Chapter 74: A VIP Treatment

August 9, 20XX.

The President of Korea held a state dinner at the Blue House for the visiting Japanese Prime Minister Kaneda Fumio and his wife.

The dinner was set to last about two hours, with the Prime Minister, his spouse, and the Japanese delegation invited to the main building of the Blue House.

Not only were the Japanese delegation in attendance, but several prominent Korean figures had also been invited to greet the state guests as representatives of Korea.

Park Eun-sook and I were invited for our contributions as co-writers of the joint Korea-Japan drama , which had played a part in cultural exchange between the two countries.

Likewise, for the Japanese side, Director Kudo Kei had also come to Korea for the same reason.

Of course, I later heard that the main reason  was recognized for its contribution to cultural exchange was thanks in large part to the persistent insistence of the First Lady, who happens to be my ardent fan.

Whatever the reason, that was the official justification.

After dressing up in a sharp suit for the first time in a while, I arrived at the Blue House banquet hall, and, looking around, saw some familiar faces.

There were people I knew personally, but even more, there were lawmakers and Olympic gold medalists I’d only seen in the news or in the papers.

‘Should I really be at a place like this…?’

All I’d done was write a drama for my own benefit, not the national interest, so being invited here felt rather surreal.

Soon, the most familiar face of all, the President, appeared and stepped up to the podium. The dinner began with a welcoming speech.

“Since my visit to Japan in March last year, for a year and a half, solely with the intention of serving our national interest and based on strong mutual trust with Prime Minister Kaneda, our two countries have been able to move forward into the future. In light of this, I hope that the Korea-Japan relationship will…”

The President’s slow speech dragged on, eating up a tremendous amount of time.

“Last year’s trilateral summit with David, the APEC summit, the joint panel at Stanford—Prime Minister Kaneda and I have spent much time together. Even as both our peoples continue to grapple with painful historical conflict, we have sought active exchange so that we may write a new history together in the future…”

The speech went on and on, but to sum it up in one line: ‘Let’s get along.’

When the microphone passed to Prime Minister Kaneda, I feared he might go on for another thirty minutes, but perhaps because he was the guest, the Japanese Prime Minister kept it short.

“Mr. President, First Lady, everyone, it’s good to meet you. Thank you very much for inviting me to such a splendid dinner tonight.”

After Prime Minister Kaneda’s slightly awkward Korean greeting, everyone broke out in thunderous applause.

Afraid that a half-hearted applause might encourage more speeches, I clapped with extra enthusiasm.

As dinner began, a troupe prepared in advance started their performance.

With traditional Korean instruments like the gayageum and haegeum, they performed theme songs from popular Korean dramas and Japanese anime.

Then, the First Lady, dressed in a soft pink blouse and long white skirt, appeared before the distinguished guests to officially open the dinner and offer brief words of thanks.

“It is an honor to host such distinguished guests who promote the nation’s prestige across so many fields.”

As the First Lady began to speak, servers started to bring out the food from afar.

“Tonight’s menu has been prepared to harmonize the food cultures of Korea and Japan…”

As she introduced the dinner menu she had personally (through the Blue House chef) prepared, plates began to be set on the tables.

The menu was a blend of Korean and Japanese cuisine—sesame tofu, grilled golden tilefish with kyosai greens enjoyed in Japan, and shrimp dumplings as appetizers.

For the main course, there was a richly aromatic wild pine mushroom and Korean beef steak, along with cold buckwheat noodles.

Dessert was sweet bean jelly made from red beans and chestnuts.

Thinking I might never have another chance to eat a meal prepared by the Blue House chef, I focused entirely on the food, paying little attention to those around me.

As I chewed on the fresh, invigorating wild pine mushrooms that seemed to clear my head, I wondered if it was okay to ask for seconds at such a dinner.

Just then, I spotted someone even more familiar—and more unpleasant—than the President in the distance.

‘Jeon Min-jung’s here too.’

Officially called a dinner, but in reality, this kind of event was more like a place where senior figures in the entertainment industry, major companies, writers, and actors met for political networking and business discussions.

So it was only natural that CL Media, the largest player in the Korean media market, wouldn’t miss out on such an occasion.

I tried my best not to look in Jeon Min-jung’s direction as I finished my meal, and soon it was time for champagne, with everyone rising to mingle and exchange greetings.

I had no intention of networking, so I sat quietly at my seat.

That’s when I heard a piercing, shrill laugh from Jeon Min-jung’s table.

