Ever since Ahn Yoo-seok was cast as the male lead, proceeded smoothly.
Those who had initially expressed concerns over the unconventional casting quietly shut their mouths after witnessing Ahn Yoo-seok’s steady acting on set.
The script was already finalized, so all that remained was to film and edit well.
As the author, all I had to do was trust them and wait.
“Shall I start watching the new dramas now?”
I sat at my studio desk and logged onto Gatflix on my laptop.
I couldn’t consult with anyone and had to rely solely on my intuition to pick the next work.
Since my subscription grade had been upgraded, the number of available titles increased to six. The distinctive titles and thumbnails of , , and caught my eye.
One’s a healing drama, another’s a melodrama noir, and is this a family sitcom?*
The genres were all over the place, which only made my decision harder.
The ratings were all the same—2.5 stars—so I couldn’t choose based on that either.
Solo
I leaned deeply into the plush cushion of my chair and pondered.
a melodrama noir, didn’t look bad, but after just finishing a romantic comedy, I felt burdened at the thought of another romance-themed work.
Besides, it seemed to have a campus setting much like , so I decided to pass.
Family sitcoms like had lost their momentum for nearly five years.
Moreover, even though , aired in 2018, was based on a famous webtoon—one of the longest-running domestic hits—its ratings were abysmally low.
Although it made a comeback later via YouTube Shorts and edited versions, I wanted the drama to succeed as a proper, linear hit rather than a revival.
After much consideration, I settled on as the Gotflix content for my next writing project.
A healing drama accessible to the general audience fit well with today’s trends.
Generally, office workers spend two hours just commuting; by the time they finish work and eat, there isn’t much free time left.
For those with little leisure, short and lighthearted videos are more appealing.
In addition, “cooking” has always been a subject closely tied to modern life, consistently receiving positive responses regardless of trends.
While was a mainstream romantic comedy drama destined to have much competition, belonged to the steadily selling “steady seller” genre.
That stable genre even scored 0.5 points higher than .
With one viewing credit, I played episode one of .
Tap, tap, tap—
Tap, tap, tap.
Episode one opened with a close-up shot of a man’s hand skillfully chopping green onions on a cutting board.
Following this, ingredients like onions, kimchi, and tofu were chopped into uniform sizes.
A little cooking oil was poured into a pan, meat was stir-fried, then kimchi and assorted vegetables were quickly sautéed over high heat.
Adding red chili powder gave the dish a vivid bright red color, and a sprinkle of sesame seeds finished it off.
This sequence was presented as a relatively long take.
The story unfolded as expected: logical, entertaining, and neat.
Episode one carried the subtitle “Tofu Kimchi.”
Since every episode’s title was a food name, it seemed like an episodic drama introducing Korean dishes alongside related stories.
The storyline itself was also solid.
It focused on a man who had been a gangster in the past, opening a small Korean restaurant in a redevelopment area, making food that saved people’s lives with the same knife he used to stab them.
Tofu kimchi handed down to his old protégé after long years of imprisonment under a false name stimulated not only the palate but all five senses.
“As expected, Gotflix.”
That was my brief and twisted impression after watching episode one.
I understood why it scored 0.5 points higher than . Writing such subtle and lighthearted stories well is inherently more difficult.
Judging by my own instinct when I pressed the play button for episode two, this drama would become people’s meal companion once it aired.
And there’s more—how many delicious Korean dishes are there? Grilled mackerel, stir-fried squid, tteokbokki, jajangmyeon, kimchi fried rice, muksabap, budaejjigae, agujjim, samgyeopsal, soy sauce marinated crab, braised short ribs... Just thinking of these, there are dozens.
That means seasons two and three and beyond could expand endlessly, turning it into a national drama.
“Ah, I’m hungry.”
I couldn’t possibly resist the ‘gochujang jjigae’ coming up in episode two, so I turned on delivery.
Knock—
Ding dong.
It only took 20 minutes from order to delivery; South Korea is indeed a great place to live.
“Ahh, I just can’t resist gochujang jjigae with an egg.”
I briefly considered having a shot of soju, but since I had resolved to moderate my drinking while writing dramas in Seoul, I decided to keep that promise.
Instead, I poured ice into a 500ml draft beer glass and topped it with cold cola as a substitute.
As I pressed play for episode two, just as the Korean-style egg roll—made by roughly mixing green onions and carrots—was about to be dipped heavily in ketchup and shoved into the mouth,
Ding-ding-ding—
The phone rang at the perfect timing.
I tried to ignore it, but seeing the name Hong Joo-hee, CEO, flashing on the screen, I reluctantly picked up.
“Hello?”
“Author, the edited cut just got finished, and we all decided to watch it together. If you have time, would you like to join us?”
Sighing, I looked at the gochujang jjigae still steaming in the delivery container and covered it with the lid.
“Where should I come?”
Three o’clock.
An editing room located in Nonhyeon-dong, Gangnam-gu.
The sign on the officetel door read “One Time Studio.”
Inside, the officetel had been remodeled into an office space.
Posters of various films and dramas adorned the entrance, showcasing the studio’s editing history.
“Oh, —didn’t that movie surpass 10 million viewers earlier this year?”
While looking at posters of works that dominated the 2010s, I heard Hong Joo-hee’s voice.
“Welcome, author.”
She appeared with an unfamiliar middle-aged man, dressed in a pink tracksuit set.
She was a woman who never looked anything less than perfectly put-together.
“Please say hello. This is Dodonghwan, the editor who’s been working on your project.”
