Chapter 101: The Arrogant Genius

While I was in the middle of working on my script at The Sharp Officetel in Yeouido, I received a call from Director Jang Byung-heon and immediately threw on my coat before heading out.

‘I can’t believe he arranged a meeting this quickly.’

The place I arrived at wasn’t a fancy Korean restaurant or an omakase joint, but rather a small, old shop tucked away in a Yeouido shopping district.

As soon as I stepped inside, an oddly out-of-place figure was sitting comfortably inside the shabby, old eatery as if it were nothing.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Jung-hyuk, the one writing the drama.”

“Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Bong Chan-ho. Please, have a seat. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Bong Chan-ho grasped my hand in a large handshake and offered the seat beside him.

Then, with a face brimming with excitement, he waved his chopsticks in the air, pointing at the grill.

“This place’s samgyeopsal and aged kimchi are out of this world. Let’s finish up what’s left, and since we’ve got a new guest, we’ll order another round of meat.”

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

At Director Bong’s enthusiastic urging, I quickly took some perfectly grilled pork belly and aged kimchi off the grill and popped them into my mouth.

The satisfying flavor of the pork fat combined with the tangy aged kimchi made my eyes open wide in surprise.

“Wow, this is amazing. I never imagined there’d be a place like this.”

Naturally, we exchanged drinks, grilled more meat, and the atmosphere grew more comfortable.

Director Jang Byung-heon met my eyes and gave me a subtle nod.

Catching his signal, I cautiously placed my bag on my lap and spoke to Director Bong.

“Well, actually, the reason I wanted to meet you today was because I really wanted to show you the new project I’ve been working on.”

“Your new work, Writer Lee Jung-hyuk?”

I promptly took out the neatly prepared script for Part 1 from my bag.

“The working title is . It’s a story about a time traveler, but with a twist: it’s set in a dystopian Korea after the nation collapses.”

“Time travel and dystopia are always fascinating themes.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could read it when you have the time.”

“Let’s take a look right now. I’m quick at reading scripts.”

Director Bong Chan-ho took the script with a look of genuine interest, like someone sizing up a prime cut of meat, and immediately started flipping through the pages.

“Hm, ha ha.”

“Wow, this... well, well!”

As he skimmed through the script at a rapid pace, Director Bong let out several exclamations and muttered to himself, sometimes rereading the same page several times with focused intensity.

From his expression, it seemed clear that he liked what he was reading.

About thirty minutes passed.

By then, Director Bong had finished reading all of Part 1 and slowly nodded as he closed the script.

“It’s true—the level of Korean drama writers these days is unbelievable. If I may say so, not only in Korea but even globally, this is a script that could truly compete.”

“Thank you so much for saying that.”

Encouraged by Director Bong’s praise, I was about to ask if he’d like to work on the project with me.

However—

“You showed me this script because you want to work with me, right?”

“To be honest, yes. I want to make this project with you, Director Bong.”

“Whew, what a shame. If only I’d seen this a little earlier—or if I hadn’t already committed—I would have truly wanted to work with you on this. I mean it.”

“Does that mean... you’ve already agreed to work with another writer? Another drama writer?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

There were very few Korean drama writers I could think of who could write a script that would captivate Director Bong.

Off the top of my head, only Park Eun-sook or Oh Hee-kyung came to mind.

At that moment, Director Bong slapped his knee and turned to both me and Director Jang.

“Oh, right—would it be all right to call that writer here? I feel like your styles would really complement each other, Writer Lee. And they’re young, too.”

“There’s a writer like that?”

“They’re a bit inexperienced and not the best with social skills yet, but they write absolutely incredible scripts.”

Director Jang, stroking the stubble on his chin, looked at me with interest.

“Hearing Director Bong speak so highly, I’m curious. Would it be all right?”

I was surprised to hear that Director Bong not only had a writer in mind but had already decided to work with them. Hearing that they were a young writer piqued my curiosity as well.

“Of course. I’m just a guest here too. The more, the merrier.”

“Then, please wait a moment. I’ll give them a call.”

Director Bong stood up and stepped outside to make a call.

Noticing I seemed unsettled by the missed opportunity to work with Director Bong, Director Jang patted my shoulder encouragingly.

“This isn’t your only chance. Another good opportunity will come soon.”

“I’m all right. Honestly, I didn’t think it would work out this time anyway.”

About thirty minutes later—

The door’s bell jingled and a young man with a rough, casual appearance entered the shop. Director Bong stood up to greet him.

“This is the one. Park, this is Writer Lee Jung-hyuk, and this is Director Jang Byung-heon. Please say hello.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Park Rael.”

---

Park Rael, now 22 years old, was a second-year student in Creative Writing at Chung-Ang University, having just finished his military service.