***

“CL Media is really accomplishing great things.”

“They’re the leading company driving the Korean Wave. I’m sure all the ministers here are well aware of their efforts.”

“Oh, please, don’t flatter me too much. It’s all thanks to everyone here.”

At Jeon Min-jung’s table sat Park Eun-sook, along with the chairs of the Seoul Arts Center, Korea Creative Content Agency, and the Korea Arts Welfare Foundation.

All of them ran agencies under the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism, so normally, there’d be little reason for flattery.

But the reality was that so many projects in the Korean pop culture and arts scene depended on support and investment from Jeon Min-jung, director of CL Media, a giant capital powerhouse. So they were treating her, much younger than them, with the utmost courtesy.

Jeon Min-jung, after a round of self-praise, turned to Park Eun-sook with a faint smile.

“I hear you’re working on a Korea-Japan joint drama.”

“Yes, I’m working with Director Kudo Kei over there.”

“Honestly, I was hoping your next project would be with CL Media again. If you’d written your new work for us, it could’ve done even better than . What a pity.”

It might sound affectionate on the surface, but depending on who heard it, the meaning could change entirely.

‘You didn’t even manage to get top ratings for  despite our massive investment, so for the sake of propriety, shouldn’t you have made up for it by doing your next work with CL Media?’

Jeon Min-jung’s words were laced with thorns.

“I heard it’s a story that could have easily been produced in Korea. Was there a particular reason you decided to film in Japan with another production company?”

Picking up on Jeon Min-jung’s intent, representatives from related government agencies played along to flatter her.

“Haha, indeed. Since you’re a representative Korean writer, had it been produced here, it surely would have turned out wonderfully.”

“Wasn’t the main location of Park Eun-sook’s signature work  Geoje Island? I never knew Korea had such beautiful islands.”

Noticing Jeon Min-jung’s attitude, Park Eun-sook replied with a troubled expression.

“As the writer of , I do feel very sorry to CL Media myself.”

“Oh, writer-nim, don’t say that.  was the best drama of last year for me.”

“I’m just grateful you feel that way…”

Though her insides were boiling, Park Eun-sook took a sip of champagne, keeping her emotions in check with so many eyes on her.

“So this is where everyone was.”

Just then, the First Lady, making her rounds to thank all the distinguished guests, arrived at Jeon Min-jung’s table.

Everyone rose to greet her with a bow.

“I hope the food was to your liking? I was quite nervous since this was a special occasion.”

Jeon Min-jung, now hiding any sign of her earlier sharpness, responded with a gentle smile.

“Since you personally oversaw the event, everything—from the food to the atmosphere—was simply perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It feels like it’s been a while since we last met. Have you been well?”

“Thanks to your concern, I’ve been doing well.”

“Oh, and Park Eun-sook-nim, I enjoyed  very much.”

The First Lady was known as an avid fan of Korean dramas even before her husband became president.

So much so, that during his campaign, the President would say, “My wife just can’t live without dramas,” to show off his down-to-earth side.

Naturally, the conversation shifted to recently aired Korean dramas, and everyone at the table joined in.

“My, even with such a busy schedule, the First Lady never loses her love for dramas.”

“That’s not all. She’s got such a discerning eye—every drama the First Lady has found interesting has played a major role in spreading the Korean Wave globally.”

“Oh ho ho, well, except for the ‘First Lady’ part, I’m just an ordinary housewife, so watching dramas is just a little hobby for me.”

The head of the Korea Arts Welfare Foundation asked playfully,

“So, if I may, what’s the most captivating drama you’ve seen recently, Madam?”

“Park Eun-sook’s works are wonderful, but to be honest, there’s an author I’ve recently become completely taken with.”

“Oh, and who might that be?”

“Writer Lee Jung-hyuk’s works are truly fresh and moving.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the First Lady replied, and everyone’s smiles froze for a moment.

Jeon Min-jung’s face visibly twisted for a split second.

But no matter how much sway she held as the daughter of CL Media, she couldn’t show it in front of the nation’s First Lady.

Forcing herself to agree, Jeon Min-jung replied,

“Writer Lee Jung-hyuk is certainly one of those doing great work. I’m glad Korea has so many talented writers.”

“That’s right, but among them, I think Lee Jung-hyuk stands out. , , and the recently ended —every one of them was just excellent.”

“Oh ho ho, indeed. They were all fine dramas.”

