At Taeha’s question, Yun Taeseong seemed to realize that the situation was turning strange.
– Ah, ah. So it wasn’t you, Taeha, who fixed it. I’ll contact the Assistant Director again and check what’s going on. Give me a moment.
With that, Yun Taeseong ended the call, and ten minutes later, the phone rang again.
– I just checked, and the Assistant Director confirmed with Go Dae-seong, the youngest Assistant Writer, that the prop change was possible.
“Dae-seong? Why, of all people, Dae-seong?”
– Exactly, I couldn’t believe it either, so I had a word with the Assistant Director. No matter how urgent things are, is it okay to finish everything just by confirming a script change with the youngest Assistant Writer?
Through Yun Taeseong, the situation was explained.
There wasn’t much to blame the Assistant Director for in particular.
If trusting only the youngest Assistant Writer and pushing ahead with a prop change up to filming was careless, then yes, it was.
But since neither Taeha nor Jeong Hyo-seop had been contacted, there was an unavoidable aspect in such an urgent situation.
Rather, in this situation, the bigger fault was Go Dae-seong not informing Taeha about the prop change.
Especially since, working on the scripts for Episodes 11 and 12, Go Dae-seong should have realized how crucial the Yellow Rose Pot was to the Second Act.
In other words, he should never have given permission for a prop change to the Assistant Director in the first place.
“But he did give permission. He didn’t get my or Jeong Hyo-seop’s approval either.”
This was quite a serious problem.
Needing to reshoot a few scenes in the Second Act was only a minor issue compared to this.
The bigger issue was that Go Dae-seong might make the same kind of mistake again.
That’s why, as soon as Taeha finished talking with Yun Taeseong, he called Go Dae-seong.
“Dae-seong, did you perhaps get a call from the Assistant Director a few days ago asking if it was okay to change the prop?”
Caught off guard by Taeha’s question, Go Dae-seong answered in a flustered voice.
– What? No, that never happened.
But Taeha was even more taken aback.
He’d clearly heard from Yun Taeseong that Go Dae-seong had approved the prop change, but now he was saying that never happened.
That meant, simply, one of them was lying.
So Taeha had no choice but to ask again.
“Are you really sure that never happened?”
– Yes. Never.
“Then why does the Director think you approved the prop change?”
“I understand. I’ll talk to the Director again and call you back.”
With that, Taeha hung up and tried to call Yun Taeseong again.
But before he could, his phone rang—it was Go Dae-seong, whom he’d just spoken to.
Taeha picked up.
“Yes, Dae-seong?”
– Ah, now that I think about it, I think I did hear something similar from the Assistant Director.
“Something similar?”
– Yes. He said, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the Yellow Rose. Asked if we could switch it to a Freesia pot instead. That’s what he said.
“…Is that so?”
– Of course, I told him nothing could be done without the Main Writer’s approval. So I said, contact the Main Writer and get permission for the change.
– Then the Assistant Director asked, so as long as we get the Main Writer’s approval, is it fine? And I said, of course. But why? Did the prop actually get changed and used in filming?
“Yes. That’s what happened.”
– Huh, what’s this. Did the Assistant Director misunderstand my answer?
Listening to Go Dae-seong, Taeha felt a strange sense of discomfort.
It felt like he was lying to cover things up.
“Anyway… I understand. I’ll call the Director and get back to you.”
– Yes, understood. But, Writer.
“Yes?”
– If the Assistant Director says he filmed it that way because I said the prop change was okay, just let it go.
“Why?”
– Because the Assistant Director would be embarrassed. If it comes to that, I’ll just take the blame.
Go Dae-seong sighed as if he’d just been struck by reality.
Hearing that sigh, Taeha felt the last strand of trust he’d managed to hold onto snap with a faint twang.
Because it was so obvious that Go Dae-seong was putting on a disgusting act.
In the end, Taeha couldn’t help but say,
“Excuse me, Dae-seong.”
– Yes?
“So you want me to let your mistake pass as if the Assistant Director did it?”
– Well…
“No. I have no intention of just letting this go. If someone’s made a mistake, I’ll make sure it’s addressed and resolved. Honestly, I might have let it go, but after hearing what you said, I just can’t.”
Click.
With that, Taeha ended the call with Go Dae-seong and immediately called the Director again to confirm everything once more from the top.
Then he also called Jeong Hyo-seop.
Because when it came to verifying Go Dae-seong’s usual behavior, there was no one more reliable than Jeong Hyo-seop.
Taeha knew this, having been an Assistant Writer for a long time himself.
A short while later, Taeha, realizing the situation was even more serious than he’d thought, sent a message to Go Dae-seong.
[Please come to the studio tomorrow.]
***
The next day.
On his way to the studio, Go Dae-seong was thinking.
“It’ll be fine. How hard could it be to fool some actor who doesn’t know how the world works?”
He worried a bit about the possibility of facing a three-way meeting with the Assistant Director, but quickly shook his head.
He figured that with his skills, he’d be able to muddle through no matter what happened.
As he thought that, he felt his confidence return.
He was truly convinced that persuading just one Taeha wouldn’t be hard at all.
But—
“You’re here?”
