Episode 15
Doyun slowly turned his gaze, feeling a pang of unease.
Raw sorrow, unrefined into the form of acting.
Having already glimpsed the naked sorrow accumulated deep within Eun Jihoon, he couldn’t shake the discomfort it left behind.
“Wow! Amazing! You’re really good, kid,” praised Han Jiseon.
Even under her compliments, Jihoon continued to cry, his shoulders trembling, until Jiseon finally begged him to stop.
***
“So we’re choosing between these two as Lee Jugeon’s replacement for the role of Yeonwoo, right?”
Jeong Woon-Young and Lee Beom-un huddled together, narrowing down the candidates for Yeonwoo.
They debated between two male actors: model-turned-actor Seo Dongjin and film star Cho Sangwoo.
Both agencies confirmed that their schedules could accommodate the drama, and both actors expressed enthusiasm, having enjoyed Han Jiseon’s previous work.
Jeong Woon-Young examined Cho Sangwoo’s photo closely.
“He’s asking for way too much per episode. It’s a big financial burden.”
“He’ll generate buzz. His acting is solid too.”
“But it’s expensive.”
“Cho Sangwoo can portray a common man convincingly. Seo Dongjin, on the other hand, doesn’t exude that salty seaside vibe. Stick him shirtless on a beach, and he’ll look like a nobleman on vacation, not a fisherman’s son.”
Lee Beom-un was clearly smitten with Cho Sangwoo. Sangwoo’s recent films had garnered acclaim, and his fanbase was substantial.
Jeong Woon-Young replied, “Let’s ask Writer Han for her opinion. Her input is crucial.”
“What’s the point? She’ll probably choose the better-looking actor. Isn’t she so protective of Kim Doyun just because he’s good-looking?”
“Beom-un, do you have a complex about your appearance? I guess it makes sense.”
“Oh, come on! Really, senior?”
When Beom-un shouted in frustration, Woon-Young chuckled.
“If you don’t like hearing that, stop saying nonsense. Even if we assume Han Jiseon likes handsome men, do you think she’d pick the lead based only on looks? Her career’s at stake.”
Jeong Woon-Young leaned toward the relatively affordable Seo Dongjin, while Lee Beom-un favored the pricier but grittier Cho Sangwoo.
As the two directors remained at an impasse, there was a knock at the door.
“Oh, that must be him.”
“Who?”
“I fired Bae Shin-ho. Apparently, he and Lee Jugeon were out drinking and planning a third round. There was no way I could let that slide. I urgently hired someone to replace him.”
Hwang Chang-Soo entered and bowed ninety degrees toward Jeong Woon-Young.
“Director Jeong, thank you for calling me. I’ll give my life to serve you.”
“I don’t want your life.”
In the past, Woon-Young had worked with Chang-Soo as an FD (floor director) on a weekend drama.
Though Chang-Soo had a fiery temper and rough personality, overlooking such traits was necessary when staffing a project.
Most importantly, Chang-Soo executed Woon-Young’s directives without complaint. With a tilt of his chin, Woon-Young introduced him to Lee Beom-un.
“You know him, right? Director Lee Beom-un.”
“D-Director Lee Beom-un? My goodness! It’s an honor!”
Chang-Soo leapt in awe as if struck by lightning and immediately knelt, extending both hands for a handshake.
Beom-un blinked in disbelief.
“What is this? Who is this guy?”
“He’s just like this. Chang-Soo, knock it off. You’re embarrassing me.”
“I’m sorry, but I respect Director Beom-un so much. I’ve rewatched your short films 23 times. Every viewing feels completely different. I’m convinced you’re a genius.”
Though startled by Chang-Soo’s dramatic reaction, Beom-un couldn’t help but feel a little flattered.
“Well, I did put effort into them… But they’re not my best work.”
“Then just how much of a masterpiece is your best work? My heart races at the thought!”
“The drama I’m working on now will be a masterpiece.”
“Wow! That’s amazing. My lifelong dream has been to work alongside a genius like Director Beom-un. It’s truly an honor.”
While Jeong Woon-Young had long since grown accustomed to Chang-Soo’s over-the-top behavior, Beom-un was different. Recognizing his talent and receiving such praise made him sit up a little straighter.
“Let’s do great work together.”
“Chang-Soo, keep quiet unless I tell you to speak,” Woon-Young said, scowling.
“I’ll sew my lips shut,” Chang-Soo mimed zipping his mouth shut.
“Now, let’s call Writer Han and decide together who the lead will be.”
“Sounds good.”
On the table sat the photos of Seo Dongjin and Cho Sangwoo. As Chang-Soo glanced at them, he burst out, ignoring Woon-Young’s command.
“I’m close with Cho Sangwoo.”
“I told you to keep quiet!”
As Woon-Young snapped at him, Beom-un interjected, “Hold on, senior. How close are you to Cho Sangwoo? Could you negotiate his fee?”
“Of course! Should I try?”
At this, Woon-Young snapped his fingers and said, “Do it right away! Then we’ll discuss with Han Jiseon.”
***
That night, Doyun reviewed Han Jiseon’s newly revised Episodes 1 and 2 scripts while compiling a list of potential sponsorships.
At the time, broadcasting networks provided external production companies with a budget of 30 million won per episode—a laughable amount.
Producing a drama with that money meant the production company would lose up to 100 million won per episode.
Producing a 16-episode drama meant accruing 1.6 billion won in debt.
