Chapter 84: Justification and Motivation

The day summer break passed its halfway point, the scorching midday sun blanketed the gray city.

I headed to the 18th-floor conference room in a mid-rise building at the heart of Euljiro.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I passed through the glass door right in front of me and entered.

Several people had already arrived in the conference room.

Distributors, production company staff, the scenario writer, head of marketing, the planning team—everyone responsible for the actual operations in each field was gathered in one place.

I sat by the window along the wall.

On the table, the meeting materials were neatly arranged, and bottles of mineral water were lined up beside the document binders.

The gentle air from the air conditioner drifted through the room, but I could still feel a subtle tension in the concentrated gazes and cautious movements of everyone present.

“While the primary readership consists of women in their late teens to early twenties, interestingly, the proportion of male readers in their forties was higher than we expected.”

“According to our survey, 28% said they contacted their younger sibling after reading the book, 31% reported feeling sorry toward their family, and, on the other hand, a similar percentage expressed that they felt grateful.”

The PD from the production company chimed in.

“The range of people who empathize with this book is broad. Those with siblings say it’s their story, and parents with children say it feels like their own child’s tale. I think that’s why it resonates with so many.”

“When I read the original work, that was what left the deepest impression on me too. The clarity of the emotional lines was so refreshing. Even without manufacturing incidents, the daily lives of the characters themselves struck a chord. As the original author, which aspects do you think must be preserved when adapting this to film?”

The production company’s representative turned their head toward me.

I carefully chose my words and crafted a single sentence.

“I want to avoid forced sentimentality or artificially expanding the narrative as much as possible. I hope the original story can be preserved, and that the key lines are inserted as they are when adapting it to film. Also, I hope the film reflects the reason our readers are drawn to my writing, as revealed by our research.”

I opened my prepared notebook and began to speak.

Screenwriters and directors, when adapting an original work, strangely tend not to preserve the source and instead try to make as many changes as possible.

Even if that isn’t what existing readers want.

It’s hard to understand why they would want to ruin the original like that.

I have no intention of destroying my own story.

The content of the original is the story of me and Da-hye.

I want our sibling story to be brought to the screen with as little alteration as possible, preserving its essence.

“The core of this work lies in the familiar places we remember—our neighborhood, home, school—decorated so that people can look back and reminisce. While the focus is on the characters, it’s crucial to use objects to gently plant emotions throughout.”

I stated my thoughts honestly.

“Hmm, you want to instill emotion using objects... That’s quite a difficult task.”

The person from the distribution team nodded, though they rubbed their chin, clearly deep in thought.

“I don’t mean to show it repetitively. There’s a limit to what you can express through film. And if you repeat it too often, it’ll get tedious, unlike a book. If we just include a few of the parts that left the deepest impression on readers and use them to set the tone of the film, I believe it will be well received.”

This was purely my own opinion, something I felt throughout my previous life as well.

Readers of the original always hope the adaptation will stay true to the source.

It’s the same with music.

People want to hear the original version, not an entirely different song.

I made sure to emphasize that point.

“Yes, we’ll proceed with the production while preserving the original as much as possible.”

The screenwriter didn’t look pleased, but they couldn’t object. With LN Group and the conglomerates investing in this production backing me, my proposal was not something they could easily refuse.

People fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.

I spun my pen at my fingertips, slowly gathering my thoughts before speaking again.

“If the emotions are exaggerated, I think the work will quickly lose its impact. Instead of forcing people to cry, it should bring tears naturally. That’s what matters most.”

The screenwriter voiced a concern.

“That’s why I was thinking, how about structuring it by breaking it into chapters? By episode, perhaps.”

“With that flow, we could also consider the narrative perspective. Whether we use first-person recollection or follow a third person’s gaze will affect how immersed the audience becomes.”

I answered without hesitation.

