Chapter 1: Finale and Rebirth

At last, Kim Jun and Lee So-mi faced each other.

They embraced each other tightly and kissed.

As if vowing never to let each other go again.

Their kiss deepened, like crashing waves…

***

– Thank you for watching all this while.

With the ending credits rolling and the silence that had filled the writers’ room while focusing on the Drama, the place became lively and noisy once more.

“Writer-nim, thank you for your hard work!”

“We made it safely to the final episode. Congratulations!”

To the greetings from the assistant writers, the main writer of the Drama , Lee Ho-jun, smiled cheerfully.

“Thanks. You all worked hard too.”

“Not at all. We’ll have to check the numbers in the morning, but based on the real-time reactions, I think the ratings are good. The response is amazing—people are calling it Yongdu Yongmi.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Totally!”

Just as the assistant writer said, congratulatory messages full of praise were pouring nonstop onto Ho-jun’s Hyeondaepon.

[Thanks to you, writer-nim, I was able to work on a great piece. It was an honor. Whenever I acted, I could feel my whole body heat up with the vividness. Truly, gamsahamnida.]

[I’m not ready to let go of So-mi yet, but the final episode is already here ㅠㅠ. To me, So-mi really feels like a living person. Thank you for writing her so well. I’d like to meet up sometime tomorrow, if you have time?]

[Thanks for finishing strong! Thanks to you, Ho-jun-nim, I was able to burn with passion too~ Let’s have a drink and celebrate!]

Among them were messages from the two main actors and the director as well.

“They reached out first.”

In fact, the one who should be grateful was Ho-jun.

They were the ones who trusted a script by an unknown rookie writer and chose to work together.

Thanks to them, Ho-jun’s script could become a Drama.

And the results exceeded all expectations.

In an era where even major network Dramas struggle to break 10% ratings, they had recorded a high 8% viewership.

“To be number one in the time slot, and to achieve the best ratings among recent Dramas aired…”

The topic of conversation and buzz was just as important as the ratings, and was excelling there, too.

The main actors of were delivering the performances of their careers every week, sweeping the number 1 and 2 spots in buzz rankings.

Among Drama fans, it was already being called a masterpiece of the year.

The immersion and vividness of was simply overwhelming.

“And because of that, the thing that’s changed the most is my value.”

No sooner had the script for episode 16 been finalized than calls started pouring in from various production companies wanting to sign writer contracts.

He hadn’t even had a chance to discuss the details yet, but even the offers he had received were far beyond anything the old Ho-jun could have imagined.

An unknown rookie writer had become the industry’s blue chip.

“They say even one successful work can change your life—I guess they were right.”

What the production company CEO had said when he first signed the contract was true.

As Ho-jun was reflecting on this truth, his Hyeondaepon rang.

It was the CEO of the production company, Yang Ban.

“Yes, CEO-nim.”

– Writer Lee! You watched the finale, right?

“Yes, of course.”

– The director and actors all want to get together to watch it!

“If we gather, CEO-nim will have to pay for drinks, so that’s why, right?”

– Always worrying about me!

“Yes, that’s just an excuse. I just wanted to watch it comfortably with the cast. We all worked hard together.”

– Haha, I see. Still, it can’t have been easy to keep up this pace for your debut. What rookie could handle such a demanding schedule so flawlessly! Writer Lee, this isn’t really your first work, is it?

Ho-jun chuckled at the CEO’s playful banter.

“It really was a tight schedule.”

Because the Drama had been scheduled in a rush and the shooting schedule was tangled, the last episodes were basically like live broadcasts.

He’d almost ended up writing side scripts—a rarity these days.

Even an established writer would have had their mental strength shaken.

But for more than a month, Ho-jun gritted his teeth and pushed through, barely leaving the writers’ room.

He wanted to prove his skills and ability to ‘that person.’

He wanted to show that he could succeed without ‘that person.’

In the end, the result wasn’t Yongdu Sammi, but a true completion—a work with a fitting ending.

