Chapter 28: The Director Who Stayed Behind

Brunch café in Cheongdam-dong.

Hong Juhee, seated in the veranda by the wide-open windows, wore a crisp blue suit set.

Even though she had just returned from Tokyo on a late-night flight, there wasn't a trace of disarray about her.

She hadn't stopped working for a moment, not even in business class. Even now, she sat at the café table with one wireless earbud in, her hands moving busily.

“Mm. I don't think we’ll be able to meet with the writer together. Yes, yes. For now, how about you and I, along with the CEO, meet first next week?”

Her calendar, which she was updating, was packed with back-to-back meetings.

They were all meetings with actors, both main and supporting, who would appear in .

When word got out that Lee Junghyuk was preparing a new work, agencies both big and small started reaching out first.

What kind of project is it, can I see the script first, even a small role is fine—those were the sorts of calls flooding in.

“Yes, the main character is in his forties. I think it’d be difficult for Jo Seungyeon to take the role. Yes.”

Juhee kept the same tone even with calls from small agencies, cheerfully organizing her schedule.

Thinking back to the days after the Park Taewon scandal, when she made dozens, hundreds of calls to every agency looking for a lead, it was a truly moving change.

Indeed, H Studio's standing in the industry had completely changed after .

“It’s all thanks to Writer Lee. Isn't that right, Director Kim?”

Today as well, Kim Seungpyo had shown up in his usual raggedy clothes.

He just gave a small nod to the busy Juhee and sat, looking at his phone.

Juhee had thought he was talking to someone, but once Seungpyo realized the words were meant for him, he shrank into himself.

“Yes, yes. That’s true, I suppose.”

“I’ll ask you again. Are you saying you won't do ?”

Juhee unplugged her earbud from her ear and stuck it into its case, her question sharp.

Her words were polite, but her tone was anything but.

“No... It’s not that I won’t do it. It’s just, I have to go to the States to shoot a film...”

“Were you the only one who had a hard time? We all struggled. That’s just how dramas are. Still, compared to most,  was a blissful set. Ask any other director.”

“I don’t actually know any other directors...”

“Anyone you ask would say you were lucky.”

Juhee, as if she hadn't asked to get an answer, just kept saying what she wanted to say.

“Yes, well. It’s not that the shoot was hard... I just think I’m more suited to film. Dramas are just so drawn out...”

“Director. Do people get to do only what they want in life? You have to do what you’re good at. You're good at directing dramas. 's ratings prove that. Even in the online communities, people praised your directing.”

Even Kim Seungpyo, who had been so quick-witted on set, shrank back again in a private setting, or rather, in front of a woman.

Juhee, seeming not to care in the slightest about his attitude, pressed him further.

She’d naturally assumed he would take on the directing for , so his refusal was throwing a wrench in her plans.

“Oh, CEO. Hello.”

Just as Juhee was about to reload and push Seungpyo to the edge,

Assistant director Park Sangtae approached, bowing politely.

With a face of relief, Kim Seungpyo jumped to his feet and yielded his seat to Sangtae.

“I’m not just running off without a plan. Our Sangtae here! Graduated from the Korea National University of Arts’ film department, no less. Honestly, for , you could say he basically shot the whole thing.”

“Huh?”

“Sangtae, you said it yourself. That we have to do  no matter what.”

“Me? Oh, yes. The script is just that good.”

“See? But I have to go to America. I told you, right? The script that I’ve been stuck on for ten years finally came together.”

“Yes. That’s a good thing, but... isn't it kind of reckless to just up and go to the States with nothing lined up?”

“Right. It’ll be tough. But I just can’t give up on my dream.”

Earlier, when Seungpyo called at the crack of dawn, Sangtae had hesitated for a moment.

Filming was all done—did he really need to pick up? That’s what he wondered.

But maybe once an assistant director, always an assistant director. His body reacted before his head and he answered.

But then, to be called all the way from Eungam-dong to Cheongdam-dong, just to hear talk about dreams—it left him speechless.

“Yes, of course. You should go. America. It’s been my dream to go there since I was little too. Yes.”

