Free Web NovelJust a moment ago, she had seemed to be filming a vlog properly with the camera, but at some point she’d gotten completely absorbed in eating cold noodle soup and didn’t even notice that the camera angle had become suspicious.
“Yeoreum, have another bowl. You worked so hard dieting for the awards ceremony. I know that feeling. I really do!”
“Yes! Thank you!”
The conversation between Director Gong, wearing a black padded vest, and Han Yeoreum was nothing like the usual actor-vlog composition. Weighed down by the lens, the camera had slowly drooped until it was showing nothing but Yeoreum’s bowl of cold noodle soup, which made it look extremely questionable.
‘It looks exactly like someone’s secretly filming....’
If you muted the audio, it would pass perfectly as a current-affairs exposé. Something titled [The Two Faces of a cold noodle soup Restaurant? The Terrifying Duality of the Broth We Eat]. Thinking that, Yun Hyeonjo let out a quiet laugh. The camera angle was funny enough that he didn’t feel like fixing it.
Bzz-.
[Hyung, should we get up soon?]
Yun Hyeonjo met eyes with his assigned manager, who was watching him from among the staff. He gave a short shake of his head.
It was a noisy, unorganized atmosphere, and to some extent, a waste of time—but it felt like it would be fine to stay a little longer.
‘I wish it would release already.’
He was curious about the characters living and breathing inside the screen. Detective Yoon, and Influencer 1.
“Ah, the camera angle! This is totally ruined!”
Yeoreum finally noticed the camera angle only after she had completely finished her second bowl of cold noodle soup.
* * *
Cold noodle soup ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) really is a terrifying food.
‘Before you know it, you’re completely focused on eating.’
Now, time to concentrate on the real objective. The dinner gathering had ripened just enough that talk about break-even points and box office performance started to come up.
“Did you hear about that director? His teeth... they pulled out six of them.”
“Kyaaak!”
“You didn’t know? It wasn’t just his teeth. His hair was already....”
“Kyaaak!”
No ghost story in the world could be scarier than this.
In this industry, the moment break-even comes up, even directors who were crying will instantly stop. There were countless ill-fated films that had completely burned through massive investments.
“We all did really well anyway. It’ll do well. Yeah. It’ll do well, of course! Right? Huh? Right. Yeah. Right.”
As expected, a Chungmuro public servant was different. Director Gong raised his glass calmly, without a trace of tension.
“Director~. That’s vinegar.”
No, apparently not. What Director Gong was pouring wasn’t soju—it was vinegar. Yun Hyeonjo stopped him.
The hand holding the glass was trembling violently. Director Gong made decent films, but even achieving an average level of success felt like a gamble in this market.
“Yeoreum, do you think it’ll do well? It’ll do well, right? Yeah?”
Director Gong was desperately seeking endless reassurance from me. I gave him a faint smile, layered with a subtle nuance.
‘Who knows...?’
His reaction came immediately.
“Please! You have to say it’ll do well, Yeoreum! Right now I feel like I want to use a talisman or something! When we did the ritual, I think my knee creaked a bit? That still makes me anxious to death!”
Director Gong ended up downing the glass in one go. It was the vinegar he’d just poured, but he seemed to be past the point of tasting it. He even poured himself another.
‘More than anyone, I need this movie to succeed, Director....’
This was exactly the right time for movie goods to settle in as a fandom-centered marketing strategy. First-week goods and photo tickets in collaboration with multiplex theaters—perfect timing to trigger collectors’ instincts among “movie fans.”
‘GCV and ModernBox did collaboration goods with famous characters not long ago.’
That strategy had been a massive success. Even if Director Gong didn’t know, the people here couldn’t help but have some goodwill toward collaboration goods. As if something had just occurred to me, I spoke up.
“Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be nice if we made some kind of goods too?”
Laughter burst out from all around at my words. Making goods for a domestic film wasn’t exactly a widely supported idea at this point in time.
“So cute!”
“So bold-! You’re the type who collects cola cups and miniature gachas, huh?”
It made sense—they were ideas usually reserved for famous animation characters.
But just as expected.
“No, wait. Say a bit more.”
A stakeholder bit the bait.
* * *
From cinephiles who collect <Cine 24> to ordinary audience members who carefully carry movie posters home so they don’t crease them—block toys made using movie scenes as motifs were something anyone could find interesting at least once. Soundtracks even topping music charts, postcard sets that barely even counted as goods—weren’t those all basic items?
“I think it’s a good idea. Remember two years ago? The one-person popcorn set controversy.”
Goods produced by ModernBox when they exclusively screened an animation.
They used a strategy of printing images directly onto popcorn buckets and selling them as a set—the first of its kind in theaters. Back then, demands flooded SNS asking for one-person sets instead of two-person sets.
“Ah, I remember. Some people even threw away the popcorn and just took the bucket.”
