Free Web NovelThe voices of the wholesale runners filled the air, mixed with the rustling of massive bags, the faint dust of clothes, and that distinct warehouse smell of new garments.
“Boss—long time no see.”
“Jihye! You actually came?”
“Of course I came.”
“Wait a second. Yes, boss. That one’s going out today.”
Behind the owner, still busy on the phone, clothes were packed tightly across every inch of space.
Outside, it was winter—but inside Doota, it was already spring. From the racks in front to the ones in the back, everything was light and thin.
“Right? Right, Han Yeoreum?”
“Yes...”
The moment she hung up, she raised her phone and snapped a picture of me. I subtly tilted my angle.
Make it cute, please.
“Can I post this on our shop story? I’ll buy you coffee.”
“Oh, of course.”
Please go ahead and brag that you saw me in person. And don’t forget to write something nice and detailed while you’re at it.
“Did something blow up for you, boss? You’ve got a lot of stock piled up.”
“There’s something that did well on B-bly. Some girl group member wore it and it shot up the rankings. Now other shops are already copying it like crazy.”
“Still, you’ve got to ride the wave while it’s here. Add more color variants.”
“I was going to anyway, but Yunss is making a fuss, telling us to add a mint color just for them. The sample’s coming out today. Between Shinma orders and unshipped stock, I’m dying over here, seriously.”
As I listened to their conversation, I turned ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) my head.
The wholesale runners carrying massive bundles moved busily through the space.
Some shops were receiving coffee deliveries, while others had employees snapping at new shop owners who couldn’t even properly state their business name.
2 a.m.
A time when everyone else would be asleep.
And yet this place alone felt vividly alive.
“Tired?”
“No. It’s fun.”
“Let’s go downstairs and grab some tteok skewers. Then we’ll do one more round.”
Coordinator Hwang had far more stamina than I expected. How could she not show even a hint of exhaustion?
I headed to a chicken skewer truck right in front of Doota. But around it, there were trucks that didn’t look like typical street food vendors.
“What are those trucks, unni?”
“Those are dedicated trucks sent by the big shopping malls. Around 6 a.m., they’ll be completely filled with bags from inside.”
Biting into her skewer, she added,
“You’ve got to watch the sunrise here. That’s when you can really say you’ve been to Dongdaemun.”
And three hours later, I understood what she meant.
The sun rose. Trucks moved busily. In front of the buildings, people stacked bags overflowing with clothes, pushing carts forward. Wholesale runners sped by on motorcycles. Women with purchase bags slung over their shoulders smoked cigarettes. Men talked on the phone. Delivery drivers carried someone’s morning.
It wasn’t even a proper morning yet.
The earliest hours of dawn—and Dongdaemun was still alive, moving steadily.
Even though I hadn’t done anything, standing in the middle of that heat, I felt like I had become part of it. Like I belonged here.
“....”
I felt like I understood Nam Pyeonghwa, just a little.
“Unni. Can I ask you a favor?”
Still looking out at the streets of Dongdaemun, I spoke.
“What is it?”
“Well...”
* * *
Hwang Boseok welcomed Byeon Juhwa, whom he hadn’t seen in a while.
“Juhwa, you’re here. It’s been a long time.”
Sitting in a rocking chair, Hwang Boseok smiled as he looked at her, now grown.
“You’ve gotten big. Feels like just yesterday you were crying your eyes out on set.”
“Do you think I’m a kid? I’m the same height now as I was back then.”
Byeon Juhwa placed the latte and madeleine she had brought onto the table.
“Smells nice. You drink coffee now?”
“I’ve been living on it since I started working as an assistant director.”
“You used to say your heart would race too much if you drank coffee. Looks like you’ve really become a broadcast person.”
Hwang Boseok gave her a look that clearly asked, so why are you here?
“Teacher. You haven’t decided on the director for your next project yet, right?”
“I knew it. Word really travels fast.”
“From what I heard...”
