Free Web NovelFrom episode five onward — when Ji Haebeom and Eun Baekhap would properly enter the story — everyone expected stable ratings. At the very least, above 10 percent.
But the child-actor arc, with its relatively limited screen time, was still difficult to measure.
“It’ll probably do well.”
“It’s ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Director Ja. He’s got a solid fanbase.”
“And those two child actors are already making a name for themselves. Aren’t they basically DaeYeJong’s pride?”
“Yeah, yeah. At least first place in the time slot.”
They assumed it would succeed. The teaser had already shown impact. Most believed it would open comfortably around seven or eight percent.
“...The ratings.”
Reporter Wi looked seriously at his senior. freewebnσvel.cѳm
The senior stared at the beam projector screen with a thoughtful expression, as if calculating something deep inside his head.
“Ratings aren’t what matter.”
The answer that came out was unexpected. Not the usual numeric estimate he always gave.
“Then what matters?”
“Sunbae, don’t tell me you just can’t guess the ratings this time.”
First-episode ratings were something honed by years in the field — director prestige, writer reputation, star power, public buzz, production company momentum, competing time slots, fandom SNS firepower.
But this time was different.
“This... feels like it’s going to blow up overseas.”
It wasn’t calculation.
It was instinct.
Something beyond visible metrics.
“And not just a little.”
* * *
Word spread quickly through the village that an enormous wealthy man was moving in.
“Didn’t the Japanese leave? Why’s another one coming?”
“They say he’s Korean...”
“Ha! You think a regular Korean moves into a mansion like that? If he’s cozy with the Japanese, he’s Japanese.”
Speculating about the newcomer as they passed the towering walls became idle entertainment for the villagers.
“I heard he’s from Kobe. Big business over there. Generations, they say.”
“Then he’s Japanese! What Korean’s got generations of that? Ten, twenty years at most.”
But Taeseok was different.
“....”
Whoever moved in had nothing to do with him.
He woke before dawn and slept before dawn.
When things were busy, his name was called first. He didn’t walk — he ran.
That day was one of those days.
A massive ship cut through the deep blue sea, approaching slowly from afar.
“Taeseok—!”
“Yes!”
Unloading the cargo was the workers’ job. Taeseok ran quickly.
Once the ship docked and the cargo hold opened, the workers moved in precise formation — like a human conveyor belt.
Left to right. Hand to hand.
That was when a luxurious car pulled up nearby.
The chauffeur stepped out and hurried toward the ship. Soon, a well-dressed man approached, flanked by attendants.
“Tsk.”
He clicked his tongue at the sight of the harbor, clearly displeased.
Anyone could see he was wealthy.
Everything he wore probably cost more than the combined daily wages of Taeseok and all the laborers. From head to toe, he did not belong here.
The area stirred.
Even the workers paused, staring.
Polished leather shoes pressed against the rough dock.
Taeseok was still focused on lifting cargo — until the flow suddenly broke.
He looked up.
Seagulls cried.
The humid sea breeze swept through.
Ebony-black hair brushed against the tip of a girl’s chin. Sunlight poured down over the ocean behind her pale profile, glittering almost violently.
Taeseok stared at her.
The girl walked past without even glancing his way.
It felt like an invisible line had been drawn.
As if her entire existence declared that this side and that side were different worlds.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Taeseok’s heartbeat began to resemble a ship’s horn.
The car door opened. The girl was swallowed by the dark interior.
Taeseok watched the exhaust cloud linger long after the car disappeared.
* * *
By the next day, everyone knew the man.
A Korean planning to start a brewery supplying the American military — Hanamura.
“So he came all the way here to sell liquor.”
“With the Japanese gone, the brewery’s empty. The Americans drink all day — he’ll rake in money.”
Taeseok, who had always kept his head forward, now turned slightly — subtle enough not to show.
But the office worker watching could feel it.
“What! He cares!”
She hugged a pillow unconsciously, smiling wide as she admired Myeong Jeha’s face.
“His face gets backstory just by existing, and now they’re pouring narrative on top of it...”
Even dressed in worn clothes fit for poverty, Myeong Jeha carried it effortlessly.
