"Do it right this time, or do I need to find someone with basic competence?" The tall figure of Director Park loomed over a junior staffer, a young woman whose grip on her notebook turned her knuckles pale.
I stood frozen in front of the script copy machine as soon as I heard his loud yell. It caused everyone in the office to flinch and click their tongues, while others ignored it completely. Like, who would do that to get fired?
"Sir, the changes you request conflict with the client's—"
"Did I ask for excuses?" He barked, slicing her words in half, putting pressure on 'ask.'
That was the moment something surged in me—the instinct, maybe the side of Taeha, the real me that resented people like Park, who thrived in spaces like this while others struggled to get in, not because they were talented but because they knew how to make others feel small. Junior staff face these insults while no one does anything. Such behavior pisses me off, and I hate it more than the rain.
I didn't think or plan; my body just moved. "Actually, she's right." The word landed louder than I expected, which made almost everyone look up, eyes flickering toward me in disbelief, then look away just as fast, like they didn't want to be caught in the blast.
Park turned and looked at me as if I had spoken a different language. His jaw ticked a nerve, clearly annoyed by my little action, but it was masked with his lips curling up not into a smile but into something meaner, like he was already preparing his words to put me back in place.
"Excuse me?"
I didn't back down from his stare, especially since Taekyung's height gave me the confidence to stand tall and put me at eye level with him, while the staffer, Lee Soojin, stared at me as if I had grown a second head.
I crossed my arms before speaking up. "She is right. The revision you asked for contradicts the core direction the client approved during preproduction. If we push through, it could delay the next scene's light and cost us a re-approval round. The client guidelines are clear. If you wish to dispute their decision, please address it with the CEO."
Director Park stared at me for a long moment, letting the silence stretch like a long yawn, then he snorted a dismissive sound. And I know he must have thought I wouldn't know what he was talking about.
*A week ago*
It was past midnight, the only light in the apartment coming from the kitchen, where the fridge hummed quietly, and my laptop screen glowed a dim white-blue. My neck, shoulders, and eyes were aching due to the long time I was sitting in front of the laptop.
But I couldn't sleep. Not because of the pain, but because I had overheard Director Park's ranting the very first time I heard him. He was ranting about the day of the shoot. Something about the revision being delayed, the client being too picky, and the writer being spineless. And that truly hurt my pride; anger was bubbling within me. Maybe even the sheer stubbornness of surviving in a body not mine, so I decided I needed to understand everything.
I pulled every email chain, every project update, and every guideline PDF that the production team had buried deep in their shared drive. Contracts, storyboards, notes, continuity documents, and version controls were edited, and I consumed them as my life depended on them. Because in a way, it did. Taekyung's life did. And if I had to live it firsthand to be him, I wouldn't let people like Park walk over me like I didn't exist.
And that's the first time I found Taekyung's old journal. Though I was a little distracted at the thought of finding out about him, I controlled the urge and noted down all the things I wanted, circling the inconsistencies. I highlighted the parts where the Park skipped approval steps just to rush scenes into shooting. It wasn't just ego. There was something behind it. And it wasn't just affecting Taekyung but also the whole team that worked on the project.
*Present*
I don't know much about Soojin, but I had flashes of moments that Taekyung's memory vaguely remembered or sensed. She had always been there in the background, running to grab documents. Skipping breaks. Staying late when no one else did.
And the thought hit me hard. Had Taekyung ever even noticed? Had he even thanked her? I don't know. But something told me no. And now… That wasn't the point. Now it was about making sure someone did. Making sure someone stood up for her.
That someone had to be me. Not because I was his body. But because for the first time, I understood what it meant to carry the weight of someone else's name. And if I had to live as Taekyung, I could at least make him better. Just like I always told myself.
Breaking down emotional walls and rebuilding them.
This wasn't just survival anymore. This was a responsibility. This was a promise paid back in kind.
"Cute," he smirked. "Still playing her, Taekyung-sii? Or are you just upset that Eunji moved on? And now you are showing it off finally."
Eunji?