“Aren’t you praising me too much? Last time you said you wanted a new wallet… Shall we go to the department store together?”

– Ah, this isn’t even praise! Your ability as a writer has been completely proven to the world. You did great, really great, writer Lee.

Though it began jokingly, the CEO’s sincere words struck something deep in Ho-jun’s heart.

“Yeah. This is the kind of recognition I endured for.”

Taking a short breath, Ho-jun also conveyed his heartfelt thanks.

“Thank you, CEO-nim. This success… it’s all thanks to you.”

– What? All I did was recognize your script, that’s all.

“That’s what I’m most grateful for.”

– Haha. Let’s talk about other things in person in a couple of days. For now, rest. I heard you stayed up all night editing scripts the other day. Great work.

“You should rest, too, CEO-nim. You worked hard as well.”

After hanging up, Ho-jun looked over the many new congratulatory messages that had accumulated in the meantime.

Even a schoolmate whose face he couldn’t recall had messaged him, which left him feeling pleasantly awkward.

“It’ll take me a while to reply to all of these.”

On a day like today, he couldn’t help but wish his parents were still alive.

***

After a brief celebratory drink, Ho-jun sent the assistant writers home and remained alone in the office.

Sitting by himself on the living room sofa, a wave of regret hit him—regret he hadn’t felt while running around, too busy to notice.

“So much has happened to get to this point.”

Baek Seung-chul, one of the top five writers in the Drama industry.

Ho-jun had worked under him as an assistant writer for nearly ten years.

“At first, there was so much to learn. I liked that.”

Even then, Baek Seung-chul was an incredible writer.

“He was a writer who possessed both popularity and artistry, and he had never once failed.”

From him, Ho-jun learned everything from project planning to scriptwriting, and the vital communication skills needed to work with directors and actors.

He’d had to cater to Baek Seung-chul’s needs all day, with no personal life, and put up with his nerves—especially during work. But it had been worth it.

“The moment an idea I thought of became a scene in a Drama, the moment a line I wrote came alive through an actor’s mouth… all of it was electrifying.”

Because it was Baek Seung-chul’s work, many people were passionate, laughing and crying—he could feel it.

As an assistant writer, even meeting the director or actors—something that was usually rare—made him feel proud.

With each project, he gained experience and skill.

It was clear, just by how more and more of Ho-jun’s ideas and lines were used in the Dramas.

“I was sure of it, and yet…”

Baek Seung-chul never acknowledged Ho-jun.

If anything, he was quick to belittle him.

[You’ve been working for years, and this is the best dialogue you can write? The new guy who started a month ago is better than you.]

[You don’t know how many people out there are better than you? Aren’t you embarrassed to call yourself a writer with this level of skill?]

[I’m only keeping you around because I feel sorry for you. Go, buy me some cigarettes.]

Relentless scolding.

Even though he was basically co-writing scripts, he didn’t have the confidence to go independent, so he remained an assistant writer.

Sometimes he thought it wasn’t right, but it was hard to escape Baek Seung-chul’s web-like Gaslighting.

“To me, Baek Seung-chul was a dream, and the law.”

Then, Ho-jun’s mother, who lived in the countryside, suddenly passed away.

His only family had been his mother.

Wanting to become a Drama writer had partly been because he wanted to make his Drama-loving mother happy and become her pride.

Ho-jun, submerged in grief, became the chief mourner.

Among the few who came to pay respects, Baek Seung-chul was absent.

Still, Ho-jun understood.

After all, the Drama they were working on was nearing the end of filming.

But then, right before the funeral, a call from Baek Seung-chul shattered Ho-jun’s heart.

[What’s this, you’re not coming today? Are you planning to take all three days off for the funeral?]

[What? Of course—]

[‘Of course’? How funny. I’m swamped over here, but I let you go because your mother passed away. How unprofessional can you be?]

[… I’ll return as soon as possible.]

