Seon-ho’s laughter filled the van, making PD Nam Yunsoo frown.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
“This punk…!”
Just then, Seon-ho’s voice reached Nam Yunsoo’s ears, who had flared up in anger.
“You say it so naturally, but isn’t it because you’ve experienced it yourself, PD-nim?”
After meeting Nam Yunsoo PD, Seon-ho had one lingering question.
Why did PD Nam Yunsoo take a three-year break?
Why did a PD praised for his directing ability have to be out of work for so long?
So Seon-ho dug into what happened three years ago.
It wasn’t all that difficult.
While it wasn’t public knowledge, quite a few people could piece things together if you mentioned the name “PD Nam Yunsoo” and “three years ago.”
People like Park Cha-myung or Yoo Ayeon, for example.
The reason PD Nam Yunsoo took a three-year break was because of under-the-table dealings.
He was caught taking bribes from participants. The network managed the scandal internally, but he still received a heavy disciplinary action.
Three years ago, PD Nam Yunsoo had been in charge of a show called Duo Reinterpreted.
Duo Reinterpreted paired ordinary people with singers to reinterpret classic songs. It was a popular variety show that dominated its time slot.
The issue was that this was Nam Yunsoo PD’s first major directing gig.
Lacking experience, he eventually gave in to a company’s temptation.
In exchange for having a company’s trainee appear disguised as a regular participant, he accepted a bribe.
The bigger problem? It worked.
The disguised trainee gained huge popularity during the show, and the narrative was spun that the program helped them achieve a dream they had once given up on.
Even after debuting, the popularity earned from Duo Reinterpreted gave the trainee a strong foundation.
Similar situations kept happening.
Some viewers suspected the agencies were overly involved with the casting, but most chalked it up to the agencies just keeping a close eye on the program.
The show and its cast were just that popular.
And behind that popularity was Nam Yunsoo PD’s undeniable talent.
He was a far better director than others gave him credit for—and even better than he himself believed.
He knew that for his shady dealings to remain hidden, the cast needed to succeed.
So he put in meticulous effort directing these disguised participants—and his efforts always paid off.
But as always, greed led to problems.
Things unraveled when he tried to insert two trainees at the same time.
One of them didn’t get good results, and the agency took issue with that.
In the end, Nam Yunsoo PD was secretly filmed accepting an envelope of cash. The agency began subtly blackmailing him.
That’s when the network stepped in to mediate.
In truth, the network’s higher-ups had already suspected what was going on.
They had no solid proof, and the show was doing so well that they chose to turn a blind eye.
Eventually, Duo Reinterpreted changed PDs due to “health issues,” and in return, the agency got several rookie actors cast in KBM dramas.
There were no extreme events like police involvement or articles being published.
KBM had its public broadcasting image to protect, and the agency didn’t want to provoke the network too much either.
Once Seon-ho confirmed all this, he came up with two “methods.”
One: PD Nam Yunsoo would subconsciously still crave that envelope of cash.
Two: PD Nam Yunsoo’s past wasn’t a closed case.
Seon-ho spoke to the shocked PD Nam Yunsoo.
His voice was gentle.
But to PD Nam Yunsoo, oddly enough, it sounded terrifying.
“To be honest, I was tempted. Really considered giving you money.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d take something like that?”
“I think you would’ve. If we’d picked the right place.”
As he looked at PD Nam Yunsoo’s face, Seon-ho thought to himself.
This kind of thing… is just too easy.
“Somewhere like a sauna is best. No CCTV, and if we meet naked, it’s hard to hide a recorder. Or, well, maybe we could’ve just met wherever you preferred.”
“…”
Seon-ho’s voice rose above PD Nam Yunsoo’s silence.
“It struck me as strange. Why ask a rookie like me to get a blacklist? You knew it was unreasonable. And why tell me you took three years off? Of course I’d look into it.”
“…”
“The conclusion’s simple. Whether consciously or not, you were hoping I’d bring you a money envelope.”
“…”
“If a rookie with a hero complex shows up with cash, you take it. If he reports it to the company, you just deny it—‘I never asked for money. The rookie’s exaggerating.’ And that’s it.”
PD Nam Yunsoo tried to stay calm.
“So what? The fact is, you did bring me an envelope. You’re trying to say, ‘I let it slide even though I knew’? Is that it?”
“Not at all.”
Seon-ho handed him the envelope PD Nam Yunsoo had thrown earlier.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
“You think I’m really going to open this?”
“The dashcam’s off.”
Seon-ho pressed gently, as PD Nam Yunsoo continued to hesitate.
