"Writer Lee Minjoo. Fuck, this is just wrong."
"Are you insane?"
After slaving away like a dog for the past six years, this couldn't be happening.
Was it really so hard to give me a writer's credit on a drama I wrote?
"I wrote half of the script. You promised this time we'd be credited as co-writers!"
"That's why I said we'd work together on the next project!"
The same bullshit she spouted for the last project.
"You said the same thing last time. Dammit!"
"...Do you really think you'll be able to stick around in this industry after this?"
A hint of anger crept into her voice, which had initially shown a sliver of guilt.
Even if it meant throwing the past years into the trash, I had to say what was on my mind.
"You fucking bitch. I hope you live a long and prosperous life."
Fling—
I threw a stack of A4 paper in Lee Minjoo's face.
It was something she had always done to me, but I never imagined the day would come when I'd be the one doing it.
My remaining assistant writer colleagues looked at me with eyes full of pity and sympathy.
'You're the ones I feel sorry for.'
I left the building, putting the studio—where a crazy woman was screaming her head off—behind me.
I had thrown away my career of the past several years with my own hands, but I had no regrets.
Public holidays? Leaving work on time?
I never even hoped for such things.
It was a daily cycle of writing in a cramped room for less than half the minimum wage, all under the guise of being an "artist."
On top of that, I was up day and night searching for materials, seeking advice, correcting typos, and even being her designated drinking buddy.
In the end, the result was a tunnel with no end in sight.
I was the one who made the wrong choice from the beginning, so who was there to blame?
"Hah... It's not like I had much of a choice, to begin with."
I hadn't graduated from a playwriting department in college, and I couldn't afford to go to an academy.
Every script I submitted to contests got torn to shreds, and studying on my own was a daunting task.
Ultimately, the only thing I could do was scour online communities and internet cafes.
The assistant writer recruitment ad that caught the eye of an aspiring writer who knew nothing was the beginning of all my misfortune.
If I had known it would be like this, I would have studied diligently and looked for a regular job.
"What am I going to do for a living now?"
It had been six years since I graduated from the Korean Literature department of a decent university in Seoul.
My future looked bleak, wondering what a 30-year-old could possibly do now.
It was then.
"KYAAAAAAH!"
"Unni!!! I love you!"
"Noonaaa!!!"
Fans who had spotted a celebrity's car started screaming.
Since the studio was near the SBC broadcasting station, this was a common occurrence.
Then, a five-member girl group got out of a black van.
They had never won first place on a music show, but they had fervent support on male-dominated websites.
The visual girl group, Purple Girls.
My own situation felt a bit pathetic as I watched them get out one by one in real life.
A 30-year-old man, stuck between high school kids, watching a girl group's commute to Music Bank.
"I'm a real legend for being here like this."
My income was already less than minimum wage before, but starting today, I was officially unemployed.
However, my body was more honest than my mind.
Since it had come to this, I figured I'd feel a little less depressed if I at least saw the girl group's faces.
Starting with the leader, the members of Purple Girls got out of the van one by one.
Every single one of them had a charming face, enough to be considered a visual member.
"Haaa... shit."
The fourth member to get out was Purple Girls' main dancer, Jae-eun.
She was a woman who had risen to stardom through Writer Lee Minjoo's previous work.
Seeing her face reminded me of my shitty boss, and my mood soured.
But then,
The moment the fifth member got out, I felt a strange sensation.
"Semi..."
Her dancing and singing were average, but she was the most popular member and the youngest of Purple Girls.
She was a face genius who boasted unrivaled looks even among the visual members.
She gave me a slight smile, and my heart began to pound uncontrollably.
"Did you see that? She just smiled at me."
"You crazy bastard, she smiled at me!"
Two male students next to me were fighting over a pointless topic.
If I were just five years younger, I would have told them how meaningless their argument was.
'It was me, not you guys. You idiots.'
Today, the first one-sided love of my thirty-year-old life began.
Of course, my ex-girlfriends don't count, since those weren't one-sided crushes.
"Is this what it feels like to become a fan?"
The pure heart I had guarded even through my beautiful school days was broken just like that.
Soon, my lovely Semi disappeared in an instant, and a moment of clarity washed over me.
Ding-dong—
At that moment, a loud notification sound rang in my head.
"What, what's that sound!"
I took out my smartphone to check, but there was nothing.
However, an incomprehensible 'memory' suddenly surfaced in my mind.
[※ System Opened: 110-110101-1011 (Virtual Account, W Bank)] [※ Deposit Amount: 0 won / 1,000 won]
It wasn't Korean or English.
