Episode 179 - Office Theme Song (2)
“It’s been rejected.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said it’s rejected.”
Jiseongin gave the document folder a slight shake. His gaze remained nailed to the monitor. It meant take it and get out.
“May I ask why?”
Seonguan didn’t take the document. Instead, he asked a question.
Only then did Jiseongin’s gaze turn toward Seonguan.
“I’m the one who wants to ask.”
“…….”
“Is this the answer to why we have to change the constituent stocks of a perfectly fine product?”
Silence fell over the office.
Seonguan was certain. The profitability that could be drawn from Yubyeong Enterprise had almost reached its limit. At this point, they had to switch to Bea, where a positive trigger would soon occur.
But there was no way to explain that. Because it was a fact only Seonguan could see.
“If you have nothing more to say, take this and go back to your seat.”
“…….”
“And don’t do anything pointless.”
In an asset management company that spoke through data, Team Leader Jiseongin was someone who communicated only through numbers. For the first time, Seonguan despaired that he couldn’t overcome that wall with his eyes alone.
‘I can already see the blue light on Yubyeong’s side, so what the hell am I supposed to do!’
Seonguan, seated at his desk, grabbed his hair in frustration.
‘This is all because of Team Leader Ji.’
The previous team leader was someone in whom you couldn’t find a trace of motivation no matter how hard you looked. Having that kind of person as a superior had made work easier. Seonguan had the ability to always make choices without taking losses, and thanks to that ability, he had been able to get promoted quickly!
But after Team Leader Ji arrived, everything changed. Reports made with suitable excuses no longer worked. It was a situation where he had to explain information obtained through intuition with data. This was the reason Jiseongin and Seonguan clashed every time.
‘So annoying. Such bad luck. Don’t come crying with regret after Yubyeong Enterprise goes under.’
Muttering internally, Seonguan stood up from his seat. He was going to pick up some documents he had reserved for printing.
In front of the multifunction printer stood his junior, Doyeonghwan.
“Did you happen to print this?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Doyeonghwan neatly organized the already printed documents and handed them to Seonguan.
There were still plenty more documents coming out.
While waiting for the printing to finish, Seonguan leaned against the wall next to the printer and asked.
“Come to think of it, Yeonghwan, you’ve never been torn apart by Team Leader Ji, have you?”
“To what extent does it have to be to count as being torn apart?”
“As much as I was today?”
“I haven’t experienced that much yet.”
“Must be nice, for you.”
Seonguan looked at Doyeonghwan and asked as if talking to himself.
“Is data absolutely essential to communicate with Team Leader Ji?”
How could someone working in the financial industry say something so stupid? Seonguan smiled awkwardly.
“Are you frustrated?”
“A little.”
Seonguan stared at Jiseongin beyond the glass partition. He could see that neatly groomed head held high and straight.
‘Can I keep working with that person?’
Let’s say he brought Team Leader Ji the data exactly as requested. But what if that company was on the verge of delisting? And what if they had diligently manipulated the documents and hadn’t been caught yet? If a decision was made to invest there, Seonguan’s eyes could discern that. But they didn’t show evidence that the documents were forged. Investigating, discovering, and persuading became Seonguan’s responsibility.
Beep, beep—
A signal rang from his feet. It was the sound from the multifunction printer.
“I don’t think you necessarily have to talk using only your strengths.”
When Doyeonghwan opened the paper tray, the noise stopped.
Doyeonghwan rolled up his sleeves, took out a ream of printing paper, opened it, and loaded new paper. The printer started working again.
“If you, Deputy Seon with the good instincts, make the list, and meticulous Team Leader Ji approves it, wouldn’t the two of you make a good combination?”
“…….”
“You just need a bit of persuasiveness in the list. I don’t think you need to feel overly burdened.”
The printer stopped.
Doyeonghwan took out the fully printed documents, organized them neatly, and handed them to Seonguan.
“That’s why you printed these, isn’t it? This document.”
“Our Yeonghwan is so smart it’s scary sometimes.”
Seonguan let out a short laugh.
He then started to head back to his seat but stopped, looked at Doyeonghwan still standing in front of the printer, and asked.
“Come to think of it, Yeonghwan, weren’t you ever worried having me as your senior? The person teaching you keeps going on about intuition all the time.”
Doyeonghwan replied with an unbothered expression, looking only at the papers coming out.
“If I start worrying, I’ll find a way out and run away immediately.”
It was cute trust. Seonguan’s steps toward his seat were light. He wanted to shove the earlier report back in front of Team Leader Ji as soon as possible.
***
“Ha…”
While the directors were checking the camera angles, I sighed in relief.
Ad-libbing was always hard, but this ad-lib was truly insane.
And to think I was the one who started it!
‘Who knew the paper would run out there of all places.’
This scene was an important one for the main character Seonguan’s emotional change. It was the segment where the helplessness of hitting a wall after demonstrating his talent well, the sense of mission about his job, and so on were all mixed together as he decided how to talk to the new team leader.
Moreover, the two main leads had been filming a scene full of emotions on the rooftop in the autumn wind, and had even taken a break mid-way to recover their body temperature.
The weather was harsh, the filming was cut so the emotions didn’t connect, my stamina was dropping, and I had to show acting skills convincing enough for the viewers given the plot.