“I think a first-person recollection would be best. It would be good for the protagonist’s unspoken emotions to be conveyed visually. Rather than explanations, the blank spaces will allow the brother’s feelings to be communicated to the audience. And about casting—the actor shouldn’t be someone too famous. I’d prefer someone relatively unknown. I want the viewers to relate to the character in the film, not the actor.”

If a well-known actor takes the role, the work might be overshadowed by the actor’s presence. I don’t want people to remember the actor more than the work itself.

What I want is for the work—not the actor—to be etched into people’s minds.

Of course, acting ability is important, but sometimes even an imperfect performance can harmonize with the work.

In short, I want an actor who can become one with the story.

I spoke, recalling Da-hye’s childhood.

Our family was poor, so she was skinny from not eating enough, but she always ran around the neighborhood with a bright smile.

My little sister, who used to follow me everywhere like a shadow, always calling, ‘Oppa! Oppa!’

Whenever I think of young Da-hye, my heart aches, but those cute memories from back then always make me smile.

“I understand. If it feels like people are just coming to see the actor, the film has already failed.”

Fortunately, my intentions were accepted in the meeting.

“Yes, understood. We’ll keep that in mind when casting.”

“Thank you for taking my opinions into consideration.”

I bowed my head respectfully to express my gratitude.

Though the conversation ran long, it proceeded smoothly, without unnecessary detours.

“We’ll send you the first scenario draft as soon as it’s finished.”

The screenwriter set down her pen with a quiet sigh.

I understood how she felt, but I ignored it and simply nodded in response.

“What about the OST?”

The production company’s representative spoke up.

“I’m thinking we could focus on piano and strings to evoke emotion.”

I responded with what I had in mind to the representative’s question.

“Hmm...”

The representative’s eyebrows turned into the shape of the character 八.

It seemed the image wasn’t coming together for him.

“If you think of the opening theme from ‘Six Siblings,’ I think that’s a good example.”

I offered a fitting title as an example.

“Oh, that one. Yes... that’s a great idea. Let’s look into that direction.”

It had a strong classical feel, but I thought it matched the character of my work.

The budget was set at over 3 billion won, so there wouldn’t be a shortage of production funds.

“Thank you.”

We conservatively predicted about one million people for box office performance.

Public Enemy, three million.

Phone, 2.6 million.

Wet Dreams, 2.45 million.

2009 Lost Memories, 2.3 million.

Champion, 1.8 million.

Conduct Zero, 1.69 million.

Love Story, 1.65 million...

Judging by these numbers, I considered this outcome more than a success.

And I believed it would become a very valuable experience for me.

Everyone shared their thoughts and opinions as the meeting on the film adaptation of ‘You Are the Star Inside Me’ continued.

“I think that’s enough for the meeting. If there’s anything lacking, I’ll send an additional meeting schedule by email.”

Thus, the meeting came to an end.

“Once again, thank you for sincerely considering my opinions.”

I stood up and bowed deeply to the distribution company representatives who had accepted my suggestions positively.

When I saw works fail because they were stubbornly adapted against the original, I always felt regretful. But seeing the participants accept my direction this time filled me with gratitude.

Whatever the reason, I was thankful for their consideration, which let the meeting end smoothly, despite the potential for discomfort.

“This is a small token of appreciation from me. I look forward to working with you.”

I took out the envelopes I had prepared in advance and handed them out.

After all, everyone’s just trying to make a living.

And if you want to raise the quality of a film, it’s important to have both justification and motivation.

I wanted to create that motivation with a small gift.

“You really didn’t have to, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

The faces of the people, which had been somewhat gloomy, brightened up instantly.

Seeing their changed expressions, I smiled as I left the conference room.

Outside the window, the sunlight was still shining brightly.

It had been a long day, but the sunlight told a different story, brightly illuminating the world.

“It’s only the beginning. I’m not hoping for box office success. I just want my story to deeply resonate with people.”

Looking at the sunlight, I whispered my thoughts and then resumed my steps, heading down to the parking lot.