CH 10
The director sighed with lamentation and said,
"Hey, you. Is the opposite of a sweet song just some upbeat track? Why be so extreme? I want something heartfelt, emotionally resonant, and hopeful!"
At this demand, the assistant director wore a conflicted expression while silently cursing under his breath.
'What the fuck even is a "heartfelt yet hopeful" song?'
The director's mindset felt utterly incomprehensible.
"Director Yang! You're here?"
A unfamiliar woman entered the break room at that moment.
Director Yang raised the outer corners of his eyes as he studied her face.
"Director Kim? What brings you here? Weren't you shooting a web drama?"
"I had business nearby. Surprised to see you here, Director."
"Me? Why?"
As Yang's eyes narrowed, Kim gestured toward the break room entrance.
"Jungjikhan-ssi, over here."
Jungjikhan arrived at the broadcasting station with Kim Jinseong's track isolated on a USB.
He meticulously filled out the visitor log - name, purpose, contact person.
"Who are you meeting?"
"I have a prior appointment with Director Yang of 'Secret.'"
"Director Yang scheduled a meeting?"
"Yes."
A blatant lie.
He'd gambled security wouldn't verify immediately, but -
Wait, was the guard actually picking up the intercom?
'This level of scrutiny?'
Had he underestimated them?
The entry protocols were rigid.
Getting ejected now would ruin everything-
"Oh! Jungjikhan-ssi?"
Director Kim stood there - the same director who'd frequently cast him as background talent.
The notion of an extra being familiar with a director was more absurd than flat earth conspiracies.
Yet this impossibility became reality through one factor:
The man's striking appearance.
"Director Kim?"
"What brings you here?"
She tilted her head before gasping dramatically, hands flying to her mouth.
"Jungjikhan! Finally taking acting seriously?"
"Pardon?"
"See? I always said your visuals and proportions were drama-ready!"
"Ah, that's not-"
"Which project? Today's audition?"
"No, I-"
"How disappointing! You promised to debut through my production!"
After explaining his purpose, Director Kim stroked her chin pensively.
"Nearly impossible. The competition's closed - pushing this would cause backlash."
"I figured..."
His crestfallen expression made her smirk.
"Unless... you commit to my web drama?"
"Excuse me?"
She appraised him head to toe.
"You're perfect. My projects have industry credibility, you know."
'Should I go this far for Jinseong?'
Then he remembered - he needed daytime work anyway.
Stock trading required capital he lacked. Without funds, even good tips led to losses.
"Would filming only daytime scenes seem... presumptuous?"
"Day shoots? Evening plans? Girlfriend?"
"No, I have... other commitments."
"Hmm."
She tapped her chin before shrugging.
"Manageable."
"Really?"
"You're not the lead. No night scenes needed."
"You're directing a web drama?"
"Don't underestimate the medium! They're booming."
"Not at all! Though most are romances - you're the mystery genre maestro."
"Puhaha! Maestro? Flatterer!" Her pleased smirk shifted to the security guard.
"I cast him. We're entering together?"
The impregnable gate parted like the Red Sea.
'Korea runs on connections.'
His extra work ethic finally paid off.
In the elevator, she extended her phone.
"Your number."
"Of course."
After saving it, she asked:
"Here for Director Yang?"
"Yes."
"His temperament... isn't ordinary."
"I read he's like a tiger on set-"
"Worse off-set. Terrifying."
The office search proved futile until a staffer suggested:
"Check break or meeting rooms."
There they found Yang - a man molded into his chair, face mottled crimson.
Day-drinking? No. The cowering assistant director revealed the truth - another rage episode.
Yang scanned Jungjikhan before scowling.
"Casting closed ages ago! We've shot initial episodes!"
"Not here for casting," Director Kim interjected. "He's got something for you."
"For me?"
Director Yang stared at Jeongjikhan with displeasure, clicked his tongue, and asked,
"Young man, do you recognize me?"
"No, this is our first meeting."
"I don't even have fans. What could you possibly give me?"
As Director Yang tilted his head in confusion, Jeongjikhan placed a USB drive on the desk.
Director Yang eyed the USB and raised an eyebrow.
"What's this?"
"Music files."
"Why give this to me... Ah? The competition?"