It was a language I had never seen before, yet it was vividly recorded in my mind.
"A thousand won? What is this memory...?"
The memory was stored as if someone had carved the letters into my brain.
An account number composed only of 1s and 0s, like a computer program.
As if handling an immediate task, I opened my bank transfer app.
If the amount had been just a little larger, I might have thought about it a bit more rationally.
Ding-dong—
[You have been promoted to Iron Tier.] [Searching for a work that suits the actor you recently encountered.]
"Wh-what is this!?"
At that moment, a series of information flooded my mind like a wave.
[Content: The Chaebol Heir is a Pure-hearted Macho, Part 1] [Genre: Romance, Chaebol] [Location: Cafe Venus, near Omokgyo Station Exit 4] [Time Limit: 20 hours] [※ Bronze Promotion: 110-110101-1011 (Virtual Account, W Bank)] [※ Deposit Amount: 0 won / 10,000,000 won]
After slaving away like a dog under Writer Lee Minjoo, I had even developed a mental illness.
"I should bill her for the hospital fees for this."
To be honest, after six years as an assistant writer, ideas for stories would randomly float around in my head.
But no matter how much, to hear a notification sound and have a title for a genre I wasn't even interested in pop into my head was too much.
"Ten million won? That's insane. And what's this about a promotion?"
On my way home, I stopped by a pharmacy, bought some headache medicine, and took it.
However, every time I thought about 'that' memory, the timer in my head kept running.
[Time Limit: 19 hours 11 minutes 2 seconds]
"Oppa, you're home?"
"Yeah. Where's Mom?"
"Still at work."
My younger sister didn't even look at me, having become one with the sofa.
A word or two was enough for a deep, loving conversation between siblings.
"Ugh, can't you at least wash up before sitting there?"
"You deal with it."
"Jeez, you're filthy. Are you like that at the studio too?"
Flinch—
The memory of getting fired from the studio came back, and I automatically frowned.
"Kim Heejung, does your theater company know how ugly you are like this?"
"What? You son of a..."
"You're still playing minor roles after two years. So I guess they probably know."
"You wanna die?"
It wasn't enough that she forced her way into the theater and film department, but she suddenly took a leave of absence to join a theater company.
Back then, I tried to persuade her to at least graduate first, and even cursed her out, but...
Thinking about it now, she's three times better off than me, who threw six years into the trash can.
Click—
I took out my smartphone and carefully saved a precious picture of my sister's bare face in my photo album.
"Wh-what are you doing!"
"When you become a top star later, you can buy it from me for a high price. About 10 billion won?"
"Delete it while I'm asking nicely. Hey, HEY!!!"
Tap-tap-tap-tap—
Leaving my sister's warm voice behind, I went into my room and locked the door.
Bang, BAAANG—
My sister, with her deep-rooted Confucian values, knocked on the door with respect.
"You bastard, open the door right now!"
"Nope. Get lost."
"You just wait. I'm going to pick the lock and come in."
"Sigh, how is she ever going to get married?"
It had been a long day, but the small conversation with my sister gave me a lot of strength.
Indeed, a younger sister's value is only proven when you tease her.
Whirrrrrr—
The sound of my old laptop booting up.
I checked the work I had done over the years.
Scripts and scenarios accumulated over a staggering six years.
Perhaps these were my precious children who would never see the light of day.
Now, I read through my works one by one, not as a writer, but as a viewer.
Seeing my own work from an outsider's perspective, it felt crude, like trash.
"My writing sucks..."
Even if I was bundled with a main writer, it would be a long shot to even get my foot in the door of a broadcasting station.
Now, I would have to rely solely on my raw talent to make it, and on top of that, I'd have to overcome the wall that was Lee Minjoo.
"Maybe I should have just left quietly."
After the scene I made with Writer Lee Minjoo, getting blacklisted from the industry was a predictable outcome.
They say "if it's fun, it's a winner," but connections are just as important in this market.
Click, click—
I turned on the internet and went to the community forum for the currently airing drama.
[You can always trust a masterpiece from this writer ㅎㅎ] [Praise God-Minjoo kkkk] [The trinity of writer, director, and actors is insane ㄷㄷ] [I'm holding out for the Jiyang couple] [I fell for our Yeji in just 2 episodes ㅠ] [Hot handsome actor + gorgeous actress + Writer Lee Minjoo = The End]
The viewers' reactions were absolutely explosive.
The drama, which had only aired two episodes, had already surpassed 20% in viewership ratings.
Amidst a recent market slump due to YouTube, it had started off with the best results.
"This fucking sucks."
Among the five assistant writers, the script I wrote was used almost as is.