The name struck like a flash of lightning inside me. A flash of memory—Taekyung's memory—rushed out: a woman with eyes too sharp to be soft and her voice brittle as she handed back a silver ring. "You care more about your scripts than me."
Ah, Ex-girlfriend. I scoffed internally, pondering how this Taekyung could sustain a love life while seemingly suppressing his emotions as if it were his primary occupation. I wonder what else I don't know about the body I live in.
I'm going to read that journal.
And judging by the tone Park used, he must have known about it, or else he wasn't just trying to embarrass me but trying to put me in my place.
I let out a forced laugh. "This isn't about her. It's about you being unprofessional." I said, raising my head and staring back at him.
The office had gone dead silent. The hum of murmurs and voices had gone. Even the keyboard had stopped. Everyone was just listening.
Park's smile flattened into a cold, icy gaze. The entertainment he was having evaporated. "Watch yourself." He said quietly in a low and threatening way.
I swallowed but didn't flicker an eyelid or back down. I can't. Not after everything, not after treating people like Soojin like they are worthless. If I let this moment pass, then I'm no better than Taekyung was before.
"Maybe you should watch yourself, Director Park."
It came from behind us, calm yet firm and defending. I turned slightly, stunned to see Yohan. He stepped next to me, taller than me. His eyes filled with defensiveness, but for whom? For me? Or was it for Soojin?
My brain couldn't catch up fast enough. All I knew was that he stood beside me now, taller than me, his arms crossed over his chest. And suddenly, I didn't feel alone in the world.
Even that surprised Park. His eyebrows twitched. He must not have expected an interruption from Yohan, of all people. Neither, I thought. Because Yohan never spoke unless it mattered.
Such was his quiet reputation that many in the company thought of him as a leader. Someone present is always watching but never interfering. Even when it was just the two of us, he had a way of keeping his opinions wrapped up by not letting me read them.
But…this one is quite different. He didn't waver when he spoke next. "You can't talk to staff like that," Yohan said with a cool and level voice that wasn't even sounding rude or offensive. "And you definitely can't bring up something so personal from Taekyung's life just to humiliate him in front of everyone."
"You always find ways to take his side in everything, Director. Well, as I have much respect for you, I'm leaving the room," Park said, his voice sounding kind of sarcastic rather than just saying it.
Then he turned his gaze on me and smirked, which was like, 'You may have missed this time, but not next.' He stalked off, resembling a snake poised for its next strike.
No one said anything for a moment. I was left standing there with my heart pounding so loud in my chest that it echoed in my ears. Not out of fear. Not even from the adrenaline. Just from the rush of all of it—being seen, being backed up, being defended. And not just by anyone. By Yohan.
I looked at him; he didn't look back. His jaw clenched, arms still crossed, his eyes fixed on the direction Park had gone. And suddenly, I felt like I wasn't standing up alone. Even in a borrowed body, I had earned something real. Respect. Someone who stood by my side. Maybe…even trust.
"You didn't have to do that," Soojin murmured, her voice soft and quiet. I turned to look at her. Maybe she must be feeling the same emotions I am having right now. But she wasn't trembling; her shoulders, which were hunched, are now relaxed.
I have a small shrug. "Someone should've."
She blinked, her lips parting slightly like she wanted to respond, her eyes narrowed, studying me, before she nodded once and walked away, leaving me alone with Yohan.
Well, I was alone, surrounded by a sea of eyes pretending not to look. Yohan didn't say anything for a second. Just stood there quietly, arms still across his chest. Then he finally spoke, low enough for only me to hear.
"You do realize that Park's been gunning for you ever since Eunji dumped you."
I exhaled slowly while Taekyung's memories flickered again, Eunji. The woman I didn't even know existed in his life until I heard about her.
"Yeah, I figured," I said, drily.
Yohan tilted his head, studying me carefully. "You usually ignore him. Today was different."
I didn't reply at first because I wasn't sure how to explain the shift. How do you say, Today I remembered what it feels like to be someone who stands up when this body isn't yours?
"Maybe I'm different now," I said. It wasn't much, but it was true.
Yohan's brow lifted a little at that. "Is that so?" he sounded unconvinced but not dismissive.