The First Lady seemed intent on talking, keeping her eyes fixed on Jeon Min-jung’s stiffening face.

“And to think  was made not by a giant like CL Media, but by a tiny production company. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yes, it is rather unusual, but I’m glad it turned out well.”

“Exactly. Oh ho ho. It’s really reassuring to see such solid and resilient production companies in our country.”

There’s no way the First Lady wouldn’t know the history between Jeon Min-jung and Lee Jung-hyuk.

Especially before such an event, the President’s closest aides always compile profiles of the participants.

If the First Lady was interested in Lee Jung-hyuk, she would have known about him even before reading his file.

Her open praise for Lee Jung-hyuk in front of Jeon Min-jung wasn’t just out of fondness for his works; it had a political motive.

Recently, a survival reality show for idol trainees produced by CL Media had come under fire.

There were allegations of sexual exploitation of minors, and after the show ended, rigged voting caused public outrage, leading to a petition on the National Petition site demanding strict punishment for CL Media.

Knowing how sensitive the public was to entertainment scandals, the First Lady had decided to send a subtle warning to CL Media at this opportunity.

‘That old fox… she’s scratching at people’s nerves, all the while pretending not to know.’

Having thus sent an unspoken message—‘Do your job properly’—the First Lady slowly rose from her seat with her trademark gentle smile.

“Oh my, look at me go. I’ve gone on far too long. I’ll get up now to greet the other guests.”

“Of course.”

After that, the First Lady moved to the table where Lee Jung-hyuk was seated.

“Oh my~ Writer Lee Jung-hyuk! I’ve been wanting to see you so much.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.”

The First Lady greeted Lee Jung-hyuk with exaggerated gestures and a bright smile.

“Oh, don’t feel awkward, everyone. Sit, sit. There’s so much I’ve wanted to say to Writer Lee.”

“Ah, yes, of course…”

She spent quite some time chatting at Lee Jung-hyuk’s table, and then, as if regretting having to leave, patted his shoulder and stood up.

Jeon Min-jung, watching all this, ground her teeth and quietly called for her assistant as she got up from her seat.

“It seems the dinner’s about over. Get the car ready.”

“Yes, Director.”

Before leaving, Jeon Min-jung shot one last look at Lee Jung-hyuk, biting her lip, and left the banquet hall.

***

After the dinner.

I left the hall utterly drained and headed straight for the parking lot.

I pulled out my car keys, unlocked the door, and as I was about to open it, a short honk rang out as a black luxury sedan pulled up in front of my car.

The rear window rolled down, and Jeon Min-jung’s face appeared.

“Long time no see, ex-husband. You’re really doing well, huh?”

“Yeah, I never thought I’d get invited to a place like this, either.”

“All that time I fed, clothed, and sheltered a snot-nosed country bumpkin, and look at you now—a writer getting the VIP treatment. Who would’ve thought?”

If it were the old me, I’d have nothing to say under her contempt, lacking any connections, background, or writing skill to speak of.

But now, things are different.

“Maybe you should set up your own welfare foundation.”

“Puhaha, should I? Honestly, I’ve probably given you more than most welfare foundations ever could.”

“Yeah, so stop stressing yourself running a company you’re not cut out for and just start a foundation.”

“What did you say?”

I may not be on Jeon Min-jung’s level as a chaebol, but at least now I could quietly flip off my ex-wife who insulted me so brazenly.

“You’ve done a lot for me, but seeing the dramas CL’s been putting out recently makes me feel bad. I worry people might say the shows produced by CL have gone downhill because of me.”

“You… you! Hey, Lee Jung-hyuk!”

“CL’s stock has dropped a lot lately, hasn’t it? I’m pretty concerned as a shareholder. Shouldn’t you start living up to your role?”

Stung by my words, Jeon Min-jung, who’d tried to needle me as usual, turned red and shouted back.

“My role? How dare you talk about my role?!”

“That’s right, Jeon Min-jung. You should fulfill your own duties before running a company or producing shows.”

I stepped closer to the window, leaned down, and met her eyes.

“Before you’re a director of CL Media, you’re Areum’s mother. If you can’t even do your job as a mother, what are you doing running a company or producing dramas?”

“You… you!”

Having said my piece, I didn’t bother to listen to her reply—I turned, got in my car, and shut the door.

“Lee Jung-hyuk!!!”

As Jeon Min-jung screamed behind me, I cheerfully pressed the pedal and drove out of the parking lot.