Chapter 22: Receiving the Script

I received an email asking me to review the script, but it probably wasn’t the final version.

It was likely just a draft to show the direction they were taking, so it wouldn’t be too detailed.

Or maybe not…

Knowing Director André, he might’ve sent the entire script.

I decided to check it at home.

“Marcello!”

“What’s up?”

I’m hungry. Can you make something?

“You left that to me?”

Come on, you haven’t fed the kids dinner either, right? Please?

“Heh…”

Marcello chuckled and stood up.

As if he’d expected this, he went to the fridge and pulled out ingredients.

“Like risotto?”

Love it.

“Wait a bit. I’ll whip it up quick.”

And so, Marcello started cooking.

***

I thought risotto would be dinner, but Marcello kept bringing more dishes to the table.

Like a grandma in the countryside doting on her grandkids, he served up a feast.

Even though I said it was enough, he kept cooking, and we all ate our fill once again.

Next time, I should bring a gift.

He looked after the kids and fed us lunch and dinner.

I came empty-handed today, but next time, I’d bring a small gift.

Here, take these.

Back home, I handed Hye-yeon and Yuri each a box containing a laptop.

“Laptops…?”

Yeah, I thought you’d need them going forward.

“Weren’t they expensive?”

It’s fine. They were on sale.

Of course, there was no sale, but I brushed it off so they wouldn’t feel burdened.

The kids stared at the boxes, dumbfounded, then broke into smiles.

“Thank you!”

“We’ll use them well, Uncle!”

Good.

Their old house in Korea didn’t have a computer.

The biggest reason was the lack of space.

Since no one played games or needed a computer, they never made room for one.

But sometimes, when they needed one, they had to go to a PC café or a friend’s house.

I’m glad I bought them.

Seeing their happy faces, I felt I made the right choice.

But Jiyu, on the other hand, puffed out her cheeks.

“Where’s Jiyu’s?”

Her sisters got gifts, but she didn’t, and she was sulking.

Of course, I got something for you too.

I handed Jiyu a teddy bear.

Knowing she’d be upset if only her sisters got something, I’d picked out a cute bear for her.

“Wow!”

Jiyu hugged the bear tightly, clearly delighted.

Their happy faces brought a smile to my own.

Alright, time for bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.

“Do what?”

Furniture’s arriving tomorrow morning.

The kids tilted their heads.

They’d expected it to take a week, but it was arriving much faster.

It happens sometimes.

Unlike in Korea, delivery times here weren’t exact.

They might say a week, but it could take more or less.

I thought it’d take longer.

Honestly, I expected two weeks, but luckily, the timing worked out.

I’d been worried about the kids sleeping on the sofa, and since tomorrow was the weekend, I’d call Ryan to help assemble the furniture.

“So we’ll have our own rooms?”

Yeah, but you’ll be on the second floor.

The kids had probably seen the second floor while exploring.

I’d lived here for three years but rarely went upstairs, so it was a bit messy.

“That’s fine!”

“Having our own rooms is awesome!”

In Korea, having their own rooms was unthinkable.

The news of getting their own spaces made them jump with excitement.

Good to see them happy.

The kids, thrilled about their rooms and laptops, beamed.

Watching them, I felt a wave of happiness.

I wished this happiness could last.

To make that happen…

Smiling, I turned to the kids.

Anyway, we’ve got a busy morning, so get to sleep.

“Okay!”

“Will do!”

“Jiyu’s gonna sleep with the bear!”

The kids nodded, laughing.

There wasn’t much to do at night in this house anyway.

Being in the countryside, and in Canada, even watching TV wasn’t appealing.

“Good night, Uncle.”

You too. Sweet dreams.

“Uncle! Jiyu’s gonna dream of you!”

Haha! Alright, dream of me too.

“Okay!”

As the kids settled on the sofa and pulled up their blankets, I turned up the heater.

Can’t let them catch colds…

They’d played outside all afternoon, so they must’ve been chilly.

To be safe, I raised the heater a bit more.

Alright, then.

After turning off the living room lights, I went to my room and sat at the computer.

-Whirrr!

Boots up fast.

My old computer took over a minute to start, but this one took less than ten seconds.

I powered it on and downloaded the script sent via email.

