Novelist Running Through Time

TL: KSD

So Tae-woong.

There aren’t many people who don’t know the name of the film director who won the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival.

But to me, he wasn’t just ‘K-So Tae-woong’, he was ‘S-So Tae-woong’. (TL: K stands for Korean)

S for Stalker So Tae-woong.

If I were to list the grotesque instances that tarnished his image in my mind, it would go as follows:

Um… are you there?

No, I’m not.

Relentlessly following me even after I moved my office to Baekhak Publishing and insisting on setting up a meeting.

I don’t think so.

Running into me at a book signing event as if by chance.

I happen to have one meal ticket left, perhaps…?

I’m not very good at eating…

Asking me out on a date.

And so on and so forth…

Even without mentioning the time he followed me to a variety show when he wanted to turn ‘Red Hunter’ into a film, that says it all.

Why would a successful film director bother chasing after me?

The answer is simple—he’s chasing after the original work.

So Tae-woong is like a wolf drooling over my novels as if they were his prey.

Even if he looks decent on the outside, I could bet Lim Yang-wook’s hair that inside, he’s licking his lips, drooling in anticipation.

So, the reason he came looking for me was obvious.

To get his hands on my novel.

And it was also obvious ‘how’ he found me.

To me, he’s ‘S-So Tae-woong’, but to others, he’s the great ‘K-So Tae-woong’. He must have just walked into Baekhak Publishing and asked outright. Lim Yang-wook probably sold me out without hesitation….

“Please, come in.”

“Thank you.”

So instead of turning him away at the door, I decided to let him in.

“Hmm… the place looks quite barren.”

“Don’t worry, I do have coffee for guests.”

“Seeing the state of your place, I’m worried as an adult…”

As a rule, the outcome of a war depends on terrain and feng shui.

My plan was to lure the enemy into my home ground and defeat him.

After all, the conversation would likely be predictable. He’d probably suggest turning one of my novels into an outstanding film.

But what’s in it for me?

At best, I’d make some money, sell more books, appear in the news, gain more fans, and perhaps Baekhak Publishing and Baekhak Entertainment’s stock prices would go up a bit.

But it doesn’t help my literature.

So, even as I handed him a cup of coffee, I was determined to firmly reject him.

But today, the conversation took a different turn.

“A movie script?”

“That’s right.”

EP 9 – Sound

Sure enough, the reason So Tae-woong suddenly raided my studio after hovering around me all this time was because of that damn ‘guitar’.

“I saw the guitar.”

“The drama? The anime?”

“Both.”

So Tae-woong sipped the coffee I had made with a gloomy expression.

And in a melancholic voice, he subtly inquired about my thoughts.

“By any chance… were you dissatisfied with something in the movie ‘Red Hunter’?”

“Kheup…”

I nearly choked on the coffee.

Is he asking, <Why are those bastards allowed to do it and I’m not?>

I waved my hand in denial.

“Ah, no… it’s just that…”

“Just that?”

“The drama was something the company handled, so I had no choice. And the movie….”

I couldn’t bring myself to say, <Baek Seol messed up the Korea-U.S.-Japan publishing contract, so the rights were sold to Japan instead> even if it killed me.

“……It was also due to circumstances beyond my control involving higher-ups.”

“I see. Higher-ups, huh….”

So Tae-woong looked at me as if I were a <poor boy pushed around by higher-ups>.

It pricked my conscience a little, but after all, Baek Seol was indeed a ‘higher-up’, so I wasn’t lying.

Anyway, since the misunderstanding was cleared up(?), we engaged in a more lighthearted conversation after that.

“Oh, really?”

“That junior chugged down whiskey and said, ‘Sunbae-nim, this isn’t my achievement….’ and-”

So Tae-woong’s initial reason for seeking me out was because of the director who made the movie ‘Cause of Death’…

“When I mentioned knowing Director So Tae-woong, Director Matsumoto was so surprised….”

“Ah, that friend. He makes good movies.”

The conversation turned briefly to how Kenji Matsumoto, the director of the anime film ‘Guitar’, who was apparently a huge fan of So Tae-woong.

Such conversations went on for a while.

Then came the main point.

It was something far beyond what I had expected.

“How about participating in the writing of the movie script?”