Director Yang maintained his sour expression.
"That's concluded. We're not accepting entries."
"Just once—please listen to the song."
"You're asking me to break protocol? Are you joking?!"
When Director Yang raised his voice, Director Kim intervened:
"Really now, Director Yang? You bend rules more than anyone."
"When have I ever?!"
"I heard about your fight with the sound director over the OST."
This OST competition had been Director Yang's unilateral decision from the start—an attempt to innovate and sever traditional academic and regional ties.
Director Yang grumbled curses under his breath as he plugged the USB into his laptop.
Two tracks played.
His initial deep frown gradually softened as he listened.
After about five minutes,
Director Yang sprang up and called to his assistant director:
"Hey, listen to this."
"Sir?"
"Just listen!"
The assistant director swallowed his irritation and focused on the music. Soon his face mirrored Director Yang's awed expression.
When the assistant director gulped and looked over, Director Yang smirked.
"Didn't I say? A song that aches with hope."
"...Yes."
Director Yang turned to Jeongjikhan with newfound composure.
"Where's the vocalist? We need to verify live performance capability—ideally in person—"
"There is no vocalist."
Director Yang cocked his head.
"An anonymous artist?"
"No. They're deceased."
Director Yang interlaced his fingers, throat clicking as he swallowed.
"Dead?"
"Yes. They were en route to submit this entry when... there was an accident."
Silence engulfed the break room.
Director Yang's eyes darted as he processed this, then demanded:
"Mr. Jeongjikhan—you knew this singer?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about them."
Jeongjikhan drew a deep breath and shared Kim Jinseong's story.
After exchanging contact information, Jeongjikhan departed. Director Yang remained slumped in his chair, chin propped on folded hands.
"Director? Should we proceed with this track?"
The assistant director's question was met with a weary counter:
"How long have you worked here?"
"Two years."
"You're an AD! Can't you recognize serendipity?"
"Sir?"
"Where else would we find promotional material this potent?"
"Understood."
Though Director Yang's perpetual scowl remained, the subtle lift at his mouth's corner betrayed him. He'd found not just the perfect thematic match for the drama, but a human story to amplify its impact.
"Director?"
"What now?"
"Isn't exploiting this tragedy... disrespectful?"
The assistant director fidgeted, anticipating reprimand. Instead, Director Yang locked eyes with him:
"Why did you choose this career?"
"Sir?"
"You want success, don't you? To create something meaningful?"
The assistant director massaged his neck. "Yes."
"Exactly."
"But—"
"No one wants their work to fade unseen."
As the assistant director hung his head, Director Yang continued softly:
"Leaving a legacy—that's human nature."
"...But using someone's death—"
"Is it wrong to polish an overlooked gem? To grant posthumous recognition?"
"...I understand."
When the assistant director remained frozen, Director Yang's eyebrow twitched upward.
"Still here?"
"Sir?"
"Move!"
At 9 PM, Jeongjikhan rushed through café preparations—cleaning equipment, restocking beans—when the entrance bell chimed. Cha Seungpyo stood framed in the doorway, snow piled thick on his head.
"Team Leader? You're early."
"Later than usual, actually."
"But it's only 9—"
"I typically arrive by 7. No daytime business yet."
Cha sniffled, eyeing the empty seats. "Coffee, please."
"After you brush off outside. I just cleaned."
Cha smiled ruefully at his snow-caked shoulders and complied. Upon returning, Jeongjikhan gestured to a window seat.
Soon steam curled from the mug he offered. "Heavy snow elsewhere?"
"Caught it."
Jeongjikhan leaned forward. "The spirit from yesterday?"
"Vengeful spirits' grudges manifest powerfully."
"Those wronged in life?"
"Yes."
"Can you perform magic?"
"Teleportation isn't magical enough?"
Jeongjikhan scratched his stubble, then bowed. "Thank you."
"Better contained. That spirit nearly harmed many."
As benevolent ghosts assist humans, malicious ones haunt them.
"Team Leader—did you meet Sookhee today?"
"Last saw her yesterday. Why?"
"Just... what's she like?"
Cha sipped his americano, gazing through the frost-rimmed window. His expression revealed everything—Sookhee was no ordinary spirit.