“No. I’m going. You’re staying.”

“What?”

“You’re staying and directing .”

“What?!”

“Wait a minute. Sangtae is going to direct ?”

“Me?”

“That’s right. The director of  is none other than you! Park Sangtae!”

“Come on, Director Kim. This isn’t some kids’ game. How can you suddenly tell Sangtae to direct? Don’t get me wrong, Sangtae—I like you. But this is business.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m just as taken aback...”

“This guy’s graduation film was about a father who cooks, and his direction was incredible.  is all about those cooking scenes and food inserts, right? It’s better to have a pro than just a director with a name. It’ll be way better.”

Kim Seungpyo, not looking at Juhee, rattled off all his points to Park Sangtae.

“I’m convinced. No one but our Sangtae should direct .”

“Director...”

After six years as an assistant director, Sangtae couldn’t believe he’d finally met such a benefactor—he wanted to kiss his feet right there.

Back during filming, he’d prayed for one of this bastard’s toes to break, but now—Hallelujah!

“Hoo. Alright, I understand what you’re saying. But I don’t think this is something we can just decide like this.”

Juhee gathered her tablet and stood up.

Her joy was short-lived; Sangtae, looking awkward, stood and bowed deeply.

Seungpyo nudged Sangtae’s side, shooting him a look that screamed, ‘When opportunity knocks, grab it!’

“Um, CEO. There’s just one thing I’d like to say.”

Sangtae, hesitant, grabbed the car door just before Juhee got in, speaking earnestly.

“If I get to direct , I’ll work harder—no, I’ll do better than anyone. I’ve already read the script dozens of times. Just reading it, I felt so excited, like a kid before a school trip. I want to make the audience feel that same excitement.”

“Haa...”

Now it was Juhee’s turn to look utterly troubled.

He’d cried and laughed with them for six months of filming .

No one had worked harder than Park Sangtae, and if this could be his reward, how wonderful would that be?

But H Studio was preparing to take a leap forward with .

Putting a total rookie who’d never even shot a one-act play in the cockpit?

It would be like setting sail on the open sea with a driver who didn’t even have a license.

“I’m in favor, though?”

“Writer.”

When she went straight to Lee Junghyuk’s studio, he replied as if it were nothing.

“I think Sangtae will do just fine. And it’s not the open sea. There’s a perfect navigator right here, isn’t there?”

Director Lee Junghyuk handed her the final episode script for , his confident smile shining.

“I’m not saying anyone could shoot  and it’d be perfect. Director Kim sent me Sangtae’s graduation film by email—I watched it, and the guy’s got skills.”

“When did you...”

“Let’s trust him and give it a try. Just like you trusted the  script and signed with me.”

“Whew. You and Director Kim both, seriously.”

With Lee Junghyuk saying this, Juhee had nothing more to refute.

If the writer was pleased, what more could she do?

Of course, if it were any other writer, she’d have lined up a dozen more rational arguments, but this writer’s intuition was different from the rest.

“No complaining later about the director not pulling it off.”

Juhee, with a grumble, picked up the final episode of .

---

“Director Jang Byunghyun! Long time no see.”

The director who had wrapped up  in a storm of controversy—Jang Byunghyun, the navigator of —poked his head into a private omakase room in Cheongdam.

The one waiting for him was Jo Minseong, director of operations at Ten Entertainment.

After a brief greeting, as if on cue, the sliding door opened and an elegant sashimi platter was brought in.

Jang Byunghyun, who preferred rooms for private talks over counter seats where the chef served each piece, appreciated the discreet setting.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

“Oh, is this ishidai for sashimi? How did you know I like flatfish?”

“When you dined with Writer Park last time, you enjoyed it. I made a special request to the chef, since we were hosting a gourmet.”

“Haha, I’d heard Director Jo had good taste, and it’s true.”

Jang Byunghyun, perhaps due to the lighting, picked up a slightly pinkish white slice and popped it into his mouth.

“For raw fish, I prefer it fresh, not aged. Just like scripts—I don’t want some old thing, but something brand-new, hot off the press.”

