Chapter 65
“Would you like to order?”
A server carrying a tray asked me.
“Ah, I’ll order once the person I’m meeting arrives.”
The place had such an old-fashioned, classic atmosphere that it felt more like a traditional coffeehouse than a modern café.
Just as I looked down at my phone to check the time, it vibrated.
[I'm sorry. My part-time shift ended late, so I think I'll be about thirty minutes late.]
It was a message from Jo Aram, the writer of Timeless.
Rather than spend thirty minutes feeling the server’s eyes on me, I figured it would be better to order first.
I raised my hand, called the server over, and ordered an iced Americano.
While waiting for Jo Aram, I took out the script for Timeless that I had brought with me and slowly began reading through it.
It was a script I had already read more than ten times.
By the time I reached about halfway through, the bell attached to the entrance rang with a cheerful ding~.
A woman in her mid-thirties appeared through the open door.
She was small, with a worn bag hanging from one shoulder and a loose hoodie jacket.
I instinctively knew that she was Jo Aram.
Seeing her glance around the café, I stood up and asked,
“Excuse me, are you Writer Jo Aram?”
Jo Aram nodded almost like she was bowing and hurried over to me.
“Ah, Producer Min Gibaek?”
“Yes. Nice to meet you. Please, have a seat first.”
“I’m so sorry. Of all days, the part-timer who was supposed to take over my shift showed up thirty minutes late today... And the traffic was terrible too. I swear I got caught at every single red light.”
Perhaps because she felt terrible about being late, Jo Aram kept bowing her head apologetically.
“It’s fine. Really.”
When I smiled to reassure her, Jo Aram looked deeply relieved and continued excitedly.
“Ah, I really never expected this. Actually, I had already given up. But when I got your email, I thought I was dreaming at first... Haha... I even went into the bathroom, washed my face, then checked the email again. Haha...”
Unlike her writing, which practically dripped with sensitivity and delicate emotion, Writer Jo Aram was an extremely lively woman.
“Anyway, I read the script carefully. It was really impressive.”
At my words, Jo Aram’s expression once again filled with emotion.
“Th-thank you. Thank you so much. Then, perhaps we can discuss the contract in detail... Ah, who are you thinking of for the director? Or has the director already been decided?”
With excitement in her voice, Jo Aram fired off question after question.
Ah, the contract...
It had been difficult to explain the whole situation through email, so I had simply told her that we should meet and talk.
Apparently, she had misunderstood and thought this meeting was about signing a contract.
Seeing just how hopeful she looked, I found it difficult to speak.
Jo Aram quickly scanned my expression.
“Wait... Was asking to meet me not about the contract?”
“Ah... Well... We’re not quite at the stage where we can talk about a contract yet...”
Her eyes immediately wavered in confusion.
“...Oh. I see... Then why... why did you ask to meet me? Were you going to give me some feedback?”
“No, it’s not exactly feedback...”
Only then did Jo Aram seem to understand the situation.
A cynical smile appeared on her lips.
“Or are you going to tell me it has potential, so I should revise it and submit it again?”
Watching her react as if she were all too familiar with this kind of situation, I hesitated, unsure where I should even begin explaining.
“Ha... I knew it would be like this... A contract? For someone like me? What was I even thinking...”
Her voice had already turned self-deprecating.
“Writer Jo, that’s not it. Your script really is excellent. That’s why I...”
“Excellent? You’re saying it’s excellent, but you still won’t sign a contract?”
“That’s... Let me explain...”
Jo Aram quickly cut me off as though she had no desire to hear any more.
“Forget it. I already know what you’re going to say. Ha... Do you think this is the first or second time this has happened to me? I had some expectations because Big Picture is at least a fairly well-known production company, but asking me to revise the script before even signing a contract makes you no different from those other scumbag companies.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Asking a writer to revise a script before even signing a contract really was scumbag behavior.
“I’m sorry... I should have explained the situation before asking you to come out here. But this matter has nothing to do with the company.”
At the words nothing to do with the company, Jo Aram frowned.
“What do you mean? You clearly said you were from Big Picture’s Planning Team...”
I explained to Jo Aram how I had come across her script and what the current situation was.
After hearing everything, she asked,
“So... the other team members are against it, but you personally liked the script enough that you contacted me because you want to push it forward, even if that means revising it?”
Instead of answering, I nodded.
Jo Aram remained silent for a moment before speaking again in a heavy voice.
“I’m sorry for calling you a scumbag just now... Anyway, I sincerely appreciate that you liked my script...”
She paused.
“But... I don’t want to do it.”
“Writer Jo, please listen to me a little longer first...”
“No. The truth is, I wrote this script while thinking it would be my last attempt...”
She lowered her eyes.
“I decided that if this one failed too, I’d give up everything and go back to my hometown.”
There was no longer any cynicism or energy in her voice.
Instead, I could almost feel the exhaustion of her life as a writer.
Jo Aram said that more than ten years had passed since she first decided to become a writer and started writing, yet she had never once managed to sign a proper contract.
“When I was younger and didn’t know any better, I even spent one or two years revising scripts without receiving any payment. But... eventually I realized that wasn’t right...”
Of course, she knew that freelance producers were often in situations where they couldn’t immediately pay writers.
She also knew that unless she kept writing scripts like this, she wouldn’t even get the chance to create another opportunity for herself.
That was why she had reluctantly continued writing, even while hating it.
But all she ever received in return was endless waiting without any promise of what would come next.
Even if things are hard now, someday my efforts will definitely bear fruit...
Someday, better days will come...
She had repeated those words dozens of times every single day, almost like a spell.
But eventually she realized that this industry wasn’t one where effort alone guaranteed success.
And even after realizing that, because she still couldn’t let go of her lingering attachment...
Just one more time.
Only one last time.
She kept telling herself that.
