Chapter 145: Chapter 145

Film is a visual art.

That is the dictionary definition.

Kim Byul preferred a more literary expression.

Film is the art of light.

The classroom is dark.

It’s not lighting that makes the classroom dark. It’s the sound of monsters imitating humans while wearing school uniforms, the desires of youth beaten and lost by the teacher’s stick, the grotesque scene of the weakest of their kind pecked to death like chicks packed in a box. These things settle in the air of the classroom like mist.

That is the darkness I feel.

A golden bird rises from the ashes.

Feeling the gust stirred by its flapping wings shaking her heart, Kim Byul woke up from the world inside the movie.

Kim Byul felt like she had become the little child who used to sit in front of the TV, absorbed in movies with a dumb expression and mouth agape, despite her parents’ nagging that it would ruin her eyesight.

The film she saw back then was directed by So Tae-woong, and the film she just watched now was also directed by So Tae-woong.

So Tae-woong, the film director who had led Kim Byul down the path of acting.

The master of cinematic art who had brought so many stars of the silver screen to life stood right before her.

And in the very center of the art he crafted, Kim Byul found herself.

At last, Kim Byul felt like she had achieved her dream.

A single tear rolled down Kim Byul’s cheek.

For Kim Byul, the profession of being a celebrity or an actor was closer to a daily routine that could hardly be called a dream.

Reality isn’t something to achieve, but something to endure.

She thought it was too long a journey to suddenly feel the satisfaction of becoming an actor-

Kim Byul sighed, releasing the emotions that had built up inside her.

And naturally, she wiped away her tears with the corner of the blanket that Moon In was covering himself with, as she reflected on the film.

“I’m glad I became an actor.”

Even though Kim Byul had cried while watching a rough, incomplete edit of the film rather than the final version, her reaction didn’t seem particularly strange.

The greatness of cinematic art is that it reveals itself even to those who don’t fully understand it.

The angle of the lighting is not an element that ‘symbolizes’ a certain feeling.

It simply ‘gives’ that feeling.

That’s why it’s magic.

Because of this, even those who didn’t know anything about filmmaking still felt emotions similar to Kim Byul, albeit to varying degrees.

The more sensitive ones cried like Kim Byul did, and even those less sensitive didn’t find it strange to see others crying.

Amid these various reactions, So Tae-woong quietly smiled.

“How is it? Are you still worried about where the film is headed?”

Through a process of denial, apology, testimony, confession, and self-criticism, the staff came together once again, united in purpose.

The scheming of the factionalist Kim Byul, who had led a collective rebellion, had been crushed by the revered director’s miraculous artistic guidance. Now, the film production team had nothing but victory, and more victory, ahead of them.

Kim Byul, though awkwardly, smiled sincerely at the same time.

“Ha, haha… I’m sorry!”

The film was not yet complete.

There were still many lines left for her to act out.

For the first time in a long while, she felt more anticipation than fatigue from that fact.

For some, art is life, but for others, art is business.

Lim Yang-wook was gradually leaning toward the latter.

How long had it been since he last watched a movie or read a book?

He couldn’t remember.

A publisher who doesn’t engage in any cultural activities… It seems he really hit rock bottom.

But it can’t be helped. With overtime work every day, when would he have time to read books?

Besides, Lim Yang-wook wasn’t even in the business of publishing books anymore, but managing authors.

The Publishing Management Department, which had moved its office from Baekhak Publishing to Baekhak Entertainment, had finished a brief adjustment period and was now operating in full force.

There were no more villains lurking in the background to drag them down, no employees suddenly distressed by homesickness, and no chronic budget shortages.

Everything was in place.

So now, if they failed, it would be 100% due to a lack of competence.

Lim Yang-wook was living his company life under the weight of that pressure.

“What did CEO Seo Woon-pil say?”

“He said it’s still too early to tell.”

“That won’t do… Let him know I’ll visit him personally to discuss it.”

Lim Yang-wook’s main task was no longer managing Moon In.

The Publishing Management Department had fully transitioned from being a one-man team revolving around Moon In to a full-scale management business overseeing dozens of authors.

They now managed the rights to hundreds of works written by these authors, promoted media adaptations, arranged TV appearances and lectures for the authors, and handled countless tasks not listed in any manual.

From now on, Lim Yang-wook was treading into new territory he hadn’t experienced before.

He had leveled up from a middle manager to just a manager.

In terms of web novels, it felt like a regressor living longer than their original life…

The “strongest returnee” Lim Yang-wook uttered a line that someone experiencing such overwhelming uncertainty might say.

Of course, nothing appeared.

Feeling awkward, Lim Yang-wook scratched his head, but then Kim Ga-ryung, who was passing by, mimicked him.

“Stop with the nonsense.”

But suddenly, Kim Ga-ryung’s eyes opened wide with a flash.

Lim Yang-wook instinctively jumped in surprise.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Kim Ga-ryung hurriedly looked away, trying to change the subject.

Still, he tapped the air with his hand as if he were seeing something.

What’s this? Could it be that this guy can actually see it?

Lim Yang-wook was confused for about two seconds before noticing Kim Ga-ryung’s smirk. That’s when he realized it was just a prank.

Kim Ga-ryung disappeared.

Lim Yang-wook, feeling a sense of self-loathing for having been tricked even for a second by such a ridiculous joke, rubbed his smooth head in frustration.

There really isn’t a single person he can trust.

Even if he wanted to rely on the CEO, the CEO was relying solely on him, so who else could he turn to?

Honestly, it’s legendary how, even after going through all this effort running the department, it still brings in less money than what Moon In brought in from Japan last season.

Half-tearful, Lim Yang-wook glanced at the movie poster stuck on the office cabinet.

It was a simple and static design, with Kim Byul wearing black sunglasses, zombies in school uniforms, an astronaut holding a balloon, and a witch in a doctor’s coat, all arranged together.