“Haha. The script from Writer Choi I sent you last time, I gave it to you directly—didn’t pass it to anyone else. Fresh as can be.”

“But Writer Choi isn’t what he used to be. The writing feels... old.”

“Really? Which part? If you give us feedback, I’ll do my best to incorporate it.”

“Nah. Writer Choi is famous for not editing his scripts. I’m not fond of those writers who act like their scripts are the Bible.”

“If you say you’ll take it on, Director Jang, I’m sure even Writer Choi will make changes.”

Jang Byunghyun downed the sake Jo poured for him.

A sweet, tart aroma filled his mouth.

“Is Writer Lee Junghyuk staying with H Studio?”

Jang gave a wry smile, as if he knew this was coming.

“You mentioned Writer Lee last time, so I asked around everywhere. Seems he’s working with H again.”

“Director, you know my style, right? I’m not the type to get jealous when I lose out to a rival. I look at things objectively—if it’s good, I want to learn. But honestly, Director Kim Seungpyo’s direction had a lot of holes. The script saved it.”

Jo Minseong refilled the sake glasses and offered a polite response.

He knew, for all his words, Jang Byunghyun was a sensitive soul.

’s fall wasn’t his fault, but after being thoroughly outdone by  in the finale, he’d holed up for weeks, giving the production company a headache.

Jang Byunghyun, the hitmaker, had directed five dramas, and not a single one had failed to top its timeslot—until now.

Losing first place for the first time—of course it hurt.

What struck Jo Minseong upon signing Jang anew was how sincere he was about dramas.

With a figure that big, you’d expect rumors, but he was spotless outside of work.

His workaholic nature resonated with Jo personally, raising his opinion even more.

“So, about that. I want to do my next project with Writer Lee Junghyuk, no matter what.”

Picking up the uni-and-caviar sushi from the next plate, Jang Byunghyun laid his ambition bare.

“Maybe it’s age, but I don’t want to work on anything but the best now.”

After putting a meal costing over a million won on the company card and seeing Jang off, Jo Minseong leaned in a corner of the smoking area and exhaled a long breath of smoke.

Caught between Writer Choi, who insisted he wouldn’t do a drama without Jang, and Jang, who insisted he wouldn’t do a project without Lee Junghyuk, Jo’s nerves were fraying.

How nice it would be if I want you, you want me, and everything just clicked together.

But with seventeen years in the industry, Jo Minseong knew better.

There isn’t a single drama that runs as smoothly as interlocking gears.

So Jo approaches the job without particular desires—if it works out, he does it, no matter what.

That mindset was surely what had allowed Jo Minseong to become the true power behind the giant Ten Entertainment.

“Hm... Lee Junghyuk, huh...”

But Jo was only human. Of course he had things he wanted.

As he took a long drag from a slim 1mm cigarette, the glowing tip shrank.

Of course he wanted to work with the hottest writer in the industry, Lee Junghyuk.

But desire alone wasn’t enough.

To work with Lee, simply offering him his favorite sashimi wouldn’t cut it.

He’d need to plan a meeting prepared with far more research.

Jo stubbed out his cigarette and crossed to the café across the street, just before closing.

“Lee Junghyuk, huh...”

Jo had a habit of muttering to himself when planning something.

Especially when it was someone he wanted, he’d repeat their name over and over.

“Lee Junghyuk. Lee Junghyuk, Lee Junghyuk.”

“Yes?”

A barista in a mask looked at him like he was crazy.

“Oh. Sorry. One iced Americano, please.”

After ordering, Jo stepped out to the terrace again, mumbling Lee Junghyuk’s name.

Even if he couldn’t meet him, he at least wanted to read one of his scripts.

As he lit another cigarette and started thinking about his approach, he noticed something familiar on one of the terrace tables.

A stack of A4 paper.

It was something Jo had seen thousands of times in his seventeen years.

“Why’s a script here... And what’s with the title? ?”

The Genius Writer Rakes It In With an App, Episode 28

E-book Release Date | 2025.02.26

Author | Duruchigi

Publisher | Heo Heungbeom, Park Geonwon

Publishing House | Poten