When Go Dae-seong opened the studio door, the person greeting him wasn’t Taeha.
It was Kim Seoan, the Producer of Sallamander Studio.
Go Dae-seong, wearing a puzzled expression, smiled awkwardly and asked Kim Seoan,
“Why is the Producer here… Hasn’t the Main Writer arrived yet?”
With a strange smile, Kim Seoan nodded and answered,
“No. He hasn’t arrived. And he won’t be coming in today. The only one you’ll be talking to today is me. Why don’t you sit over here instead of standing?”
“Uh, wow. Yes.”
Go Dae-seong, flustered by the unexpected situation, sat in the chair Kim Seoan indicated.
As soon as he was seated, Kim Seoan spoke.
“You lied, didn’t you?”
A straight pitch right to his chest.
Surprised by the directness, Go Dae-seong had to ask back.
“Huh? What do you mean…”
But Kim Seoan paid no mind to this reaction and continued.
“Come on, you lied. Not just a little, either, right?”
“You even caused trouble with the first draft, didn’t you, neglecting your duties as Assistant Writer? You didn’t even accept valid advice?”
“That’s…”
Go Dae-seong opened his mouth to make excuses.
But,
“That’s enough. The facts have already been confirmed, and after today you’ll be processed for resignation.”
Kim Seoan gave notice, not even allowing him a chance to explain.
Shocked, Go Dae-seong asked,
“Huh? Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of three-way meeting or something?”
At that, Kim Seoan gave a short, incredulous laugh.
But only for a moment.
Soon, Kim Seoan’s expression hardened.
“You’re really misunderstanding this, aren’t you?”
“?”
“Do you think we’d arrange a three-way meeting just to fire you? The Main Writer is extremely busy, as is the Assistant Director.”
“But…”
“Enough. I’m only here because I absolutely had to be, so if you have any belongings here, please take them and go.”
“My things? Right now? Isn’t this unfair…”
“Unfair? Do you even know how much money is being lost because of you, having to reshoot? It’s at least five times your salary. And you say it’s unfair? Should we sort everything out properly, then?”
Unable to stand it any longer, Kim Seoan unleashed a torrent of words.
Stunned, Go Dae-seong finally realized the situation and replied, albeit reluctantly,
“I’ll pack my things!”
With that, Go Dae-seong gathered his belongings and soon left the studio.
As the door closed behind him, Kim Seoan muttered,
“Phew. It’s finally over. It was disgusting working with you—let’s never meet again.”
And added,
“There really won’t be a next time. In this industry, word spreads faster than light.”
***
‘By now, things should be sorted out, right?’
Taeha, pausing to drink some water, pictured Kim Seoan talking things over with Go Dae-seong.
But soon he shook off the thought.
He didn’t have enough leeway in his schedule to waste his emotions over Go Dae-seong.
And sure enough,
“Alright, if everyone’s rested, let’s get back to practice!”
A voice rang out from one side.
The man raising his voice now—
That was Kyung Juncheol, head of the Action School Taeha was attending.
Kyung Juncheol, known as the top action actor in the Republic of Korea, was a master of stunt work.
There was a time when every action movie released in the country featured his stunts.
In a way, it wasn’t an exaggeration.
Currently, all the top action actors in the Republic of Korea were his disciples.
Along with Namsan Action School run by Kyung Juncheol, the remaining schools known as the “Three Great Action Schools of Korea” were also headed by his former students.
So just having the chance to learn stunts from Kyung Juncheol was a privilege and an honor.
It would have been impossible if not for the existence of Jeong Myeong-hwan, the top action film Director in the country.
That’s why Taeha knew how precious this opportunity was, and was putting all his effort into learning stunt work.
Taeha wasn’t the only one.
Seon Min-gi, who had as many stunt scenes as Taeha in this film, was also sparing no effort.
They had already been sweating on the same ground together for three months—that was proof enough.
“The first month was really tough, like I was going to die.”
After possessing this body, Taeha had been working out steadily.
He even bulked up on purpose for the filming of .
But that was nothing compared to learning stunts.
The muscles and skills needed for stunts were entirely different.
Running and rolling on the ground every day to master them, his body was worn out in ways he’d never experienced.
“And even in that state, I had to write the scripts for Episodes 11 and 12 of .”
This was why Taeha hadn’t been able to pay much attention to Go Dae-seong.
Working out for three hours every morning without weekends, and writing scripts on top of that—it had been exhausting.
He felt sorry toward Jeong Hyo-seop.
If he’d paid more attention, he could have solved the problem with Go Dae-seong before Jeong Hyo-seop had to suffer.
In any case, learning stunts was that difficult.
“At least, the fortunate thing is I’ve gotten pretty used to this routine by now.”
The fact that he no longer felt extreme fatigue even after three hours of working out—that was proof.
It was the same today.
He’d been working out for nearly three hours, but felt no exhaustion.
If anything, he wanted to train a bit more.
Unfortunately, Kyung Juncheol had other plans.
“For the last time, let’s run through Routine 11, then we’ll finish.”
Following Kyung Juncheol’s instructions, Taeha practiced Routine 11, the sequence set to be used in .
Unaware that Kyung Juncheol was watching him with a dissatisfied look.
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