Return of the Genius PD

Kim Dae-young, Chief of Programming Team 1 at JTVN.

54 years old and born in the Year of the Dog, he was nicknamed the “Mountain Spirit” of the Programming Team. 

A loyal stalwart, he had guarded the broadcasting station since the CBS era, the predecessor of JTVN. 

With retirement looming next year, he was in the twilight of his career.

Such a man had one small pleasure: establishing public morality within the company.

“It’s just me,” he would often say.

He couldn’t resist stepping in when juniors thought they could overlook standards. 

Being a fixture at JTVN, he had close relationships with several executives, granting him an oddly strong influence within the company. 

That was why he had thrown Ji-won’s proposal on his desk and left.

* * *

PD Kim Jong-su was hunched over his desk, scribbling notes while muttering to himself.

“Maybe follow the moving bed with an eye-level shot… or should we use a gimbal for a more urgent feel? Maybe a dolly cam for something calmer…”

As he continued muttering, he suddenly noticed a shadow looming over him. Startled, he snapped his head up.

“Aaah! You scared me!” he exclaimed.

“Why are you so jumpy? Did you do something wrong?”

Kim Dae-young stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the directing notes in the notebook.

“Chief? What brings you here?”

“I’m hunting down the culprit who left trash in the office,” Kim Dae-young said, shaking a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Kim Jong-su sighed dramatically. “Another lost lamb, I see.”

Then, with a playful grin, he added, “But seriously, are you really going around doing handwriting analysis over a piece of paper? At this rate, you’ll be working alone in an empty office.”

Unfazed, Kim Dae-young replied, “Then I’ll just ask Director Ko to assign me the most useless employee.”

“Oh no! That’s me! It’ll just be you and me in that empty office!”

Kim Dae-young smiled at Kim Jong-su’s quick retort.

“Is it about Dr. Ham In-ju?” Kim Jong-su asked, his face lighting up with curiosity.

“Yes, that’s right. Have you seen the  script by any chance?”

“I haven’t seen it, just heard rumors. She’s a newcomer, right?”

“Not just any newcomer. She’s a mega-hit newcomer.”

“That good? Writer Kim Seung-yeon must be feeling uneasy.”

“Director Ko has been frowning for days now.”

“Oh my, Writer Kim Seung-yeon is known for her temper. I’d be worried too if I were her.”

Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, PD Kim Jong-su’s eyes brightened, and he spoke again.

“Want me to send you the script to read when you have some time?”

“Sure, send it over. I’ve been curious about it.”

With a triumphant grin, Kim Jong-su replied, “Hehe, you’re gonna be shocked when you read it.”

“Has Dr. Ham In-ju already won the contest?”

“Not yet,” Kim Jong-su said confidently. “But it will. I’m going to make sure of it.”

“It’s good to see you this fired up. This is your moment, after all,” Kim Dae-young replied with a warm smile, his gaze dropping to Kim Jong-su’s hand as he twirled his pen.

“By the way, you write with your left hand?”

“Yeah, I’m left-handed.”

“I see. Well, that clears you from suspicion… for now.”

Kim Dae-young stroked his chin thoughtfully, then as he passed by, he added, “Oh, and go with the gimbal instead of the dolly cam.”

“Huh?” Kim Jong-su blinked in surprise.

“Given the layout of Daon Hospital, it’ll be more effective.”

Kim Jong-su glanced down at his notes, sketching a few camera movement lines with his pen. “You’re right! How’d you know?”

With a knowing smile, Kim Dae-young replied, “I saw it in the traces left by the culprit.”

As he left, chuckling softly to himself, Kim Jong-su tilted his head, confused.

“Didn’t he say he hasn’t read the script yet?”

Meanwhile, Kim Dae-young continued scrutinizing the members of Production Team 2.

“Not this guy either… who on earth is the culprit?”

He strolled over to another desk and asked nonchalantly, “Are you the culprit, by any chance?”

“Excuse me, Chief?”

“Let me see your notebook.”

“My… notebook?”

“Open it, quickly.”

Kim Dae-young only left after thoroughly inspecting every notebook in Team 2.

.

.

.

