Chapter 127: Salary

Lately, I have been reminded of the time I was first assigned to my unit after finishing boot camp.

Nowadays, a soldier's salary exceeds 1,000,000 won, and it is an era where they can use cell phones and noise-canceling wireless earbuds.

In my day, a sergeant's monthly pay was less than 100,000 won. Forget earbuds—even touching the TV remote was something only permitted once you reached the rank of corporal.

Of course, I fully support the current military welfare benefits.

A person can only truly exist as a human being when there is adequate welfare and at least a minimum amount of entertainment.

If you lock up hot-blooded young men within a single fence without anything to do, they inevitably turn other humans into their source of entertainment.

This is especially true for a private who has yet to wash off the scent of civilian life.

"Hey, newbie."

"Private! Lee! Jung! Hyuk!"

"Now, look here."

I still cannot forget the first question those rough-looking seniors—who I could hardly believe were in their 20s—asked me when I was a private.

"Which of us is more handsome?"

It was a question for which no correct answer existed, much like being asked to predict the winner of a fight between King Kong and Godzilla.

Who did I choose back then?

I was soaking in the pungent nostalgia of those days, which had now become a faint memory, when a sudden shout snapped me out of it.

"Hey, newbie!"

The booming command of the gorilla-faced sergeant—no, the Second Writer, Ted—jolted me from my trip down memory lane.

"Uh, what did you say?"

"I asked whose idea you think is better."

"Ah, that... Well..."

Second Writer Ted wanted a futile death.

Third Writer Helen wanted a miserable death.

The former wanted the character to die by a common thug’s blade, while the latter wanted him to die in battle at the hands of dozens of elite soldiers.

To me, being unable to rashly choose either death, their question felt as violent as the one from the influential corporal and the sergeant near discharge asking who was more handsome.

From Helen’s perspective, especially since she had been in charge of Cedric’s narrative, it was unthinkable for a lead-level character to be killed by a mere extra.

The character of Cedric, whom I had watched in the TV series and whom Helen had built up, was a perfect protagonist—noble, capable, humble, and even quick-witted.

How could it make sense for such a protagonist to fall into a clumsy trap and die from a stabbing by some nameless thug?

However...

'If we follow the original author's intention, Ted has a point.'

George Martins, the original author of Kingdom Game, had revealed his philosophy in a past interview.

A consistent rule applied to the characters appearing in his work.

'When they are most loved, kill them most horribly.'

Of course, a hero's death, burning out after a battle against dozens of elite soldiers, could be considered horrific.

However, the extreme nature of any story usually arises when connecting two polar opposites.

Cedric, a candidate for the noble throne praised by the entire nation, and the rusted blade of a nameless thug were at opposite poles.

If I were to weigh in based on the original author's opinion regarding the adaptation of Cedric's death, there was a high probability he would side with Ted.

'After all, that man is famous for killing off protagonists at the drop of a hat.'

But the problem was that even if I sided with Ted, Helen wouldn't just say, "Yes, you're right," and accept it.

And if I sided with Helen, it was possible a bedside appeal would occur during the night, with her saying, "Honey, I was so upset because of that guy earlier!"

'These two are hopeless...'

The spark of life in my eyes gradually began to fade.

"Now, tell us your opinion. Newbie."

"Uh... Well, in my opinion..."

*Gulp.*

I realized I had already fallen into a quicksand pit from which I could not escape on my own.

"If we do it this way..."

I was dragging out my words, wondering which hand—Godzilla’s or King Kong’s—would be more comfortable to be torn apart by, when it happened.

*Bzzzzzz.*

As if everything in America had to be big, a mosquito the size of a 50-cent coin landed on the desk.

Following the habit every Korean possesses—to "execute a mosquito the moment it is spotted"—I took action.

*Slam!*

With a loud bang, the American mosquito met a gruesome end under my hand.

Befitting an American mosquito, a thick splatter of blood spread across my palm.

Seeing this, Ted nodded as if he were satisfied.

"Well done, newbie."

What? Was he praising me just for catching a mosquito?

"Che. Since you go that far, I have nothing left to say."

To make matters even stranger, Helen also shook her head and mimicked a gesture of surrender.

I had simply caught a mosquito.

Just as I was about to deny it, thinking there had been some misunderstanding, Ted spoke.

"I understand your thoughts perfectly. You’ve proven through your actions that my point was correct, haven't you?"

"Pardon?"

"You used the mosquito to provide an example of Cedric's miserable death."

It seemed the position of Second Writer in this multi-billion-dollar studio wasn't earned through a game of Indian Poker.

Like the monsters—no, the writers—they were with years of experience, the two of them began creating a story out of my actions as they pleased.

"Looking at the blood in that mosquito's belly, it must have lived a long time and sucked the blood of dozens of people until now."

"Even that mosquito probably didn't know it would end up bursting in the palm of a newbie who just arrived."

"That was exactly the direction I wanted to take, Helen."

"Right, I understand now. From Cedric's perspective, the most miserable death would be a sudden one that he could never foresee, even with his brilliant mind."