“If you don’t open it now, you’ll regret it.”
In the end, PD Nam Yunsoo opened the envelope.
But instead of money, it contained a thick bundle of A4 papers, densely printed with text.
He began reading.
As Seon-ho watched him, an old memory surfaced.
The voice of a gangster from the orphanage, someone whose face he no longer even remembered, collecting payments.
“You only threaten when you’ve got nothing to lose. If you’ve got something to lose, that’s not a threat—it’s a negotiation.”
Giving PD Nam Yunsoo a bribe wouldn’t have been hard. It could’ve even prevented Personal Color from being eliminated.
But once that line was crossed, it would never stop.
Next time, the amount would have to be bigger. And bigger the time after that.
The issue was that there would be a trail.
The moment he handed over money, he’d also have a weakness—bribery.
So Seon-ho recalled a second method.
The orphanage method.
More specifically, the Chinese-Korean gangster method.
“Don’t fix your shoes in a melon field. Don’t straighten your hat under a plum tree. What do you think? Sounds classy, huh?”
“It means, don’t make yourself look suspicious. You know, it’s one of those sayings.”
“Let’s say the melon field is your turf. And some bastard bends down to tie his shoe there. What do you do?”
“You beat the crap out of him. And collect money for the melons.”
“Doesn’t matter if he stole the melons or not.”
“What matters is I saw it that way. And that he owes me for the melons.”
“And that I’m confident I can take him out.”
“Got that, you punk?”
Seon-ho still didn’t like this method. It made him feel like he’d slipped back into those days.
But he’d already made up his mind.
If PD Nam Yunsoo chose to play dirty, Seon-ho wasn’t going to back down.
“W-What the hell is this?”
Seon-ho responded to PD Nam Yunsoo’s trembling voice after reading the entire document.
“An article that could be published within the hour—through a reporter I know.”
“I-I didn’t do anything like this!”
“Who knows? I’m not sure. Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t.”
“You’d dare publish lies?!”
“Lies? Not at all. It’s all written in speculative language.”
Seon-ho said calmly.
“Let’s say PD-nim bent down to fix his shoes in a melon field, and 100 people saw it. If just one of them yells, ‘Thief!’—ten will believe it. And when those ten shout it, a hundred will believe it too. It’s only a matter of time.”
“That’s easier said than done!”
“Exactly. It might not work. But I’ve got nothing to lose. The one with everything to lose is you, PD-nim.”
“Y-You…!”
“What do you think will happen if a scandal breaks out about a pilot program rushed to air because of an adultery scandal? Especially with a PD who’s already been disciplined? I’d bet my salary you’d be replaced.”
“…”
PD Nam Yunsoo stared blankly at the article draft in his hand.
“Public Broadcasting Loses Its Dignity Due to Office Politics and Corruption”
The article draft carried a weighty title and contained three main points:
The first was about the bribe-taking and disguised trainee appearances during Duo Reinterpreted.
The second exposed an internal whistle blower who anonymously reported the affairs of the Chicken Race MCs.
The third was about the one who leaked the affair to a news company when the broadcasting station tried to suppress the news as much as possible.
The article concluded with the speculation that the main character of all three incidents was the same person.
And that person was “a certain PD who recently directed a pilot program.”
Anyone could see that it was referring to him.
PD Nam Yunsoo did feel a sense of injustice.
He had absolutely nothing to do with the second item in the article. He hadn’t known about the affair between the Chicken Race MCs.
But once rumors started circulating—about the affair and the pilot program—greed begans to stir inside people.
That was because, at that moment, he was the only one who could take charge of directing the pilot.
He feared that the show might try to weather the storm by dragging things out and replacing only the MC.
Or that, if things dragged on too long, another PD might become interested in directing the pilot.
So all he had done was trigger an article that was bound to break eventually, just a bit earlier.
That’s why he felt it was unfair.
The first incident was something he’d already been disciplined for.
The second had nothing to do with him.
The third was bound to happen anyway.
And yet, PD Nam Yunsoo was overcome with despair.
Because he instinctively knew that Han Seon-ho was right.
The moment an article like that came out, the PD would inevitably be replaced.
On top of that, he had only just returned from a long disciplinary suspension.
If he got caught up in another scandal, no matter what the facts were, the station would replace him to save face in the public eye.
Did I really tie my shoelaces in a melon field…?
He couldn’t figure out where things had gone wrong.
He had just tested the waters.
He thought he had nothing to lose, and that Personal Color had much more to lose.
But the opposite had happened.
