Chapter 50 : Summer Interlude

The film “Hundred” started with a scene at a pork belly restaurant, and now, the wrap party was concluding at a high-end beef restaurant. Haram, Hankyul, Gyuri, and Saeron occupied one table.

“Ah…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”

The meat on the grill was already past its prime. Beef needed to be cooked quickly, just until the red disappeared. But Hankyul was butchering the expensive cuts, charring them beyond recognition.

I muttered under my breath,

“…That’s not how you cook beef.”

I glared at Hankyul, who was sweating profusely, frantically maneuvering the tongs. He had insisted on grilling tonight, but his skills were… lacking. I had resisted the urge to snatch the tongs and scissors from him multiple times.

Finally, an opportunity arose. Saeron suggested a round of drinks, forcing Hankyul to put down the grilling utensils. I swiftly grabbed them.

He noticed and tilted his head.

“Haram, I said I’d grill today.”
“With those skills? I wouldn’t have let you anywhere near the grill.”
“…My skills are that bad?”
“Yes. When I tasted the meat you grilled, I thought you were an alchemist, turning beef into rubber. Maybe you should try turning it into gold? At least that would be valuable.”

Hankyul’s face fell with each word I spoke. He squared his shoulders, reached for the tongs, and declared,

“I’ll redeem myself. Just give me one more chance.”
“No way!”

A tug-of-war ensued over the tongs.

Ding-dong. The bell at the entrance chimed, and Director Dohyung walked in with a middle-aged man. The cheerful atmosphere subdued slightly at the arrival of the unexpected guest. Dohyung introduced him.

“This is CEO Lee Huiseok. He’ll be handling the distribution for our film.”
“Oh, I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all. Since you’re here, perhaps you’d like to say a few words?”

Huiseok looked momentarily flustered but followed Dohyung to the center of the room, adjusted his tie, and began.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Lee Huiseok. I’m just… someone who does various things.”

Murmurs rippled through the room.

Huiseok, sensing the awkwardness, smiled.

“A wise man once said that as you get older, you should keep your mouth shut and your wallet open.”

He pulled out a black credit card.

“Tonight’s on me. Order whatever you want.”

Cheers erupted. People immediately started ordering the most expensive cuts of meat. Huiseok spoke briefly with Dohyung, then walked over to our table.

He exchanged greetings with Saeron, clearly already acquainted, and I offered a polite, noncommittal greeting as well.

“Hello.”
“Actress Lee Haram… right? I was deeply impressed by your performance in the film.”
“Thank you for saying so.”

After a few more pleasantries, Huiseok initiated the conversation.

“May I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you. What are your thoughts on… genius?”

I paused, considering his question. Then, I replied,

“Geniuses… are like the sun. Admired from afar, but they scorch everything around them.”

Huiseok nodded.

“Do you believe an ordinary person can become a genius?”
“No… Talent is something you discover, not create. No matter how hard an ordinary person tries, they can never become a true genius.”
“So, those without talent should just give up?”

I shook my head. Having given up on my own dreams in my past life, I knew the answer to this question all too well.

“Giving up immediately seems… cowardly, doesn’t it? If you can’t be a genius, you should at least try to imitate one. Actors are good at imitating, aren’t they? You have to mimic them, blindly.”

The world wasn’t a kindergarten where someone would comfort you just because you cried. Blaming others was pointless. You had to deceive yourself, push yourself, do something, anything, to avoid future regrets.

He looked pleased with my answer, took out a business card, and handed it to me.

“Ms. Haram, may I buy your time?”
“My time?”
“Yes. More specifically, I’d like to buy your talent.”

What kind of strange proposition was this? I frowned, confused. He smiled, stood up, and said,

“This isn’t the right place for this conversation. I’ll contact you separately.”

I stared at the business card. Hankyul spoke up.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this in person.”
“Do you know him? His methods are… unconventional.”
“CEO Lee Huiseok is famous in the industry. He has several top actors under his management.”

I nodded and tucked the card into my wallet. This small piece of paper felt like… luck.

Two men were typing away on their keyboards in Park Saeron’s apartment. Dojun had brought his laptop, practically moving in.

“Done.”

Dojun stretched. Saeron chuckled.

“You’re something else. Finished a whole script in just a month?”
“Isn’t that normal?”
“Hardly. I could fill a truck with the number of people who’ve asked me to teach them how to write.”
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know. Probably not making a living as writers.”
“They probably weren’t serious about it in the first place.”

Saeron looked at Dojun with pride. A dedicated student was a teacher’s greatest reward.

“So, what’s the story about?”
“This?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s about a monster, feared by everyone, and a girl who always smiles.”

In Dojun’s story, the monster, despite his terrifying appearance, possessed a kind heart. But people judged him by his looks and refused to interact with him. Then, he met a girl who wasn’t afraid of him, who smiled at him, and they became friends.

“Have you decided on a title?”

Dojun nodded.

“Monster.”
“Straightforward. But… that title makes me a little uneasy.”
“Why?”
“You know why. The protagonist isn’t entirely fictional, is she?”

He was asking if the story was based on someone real. Dojun smiled wryly.

“You have to be honest. What’s the point if the message doesn’t get across?”
“That’s the problem.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Fine. Waste of breath talking to you.”

The sound of typing filled the room again. Dojun spoke up.

“Right, I can’t come on weekdays anymore. School starts next week.”
“So, summer’s almost over. Time flies.”

Dojun sensed Saeron’s displeasure.

“I thought you didn’t like summer.”
“I don’t. But autumn is the saddest season.”
“Why?”
“Because warm summer leaves, and cold winter arrives. It makes you feel… sentimental, melancholic.”

Dojun frowned.

“Wouldn’t winter be the saddest season then?”
“No, winter is the painful season.”
“Painful?”
“Try holding ice in your hand for a minute. Your skin will feel like it’s tearing. Extreme cold causes pain.”

A writer indeed. Even his reflections on the changing seasons were artistic. But one question remained.

“But you hate summer the most. You don’t seem particularly bothered by the heat, so why?”
“Because it’s… pretending. It knows winter is coming, yet it burns so brightly, so warmly. That contrast… that’s what I dislike. It’s harder to bear the cold after experiencing intense heat.”

Dojun looked at Saeron thoughtfully.

“You know, you’re surprisingly sentimental for someone who looks like… well, you.”
“I know, kid.”

They returned to their work. Dojun closed his eyes, pondering Saeron’s words.

Autumn, the season of farewells, of melancholic tears shed for the departing warmth and the approaching cold.

Winter, the season of pain, where even tears froze, a harsh, unforgiving time.

The air felt cooler now, the stifling heat finally receding. Summer was ending.