Without costume distractions, the strong lines of his jaw and the veins in his hands were even more visible.
– He’s my husband ///
– I can’t believe I’m seeing a living historical port drama male lead on public broadcasting holy—
– Why is that face carrying cargo please
Earlier, there had been a distant shot capturing both of them in the same frame. Even separated by space, the tension was enough to make the office worker’s cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Make them meet already.”
She wiggled her toes, unable to contain the tingling anticipation.
Hanamura’s brewery venture began by courting high-ranking Americans. He gifted premium liquor, building relationships.
“Hahaha! This is splendid. Receiving such a gift on our first meeting?”
“First meetings become second. Then third.”
While Hanamura indulged in lavish social life daily, Rio remained alone in her room.
Separated from the main house in a detached building, her only activity was occasionally looking out the window.
The sky in Kobe and Joseon was the same. Rio’s eyes suggested it didn’t matter where she was.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She closed her eyes, lightly tapping her fingers to the clock’s second hand.
Each early morning, her nanny entered to brush her hair and dress her.
For display.
She stood with the servants to see Hanamura off in the morning and greet him at night.
That was her only function.
“Is this much sweeping enough?”
“Don’t half-ass it — scrub properly!”
That was when she heard an unfamiliar language outside the door.
Rio’s eyes flickered open.
Normally, the detached house was managed by servants from Kobe.
Outside, there was hushed commotion — an attempt at quiet voices, but the accent was strong.
Rio moved quietly toward the door.
Gold threads in her yukata shimmered as she walked.
The camera caught Rio leaning against the wall near the door — and servants laughing as they cleaned outside.
One door separated wealth and poverty.
But one side was withering.
The other was blooming.
“Is this the daughter’s room?”
“Shh. Call her ‘young lady.’”
Rio pressed closer to the door.
Knock knock.
She startled.
“Food! I mean... gohan!”
Trying politely to announce the meal, the woman waited.
Rio rose slowly. Very slowly. She opened the door.
Not the girl who had secretly listened.
But the rich daughter from Kobe.
“Then... yes. Deliciously. Oishiku... yes...”
The woman — old enough to be her mother — could not hide her excitement at entering such a grand room.
Rio turned her gaze away.
Silence swallowed her again.
A meal far superior to the workers’ scraps.
White rice steaming. Miso soup. Half a fish. Pickled vegetables. A neatly placed pair of utensils.
Once the woman left, the annex was quiet again.
“Deliciously...”
Rio repeated the word.
She pressed her palms together briefly and picked up her chopsticks.
She placed a bird-sized portion of rice into her mouth. Forced herself to swallow a few bites.
“...It tastes bad.”
The unused spoon felt like herself.
She sent the barely touched meal away. ƒreewebɳovel.com
* * *
“Taeseok! Come here.”
Taeseok received a new job.
“You still delivering newspapers at dawn?”
“Yes.”
“Wanna try something else? No — do it. Pays better. You know a few guys at the American base, right?”
He began delivering brewery byproduct mash to the American base.
For fertilizer.
Vegetables grown as hobby by high-ranking officers.
What others struggled desperately to cultivate was a pastime to them.
“Bring some over for fertilizer.”
Heavy. Reeking of alcohol.
Most would avoid it.
Taeseok nodded.
The pay was incomparable.
Before dawn, under a sky shifting from deep indigo to pale light, the massive brewery stood.
He secured the heavy container to his bicycle and began pedaling.
The brewery was some distance from Hanamura’s house, but cutting past it was faster.
The road was uneven. The bicycle rattled. His grip tightened.
When he reached the end of Hanamura’s wall, he stopped briefly.
“The rope...”
He checked the tightly bound container — adjusted it again.
Then he heard movement.
A white hand appeared over the wall.
And then—
A face so pale and clear it seemed unrelated to the harsh sunlight over the sea.
Their eyes met.
Birds cried.
After a brief silence, the girl spoke first.
“Joseon bastard.”
And that was it.
Episode one of 〈The Great Garland〉 ended there.
– ???
– ?????
– What the hell did she just say
– What is this ending lol
– Someone bring the masked hero
Every community exploded instantly.
