Chapter 201 : Not a Safety Net, but a Desperate Struggle
Chapter 201: Not a Safety Net, but a Desperate Struggle
A conference room at an investment firm in Gangnam.
Dressed sharply in a suit for the first time in a while, Director Oh Seungju stood before the door with a tense expression.
He stared blankly down at the script for <Footprints That Became a Star> clutched in his hand.
It wasn't his first time, yet his palms were damp.
Meeting investors was always difficult.
His emotions wavered somewhere between confidence and humility.
'...Why am I so nervous?'
The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, the investors greeted him with familiar faces.
To them, Director Oh Seungju was simply a stubborn director who loved biting off more than he could chew.
Soon, the meeting began with a strangely worded greeting.
“We've read the script. <Footprints That Became a Star>... It's a great title, and the emotional tone is excellent. It's certainly not an ordinary screenplay.”
Oh Seungju realized it immediately.
This one's dead.
The atmosphere looked decent enough, but that was merely cushioning.
Every one of them wore calm, polite expressions, but this wasn't the real conversation.
What always followed excessive praise?
“It's good, it really is... But will this actually work?”
The truth.
The thicker and softer the cushion, the more painful the words that came afterward.
“……”
Polite, yet razor-sharp remarks flew toward him.
“The planning is excellent, the emotional depth is excellent, and frankly, we know your directing ability better than anyone. But will audiences today really watch something like this? The preliminary OST is good. Really good. But have you secured the rights to that song?”
That hurt.
“A quiet film leaning entirely on one piece of music. No matter how good the OST is, isn't the target audience far too vague?”
That hurt even more.
“I agree. Who exactly is going to watch this? People in their twenties? Thirties? Or older viewers nostalgic for the YouTube aesthetic? Hmm... The premise and the OST are strong, so why not adapt it into a short series better suited for OTT?”
Making movies with other people's money.
It was never easy.
You had to set aside personal taste and artistic ambition and bring in a script that could make money.
He understood that with his head.
That was how he had worked all this time.
But somehow...
His heart was telling him something different.
“To be blunt, audiences want immediate, powerful flavors. Something as spicy as mala soup, as sweet as macarons, or as rich as a steak dripping with juices. Things need to explode, buildings need to collapse, blood needs to fly before people open their wallets.”
And every word was true.
“Right now, this movie feels like a plate of seasoned vegetables tucked away in the corner of a buffet. Just decoration that no one ever touches.”
Oh Seungju listened in silence.
He understood where they were coming from.
Investors wanted explanations.
They wanted certainty.
But wasn't certainty itself a strange thing?
Sometimes it came from numbers.
Sometimes from trends.
Other times from a single famous actor.
Yet occasionally, trusting instinct was the better choice than any of those things.
As Oh Seungju sank into thought, the man who seemed to represent the investors spoke bluntly.
“Director Oh. There's only one thing we're worried about.”
“And that is...?”
“This movie. We don't think anyone—including you—is going to make any profit from it.”
Oh Seungju answered calmly.
“A director profits by completing the film. That's enough for me.”
For a moment, the conference room fell silent.
Some thought he looked admirable.
Others sneered inwardly.
'That's exactly why he's third-rate.'
But no one voiced those thoughts aloud.
The thing that confused investors more than anything else.
Nerve.
Oh Seungju had nerve.
His voice remained calm, but unwavering conviction shone in his eyes.
Like someone carrying a barrel of gasoline with a lit torch clenched between his teeth, then boldly asking—
'So? Are you going to give me a stage or not?'
He smiled when others would run.
He stepped forward when everyone else would retreat.
That was the kind of person with true nerve.
What had made Oh Seungju this way?
People like him had nothing left to lose.
No...
They simply weren't afraid of losing anything.
Which made them dangerous.
Because the only thing capable of restraining them was themselves.
People like that always overturned the table.
Even so, the investors finally gave him their answer.
“I'm sorry, but we can't invest in this project.”
Oh Seungju rose neatly from his seat.
His expression remained unreadable.
“I understand. Thank you for your valuable time.”
Bang.
The moment the conference room door shut, one investor clicked his tongue.
“I mean, Stay's music is great. Sure. But who's going to watch a movie with barely any dialogue? It's obviously going to flop.”
Another investor slowly nodded.
“That director's always suffered from artistic obsession. And now he's making a movie with a dog as the main character? He knows people are going to tear it apart, yet he still keeps pitching these scripts. Pathetic.”
None of them understood the power held by <Footprints That Became a Star>, nor Director Oh Seungju's instincts.
To people who viewed everything through numbers alone, this project was nothing more than a guaranteed failure.
Then, someone sitting quietly in the corner finally spoke.
