Chapter 52
“Uh!”
Doyun was so startled by Han Jiseon’s harsh words that he dropped his cookie, causing Lee Seulgi and Ham Dajeong to burst into laughter.
It felt a bit like, ‘Who’s calling who a piece of trash?’
Noticing this, Han Jiseon shot the two assistant writers a glare.
“Hey, I push you guys hard for educational purposes. Drama writers are on a different level from variety show writers!”
“Of course. A while ago, a variety show writer even jumped off the broadcasting station’s rooftop.”
Writers who create entertainment programs meant to make people laugh often suffer from extreme stress, sometimes turning against one another.
Since they work in teams, the main writer often bullies, overworks, and ostracizes sub-writers, turning them into complete wrecks.
“That writer who jumped? They were trained by the main writer who worked with Director Oh’s ex-wife.”
“So both of them were…?”
“They were famous for being absolute nightmares. But they were also experts at sucking up to the higher-ups. If there were an Academy Award for dual personalities, they would’ve won it.”
To CPs and directors, they acted sweet and innocent. To the sub-writers, they were absolute tyrants.
“How did Director Oh end up marrying someone like that… Anyway, that awful main writer is Lee Beom-un’s cousin.”
So, Oh Youngguk’s ex-wife and a current variety show main writer were best friends?
And Lee Beom-un was the cousin of that writer, who held significant influence in the variety department?
Even in his past life, Doyun hadn’t known this. It seemed that Lee Beom-un had managed to keep the information from spreading to the outsourced production teams.
Crossing his legs, Doyun asked,
“So Director Oh isn’t family with Lee Beom-un, but he’s connected through his ex-wife?”
“If they were real family, it would be easier to deal with. The problem is that Director Oh dotes on his daughter. But his daughter still meets up with his ex-wife and that main writer.”
“And since that main writer is Lee Beom-un’s cousin, it would be a disaster if Beom-un accidentally said something he shouldn’t.”
Since they all worked at the same broadcasting station, Lee Beom-un and the variety show main writer were probably quite close.
For Oh Youngguk, protecting Lee Beom-un might have been a way to protect his daughter as well.
‘Lee Beom-un might have manipulated this situation on purpose.’
He could have encouraged his cousin to set up meetings with Director Oh’s daughter, hoping to gain some advantage.
“Wow, this is truly pathetic.”
“That’s the perfect way to describe it.”
Han Jiseon was about to pick up a fish cake soaked in tteokbokki sauce, but she set her chopsticks down.
“Director Oh should have either not fought for custody or sent his daughter abroad.”
As she calmly ate her tteokbokki, Ham Dajeong asked,
“But usually, doesn’t the mother get custody?”
“She probably wasn’t able to claim it. That woman wasn’t ordinary. She worked freelance after their marriage, and her reputation was terrible.”
Although Han Jiseon didn’t elaborate, she hinted that Oh Youngguk’s ex-wife had serious issues.
“It’s like she didn’t want to let go of him even after the divorce. She’s been using their daughter as an excuse to stay involved. Ugh, why aren’t there any good mothers around me?”
Han Jiseon picked up another piece of fish cake but suddenly snapped her head up and looked at Doyun.
“Oh my! Mr. PD, you have a wonderful mother!”
“Thank you.”
“Oh! Right! You said your mother is in Seoul right now, right? Then dinner’s on me at the 63 Building buffet. She’s probably never been there, right?”
“She hasn’t been to Namsan, either.”
“Then you take her to Namsan donkatsu tomorrow. I’ll cover dinner at the 63 Building buffet tonight.”
The moment Han Jiseon finished speaking, Ham Dajeong and Lee Seulgi put down their chopsticks.
“Oh, what? You two want to come too? No way. You still have to do research.”
“……”
“……”
Seeing them instantly deflate, Han Jiseon cackled.
“This is how you become a terrible boss. Right, Mr. PD? But I’m not like that. Let’s all go together.”
“Waaaah!”
“Thank you, Ms. Writer!”
Grinning brightly, Ham Dajeong and Lee Seulgi didn’t take another bite of tteokbokki after that.
***
“Director, where are you going?”
As Oh Youngguk stepped out of his office, a junior director stopped in his tracks and asked.
“It’s Saturday. Do I have to be the only one stuck at the station?”
“Well, someone has to be.”
“Listen to this guy. Acting like I’m his plaything.”
Oh Youngguk gave him a sharp glare and walked past, but the younger director trailed after him.
“Where are you going?”
“Out to have fun. What, am I not allowed to?”
“You’re being suspicious.”
Considering that Oh Youngguk practically lived at the broadcasting station, it was odd to see him leave so early in the day.
The junior director asked again.
“So where exactly are you going?”
“Just get to the point. I’m busy.”
“I wanted to ask if I could make a drama about a gumiho (Nine-tailed fox).”
“That’s outdated. What about a goblin instead?”
The younger director grimaced.
“A goblin? Director, are you losing your touch? Who would watch a drama about a goblin?”
“I would. Just cast a handsome male lead.”
“A goblin and handsome don’t go together. Ugh, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Muttering to himself, the junior director stayed behind as Oh Youngguk stepped into the elevator.
Just as the doors were about to close, the junior director stuck his arm through the gap.
“So, gumiho is a no-go?”
“If I say no, will you actually give up? Just rewrite it into something fresh. Everything needs to be new these days.”
Pushing his arm away, Oh Youngguk pressed the button for the first floor.
Despite using the elevator dozens of times a day, this was the first time he had felt this nervous.