His high school record showed he had nothing to do with literature.

But one day, right before university entrance exams, he suddenly submitted his application to Chung-Ang University’s Creative Writing Department on a whim.

Until then, even his teachers had no idea he could write, yet he passed the entrance exam as the top student.

According to the professor in charge of the entrance exam, it was “a flawless piece of writing.”

While his natural talent was undoubtedly extraordinary, there was another reason for his success.

His mother was Han Kyung-ah, the first Korean novelist to win the National Book Award in the United States.

Thanks to his mother, a star of Korean literature since her youth, he had devoured countless literary works from her study since childhood.

Recognizing her son’s talent early on, Han Kyung-ah tried to help Park Rael debut as a novelist as well.

“Books that only show words are boring, you know.”

With that cheeky remark, he turned away from novels, seeking another way to nurture his literary gifts.

What captured Park Rael’s heart was visual media. While he barely participated in activities related to his major, he began writing scripts and scenarios for dramas and films.

His first work was .

With overwhelming support from Director Seok Jin-man, he won a regular contest hosted by CL Media, and his debut work was immediately greenlit as a much-anticipated project.

But as they say, geniuses are often missing a screw somewhere.

With an oversized ego, he developed an almost narcissistic personality.

Never having experienced failure, Park Rael evaluated everything through the lens of “me” and “my” standards—a brash, young genius writer.

People who met Park Rael for the first time, unaware of his background, mostly had the same impression as Lee Jung-hyuk.

‘Is he a punk?’

With his yellow-blond dyed hair covered by a deep ballcap, baggy jeans, and a varsity jacket in the middle of this cold weather, his look was as casual as it got.

More than “young,” he looked just plain “childish” in his free-spirited style.

On the surface, Park Rael seemed like someone who’d be loitering at a hip-hop club in the city—not at all like a writer who had captivated Director Bong Chan-ho.

As soon as Park Rael sat down, he leaned back with a look of distaste and shook his head.

“Ah, eating samgyeopsal will make my clothes smell like meat. Isn’t there somewhere I can put my coat?”

“I see. Boss, could we have a plastic bag for his coat, please?”

Like he was dealing with a young nephew, Director Bong kindly fetched a plastic bag himself and handed it over.

Only then did Park Rael, picking up his chopsticks, unhesitatingly grab a small piece of pork belly, pop it into his mouth, and rock his body back and forth to the rhythm as he chewed.

“Hmm, this is better than I thought? Normally I’m not a fan of old-school places like this, but it’s pretty good.”

“Glad it suits your taste. Eat as much as you like.”

At that moment, Park Rael’s eyes lit up when he spotted the script in front of Director Bong.

“What script is that?”

“Oh, this? It’s Writer Lee Jung-hyuk’s script. I was lucky enough to get an early look.”

“You’re Writer Lee Jung-hyuk?”

Park Rael, recognizing Lee Jung-hyuk, flashed a mischievous grin.

“Aha, so you showed your script to Director Bong today and got rejected, right? Because Director Bong liked my work best.”

Director Bong waved his hands in a flustered panic.

“Ahem, Park, if you say it like that, it’ll cause misunderstandings.”

“What misunderstanding? If you’d decided on Writer Lee’s project, you wouldn’t have called me here. Am I wrong?”

At his rude comment, Lee Jung-hyuk felt a flare of irritation—but just then, Park Rael abruptly reached out his hand for a handshake.

“But that’s that. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m a fan, Writer.”

“Oh, I see, thank you.”

“In my opinion, your writing comes closest to being ‘right’.”

Lee Jung-hyuk’s curiosity was piqued by this young man, who already had his own clear criteria for evaluating scripts at such a young age.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your standard?”

“In my view, whether it’s a drama, novel, or movie, every character and event in the story should fit together like gears—each one perfectly interlocking with no waste, making for a solid structure, right? Of all the scripts I’ve seen, yours comes closest to that.”

“Haha... thank you.”

It was a strange feeling for Lee Jung-hyuk, being praised not by Director Bong or some industry veteran, but by a brand new, not-yet-debuted junior writer.

“Speaking of which, could I read your script too?”

“Hmm, my script?”

Asking outright to read a writer’s unpublished new work wasn’t exactly proper etiquette, but maybe as a young writer, Park Rael just didn’t know that yet.

Sensing this, Director Jang gently explained the awkwardness Lee Jung-hyuk must be feeling.

“Park, it’s great for writers to share work, but asking to see an unfinished script right when you meet is a bit much for Writer Lee, don’t you think?”

“Oh, is that so? Then...”

Without hesitation, Park Rael pulled out his phone, opened a folder, and handed the device over to Lee Jung-hyuk.

“Want to swap? My new script is in here.”