Taking a sip of her coffee, Byeon Juhwa’s eyes lit up.
“They’re considering Hong Suryeon and Han Yeoreum.”
“Well. That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Then why do you sound so indifferent? It’s your project!”
“Why else?”
Hwang Boseok smiled gently.
“Because I don’t feel it.”
Byeon Juhwa shook her head at the familiar answer.
“You’re leaning toward Hong Suryeon right now, aren’t you?”
“‘Right now’? You make it sound like I’m going to change my mind.” freewebnσvel.cøm
“...Hmm.”
“Didn’t you just work with Suryeon? If something upset you, just say it. She’s not a bad person.”
Hwang Boseok assumed she had come to recommend a different actress. But Byeon Juhwa shook her head in surprise.
“Why would I think that way about her? The atmosphere on set was great, the ratings were great. If I get the chance, I’d love to work with her again. It’s Hong Suryeon, after all.”
“Then why say ‘right now’?”
“It’s just... part curiosity, part a personal wish.”
Her tone turned serious.
“I met Director Ja recently. You know him, right? <The Great Garland>.”
“Of course I do. That crazy guy. Ha.”
“He said something.”
Hwang Boseok blinked at what came next.
“He said even you won’t be able to resist.”
“Me?”
Even after Byeon Juhwa left, Hwang Boseok remained seated in his rocking chair, letting himself sway gently.
He had more success than he needed. There was no rush. It didn’t have to be now.
If anything, he wanted to release <Dongdaemun Romance> a few years later. There was no reason to hurry. In fact, that thought was the strongest one right now.
But her words lingered in his mind.
“They said she came to see you.”
That girl.
Director Ja’s Yeon Huijae.
As Hwang Boseok thought of Han Yeoreum, a romantic melody played softly from his record player.
* * *
Today was the day I would finally meet Writer Hwang Boseok.
I was completely prepared.
“Yeoreum, be careful. You might trip—use your hand on the wall.”
“Okay!”
I stepped out of the car. The reclusive writer’s studio was a standalone house overlooking Bukhansan.
Ding-dong.
As I rang the doorbell, the warm-toned wooden gate opened smoothly. I walked inside along the stone path.
“It’s open, come in.”
His voice came from inside. I took a quiet breath.
“Hello—.”
As I stepped into the entrance, I saw him in the distance, sitting in a rocking chair in the living room.
A top writer of this era—someone I had only ever seen on TV or in the news.
“Yes. Nice to meet you.”
Bathed in sunlight from the window, he turned his head and looked at me, speaking slowly.
“...Miss Yeoreum.”
I walked toward him, trying not to show any dizziness.
The king of ratings. A master of romance in Korea. He stared at me intently.
“Just like I heard... yes. I see.”
He dragged out his words slightly.
“You don’t usually dress like that, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You came like this to show me?”
“Yes. After reading the synopsis and character description for <Dongdaemun Romance>, I wanted to meet you at least once.”
I pushed up my glasses with one hand. The lenses were heavy and kept sliding down.
“I hope you’ll consider me, even a little, for the role of Nam Pyeonghwa.”
I interpreted Nam Pyeonghwa differently from Hong Suryeon—as someone quiet and diligent.
Because she was serious about her work, she had less time to dress up. If she worked from midnight to midnight, if she only had one day off a week, then this was what Nam Pyeonghwa would look like.
She had never properly used a curling iron, so her bangs bent awkwardly and split.
Her glasses were double-compressed lenses, making her eyes look smaller. She hadn’t kept up with basic grooming like trimming her eyebrows or exfoliating her skin. It was a mess—but since today was important, she had at least put on some foundation.
But without setting powder, every time her glasses slipped, they scraped across her cheeks, smudging and lifting the makeup.
Every detail showed traces of someone who had never had the time to properly take care of herself.
Because if she was the ‘real’ ordinary girl described in Hwang Boseok’s character notes—someone who had never truly dressed herself up—this was exactly what she would be.