[Fine, hurry back. Oh, and my condolences.]

After the call, Ho-jun felt even his tears had dried up.

“That was when I made up my mind. To quit…”

He wasn’t unafraid to leave Baek Seung-chul’s side.

He’d been Gaslit for years and lacked confidence.

But he no longer wanted to become like Baek Seung-chul.

No matter how well he wrote Drama, he didn’t want to lose his humanity working with him.

So, when he returned to Seoul, Ho-jun said he wanted to quit as an assistant writer.

[You’re quitting so suddenly? Did I do something to upset you?]

[No, it’s just… I’m thirty-six now… and I want to write my own work.]

That made Baek Seung-chul furious.

[How arrogant. You think I’d just let you go whenever you want to write your own piece? So what if you’re older! You’re still lacking. Stay under me a bit longer.]

[I know I’m lacking. But still…]

[But you’re really quitting?]

[Yes.]

[Ha, I kept you because I felt sorry for you! I fed and sheltered you and taught you, and for what? You ungrateful brat.]

[Fine, go out there and fail. See what you can do without me—feel it in your bones!]

To his long-time disciple, Baek Seung-chul spat curses.

And it didn’t end there.

[What are you doing, not leaving?]

[Right now, sir?]

[Of course right now. You didn’t care about my situation, so why should I wait until you find a place?]

So, Ho-jun left Baek Seung-chul’s office as if being thrown out, hurriedly finding a Kosiwon.

Even a production staff member reproached him, saying, after all he’d endured, how could he betray Writer Baek?

“All the bonds I’d built vanished in an instant. All that was left were scars.”

The only thing that could give meaning to those years was becoming a writer.

Determined, Ho-jun began writing a work he’d long dreamed of.

He didn’t have much money saved, so he barely ate or slept, focusing solely on his script.

With nothing left but bitterness and pride, perhaps all that remained was a burning resolve to succeed and prove himself to Baek Seung-chul.

One day, Ho-jun felt his whole body heat up and developed the ability to focus intensely for short bursts.

“It was amazing. Experiencing a state of complete immersion in just a few seconds…”

But what was even more surprising was the Fireflower that bloomed at his fingertips as he focused.

And thanks to that Fireflower, the prose and dialogue Ho-jun poured out didn’t just remain mere letters—they came alive, shimmering as if breathing.

Only Ho-jun could see it, only he could feel its heat—a virtual Fireflower igniting his writing.

“That was how a work, born from flames like a firebird, was completed… That work was my debut, , which finished today.”

No wonder the actors felt their bodies heat up and performed with such immersion and vividness.

Clench.

Feeling a strange excitement, Ho-jun squeezed his fist as he thought.

“I did it.”

It was just one work, but it was enough to prove all of Baek Seung-chul’s words wrong.

If life is a mountain path with many peaks, Ho-jun had finally climbed his first mountain.

From tomorrow, new mountains and a new life would be waiting.

“There’s no need to be tied to Teacher anymore. I can walk my own path from here on.”

He’d even gained an incredible ability.

Relaxing the grip on his tightly clenched fist, Ho-jun finally released the tension in his body.

From his days in the Kosiwon, he’d always been tense, determined to write something better.

Even when he slept, it never felt restful, and in truth, he hadn’t slept deeply in a long time.

“But tonight, I think I’ll sleep well.”

Ho-jun gently smiled and closed his eyes.

As the tension faded, the fatigue he’d suppressed washed over him.

At that moment, a pain like his heart was being squeezed struck Ho-jun.

“Ugh!”

Eyes wide, Ho-jun fell to the floor, unable to withstand the pain.

But the pain was brief.

Ho-jun exhaled his last breath.

Heart failure due to overwork.

That was the cause of Ho-jun’s death.

***

“Tae-ha! Kang Tae-ha!”

“Kang Tae-ha!”

“…Huh?”

And when he opened his eyes again, Ho-jun was no longer the same person.

He had become someone entirely different.