“Me?!”

It was such a sudden proposal.

I had never written anything other than novels in my life.

I haven’t even written poetry!

“But I don’t know how to write a screenplay…?”

“The format and style aren’t important. The key is storytelling. And the Author Moon I know is a storyteller whose work stands out even among professionals.”

“B-but still….”

“If we go into production, you’ll probably become a co-writer with me. I’m well aware that you’re new to film production, and I’ll help you as much as I can with that part.”

“Ah….”

I trailed off without giving a clear answer.

Instead of just taking my novel as source material, he was asking me to co-write the movie script together?

It was so unexpected, overwhelming…

And…

“…….”

It was an exciting proposition.

Director So Tae-woong picked up on my feelings.

“I read Dark Adaptation. It’s different from your previous novels. Did you changed your writing style?”

“How did you know?!”

“Geniuses recognize geniuses, after all.”

I would later find out that So Tae-woong had consulted Gu Hak-jun for literary advice on Dark Adaptation.

Therefore, when I heard those words, I was astounded by So Tae-woong’s genius.

Is this Korea’s top film director?!

“If Author Moon is looking for a literary change, a literary challenge, let’s be a little more courageous.”

“…!”

“A movie script. What do you think?”

It was a proposal too powerful to refuse.

***

So Tae-woong.

Film director. Genius. Korea’s best. Winner of the Berlin Golden Bear.

People attach these titles to him.

But the title that resonates most deeply with So Tae-woong himself is different.

It’s ‘in his 50s’.

So Tae-woong doesn’t see himself as a ‘genius’ director or ‘Korea’s best’ director; he sees himself as a director in his 50s.

At least, that’s how he thought of himself.

He had lived half a century.

The days he had lived now outnumbered the days he had left to live.

He had grown that much older.

He can no longer drink like a fish as he once did, he gets out of breath after climbing just a few stairs, and his back and knees hurt as if they’re being pricked by needles.

His body had worn out.

That includes his brain.

These days, a phrase that constantly circled in So Tae-woong’s mind was, ‘Not as good as before’.

Brilliant ideas no longer come to him. Even when others praise a script, his heart doesn’t race like it used to.

So Tae-woong had come to realize that creativity isn’t an infinite resource.

It, too, was consumable.

So, what is someone who has exhausted all their creativity, or genius? A husk? Leftovers?

Whatever he was, he couldn’t let himself wither away here.

There were still so many films he wanted to make.

But there was no denying the limitations of his aging brain, especially when it came to understanding the trends of the younger generation.

So Tae-woong couldn’t find any enjoyment in the culture that young people these days found fun. Which, in truth, was only natural. That’s just the way of things.

But to stay ahead in the turbulent currents of culture, one has to catch up with, or better yet, run ahead of trends to lead them.

And So Tae-woong was someone who wanted to make films, even if it meant going against the natural order.

In the end, he resorted to a kind of dark magic.

So Tae-woong acquired a substitute brain to assist his aging one.

A brain that was young, fresh, and flexible.

And that brain’s name, of course, was Moon In.

However, as So Tae-woong continued working, he realized that this brain wasn’t as young as he initially thought.

“Don’t you have any flashes of inspiration?”

“If I did, I would have already written it into a novel.”

‘Oh no! Is it defective…?’

Moon In wasn’t the type of writer So Tae-woong had expected. He wasn’t an author who wrote impulsively, as if a pianist inspired by a muse was hammering out music in a frenzy.

Moon In wrote in a more structured way than he had imagined.

“The antagonist is reaching the same conclusion as the protagonist—is this intentional?”

“Yes. It’s more tragic that way.”

“Then maybe we could present the two characters as two different signifiers of the same signified….”

It was as if a middle school student was writing like a university graduate, and, surprisingly, he and So Tae-woong could actually communicate.

At that moment, So Tae-woong truly felt the genius of Moon In.

Is this what it felt like?

The emotions felt by the veteran literary figures who were so enthusiastic about Moon In?

Of course, even Park Chang-woon never went so far as to stalk Moon In, but in any case, So Tae-woong began to understand why prominent novelists would set aside their pride and cling to Moon In.

Thus, the script—no, the screenplay—work proceeded smoothly.

But while a novel is complete with just the text, a film is not.

