Chapter 6
“Mom, dinner’s ready.”
It was a family dinner without Dohoon, who was still serving in the military.
Was it because she had recovered from the brink of death? Sitting across from his mother and Dohee to share a meal filled Doyun with a strange, aching warmth.
Moreover, since he would be heading back to Seoul the next day, he wanted to spend this time chatting and creating a warm memory together.
“Mom, isn’t that drama airing today?”
“Oh, right!”
His mother changed the TV channel.
It’s on! As soon as the drama began, his mother and Dohee leaned in as if they would disappear into the TV.
‘What the heck? They should be paying attention to me.’
Not a single word about how the food tasted, when he’d be back after going to Seoul, or how they appreciated the packed lunch he had made.
Feeling a little annoyed, Doyun casually remarked,
“That drama ends so ridiculously…”
“No, Oppa! Don’t spoil it! It’ll ruin the fun!”
Despite Dohee’s desperate plea, Doyun smirked and continued,
“Everyone dies at the end. Bang-bang, shot to death.”
What?! His mother’s eyes widened in disbelief, shocked by what she had just heard.
Since Doyun worked in the drama industry, there was no way she could doubt him.
“Who kills who?”
“Jung Jae-min shoots Sujeong and Kang In-wook, then kills himself. In Bali.”
“Ugh! That’s nonsense! No way! That can’t happen!”
Watching Dohee collapse dramatically while eating porridge, Doyun burst into laughter.
“Pfft.”
“Doyun, is it true?”
“Yes.”
“Ha… Turn off the TV. I don’t want to watch it anymore.”
At his mother’s command, the TV was swiftly turned off.
He thought they could now enjoy a peaceful dinner together.
But the mood had already shifted. Both his mother and Dohee sat dazed and spiritless.
***
“Wow, this is practically stalker-level behavior.”
On the highway bus back to Seoul.
By the time they passed the Dongseoul Toll Gate, he turned on his phone, and the flood of missed calls and text notifications was relentless.
Most were from Jeong Woon-Young, but there were also messages from Writer Han Jiseon.
[PD Kim, is it true you’re coming back to the company? President Jeong says you are, but I can’t trust it. You won’t even answer my calls. Why are you avoiding me?]
It seemed Jeong had lied to Han, and now he was desperately trying to clean up the mess with a barrage of calls and texts.
The reason Han Jiseon was so eager to bring Doyun back was simple: he was crucial to her writing process.
‘I kept giving her ideas.’
Han would often cram exciting setups into the early parts of her dramas, only to hit a wall when it came to tying things together.
Every time, Doyun would casually toss out a few ideas, and those comments would instantly spark Han’s creativity, allowing her to continue writing.
He had thought those ideas were no big deal—like pointing out where the finish line was to a racer.
But later, he realized just how extraordinary that ability was.
‘It’s an incredible skill.’
This ability was why Doyun had succeeded as a PD far earlier than his peers.
Telling writers things like, “If you go that way, the romance will fall flat,” or “If you choose that direction, the romance will thrive, but you’ll lose viewership because the audience wants to see the protagonist succeed.”
Writers who listened to him succeeded, while those who dismissed his input produced flops and eventually disappeared from the industry.
Han Jiseon was one of the former. Even now, she was desperate for his guidance.
After thinking for a moment, Doyun sent Han a text.
[I’ll come by once things are settled.]
Maintaining good relationships with writers was crucial for drama PDs.
Having even one skilled writer on your side could transform your career.
However, sending that text seemed to have stirred up a hornet’s nest, as now even Lee Beom-un was calling him.
This was getting out of hand.
It seemed inevitable that he would have to meet Jeong Woon-Young to resolve things. But first, he had someone else to meet.
“Hey, Kim Doyun! Over here, over here!”
As Doyun exited the crowded Dongseoul Bus Terminal, he spotted Go Dongsoo waving enthusiastically.
Go Dongsoo was a fellow graduate of the MBS Academy and worked as a PD for a film company.
Standing 180 cm tall and weighing 100 kg, with short hair and a friendly demeanor, Dongsoo cut an imposing yet approachable figure.
Doyun and Dongsoo often met at the Han River park to play basketball, as both enjoyed sports.
They got along well and shared great conversations, but working in different industries had naturally led to them drifting apart.
In this life, Doyun didn’t want that to happen again.
He had painfully realized how rare it was to find someone he truly connected with.
“Hey, Dongsoo! Have you been waiting long? Traffic was crazy.”
“Seriously? You made me wait 40 minutes on the street, and you call that a little traffic?”
Go Dongsoo wrapped Doyun in a headlock, teasing him. Although Doyun was sturdy, Dongsoo’s strength easily tossed him around.
“Hey, Go Dongsoo! You’re going to break my back!”
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like you’re using it for anything!”
“What? You’ve been working in the film industry, and now you’re full of dirty jokes?”
“That’s not all I’ve gained. My patience has skyrocketed too. Let’s go get some beer.”