All because of one manager.
He still couldn’t believe the manager in front of him was the same guy he’d met at the station.
If he had known the guy carried such an aura, he never would’ve made a move so recklessly.
In the end, despair and fear flickered in Nam Yunsoo PD’s eyes.
And finally, he opened his mouth.
“What the hell… do you want?”
The moment PD Nam Yunsoo asked what he wanted, Seon-ho was hit by an intense temptation.
He wanted to demand that Personal Color be made the winner.
But…
Up to now, everything he had done was defensive.
He had used aggressive methods, sure, but they were all in response to PD Nam Yunsoo’s attacks.
If he now used the PD’s weakness to make demands, that would become an attack.
It would be exactly the kind of tactic used by the orphanage—something he desperately wanted to distance himself from.
Still, the temptation was overwhelming.
Dealing with PD Nam was easier than expected, and the man was more cowardly than he had assumed.
At this point, the PD was so shaken he would probably accept any demand.
Of course, once the immediate crisis passed, resentment would start to build—but Seon-ho was confident he could handle that too.
“What matters is that I saw it that way. And that bastard owes me for that melon.”
“And I’m confident I can take that bastard down.”
The PD owed him for the melon, and Seon-ho was confident he could “take him down.”
So why shouldn’t he?
“…Ah.”
That was when he saw it.
A small box.
The one handed to him by the part-timer who used the nickname “Our Woochan.”
A box filled with different kinds of cookies.
A box filled with support for Personal Color.
The moment he saw it, his mind cleared.
And then… he felt ashamed.
The moment he made an unfair demand to PD Nam Yunsoo, everything would become a lie.
From the sweat Personal Color had shed, to the efforts of everyone trying to give that sweat meaning—it would all be a betrayal.
So he felt ashamed.
He wanted to shake off that shame.
It may have started with the orphanage’s methods, but he wanted to end it differently.
He wanted to end it in the way of Producer Han Seon-ho.
“You asked what I want? I don’t want anything.”
“What?”
“PD Nam Yunsoo. I’m not asking for anything.”
“Then why did you do all this…?”
PD Nam Yunsoo’s eyes trembled.
“All you have to do is get rid of that desire that crept into your heart. And go back to the beginning.”
“…The beginning?”
“Yes. The very beginning. The singer prepares for the stage with all their might, and the director does their best to direct it. I’m saying we should return to a time when everyone did their part faithfully.”
“……”
“I’m not asking for special treatment for Personal Color. I’m just asking you not to distort things.”
That was all Seon-ho wanted.
Because he believed in Personal Color.
“If their performance is lackluster, then film it as it is. I will never blame you.”
Looking into Seon-ho’s eyes, Nam Yunsoo PD realized he was serious.
So he couldn’t suppress the curiosity bubbling inside.
“You catch a public broadcaster PD in a scandal, and all you demand is fairness? There’s gotta be someone behind you. Someone who planned all this.”
Seon-ho paused for a moment before replying.
“I could spread this article to the news companies. I’ve even gathered a decent amount of evidence. But no one planned this with me. I wrote the article. No one else has read it yet.”
“……”
“I’ll take you back to the station. See you at the shoot tomorrow.”
When Seon-ho said this, PD Nam Yunsoo looked confused and asked again.
“That’s really it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I believe in Personal Color. And because I don’t want to keep fighting someone as capable as you.”
After a long silence, Nam Yunsoo PD opened the passenger side door.
Cold air rushed in from the open door.
“The station’s quite far. You should sit.”
But there was no answer.
A moment later, the PD stepped out of the car.
Seon-ho watched his figure grow smaller as he walked away.
He must have been feeling a whirlwind of emotions.
Fear, knowing he was still leashed. Anger, for being manipulated. Doubt, about whether Seon-ho’s words were even true.
And Seon-ho hoped… that somewhere in there was a flicker of shame.
Just like what he himself had felt today.
Just like he had rejected the ways of his past, he hoped Nam Yunsoo PD would do the same.
Otherwise, they would have to go all the way.
Last winter hadn’t been very cold, which might be why the chill came early this year—starting from November.
“Jeez, they must be freezing. The heaters aren’t even on yet.”
“Being an idol is really tough.”
KBM broadcasting staff rushed to clock out, glancing at the idols dressed in weather-inappropriate outfits.
But the members of the seven idol groups weren’t feeling the cold at all.
Because at long last, the first battle had begun.
November 9, 2017, 7:00 p.m.
All rehearsals had ended, and the first recording of the Idol War was underway.
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