"Look, I'm not trying to start a war," I added. "I just didn't want to watch someone get torn apart for doing their job."
"Since when? When do you care about people getting torn apart?" he asked, and for a moment I didn't know if he was being serious or just poking at me.
I looked at him, and instead of deflecting, I asked, "Would it be a bad thing if I started?"
Yohan's lips pressed into a thin line. Somehow, it looked like he was trying to suppress himself from smirking at my question. And then he said, "No, it wouldn't."
He stepped back, nodding toward my desk like it was time to move on. But something about the way he lingered for a second longer told me everything I needed to know.
I wasn't just pretending to be Taekyung anymore. I was starting to fix the damage Taekyung left behind.
The rest of the day passed on with some staff tiptoeing around me and others sneaking sideways glances like I was possessed. Maybe in a way I had. Whatever version of Taekyung they were used to… this wasn't him.
When I finally got back to the apartment, I barely even kicked my shoes off properly before heading straight to the desk. The old journal was right where I left it.
I dragged the chair out with a worn screech and dropped into it, tossing my bag somewhere behind me without looking.
Then I just sat there while rubbing my palms together and breathing in and out. Like if I slowed my breath enough, the confusion would clear.
Maybe now I will know more about him, whom I was living with. I opened the journal. I stared at the pages; some entries were messy, scribbled thoughts that looked like they'd been written during breakdowns or all-nighters, while some were written neatly.
But they all held a version of Taekyung I hadn't known before. That even his memories, which helped me to recognize people, didn't say. And maybe that's what I needed now. Not to fix everything, but to understand why it was broken in the first place.
Then my eyes fell on one entry:
Today was the day I graduated from middle school.
I was glad that Eomma had managed to come to the graduation. She was worn out; I could tell, even though she wore that pink lipstick she saves for special days. She tried to smile like everything was okay.
But today was also the day I lost my father.
I paused reading. My fingers tightened slightly around the paper's edge. That explains why I couldn't find any photos of his father with him. I continued to read further.
He said he'd be there. Said he just needed to stop by the hospital for a quick checkup. He said he would meet us later to take us to buy ice cream, as usual.
I managed to smile brightly; the photos prove it. But how could I? I thought he could survive. He always had before. That's what Eomma thought and said to us.
There was a small smudge where the ink had bled a little. I couldn't tell if it had been from a teardrop or from Taekyung's hand shaking as he wrote.
That day, everyone told me to be strong for Mom. That will be me, the man of the family. I was just thirteen. At thirteen, I was told to grow up. So I did. I shut myself in…maybe that's when I started to disappear just a little every day because grief had no place.
I swallowed the lump that stuck, and my throat suddenly started to ache. I quickly flipped the pages and then again caught where it was written about Eunji.
She was at the top of the class; Junho told me about her. He said she always stares at me. But I was too involved in everything else, and the day she finally gathered herself.
She told me she liked me. I accepted it not because I liked her back, but because I did not want to hurt her. I thought her emotions would heal me. Like if I held on long enough, I might feel warm again. But I didn't.
I was already too far gone. Buried in high school work, pulling long nights writing screenplays no one asked for. I thought being busy made me better. Stronger. But I think it made me more hollow.
My hand rested on the journal, the pages warm from how tightly I'd been holding it. This wasn't the story people knew. Not even Eunji, probably. Maybe she never figured out that she was loving a boy who couldn't feel anything yet. A boy who had mistaken kindness for a cure.
And now he was gone. But I was still here. Reading his regrets like they were my own. The thought sat heavy in my chest: was I mourning him? Or is he mourning the parts of himself that no one ever saw?
But then…why did director Park bring up Taekyung so personally against him?
I sat up straighter, eyes narrowing at the journal. Park didn't just belittle people; he systematically dismantled them. But this? Using a breakup? Something that personal didn't sit right.
How did he even know? Taekyung wasn't exactly the confiding type, and judging by the entries, he barely admitted the truth himself, let alone to anyone else.
Is there something I'm missing?
Because something about the situation doesn't feel like a coincidence. It felt personal and planned.