As expected… ugh.

Looking at the script, I sighed deeply.

As I’d feared, André had sent the entire thing.

This could be risky, but he clearly didn’t care.

Let’s see…

Scripts and novels are very different.

That said, it’s not like novelists can’t write scripts.

I’d taught myself screenwriting to review scripts.

As expected, huh?

André’s intense gaze was overwhelming, but his skill was undeniable.

His script read like a poem.

The problem is whether an actor can understand this.

What a director feels and what an actor feels inevitably differ.

Expressing it so poetically could make it tough for actors.

He’ll figure it out.

I slowly read through the script, comparing it to the original work, checking for mistakes.

It’s solid.

There were no obvious errors.

It was too long to read fully tonight, but skimming it, it was engaging.

Not much adaptation.

Some episodes were tweaked, but that was expected for a film.

A faithful adaptation.

The characters’ dialogue and everything stayed close to the original.

André sent this for one reason.

He preferred dark, intense atmospheres over calm ones.

His films—focused on isolation, war, survival—felt almost monochrome, deeply human, and emotionally raw.

A director who loves raw human emotion tackling a story about suppressing it…

The phrase “a paper-thin difference” came to mind.

Papa depicts an ordinary man living as a father.

Unlike his emotional youth, he suppresses his feelings for a child he had by mistake.

So, André’s direction could either enhance or ruin it.

The script itself isn’t bad, though.

He nailed the core.

That’s probably why he sent it to me—to check if he missed anything as the author.

But it didn’t seem necessary.

I’ll stop here for now.

There was too much to read, so I’d tackle the rest later.

We’d meet soon anyway.

I didn’t expect the kids to be so excited about the States.

When André suggested meeting, I planned to use the kids as an excuse to avoid it.

But they were thrilled about visiting the U.S., so I agreed.

The coordinator would likely set a date by tomorrow.

Time to write?

I loosened my hands reverently and opened a file.

What to write?

What kind?

What theme?

Which characters?

What world?

None of that matters.

Just write.

Start light, then heavy.

Write what’s unnecessary, write what happened today.

Writing comes from daily life, after all.

-Tap tap tap tap!

The keyboard clicks sped up as I sank into the screen.

Recalling the day’s small moments, I poured energy into the words.

While Yongsu worked, little eyes watched him through the slightly open door.

***

Hye-yeon lay on the sofa but couldn’t sleep.

After playing so hard that afternoon and napping deeply, she wasn’t tired.

Not sleepy…

Despite eating so much, the long nap kept sleep at bay.

After lying with her eyes closed for ten minutes, she quietly got up.

Maybe some water.

Her throat felt dry from trying to sleep.

Opening her eyes, she noticed something.

“Yuri, what’re you doing?”

“Hehe.”

Yuri was on her phone at the edge of the sofa.

Jiyu seemed asleep, but Yuri, likely from the long nap, was wide awake.

Not wanting to wake Jiyu, Hye-yeon carefully got up and approached Yuri.

“Not sleeping?”

“Can’t. You’re up because you can’t sleep too, right?”

Yeah.

Worried about waking Jiyu, they whispered.

Hye-yeon went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

Gulp gulp gulp.

“Haa…”

Marcello’s food was delicious, but to Hye-yeon, it was a bit salty.

The water eased her thirst.

Is Uncle working?

A sliver of light slipped through the door crack.

He hadn’t said what he was doing, but she guessed he was working.

“Sis, what’re you looking at?”

Yuri, done with her phone, joined Hye-yeon and drank some water.

She followed her sister’s gaze.

“Curious about what Uncle’s doing?”

A little?

“Wanna peek?”

“No, he’s working. We shouldn’t disturb him.”

“True, but aren’t you curious?”

Yuri already knew Yongsu was Adele Louis, but Hye-yeon didn’t.

Hye-yeon hesitated at Yuri’s words.

I shouldn’t disturb him…

But curiosity was hard to suppress.

She knew he was a writer, but not exactly what he did.

“Just a little…”

“Yup!”

Hye-yeon couldn’t resist.

As kids, their curiosity was too strong.

They turned their eyes to the door where light spilled out.

Watching their uncle, absorbed in his writing as if one with the computer, Hye-yeon stared, entranced.