“I see it differently.”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
“The OST... Do you really think there'll only be one song from <Footprints That Became a Star>?”
No one had considered that possibility.
“The script barely has any dialogue. That means the music carries the story. Which also means...”
Everyone in the room swallowed hard as they stared at him.
“The dog isn't the protagonist.
The music is.
This is a ninety-minute concert where the OST tells the story. That's what this film really is.”
The atmosphere inside the conference room froze.
“Audiences always listen to genuine stories. Stories conveyed through the heart instead of words. These days, people are even more desperate for quiet emotions. What do you do when the television is too loud?”
“...Turn it off.”
“And if someone whispers instead?”
“I'd turn the volume... Huh?”
A quiet sigh drifted through the room.
The man added one final remark.
“It isn't a movie without dialogue.
It's a screenplay written so that the music says everything.
Which means they're that confident.”
Everyone sat there with mouths hanging open in admiration.
Then another investor wearing glasses asked with a sharp expression,
“Then why didn't you say that earlier? Didn't want to take responsibility?”
The man answered leisurely, yet firmly.
“No.
Once money is involved, responsibility belongs to everyone.
However.”
“...?”
“There isn't any guarantee that Writer Stay will agree to work with them.”
He shrugged before driving home the point.
“With words alone, I could claim I'd bring in Britney or Ariana too.”
It was a heavy truth no one could refute.
Usually, a director whose investment proposal had just been rejected would have slumped shoulders.
Strangely enough...
Oh Seungju looked perfectly fine.
“Director...?”
“Hahahaha!”
He was even laughing.
The assistant director rubbed his goosebump-covered arm.
Had getting rejected driven him insane?
But only for a moment.
Oh Seungju suddenly turned around.
“You don't need investment to make a movie.”
The assistant director sniffed.
Everyone in the industry knew Oh Seungju had already poured every last penny he owned into this film.
Just last month, he'd sold his car because he couldn't even cover the office's operating expenses.
“Well... that's true. There's crowdfunding. Or maybe an angel investor might appear—”
“No.”
“Huh?”
Cutting him off, Oh Seungju smiled.
“My jeonse deposit.”
“...What?”
“Isn't it fortunate? That I still have enough left to make one last thing I truly want without having to beg anyone. I'm a lucky man.”
We usually call that not having enough money...
We call it a desperate struggle.
But the assistant director couldn't bring himself to say it.
Instead, he asked the one thing he had to.
“Stay still hasn't given us a definite answer. What if he never replies?”
“What do you mean, what then? I'll give up cleanly.”
...He's really lost it.
How could someone who'd just been utterly crushed by investors be this calm?
Where did that confidence even come from?
“What exactly do you believe in so much about Stay?”
Artists understood one another.
If it was Stay...
He'd recognize this sincerity.
If that turned out to be nothing but empty idealism, Oh Seungju had every intention of walking away without looking back.
He was tired of chasing fantasies.
But...
“This.”
“Huh?”
Oh Seungju tapped his opposite palm with the rolled-up screenplay in his hand.
“This screenplay.
This is the one thing I believe in.
I'm that confident in it.”
“...Huh?”
Sss...
Was this just another unrealistic fantasy?
The assistant director remained silent, unsure what to say.
Oh Seungju continued.
“A movie that speaks entirely through music?
Assistant Director, have you seen anything like that lately?
If you're someone who truly lives for music, there's no way you could resist this.”
Tap. Tap.
This time, he thumped the rolled-up script against his own chest.
Then he laughed heartily and strode ahead.
“Director! Wait for me!”
“If you follow me now, I'll take it as you agreeing.”
“Seriously...”
The assistant director clenched his fist.
At this point, he'd decided to see it through to the very end.
He shouted toward Oh Seungju's retreating figure.
“If we end up homeless... I'll let you sleep at my place!”
Ah.
He really was impossible to hate.
The assistant director smiled faintly and hurried to catch up.
Just then—
“Huh?”
Oh Seungju suddenly froze and pulled out his smartphone.
“What? Did they suddenly decide to invest?”
“No, no.”
Looking utterly dazed, he held out the phone.
“Writer Stay wants to meet us.”
“Seriously? Really? Let me see!”
[ Hello, this is KIM Entertainment. After reviewing the screenplay you sent... (omitted)... we would like to request a meeting. Attendees will include Writer Stay... ]
“Hahahahahaha!”
“This is insane! Seriously!”
After reading the message, the two of them shouted and stomped around right in the middle of Gangnam.
For several days now, I'd been reading the printed copy of <Footprints That Became a Star> so much that the edges had begun turning black.
Whenever I closed my eyes, the words from the script transformed into vivid scenes playing inside my head.