“Hello~ Are you Lee Jung-hyuk, the author? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“First time meeting you.”
Dodonghwan, the editor, was an ordinary man in his early fifties, though his fashion sense was quite peculiar—a bread hat, green-rimmed glasses, and yellow pants, making him stand out strongly.
“Enough introductions. Seung-pyo, or rather, Director Kim, is inside.”
Dodonghwan, who looked like someone who could effortlessly fold anything out of paper after appearing on a children’s education program, pointed inside with flashy hand gestures.
I heard from Hong Joo-hee that he and Director Kim Seung-pyo were cousins.
Two successful artists living under one roof—genetics must be to blame.
“Oh, author. Long time no see.”
Director Kim, usually dressed sloppily, looked even more exhausted due to filming.
One wore a pink tracksuit, another had a bread hat and yellow pants, a third wore an identical track suit.
Even I, dressed plainly in a t-shirt and jeans, felt a little out of place as the four of us squeezed into the cramped editing room and roughly sat down.
Inside, three monitors and editing equipment were centered on a desk that seemed to be the protagonist’s workspace.
Behind the desk was presumably a window, though it was tightly covered by blackout curtains, making it feel like midnight despite it being broad daylight.
“Author, sit here in the middle. Phew, it’s nerve-wracking.”
Director Kim blew on his hands and rubbed them together.
“Still, Dodonghwan and I have been meeting day and night for several days straight.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“No hard work, it’s something that naturally has to be done.”
“Though it’s awkward for me to say this myself, it’s a masterpiece.”
“Oh, that sounds really promising.”
Hong Joo-hee added eagerly.
Dodonghwan didn’t say much and pressed the spacebar, starting the edited cut.
Black screen. The picture brightens to show Ahn Yoo-seok’s face.
One Ahn Yoo-seok works part-time jobs and studies hard day and night at university; the other Ahn Yoo-seok spends money recklessly and enjoys nightlife.
Though the faces are identical, completely different sides of him were intercut.
Are they different personalities? Dopplegangers? Just as such thoughts crossed my mind, they reunite after 15 years.
The first 10 minutes swept viewers into the story with an intense pace in .
Though without any music or effects, it was nearly identical to the I watched on Gotflix.
The actors’ faces and settings naturally differed.
That meant the filming, editing, and script were perfectly recreated.
“Wow, this is…”
“Insane!”
Before I could finish, Hong Joo-hee exclaimed in awe.
“This is the best edited cut I’ve seen so far, including all the upcoming ones.”
“I told you, it’s a masterpiece.”
Dodonghwan raised his glasses and chuckled softly.
“But I was surprised when I received the script from Director Kim. Director Kim also shot exactly according to the script. Of course, I added the cherry on top while editing.”
* Hehe. It’s starting again. What do you think, author? Do you like it?*
All eyes turned toward me. Director Kim clearly had his reasons for showing me this carefully edited cut.
“Not sure if I should say this, but…”
I swallowed dryly and continued.
“This is insane.”
Satisfied with the results, we moved to the studio’s break room.
Though called a break room, it was more like a luxury dining room, equipped with five refrigerators—ranging from a wine fridge to a kimchi fridge.
Dodonghwan said he solved everything here—eating, sleeping, editing, and more—and seemed to have made it his home.
He detested hastily eaten delivery food and instead cooked meals effortlessly.
They served dishes I’d never seen before, called something like “chajiki.”
“This is chajiki. It’s a kind of sauce. It tastes amazing spread on the bread from Sublaque.”
“Sublaque, what’s that?”
“Sublaque. Come on, author, this is your third drama, and you still sound so provincial?”
“Hmph, I’m just used to rustic tastes.”
“Really? Speak up then.”
I hadn’t been so dainty before.
“Next time, I’ll make Korean food for you. The drink is on the house—makgeolli.”
The middle-aged man who folded paper winked, and even with my strong stomach, I felt a little uneasy.
“Stop pestering him. He’s like this. When he sees someone capable, he doesn’t approach anyone, but he’s not a weirdo. Don’t be scared.”
“Hahaha! So we’re on good terms from now on.”
Trying to hide my discomfort, I quietly swallowed my saliva.
Hong Joo-hee and Kim Seung-pyo were busy laughing.
“Oh, wait a second. Got a call from 4814. They just received the edited cut.”
Hong Joo-hee left the room brightly answering the phone.
It was largely thanks to her efforts that the main broadcaster at 1484 had slotted the show in a prime time slot.
They never doubted Hong Joo-hee’s capability, but they thought requesting Saturday and Sunday slots would be impossible.
An author who had twice failed dramas, a rookie director with no film credits, and an unknown male lead to boot.
But after seeing the edited cut, I thought it wasn’t impossible after all.
They must have called to confirm results and congratulate us.
“Shall we have a drink?”
Director Kim, Dodonghwan, and I clinked glasses while chatting idly, but all three of us were mentally focused beyond the break room door.
It felt like children waiting to have their homework inspected.
Ding dong—
Soon after, Hong Joo-hee returned.
Her expression revealed nothing about the news.
“How did it go? What did they say?”
Dodonghwan urged the usually taciturn CEO.
“Don’t tell me they said it’s boring?”
“No, that’s not it... This time, the new work by writer Park Sook, who placed 180th, is airing…”
“Well, you knew that, but what does it have to do with us?”
Hong Joo-hee, looking worried, reluctantly said,
“They scheduled it for the same day and the same time as us.”
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