A film isn’t finished just because the story is complete.

In that aspect, So Tae-woong decided to impart some wisdom to Moon In.

“Hmm… So, shall we go and secure some funding?”

“Huh? We haven’t even finished the first act of the screenplay yet?”

“That’s usually just decoration.”

“?”

Instead of donning a sharp suit, So Tae-woong put on a wrinkled jacket and jeans that gave off a gritty, on-the-ground vibe.

It was a style that screamed ‘film director’ just from the clothes alone.

“Why don’t you come along and take a look?”

***

I swallowed nervously and, feeling tense, knocked on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Yes, come in.”

I cautiously opened the door and stepped inside, finding Baek Seol sitting in a high-back executive chair, looking sophisticated.

The nameplate on the desk read:

<CEO of Baekhak Publishing>

<Baek Seol>

The aura from that sacred nameplate seemed to radiate brilliance, making it difficult to keep my eyes open.

I couldn’t dare to look directly at the face of CEO Baek Seol, who seemed to be glowing with a halo, so I bowed my head low.

“This lowly servant greets you, CEO-nim.”

“Kyaaaah-!”

Baek Seol let out a dolphin-like scream of shock.

It was fun today, too.

“I told you not to do that—seriously!”

“So, how’s the CEO role fitting you?”

“It’s hell….”

It certainly seemed that way.

Baek Seol had deep dark circles under her eyes.

I knew very well how she had become the CEO because I had heard the same repertoire every time I met Baek Seol recently. In fact, I could recite it by heart.

As expected, Baek Seol started with the lamentation, <how did I end up becoming the CEO…> and then followed it up with a resolution that could be summed up as <but I’ll work hard from now on…!>

Honestly, it seemed like a figurehead position, so there didn’t appear to be a need to work so hard, but since she was determined, I nodded and agreed.

But that wasn’t what was important now.

I steeled myself and presented a bold proposal to the newly appointed CEO, who was already stressed out.

“So, what brings you to the CEO’s office? Is Manager Lim bothering you? Should I give him a scolding?”

“Actually, I have a great investment opportunity….”

“?”

***

It worked.

“I’ll invest!”

“Thank you. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Screenplay? Nonexistent.

Staff? None.

Casting? Write the story first.

That was exactly the current state of things.

But it was strange.

Even with the film production in this pathetic state, investment money was pouring in.

I watched Baek Seol shake hands with So Tae-woong with a bright smile and couldn’t help but ask cautiously.

“Um… CEO ? Are you sure about this?”

“It’s fine! It’s totally fine! This is Director So Tae-woong we’re talking about!”

“But won’t the COO or the board give you a hard time?”

“What are you talking about! I need to take credit for this before those folks even hear about it! Oh, what am I saying in front of you, Author Moon….”

For a moment, the once innocent Baek Seol seemed to say something strange, but I decided to chalk it up to my imagination.

In any case, Baek Seol wasn’t the only one who opened her wallet for this bold investment request.

With the screenplay, casting, and staff all still undecided.

In reality, it was less of an investment proposal and more of a demand to ‘hand over the money’, but the funds poured in at an alarming rate.

It felt like common sense was being shattered.

The standard process of film production, as far as I, someone who’s only dipped a toe in the entertainment industry, know, is as follows:

Script planning.

Recruiting investors.

Hiring staff.

Production & editing.

Screening.

Flooding the comment sections with fake reviews by hiring comment part-timers.

This is the standard route I know, but So Tae-woong was raising money even before the script was finished.

And yet, investors were handing over their money.

It was almost as if the worn-out, crumpled gray jacket So Tae-woong was wearing had some kind of brainwashing device attached to it, hypnotizing the capitalists.

So Tae-woong’s response to my doubts was extremely straightforward.

“So Tae-woong, Moon In.”

“…?”

“If someone hears those two names and doesn’t open their wallet, can they really call themselves an investor?”

So Tae-woong continued speaking as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And as for the staff… they’ll come together as soon as I call. The movie will get made.”

“…!”

“Movie production, it’s not a big deal.”

Suddenly, it felt like there was a halo shining behind Director So Tae-woong.

If I had known I would meet Kim Byul at the casting audition soon after, I wouldn’t have seen the halo.

*****

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