As the Second Writer and Third Writer reached an agreement for the first time in a while, the assistant writers nearby began to gather one by one.

Among them, Kay, who had been watching the situation from the start, summarized the moment.

"Even the countless heroes who appear in Kingdom Game, like the stars, are bound to die as futilely as a mere mosquito before the massive flow of fate."

That was the philosophy of this work, and they had a duty to capture that spirit in the production.

If my words are wrong, try to refute them.

Refute it, monster rookie Lee Junghyuk.

In the midst of a whirlpool of fate that was difficult to refute, Ted, the Second Writer, approached me—now a shining star.

"Hey, newbie. Tell me your name."

So it had come to this again.

I had anticipated all these situations, and as if this result were all too familiar, I had no choice but to answer calmly.

"My Korean name is Lee Junghyuk. In America, I go by Junghyuk Lee."

***

Meanwhile.

In the workroom of Im Seong-hee, an assistant writer under Studio Gatflix led by Lee Junghyuk.

"Writer! I’ve corrected the typos in scene fifty-three and added the facial expression details as you directed."

"Thank you for always being so thorough."

"It's nothing, just doing my job. I’m heading out soon, is there anything else you need me to do?"

"No, I think you can go home early today."

Im Seong-hee’s assistant writers, who were now working well together, successfully finished the script for the fourth episode of Catch Me If You Can today as well.

After wrapping up the work and letting the assistants go early, Im Seong-hee walked slowly toward the kitchen.

A hum escaped her lips as she slowly poured hot water to brew hand-drip coffee, drop by drop.

Her workroom was twenty-four pyeong, not a very large area.

However, the living room was spacious, and she was particularly satisfied with the white marble island table.

Only two years ago, she had worried about being an assistant writer for the rest of her life. Meeting Lee Junghyuk had been a blessing, like a gift from God.

Just then, a call came in from Jeong Tae-mi, a junior writer who had also received grace from Lee Junghyuk.

"Hey, Tae-mi. What’s up?"

—I just called to see how you were, Sister. Is the writing going well?

"Of course. I sent the kids home early today and I’m enjoying a relaxing coffee break."

The two of them, who were now respectable main writers, chatted for a while about their recent activities before the topic naturally shifted to Lee Junghyuk, who had left for America recently.

—By the way, do you think our Writer is doing well in America?

"Oh, he isn't picky about food at all. I'm sure he's doing great."

Thinking of Lee Junghyuk, Im Seong-hee shifted her grip on the phone.

"Grace even sent him a first-class ticket. A one-way trip probably costs 13,000,000 won, right?"

—I heard she even got him a great place to stay. It’s strange; our Writer really has a lot of luck with women.

"I don't know for sure, but he's probably living happily in a luxury hotel, cutting T-bone steaks with Grace."

After finishing the call, Im Seong-hee picked up her perfectly brewed cup of hand-drip coffee and stepped out onto the terrace. She thought of Lee Junghyuk as she savored the crimson sunset painting the autumn sky.

"I wonder when our Writer will come back."

***

Inside TBO’s Kingdom Game studio.

I thought I wasn't picky about food.

In fact, even when there was no kimchi among the side dishes, I could usually manage.

Since I didn't have a preference between Western, Chinese, or Japanese food, I thought I wouldn't feel any particular discomfort in my diet.

"Good morning!"

"Uh... Good morning..."

I had been stuffing donuts in the morning, hot dogs for lunch, and spaghetti for dinner into my stomach for a week now, and I was reaching a point where I felt nauseous from the greasiness.

Of course, there was a cafeteria on the second floor with perfect facilities.

However, when things were so busy there wasn't even time to go to the cafeteria, it was common to just grab a hot dog or something similar.

Constantly eating fast food just because it was quick and easy—and above all, because it could be shoved into my mouth while typing—was more of an ordeal than I had expected.

'Kimchi... I'm desperate for kimchi. Please.'

Even at Korean burger joints in America, they would have a Kimchi Bulgogi Burger, but the Hallyu wave had yet to reach the TBO cafeteria system.

As I saw Kay taking a large bite out of a sugar-filled donut for lunch following his breakfast, my appetite instantly vanished.

"Hmm? What are you doing instead of eating, Junghyuk?"

"Ugh, I think I’m going to throw up if I see another donut. Kay, aren't you tired of donuts?"

"Hahaha, even if it doesn't suit your taste, try to shove something in today."

Seeing Kay greedily grab an additional donut, I asked.

"Why? Is there something special happening today?"

"Yeah, it’s going to be quite a difficult day."

"A difficult day?"

Since every day here felt like a chaotic marketplace, I wondered if things could actually get any more difficult.

"Ah, right. This must be your first time, Junghyuk."

Kay, who had finished his second donut, wiped the white powdered sugar from his mouth and grinned.

"Today is the day the Showrunner visits."

"Showrunner?"

No sooner had Kay finished his sentence.

*Bang!*

A woman kicked open the double doors and marched inside.

A Showrunner covered from head to toe in a flashy black-and-white fur coat.

"How have you been, you pieces of trash?"

This was Samantha’s first appearance.