But next to the word "Screenplay," only the name "Lee Minjoo" was written.
She probably saw the casting was good and the production was shaping up well, and then promptly removed my name.
"She didn't want to attach someone else's name to a hit project, is that it?"
Soon, I went to the broadcasting station's website and started the replay.
The gem-like lines uttered by the actors echoed in my ears.
The nuance was slightly different, but they were definitely sentences that came from my head.
A single tear welled up in my eye.
"It's not coming out."
Click—
At that moment, my sister picked the lock and came in.
My dear sibling is ridiculously good at keeping her promises.
"Why are you coming into someone else's room?"
"Oppa... were you crying?"
My sister slowly approached and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
I looked at my sister's fake, concerned face and said.
"Get your hands off my phone. If you don't want to die."
"Asshole."
The next morning.
Tiring—
Messages started flooding in early in the morning.
It was the group chat used by my fellow assistant writers.
［Jinwoo, the writer said to come get your things.］ ［I've put your stuff in a box for now. Sorry I couldn't be of more help.］ ［She was going to throw your stuff away but said she didn't want to cause any unnecessary problems;;;;］ ［If you don't want to see the writer's face, come around lunchtime ㅠㅠ］
"She already stole a whole project I wrote. What problem is there in throwing away some miscellaneous junk?"
I cursed Writer Lee Minjoo and checked the rest of the messages.
［Honestly, you went a bit too far yesterday.］ ［How about apologizing now? It's a waste of 6 years.］ ［The atmosphere is seriously like you're about to be blacklisted.］ ［You knew this industry was dirty, why did you do it? ㅠㅠ］
A mix of genuine concern and meddling sympathy.
Soon, I left a formal reply of thanks and apologies and left the group chat.
"Would she even accept an apology if I offered one now?"
It wasn't like I had any intention of apologizing, but Writer Lee Minjoo wasn't the type to let things go with just an apology.
Until yesterday, I thought we were a comfort to each other as colleagues.
But looking at it now, it also felt like we were all holding each other back from climbing up.
"Good thing I left."
Even in the moment I quit, I couldn't even repay 1% of the persecution and insults I had endured.
I couldn't understand what I had done so wrong to deserve such reactions.
This is why if you have a problem, you have to be the one in power. What else can you do?
"When my sister becomes a top star, I'll be the one abusing my power."
Her visuals aren't bad when she's caked in makeup, and her acting skills are pretty decent for her experience.
If I wait for about 50 more years, I think she'll become a good, skilled actress.
"Lee Minjoo... just you wait 50 years."
Though I don't know if she'll still have a foothold in the industry—or even be alive—by then.
A moment later, I finished getting ready and grabbed my bag.
But I hesitated, wondering whether I should take my laptop or not.
"It's not like I'll have any use for it anymore."
It was an object of love and hate that had been with me every single day for the past six years.
I let out a deep sigh and, as always, packed the laptop in my bag.
I never thought that this small choice would change my future.
Thanks to my kind former colleague who said the writer wouldn't be there at lunchtime.
I managed to escape the studio safely without seeing Lee Minjoo's face.
The box in my hands was lighter than I expected.
I had poured more than half of my twenties into this.
Thinking that this one box was all I had to show for it made me feel sad for no reason.
"Now, back to Omokgyo Station... Ah."
[Location: Cafe Venus, near Omokgyo Station Exit 2] [Time Limit: 5 hours 11 minutes 38 seconds]
As soon as I thought of something related, yesterday's memory surfaced again.
The remaining time was decreasing in real-time, second by second.
The timer was ridiculously precise to be dismissed as a mental illness.
"It started at 20 hours yesterday... about 15 hours have passed now."
Logically, the right thing to do was to go to a hospital immediately.
But aren't writers, by nature, creatures of imagination?
What would happen if I just closed my eyes and did as the unknown language commanded?
It even gave me a title and a genre; maybe a brilliant idea would suddenly strike.
As a lover of cultural content, I could at least exercise that much imagination, couldn't I?
"It's really here. Cafe Venus."
At some point, my steps had led me to Cafe Venus near Omokgyo Station.
Truthfully, it was a franchise cafe, so it was plausible for one to be anywhere.
Moreover, it wasn't strange at all for such a cafe to be near a broadcasting station.
However, what if there was a seat inside the cafe from which a pure white light was leaking?
What if a dazzling radiance was flowing out, yet no one seemed to find it strange?
Was that also because I had a mental illness?
[Time Limit: 4 hours 54 minutes 12 seconds]
Less than 5 hours remained.
As if possessed by something, I headed towards the seat that was flashing with light.