.
[You should’ve studied harder.]
Through the rearview mirror, Lee had seen the cold fury in Doyun’s eyes and laughed to himself.
What are you going to do, glare at me? You can’t do anything.
He had vented all the humiliation and misery he’d endured from his own seniors on Doyun, and it had been immensely satisfying.
But now…
He never expected Han Jiseon to be so eager to bring Doyun back.
‘Damn it.’
The fight with Han had been a power struggle, with no clear right or wrong.
But his treatment of Doyun was outright abuse of power.
If that jerk complained to Han about why he quit, things could escalate.
If word spread among writers that he was a toxic person to work with…
Who would want to collaborate with him?
“Oh, Doyun, what’s with all the stuff you bought?”
Jeong called out as Doyun re-entered the shop. The question caused Lee and Doyun to lock eyes.
Ugh! Lee Beom-un instinctively felt that Doyun was recalling the past incident.
Startled, Lee quickly set down his chopsticks and straightened his posture. That didn’t mean he wanted to apologize for what had happened.
‘That would make me look so pathetic.’
However, he couldn’t just let it slide, so he nervously tapped his foot under the table.
Sensing Lee’s sudden change in demeanor, Jeong Woon-Young tilted his head and asked,
“What’s wrong? Did you bite your tongue while eating the shrimp tempura? Or does it not taste good?”
What a clueless idiot!
Snapping his head up, Lee glanced at Doyun nervously before replying,
“No! It’s just… the shrimp tempura is so delicious that I wanted to savor it.”
But when he picked up another piece, he noticed the shrimp’s head had been cut off.
It felt oddly symbolic of his own situation, so he quickly popped the remaining shrimp into his mouth.
“This is really fantastic. Hey, Kim PD, this shrimp—it’s wild-caught, isn’t it?”
Lee awkwardly tried to strike up a conversation with Doyun as a gesture of reconciliation.
But why is he filling a glass with water? Is he going to throw it in my face?
As Doyun swiftly walked over with the glass in hand, Lee reflexively shut his eyes tightly.
“Farmed.”
Doyun set the glass down with a clink in front of Lee.
“It’s farmed.”
To Lee, those words sounded like, “Do you even have a conscience?”
His face burned with embarrassment.
***
Two days after Jeong Woon-Young and Lee Beom-un visited Jeongdongjin, Doyun’s mother was discharged from the hospital.
Doyun boiled a chicken and made porridge by mixing glutinous rice and regular rice into the broth. Watching him, his mother marveled at his cooking skills.
“It’s nothing. I just copied what I saw you do.”
Whether it was his attention to detail or the use of herbal ingredients, the porridge turned out rich and flavorful.
“Oh, come on. I thought we were having pork belly! Aren’t you heading back to Seoul tomorrow? Shouldn’t we be grilling meat to celebrate?”
Dohee, who had been studying in her room, peeked into the kitchen and grumbled.
“Mom can’t have greasy food for a while.”
“Is chicken not greasy?”
“I skimmed off all the fat before cooking. From now on, you’re in charge of cooking for her. Got it, kid?”
“Tsk! I’m not a kid!”
Pouting at the lack of pork belly, Dohee turned on her heel and stomped off.
“Always acting so cute.”
“She’s doing so well in her studies. She cried her eyes out when she ranked second in her last mock exam because she wanted to be first.”
Beaming with pride, their mother smiled brightly, clearly delighted by Dohee’s academic achievements.
She must have been thinking about sending Dohee to a prestigious university in Seoul, knowing Doyun could take care of her.
“Mom, don’t even think about selling the land to buy a villa in Seoul.”
“I-I never said anything like that to you!”
Looking flustered, their mother avoided his gaze.
“You’ve been hinting at it. You’re worried because I live in a rented place, and with Dohoon getting discharged soon and Dohee going to college in a couple of years, you probably think this is the time to buy a villa.”
The reason she had sold all her land in Jeongdongjin was to buy a villa for her three children to live in.
An old, run-down villa that neither appreciated in value nor sold easily.
When Jeongdongjin underwent redevelopment, their mother had to leave this house and move to Seoul.
Seoul was an unfamiliar city to her. With no friends or acquaintances other than her children, she had lived like a recluse in that villa.
Doyun rarely came home, eventually moving into an officetel closer to work as he got busier.
Their brother Dohoon must have spent most of his time outside, and Dohee’s strained relationship with their mother over her acting career likely added to her loneliness.
But what saddened their mother most wasn’t the solitude—it was not being able to leave behind a proper inheritance.
Despite a lifetime of hard work, she had lamented that she could only leave a dilapidated villa behind.
“But if I don’t buy a house, you’ll all end up scattered, living apart.”
To ease her worries, Doyun reassured her.
“I’m earning money, Mom. I’ll take care of a place for us to live together.”
“How are you going to do that when you’re still the youngest in your company?”
Just then, a notification buzzed on his phone.
[Mr. Doyun, I’ll raise your salary if you come back to work. I can’t afford to lose someone like you.]
It was a message from Jeong Woon-Young.
Smirking, Doyun showed the text to his mother.
“See? Your son’s got talent.”
“…Weren’t you on vacation?”
“Oh!”
He’d been caught lying about being on vacation.
“I didn’t want you to worry. I’m just moving to a better company, so don’t even think about selling the land, okay?”
“Alright. But it seems like your phone’s buzzing nonstop.”
It wasn’t just messages—it was a flood of texts.
This was why he had been avoiding Jeong. The man was relentless when he saw potential, refusing to let go until he’d squeezed every last drop out of it.
[You’re the one who sent the Jeongdongjin photos, right? If you’re so passionate about the project, you can’t just quit.]
[I’ll have PD Bae apologize. But why aren’t you answering my calls?]
[Name your salary. Let’s negotiate, okay?]
Laughing to himself, Doyun turned off his phone.
‘If I named my price, he’d probably faint.’
Either way, Jeong’s desperation was equivalent to handing the reins over to him.
Feeling completely at ease, Doyun rolled up his sleeves and headed back to the kitchen.
“Mom, are you hungry? I’ll set the table right away.”
“Wow, my son’s porridge. I feel spoiled, truly spoiled.”
As he looked at his mother’s radiant smile, warmth filled Doyun’s heart.
—
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