Back at his desk, Kim Dae-young crossed his legs and stared at the ceiling.

“Strange… this can’t be right.”

By now, he should have found something—someone. But no matter how much he searched, no one’s handwriting matched the proposal.

Who on earth could it be? Did it fall from the sky?

He had assumed it would be Kim Jong-su, the director, or perhaps one of his subordinates from Production Team 2. After all, there was no reason for anyone else to be drafting a proposal for a contest script that hadn’t even been confirmed as the winner.

Just then.

“Chief, could you please review this?”

As Kim Dae-young pondered the identity of the mysterious writer, he absentmindedly skimmed through the report handed to him and then passed it back.

“It could use one more reach indicator here. Fill it in and bring it back.”

“Ah.”

The person nodded, took out a pen right there, quickly jotted down the necessary changes, and handed it back.

“Here you go.”

Kim Dae-young smiled wryly.

“Well, well? Memorized all those figures, have you? You’re quite an impressive fellow.”

But as he glanced at the report again, something caught his eye. He muttered, “Oh?” and narrowed his gaze.

“It’s you.”

“Pardon?”

“The culprit.”

Suddenly, he widened his eyes and looked up, almost in disbelief. Standing before him was Ji-won, his expression as innocent as ever, as if to ask, What do you mean?

* * *

Kim Dae-young’s expression was full of curiosity. I locked eyes with him, deliberately stalling for a moment. When I felt the timing was right, I spoke.

“Oh? The proposal. Yes, I wrote it. But why is it in your hands, Chief…?”

“One person won’t make a difference.”

“Pardon?”

His face turned serious.

“If everyone thought like that, what would become of this company?”

“Ah.”

“Pub! lic! Mo! rals!”

His hand moved dramatically in front of my face, emphasizing each syllable.

“Trash goes in the trash can. You need to stick to the basics if you want to achieve great things. Got it, Ji-won?”

“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”

I bowed my head respectfully. His expression softened, replaced with renewed curiosity.

“Now, about this proposal…”

“Yes?”

“Did you really write this?”

“Ah… I liked the script, so I scribbled down how I’d direct it. Just for practice.”

“This is more than just scribbling.”

He grinned as he skimmed through the pages, clearly pleased.

“I’ve heard you write good proposals, but…”

He tapped the proposal with his hand.

“If it’s at this level, that’s a different story, isn’t it?”

Judging by his expression, it was clear he hadn’t just taken the bait—he’d swallowed it whole.

“You’re in Production Team 3 now, right?”

“Yes.”

“This drama’s for Team 2.”

“I guess so, since PD Kim Jong-su will be in charge.”

“Ham In-ju… do you want it?”

The question I had been waiting for. I met his gaze, confidence in my eyes.

“Yes, if possible.”

“But what can we do? You’re in Team 3.”

“That’s right. I just made the proposal for practice.”

Kim Dae-young snorted.

“Don’t kid yourself. Your ambition is all over this proposal.”

His sharp gaze seemed to cut through my facade. This wasn’t someone who’d spent decades in the company for nothing. He opened his mouth again.

“Should I send you over?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know—somehow.”

Then, casually, he asked, “So, are you confident or not?”

Realizing the time for modesty had passed, I straightened my posture and met his gaze.

“If you send me, I’m confident I can make waves.”

Satisfied, Kim Dae-young rose from his seat, smiling.

“Good. I like how straightforward you are.”

He shrugged on his coat, heading for the door.

“Chief? Where are you going?”

“To work. I’m keeping my word.”

* * *

“Director Ko-.”

Kim Dae-young flung open the door to the director’s office. Director Ko Dong-guk, in the middle of opening a package containing a new mouse, turned around.

“Senior? What brings you all the way here? Bored in your twilight years?”

There was affection beneath Ko Dong-guk’s gruff tone. Their long-standing relationship, stretching back to their youth, softened the exchange.

Kim Dae-young shot back, “What’s with the sudden new mouse?”

Ko Dong-guk nodded towards it. “Replacing it. Got attached to the old wired one, but it couldn’t keep up with the distance.”