“Right... but that one had an incredibly solid fanbase.”
It was a work that had dominated Japan for a century. Just as the mood was about to shift toward that being an exception—
Yeoreum spoke lightly, as if it were nothing.
“After the movie releases, you know those photo zones set up inside theaters? What if we made goods tickets tied to that?”
At those words, the stakeholder unconsciously leaned toward Yeoreum.
“Since we’re a crime action film, even a simple photo zone like a mug shot would look convincing. I don’t know much, but installing photo zones nationwide must cost a lot. If we reduce that cost and put it into goods tickets instead....”
It was a time when goods production was being led by hit animated films and a few overseas movies.
‘Why can’t a domestic film do it!’
What started as a bold suggestion brushed off like a joke slowly lit a spark in their hearts.
“It’d spread word-of-mouth easily too, with audiences taking photos holding the photo tickets. If they post it on SNS stories, people would react like, huh? That looks fun. That’s not why SNS tag events exist for nothing.”
As expected, being twenty really was something else. The stakeholder had already wedged himself between Director Gong and Yeoreum.
“Goods have to trigger collecting desire, but it’s also something like—huh? That person has one? Then I can get one too, right?”
“Exactly. It’s not for nothing that animated films change goods every week. People rewatch multiple times just to get one postcard.”
Before anyone noticed, Yeoreum and the stakeholder were already talking as if <Law-Faster-Than> producing goods was a done deal.
“These days, what was it—badges. They make a lot of badges. What do you think, Yeoreum?”
“Badges cost a lot to make molds for... I was thinking maybe business cards, with a bit of variation on photo tickets.”
“Detective business cards! That’s good! Oh!”
“We could do Detective Yoon’s or Detective Kwak’s cards for weeks one and two, and include club business cards of the villains from the Happy series too.”
Once the conversation opened up, things moved quickly. The listening staff started pitching ideas one by one.
“What if we put ‘Happy Balloons’ in some of the photo zones? With smile marks.”
“Oh! Then for the pledge video, we inhale helium and say our lines?”
“What about buying small smile stickers and having everyone stick one somewhere on their clothes during stage greetings?”
December 31. The already excited hearts of people welcoming the year-end grew even more buoyant.
From the preparation stage to filming itself, nothing made staff more sensitive than a project’s box office prospects. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
And <Law-Faster-Than> clearly had that unique atmosphere of a film that would succeed. At some point, the trembling in Director Gong’s hands finally stopped.
“Oh! The countdown’s starting!”
At someone’s shout, everyone turned their gaze to the TV playing in one corner of the restaurant.
“10! 9! 8! 7!”
Each staff member’s voice joined in. The restaurant filled with anticipation for the new year.
“3! 2! 1!”
The chime rang out. The hearts of people who had struggled together converged. Director Gong smiled and raised his glass high.
“Then everyone, Happy New Year! Let’s take <Law-Faster-Than> to ten million!”
At the mention of ten million, everyone burst into laughter. Sometimes, goals that were too outrageous were treated like jokes.
“Yes! To <Law-Faster-Than> ten million!”
The only ones not smiling were Han Yeoreum and—
“Yes~. To that.”
—Yun Hyeonjo.
Even the stakeholder who’d been passionately discussing goods raised his glass. Everyone in the restaurant clinked together in harmony.
“Ahk! Th-this tastes weird!”
“Ah... Director, you drank the vinegar again.”
It was a peaceful first day of the new year.
* * * fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
Han Taeyang was sitting rigidly on the sofa. Arms crossed, eyes closed—his posture looked like compressed fury.
“Is she insane....”
Past midnight counted as staying out. Han Yeoreum had said she was going to a dinner, and now she’d stayed out on the very first day of the new year.
Beep—beep... beep—.
From the hand pressing the door lock, it was obvious she was drunk. The machine beeped after she punched the wrong numbers.
“Yeoreum, are you okay?”
“I’m fi—fine. Oppa! I’m... actually really, really good at drinking....”
Han Taeyang sprang up from the sofa. Walking softly for the sake of the neighbors below, he padded over and flung the door open.
“Thanks for bringing her this late. I’ll take her now.”
“Oh—Yeoreum’s brother! You’re still awake?”
Yeoreum stumbled forward, stepping on a delivery box by the door and lurching badly. As Taeyang caught her with an annoyed look, he finally noticed the box.
“Then I’ll head in now! Tell Yeoreum I’ll come pick her up tomorrow at lunch!”
“Yes. Get home safely.”
The delivery box brought inside the entryway had one corner crushed where Yeoreum had stepped on it.
He meant to check it after getting Yeoreum into her room, but clear letters caught Taeyang’s eye.
[▶︎Project heroine
The Cherry on the Parfait Belongs to the Heroine]
“...Goods?”