‘That’s just the low estimate.’
To cover debts running into tens of billions, agency presidents often had to visit Japanese broadcasters, pitching their dramas for purchase.
Winter Sonata, Escalator to Heaven, Youth’s Bait, and countless other dramas had opened doors to the Japanese market through sheer effort.
Thus, the Korean Wave in Japan was built on the blood, sweat, and tears of production companies.
‘Let’s dress up this drama with as much sponsorship as we can.’
Furniture, cars, cosmetics, even the actors’ wardrobes—Doyun considered all possible sponsorships. It wasn’t until dawn that he finally fell asleep.
And when he woke up the next morning:
[A Summer’s Cantabile faces early cancellation rumors due to poor ratings and a scandal involving lead actor Cho Sangwoo…]
“What kind of nonsense is this?!”
The future had changed, replacing Seo Dongjin with Cho Sangwoo in the role of Yeonwoo.
Who was behind this?
“Spring! It’s spring! So nice, huh? Isn’t it? Wonderful. I didn’t even notice the flowers blooming like this.”
Han Jiseon stretched her arm out of the car window as cherry blossoms fluttered in the breeze.
She had spent so much time holed up in her writing room that she was oblivious to whether it was raining or snowing outside.
But today, having put on makeup and a brand-new suit, she felt like she was heading out on a proper outing.
In the back seat sat her assistant writers, Lee Seulgi and Ham Dajeong, while Doyun was driving.
This entire entourage was accompanying Jiseon to a meeting with the production company.
But this was only the beginning.
Once filming started, dozens of staff members would laugh and cry over Han Jiseon’s script instructions (It’s pouring rain—80,000 won for a water truck, everyone needs raincoats, and get plastic covers for the batteries).
Viewers, in turn, would laugh and cry as they watched Jiseon’s dramas on TV.
‘This is the joy of being a drama writer.’
Humming a tune, Jiseon looked out the window, and Doyun remarked:
“It’s going to get hot soon.”
“Yeah, it will.”
“But Writer Han, about casting Seo Dongjin or Cho Sangwoo as Yeonwoo… Are you sure that’s okay? Personally, I think it’s weak.”
“I think it’s fine.”
Seo Dongjin fit Jiseon’s preference for a handsome actor. He was gorgeous!
And Cho Sangwoo had proven his acting chops in films. While his looks weren’t as striking, he had a friendly, relatable charm and a solid fanbase.
That’s why Jiseon was leaning toward meeting both actors in person before making her final decision.
“Unless they’re both terrible actors, isn’t it fine?”
Jiseon passed the figurative mic to her assistant writers.
Neither Seo Dongjin nor Cho Sangwoo ranked in the top three male actors with box office draw. Cho Sangwoo barely made it into the top ten, while Seo Dongjin was still a rookie.
This fact—oh-so-conveniently brought up by Doyun—implied that the production company was trying to cut costs while also sending a subtle message not to overlook the issue.
However, clashing with the production company wasn’t an option. After all, summer was approaching fast.
If filming got delayed, the drama might not air until the following summer. Worse, it could lose its slot entirely if other dramas took precedence.
The assistant writers felt the same.
Living in constant fear of Jiseon’s temper, they just wanted the drama wrapped up as quickly as possible.
“I think Cho Sangwoo fits better,” Ham Dajeong offered, leaning toward Jiseon from her seat.
“Cho Sangwoo works in romantic comedies. Even ordinary lines pop and feel lively when he delivers them.”
“I don’t like lively,” Jiseon replied bluntly.
Deflated, Ham returned to her seat.
“What about you, Seulgi? Who do you prefer?”
“…I think Seo Dongjin is better.”
“Oh, so you’re all about the looks?” Jiseon teased.
“N-No, that’s not it… It’s just that… In the current script, Yeonwoo is written as the son of a fisherman, with a rural vibe. But that won’t stay the same, right? I don’t know exactly what happens in Episode 3 since you’re still writing it, but doesn’t Yeonwoo change a lot after moving to Seoul?”
Through the rearview mirror, Doyun glanced at Seulgi.
‘She’s got a sharp eye.’
Exactly. Even Jiseon had forgotten that.
Having been so immersed in Episodes 1 and 2, the Yeonwoo in Jiseon’s mind was still the shy, rustic boy who felt too insignificant to approach Hyein as she walked out of her university gates with her friends.
But Yeonwoo’s character undergoes a dramatic transformation in Episode 3.
The timid, modest boy of Episodes 1 and 2 evolves to adapt to life in Seoul.
He dons a black suit and tie, earbuds in his ears, projecting a firm and sophisticated aura as a bodyguard.
‘That’s why I told Jihoon to learn swimming.’
Seo Dongjin was a great learning model for Jihoon.
Could Cho Sangwoo, trapped in his repetitive acting style, handle such a complex role? Could he convincingly transition from a dreamy shoujo protagonist to a protective bodyguard throwing himself into danger?
‘Who’s pushing for Cho Sangwoo? I can’t just let this happen.’
Doyun decided to ignite Jiseon’s fighting spirit.
“Sigh. Seo Dongjin and Cho Sangwoo… It’s enough to make me want to cry.”
“Hey, isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
“Kim Byul-ah’s debut mini-series cast Kang Hoon, you know.”
“What?! W-What? Kang Hoon? The actor who demands 10 million won per episode?!”
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