After a brief pause, as if pondering the connection between a mouse and distance, Kim Dae-young quipped, “Hey, my high school junior, your sentences are getting shorter. Already treating me like I’m on my way out?”

Ko Dong-guk responded gruffly, “If we’re talking alumni connections, shouldn’t we go by university standards?”

He added, “I’m a year your senior in college, aren’t I?”

Kim Dae-young didn’t miss a beat. “Well, well? In that case, let’s go by the year we joined the company! I’ve eaten a whole truckload more rice here than you have.”

“But my rank’s higher now, isn’t it?”

“Oh, come on, you think I’ve never been a director before? If we’re really doing this, let’s just go by age. By age! Don’t you know this is the land of Eastern courtesy?”

The next moment-

-Thud!

Director Ko Dong-guk set the mouse down and straightened his back, fixing his gaze on Kim Dae-young.

“Which class are you?”

“Are we really doing this?” Kim Dae-young replied.

“Which class are you?” Director Ko repeated, his eyes narrowing.

“Here?”

Their gazes locked, tension hanging in the air. If they went by Marine Corps enlistment classes, Kim Dae-young knew he’d be left speechless. He had entered much later than others, after three years of retaking the college entrance exam, creating a gap of about ten classes between them.

Director Ko’s smile broadened, triumphant as if he’d won some unspoken contest.

“Anyway, what brings you here?”

With a sullen expression, Kim Dae-young pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it over.

“Take a look at this.”

“What is it?”

Director Ko began reading the proposal.

“Hmm.”

As the seconds ticked by, his attention deepened. He leaned further into the paper, scanning every line. The meticulous detail surprised him; it wasn’t just clever, it was ambitious. Every step of production had been thought out, item by item, as if written by someone already experienced in directing.

Kim Dae-young waited silently before finally breaking the quiet.

“What do you think?”

“To put it mildly…” Director Ko hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“We could start production with this as is, couldn’t we?”

“You think so too? That’s what I thought.”

“Who wrote this?” Director Ko asked, tapping the proposal with his finger.

“Wouldn’t you feel better having the person who wrote this on Ham In-ju’s team?”

“Jong-su tends to rely on intuition more than precision,” Director Ko mused. “We do need someone like this…”

Desire flickered in Director Ko’s eyes.

“So, who is it?”

Kim Dae-young shrugged, answering casually, “Do Ji-won from Production Team 3.”

Director Ko Dong-guk’s eyes widened. “Ji-won?”

“That’s right. I just confirmed it on my way here.”

Ko buried his head back in the proposal, frowning slightly.

“Why keep someone like this there? Wouldn’t it make more sense to put them right next to Jong-su?”

He began flipping through the pages again, more slowly this time, examining each one.

The proposal was intuitive and clear. In some ways, it was sharper than Jong-su’s work. Of course, directing wasn’t just about having a solid plan, but having a strong preliminary sketch often meant more potential once the painting began.

“…”

As Director Ko’s focus deepened, Kim Dae-young stood up.

“I’ve given you what I came to give. Take your time with it.”

“Ah, yes, senior. Let’s have a drink sometime,” Ko mumbled absentmindedly.

Left alone in the office, Director Ko Dong-guk sank into thought, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling in his mind.

The script for Eccentric Doctor Ham In-ju, written by an unproven newcomer.

Star writer Kim Seung-yeon, who would likely cause more friction.

Kim Jong-su, who seemed the embodiment of defiance.

And Do Ji-won, clearly talented, but a mystery in every other regard.

Everything surrounding him was a source of unease. And yet…

Why was there this creeping sense of anticipation?

His instincts whispered in his ear, again and again. Maybe. Just maybe, they could make waves.

It wasn’t just a hopeful hunch.

It was the same intuition that had turned Ko Dong-guk from a regular employee with no major connections into JTVN’s longest-serving Drama Department Director.

T/N: Just in case anyone’s confused, in this part:

“Yes, that’s right. Have you seen the  script by any chance?”

“I haven’t seen it, just heard rumors. She’s a newcomer, right?”

“Not just any newcomer. She’s a mega-hit newcomer.”

They’re using “she” because they think Kyukyu’s a girl.