The lonely back of the man in the screenplay.
The bright smile of the dog that had become a star.
Every scene naturally overlapped with the melody of <Footprints That Became a Star>.
I'd heard the director created this story after parting with his own companion dog.
That experience resembled mine so closely—the time I wrote the song while thinking about Ddoli, Manager-hyung's dog.
For days, I'd kept reopening the same page.
Reading the same scenes over and over.
It wasn't simply a well-written screenplay...
It was speaking to me.
'Your music is the protagonist.'
That was exactly why I couldn't let this screenplay go.
Not just an OST.
Music that could become the final missing piece completing the story.
Perhaps even more than a university nameplate, this movie could express who I was...
Who Stay was.
If I may say so myself...
A movie where music itself was the protagonist.
And also...
Well, for various reasons, I found myself wanting to meet this director.
“He says he's coming right now?”
“I like how straightforward he is.”
The very evening CEO Kim Minsoo contacted them,
the director and assistant director arrived at KIM Entertainment.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Writer Stay. I must admit, you're much younger than I expected.”
The man introduced himself as the assistant director and placed a large fruit basket on the table.
Then...
Holding a bouquet even larger than the fruit basket—
Thunk.
“Please accept this.
It's a token of our gratitude.”
He held the bouquet out to me.
I'd attended countless meetings before.
But this was the first time anyone had brought something like this to an initial meeting.
They always said movie directors were eccentric.
Apparently, that was absolutely true.
“Ah... Thank you...”
It would've been rude to refuse, so I awkwardly accepted it.
The sweet fragrance of flowers rushed into my nose.
It almost felt as though I'd received a major award.
A bouquet like this...
Wasn't bad at all.
“I'm Assistant Director Kim Seongyong. And this is Director Oh Seungju. It's truly an honor.”
Even after exchanging business cards and greeting each other for quite some time...
For some reason, I couldn't find a place to put the bouquet down.
Still holding it in my arms, I spoke.
“The honor is mine as well. Thank you for choosing my song as the OST for such an incredible film.”
I bowed.
The director immediately waved both hands frantically.
“Oh, no. We should be the ones thanking you.”
He was completely different from what I'd imagined.
In my head, movie directors were terrifying people.
Anyway, both sides were probably busy enough.
There was no need for endless formalities.
After quietly setting the bouquet aside, I got straight to the point.
“I'll participate in the OST.”
“Heh.”
He looked genuinely surprised.
But neither of them could hide their happiness.
Both of them were grinning from ear to ear.
“Thank you for saying that so readily. We truly appreciate it. However...”
The director trailed off and looked toward the assistant director, who carefully asked,
“Just hearing that you're willing to participate is already more than enough. But... I imagine there must've been a reason you chose this screenplay?”
Ah.
Right.
I hadn't explained why.
“Oh, the reason I chose it.”
Hmm...
What movie terminology did I even know?
It felt like I should say something convincing.
I gathered various thoughts in my head and tried to organize them.
But...
“……”
I gave up after less than a second.
If we'd already decided to work together, then rather than using excessive compliments or flowery language, wouldn't it be better to simply tell them honestly how I felt?
“It was fun.”
“...Excuse me?”
“I think the movie will be fun.
I like animals.
I can't keep one myself, but I enjoy watching animal movies and YouTube channels.”
What was the most important thing in a movie?
The OST?
The acting?
The actors?
They all mattered.
But I thought differently.
Fun.
That was everything.
And <Footprints That Became a Star> definitely had that.
“Haha. We naturally assumed you'd say it was because of the music. That's unexpected.”
“Well, that's certainly part of it too. But seeing all kinds of dogs spending time with their owners—eating, sleeping, playing together. Just imagining that already sounded fun to me. People even talk about virtual cat owners and virtual dog owners these days, don't they?”
“That's true.”
“So maybe... screen dog owners?
Would that explain it?
I could feel it just from reading the script.
'Ah, this is fun.
I want to play with them too.'
Something like that...?”
The director and assistant director stared at me with their mouths hanging open.
Why are you both looking at me like that?
Wondering if I'd made some kind of mistake, I glanced toward CEO Kim Minsoo.
For the first time in a while, he smiled with satisfaction and nodded.
Good.
Riding that momentum, I decided to say what I really wanted.
“And about the movie production.”
“Yes?”
“Could I invest in it?
There's something called an angel investor, right?
I've always wanted to try being one.”
“Ghk...!”
The director's eyes shook violently.
Meanwhile, CEO Kim Minsoo, who had been smiling warmly just moments ago, was now glaring at me.
Huh?
Wait...
Wasn't this the right thing to say?