“In the middle of the day?”
“Drinking in the daytime is the best.”
Dongsoo was so eager to drink that he downed a 500cc draft beer before any snacks even arrived and immediately ordered another.
“Is something bothering you?”
After some light-hearted banter, Doyun decided to ask.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything. It’s all a mess.”
“Spill it. I’ll listen to everything.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Doyun sat in a posture ready to listen. Dongsoo took a sip of the fresh beer and began,
“Nothing is moving forward. They spent three years swapping writers and revising the script before I even joined.”
“……”
“But from what I see, even 30 years wouldn’t make this work. It’s about a boy with autism running. How could that make a movie?”
Unbeknownst to Dongsoo, his company was working on what would become a masterpiece etched into Korean cinema history.
A low-budget film that would earn unprecedented revenue and critical acclaim—a rare gem.
When such works emerge, they draw money into the film industry, revitalizing the entire content sector.
Confident, Doyun said,
“It’ll work.”
“What do you mean, work? It’s a story about running. Who in Korea makes movies about track and field?”
“It will work.”
Doyun nodded firmly, exuding complete assurance.
“If you’re going to make a sports movie, it should be about archery or taekwondo—something with action! How can a movie about just running work? And the director insists on including a line about prosthetic legs being worth $2 million. Does that even make sense?”
“Pfft!”
Doyun burst out laughing, but Dongsoo raised his voice even more.
“What actor would want to play a character with autism? Everyone just wants to act cool and handsome!”
“A famous actor will sign on, and it’ll be a massive hit. Have I ever been wrong about something I said would work?”
Dongsoo knew better than anyone about Doyun’s uncanny ability to predict successful and unsuccessful stories.
He had even nicknamed him a genius after Doyun accurately estimated box office numbers for countless films.
“You really think it’ll work?”
“It will.”
“Wow, damn! Now that I think about it, it could work.”
Seeing Doyun’s unwavering confidence, Dongsoo suddenly changed his tune.
Perhaps it was this simplicity of Dongsoo’s character that Doyun liked. He never felt drained or burdened when they met, unlike with others.
There’s a saying that having even one good friend makes life worthwhile.
Now more than ever, Doyun understood its meaning. Looking straight at Dongsoo, he said,
“You’ll do great too, Go Dongsoo.”
Because I’ll make sure of it.
Staring intently into Dongsoo’s eyes, Doyun spoke with conviction.
“So, hang in there!”
Hearing that, Dongsoo straightened his drooping shoulders.
“Got it! I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
After flashing a big grin, Dongsoo asked about Doyun’s recent activities.
“Anyway, why’d you suddenly go back to your hometown?”
“I’m thinking of switching companies.”
“We’ve got an opening at my company. Oh, right—you don’t like the film industry, huh?”
Films tell stories through events, whereas dramas focus on relationships between characters.
Since Doyun found relationships more intriguing than events, he naturally leaned toward dramas.
That didn’t mean he disliked films, though.
“It’s not that I dislike it. I just started in dramas, so it feels like my place.”
“Yeah, dramas are more organized than films. In our industry, a company can disappear overnight.”
“True.”
“Hey, why don’t you move into my place? If you cut out rent, you can take your time figuring out your next step.”
Dongsoo’s family was well-off, affluent enough to own an apartment in Seoul.
Having been raised in comfort, Dongsoo often offered Doyun a place to stay—even in their previous life.
Each time, Doyun refused.
Even though they got along, living off a friend’s generosity hurt his pride. But having died alone, he had a change of heart.
“Maybe I will.”
“Really? Damn! I thought you’d say no, like always.”
“Do you want me to or not?”
“Of course, I want you to!”
Seemingly thrilled at the thought of having company, Dongsoo raised his glass for a toast.
“I’ll pay for the maintenance fees,” said Doyun with a grin.
“What kind of nonsense is that? It costs the same whether one or two people live there. Oh, by the way, you know I have a cat, right?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. Even if you’re busy with filming, I’ll take care of the food and water.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask you to move in so you could babysit my cat. Honestly, if it weren’t for you, I would’ve dropped out of the academy halfway through.”
While everyone else was anxious and directionless, Doyun remained steady and confident.
Watching him inspired Dongsoo to keep going.
Dongsoo gave Doyun a light pat on the shoulder.
“When you make it big, don’t pretend you don’t know me.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“I know. You’re one hell of a guy.”
With a thumbs-up, Dongsoo suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, right! That guy you were looking for—Eun Jihoon, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Doyun had posted in an online cafe exclusive to MBS Academy alumni, searching for Eun Jihoon, the aspiring actor.
Having traveled back 20 years, it was his only way to find him.
“I think I found him—Eun Jihoon.”
—
Read More at – GENZNOVEL.COM!!
PLEASE JOIN OUR DISCORD AND SUBSCRIBE THE ROLE TO RECEIVE LATEST NOTIFICATIONS!!
Click here -> https://discord.gg/S8c2kGVr2g
Comment