Glancing at his reflection in the elevator mirror, he smoothed his hair and buttoned his shirt all the way up.
He also took out his employee ID badge, which he usually kept in his pocket, and hung it around his neck.
‘Kim Doyun, that bastard…’
Before leaving Jeongdongjin for Seoul, Doyun had given him music campfire audience tickets.
It wasn’t exactly a bribe, since Doyun hadn’t asked for anything in return.
But it also felt like a waste to throw them away.
[I lost my father at an early age. The only thing I remember is how he kept trying to take pictures of me with his camera.]
Doyun’s voice, tinged with suppressed longing, resonated heavily.
[Maybe that’s why I can’t remember my father’s face beyond the camera lens… and that makes me feel incredibly regretful. My father must have been looking at me, but I was only looking at the camera lens.]
Doyun’s words struck Oh Youngguk like a stone.
‘Because that’s exactly what I’m doing now.’
He had been chasing after his daughter, Sang-ah, from behind, never truly facing her.
He would stand in front of her tightly shut bedroom door for a long time before turning away.
Yet, despite everything, Oh Youngguk reassured himself simply by confirming her presence near him.
However, Sang-ah would have no idea how much her father cared about her.
‘Just like how Kim PD only remembers the camera lens instead of his father’s face.’
On the drive back to Seoul, Oh Youngguk had sent a text to Sangah.
[**Sang-ah, would you like to come watch a music show at the broadcasting station? A lot of singers you like will be there. It’s called Music Campfire. If you can come, let me know.]
Truthfully, he hadn’t expected a reply.
‘It was just a way to remind her that I’m always thinking about her, so she doesn’t feel alone.’
But just as he arrived in Seoul, Sang-ah’s reply came.
[That’s tomorrow, right? I’ll go.]
At first, he was dumbfounded. Then, he felt an overwhelming guilt that crushed his chest.
Texting Sangah had been so simple—why had he never even tried before?
Perhaps, the one who had built a wall between them wasn’t Sang-ah.
It had been himself all along.
‘Because the moment I found out my ex-wife had been cheating for years… I was terrified Sang-ah might not be my daughter.’
Subconsciously, he had distanced himself from her to avoid facing the truth.
‘But I’m the only one Sang-ah has to rely on.’
He wanted to go home immediately and take her out for a nice meal.
But with the autumn season programming change in full swing, he couldn’t even spare a moment to drop by.
Ironically, that worked in his favor, as it gave him more chances to text Sang-ah.
[Did you eat? The housekeeper is coming today, right?]
Since the housekeeper usually cooked soup and side dishes, he asked casually.
[Did you eat, Dad?]
For the first time in forever, they were having a simple daily conversation.
Oh Youngguk clenched his phone tightly, his eyes growing misty.
[I ate at the cafeteria.]
He hadn’t actually eaten, but he felt full.
[Then I’ll eat now too. Dad, see you tomorrow.]
See you tomorrow.
The day after tomorrow.
And the day after that…
Let’s see each other every day, my daughter.
Now that it was finally time to meet Sang-ah, Oh Youngguk hurried through the lobby and walked towards the main entrance of the broadcasting station.
“Kyahhh! Unnie, look over here! Over here!”
“Yuyuni unnieee!”
It seemed a popular girl group was appearing on today’s music show. The entrance was in complete chaos with fans.
How was he supposed to find Sang-ah in this crowd?
A wave of anxiety surged through him—
“Dad!”
From beyond the swarm of fans, Sang-ah’s voice rang out clearly.
“Sang-ah! Over here! Here!”
He raised his arms high and waved at her.
Even in the sea of people, his daughter stood out so vividly.
‘My daughter. My Sang-ah.’
Pushing through the crowd, Oh Youngguk reached Sang-ah and pulled her into a tight embrace.
***
“Doyun! Over here! Over here!”
Doyun ducked his head at Shin Sun-ok’s wave and headed toward the VIP seats near the stage.
Just then, he locked eyes with Oh Youngguk.
“D-Director?”
“Oh… Kim PD.”
Seeing Oh Youngguk sitting next to his daughter, Doyun quickly lowered his gaze.
He didn’t want to make Oh Youngguk feel awkward by reacting too strongly.
‘I told him to bring his daughter, but I didn’t think he’d actually come.’
He had assumed Oh Youngguk would give his daughter the tickets and let her go with her friends.
But instead, he had come in person.
Feeling awkward, Oh Youngguk shifted his gaze before clearing his throat.
“This is my daughter. Sang-ah, this is the PD I work with.”
“Hello. I’m Oh Sangah.”
After greeting Doyun, Sangah shyly rested her cheek against her father’s shoulder.
‘Weren’t they supposed to be awkward around each other?’
Doyun was about to show his surprise again but forced a smile instead.
“I’m Kim Doyun, a PD. Director, this is my mother.”
Before he knew it, he had ended up introducing his mother as well.
This time, it was Doyun who felt flustered.
“We already greeted each other earlier. I met her in Jeongdongjin.”
Just then, Dohee leaned closer to Sangah.
“I’m a Yuyuni fan.”
“Me too.”
Dohee and Sang-ah smiled at each other.
Then, Doyun noticed something—
Dohee’s light stick was the same as the one in Sangah’s hand.
‘So high school girls these days all like that singer, huh?’
Dohee and Sang-ah waved their light sticks together, giggling.
Meanwhile, his mother was engaged in an animated conversation about dramas with Oh Youngguk.
Feeling completely out of place, Doyun rubbed his face and sighed.
‘Why am I the only one who can’t adjust?’
‘Why is everyone getting along so fast?’
—
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