At this critical moment, I never thought the multifunction printer would cluelessly cause an accident. For a moment, my vision went as white as an A4 sheet.
So I just ad-libbed before the cut sound could come out. I filled the paper diligently so the noise wouldn’t come out again. I regretted it even as I loaded the copy paper.
The fortunate thing was that filming wasn’t interrupted mid-way. Haseomyeong also connected well with me.
The unfortunate thing was…
“Iwol, let’s go one more time with Doyeonghwan’s one-shot and upper body shot from just now!”
Extra shooting had been added specifically to my part.
Damn it. I wish Jeongseongbin’s OST would come out already.
***
There was the downside of having time stolen away, but there were definitely things gained from filming the drama.
You could say I started thinking from various angles about how to look good on camera.
While for an idol, giving your gaze to the camera is the most important, an actor must not be conscious of the camera. Since you can’t provide immersion through gaze alone, you have to take great care so that even a single movement looks natural. As a result, I ended up practicing my posture and movement beyond just facial expressions. I became able to make set actions look like everyday actions to anyone watching.
Additionally, when I stood on stage as an idol, I used to aim for dance lines lacking in detail to be less visible on camera. On the other hand, unless there’s specific intent, a bust shot is the minimum standard for an actor. Unless they’re filming only your hands or shoes for directorial reasons, it means your face keeps appearing.
Given this situation, I could see that whether the shadow of my bangs covered the light in my eyes made a big difference.
‘If these things aren’t unified, it’s really distracting.’
So I walked around with my bangs down all day even at the dorm.
A few guys came asking if I was in a bad mood, but thanks to that, I became able to act dead eyes no matter where the lighting was.
Meanwhile, there was also a guy whose eye light was just dead regardless of his bangs.
It was Icheonghyeon, tapping on his laptop while wearing a headset in the kitchen.
It was the headset I’d bought him recently because I was worried his ears would get damaged from using earphones too much.
When I tapped the dining table lightly, the guy revealed eyes that, though haggard, exuded a deep beauty like the center of an abyss.
“Hyung, you’re here? Why?”
“The OST, are you working on it?”
On Icheonghyeon’s laptop, a composition program was open with the title ‘InMyOffice_2ndED_Ver.5.’
“Uh-huh, that’s right.”
“Is everyone having meetings without me these days?”
“Then should we hold a video conference dragging along the hyung who leaves in the morning and comes back at night? Be grateful your dongsaengs are growing up with independence.”
“You really don’t back down even a word now.”
“Of course. When the year changes next year, I wasn’t even planning to call you hyung anymore.”
Even while exchanging stale jokes, Icheonghyeon’s hands didn’t stop. The tracks were packed tight, probably from how many instruments he was trying to mix.
“Want to listen?”
“If that’s okay.”
Icheonghyeon handed over the headset. The guy’s expression wasn’t exactly bright.
Was it because it was his first time doing a ballad? He wasn’t someone who’d struggle with any genre.
When the play button was pressed, a sorrowful melody flowed out. It was lyrical and sentimental. It was exactly the right sentiment for a situation where lovers faced a crisis or broke up. The instruments building up in the latter half were classical as well.
But…
“You don’t like this, do you?”
“How did you know?”
Icheonghyeon asked with his eyes wide like a squirrel.
“It’s not your style.”
“What’s my style?”
“Can you refrain from asking that ‘what’s so me’ kind of question? I’m troubled about how to answer.”
Despite my request, Icheonghyeon grabbed both my forearms and wouldn’t let go.
“I don’t like it! There’s nothing unnatural about the harmony or melody, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Still, whether it’s addictiveness or a high point, something has to remain. But this has nothing. It’s hollow. If you made a song out of Jeho-hyung lying on the sofa, it would be like this.”
“Why are you suddenly picking a fight?”
Choejeho, lying on the sofa, spoke from afar. Not only did we have no intention of listening, but Choejeho himself didn’t expect anyone to answer, so it didn’t lead to communication.
“I get that you used famous OSTs as references. I know it’s based on a ballad. I also like that you thought of Seongbin’s voice for the vocals. I think it’ll get much better once you do a scratch vocal over it. The problem is that it lacks an image.”
“You mean it doesn’t remind you of the drama itself?”
“I mean it’s an OST that wouldn’t feel out of place in any drama.”
At my words, Icheonghyeon started to furrow his brows but stopped. Instead, he diligently smoothed the space between his brows with his thumb.
“Still amazing. How did you even think of taking on an OST project?”
I had thought creators need a certain amount of rest, so I hadn’t intended to give the OST project to Icheonghyeon. I didn’t know he’d bring the job on himself.
“You never know, Spark might make a ballad comeback later.”
“You had such an admirable thought?”
“I’ve always been admirable. A dongsaeng like me isn’t common, so treat me well.”
Icheonghyeon then typed my comment into a notepad. His hand, which had been writing things like “able to evoke the drama,” “specialized for In My Office,” and so on, stopped.
“But hyung.”
“What?”
“What’s an office worker’s life normally like?”
Ah, so that’s where you have to start.
Can’t be helped. I invite you to a UA planning meeting (special feature: 3 days before the deadline).