The Past Unwritten

The morning sun brushed Seoul's skyline in soft peach and lavender hues as Kim Eun Jung stepped out of the taxi, script folder clutched tightly to her chest. Today was the official read-through of Winter First Love, and though she had triple-checked the time, she still arrived early — just after 8:30. Outside the building, a crowd of reporters had already gathered, cameras poised like hunters waiting for prey.

"Eun Jung-ssi!"

She turned to find Seo Mira waving her over.

"I was starting to think you'd vanished," Mira teased, falling in step with her.

"Nervous?"

"A bit," Eun Jung admitted with a nervous smile.

"Don't be. The director's excited to meet you."

Inside, the hallway buzzed with quiet activity. Crew members hurried past with clipboards and earpieces. Mira led her to a waiting room where a tall man in a tailored black suit stood flipping through a printed script. Director Ryu Hwang — one of Korea's most respected filmmakers — looked exactly like he did in interviews: sharp-eyed, calm, and thoughtful.

"Director Ryu," Mira called. "This is Kim Eun Jung, the screenwriter."

He looked up and gave a pleasant nod, extending his hand. "So, you're the writer behind this beautiful story."

Eun Jung bowed quickly, flustered. "Thank you. It's such an honor, sir."

"I read your script in one sitting," he said sincerely. "It's rare to find something that tugs at the heart that way. You're very talented."

Eun Jung felt her cheeks warm. "Thank you, Director. I just… I really poured my heart into this one."

Before the conversation could go further, a wave of noise rippled from outside. Camera flashes, excited murmurs, footsteps.

"Park Eun Ho has arrived!" someone shouted.

A sleek black Genesis rolled to a stop at the curb. The door opened, and Park Eun Ho stepped out dressed in a charcoal coat, black slacks, sunglasses on, expression unreadable. Reporters surged forward, shouting questions.

"Eun Ho-ssi, why this drama?"

"You just wrapped a film — no rest?"

"The story pulled me in," he said calmly, not breaking stride. "I'm looking forward to the challenge."

Behind him, Shin Minjae struggled to keep the reporters at bay.

"Let the man breathe, will you?" he muttered.

Moments later, the press shifted again.

"Han Jiwoo is here!"

If Eun Ho was winter in human form, Han Jiwoo was spring. Dressed in a beige suit with a navy turtleneck, he greeted fans with a warm smile and waved at every camera.

"Jiwoo-ssi! First time working with Director Ryu. Thoughts?"

"I've admired him since film school," Jiwoo said with a gentle chuckle. "Honestly, I'm just trying not to trip over my lines today."

And Reporters laughed.

Inside, Jiwoo approached Eun Ho and gave a slight nod. "Long time."

"Mm," Eun Ho replied, 

It was civil, polite — but far from friendly.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out.

"Jiwoo-ah!"

Everyone turned.

Min Haejin approached, glowing in a white pantsuit that seemed made for the spotlight.

"Haejin-ah," Jiwoo greeted, surprised.

Behind them, Minjae blinked. "Daebak. Hyung, was she casted too?"

Eun Ho didn't answer. He just watched her with a blank expression on his face

Moments later, the main trio — Park Eun Ho, Han Jiwoo, and Min Haejin — stood beside Director Ryu for the official press greeting. Cameras flashed.

A reporter stepped forward. "Eun Ho-ssi, Haejin-ssi, how does it feel to reunite after Moonlight Serenade?"

Min Haejin said with a smile "I'm honored. Working with Eun Ho again brings back great memories. He's one of the most professional actors I know."

Eun Ho nodded slightly. "We worked well together then. I believe this project will be even better."

"Jiwoo-ssi, first time collaborating with both leads. Nervous?"

"A little," Jiwoo said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I've read the script three times. I think it's special. I'm just happy to be part of it."

The reporters beamed. 

After the last group photo, they were ushered inside for the read-through.

—

The conference room was large and well-lit, a long rectangular table laid out with scripts, name tags, and water bottles. The air buzzed with anticipation.

Director Ryu stood.

"Thank you all for being here. Winter First Love is a story about timing, memory, and the ache of what-ifs. It's subtle, but powerful. I believe every one of you was chosen for a reason, and I'm looking forward to what we'll create together."

He looked toward Eun Jung.

"And now, let's hear from the heart behind the story — our writer, Kim Eun Jung."

Eun Jung froze.

Seo Mira nudged her gently. "Go on."

She stood and walked toward the front, heart pounding. Her voice wobbled as she bowed and held the mic.

"Hi, I'm Kim Eun Jung, the writer of Winter First Love. I've been writing for a while now, but this script is probably the most personal one I've ever done. It's… about that first love you never really forget. The one that lingers quietly, even when life moves on."

She looked around nervously.

"I just hope I did it justice. And if the drama flops… please blame the characters, not me. They were stubborn."

The room burst into laughter.

Even Park Eun Ho cracked the faintest smirk. He glanced at her — she looked a little familiar, but no bells rang. Just a flicker of something he couldn't place.

Eun Jung bowed again and scurried back to her seat.

Director Ryu smiled. "Beautifully said. Let's begin the read-through."

—

Meanwhile...

Three days into her job at Daehan Group, Taeri had learned one thing: Cha Jinhwan was not a man. He was a relentless machine in a tailored suit.

"Rearrange the files by date, then by client preference, then by color," he'd told her on Day One.

Then came the daily disinfecting of already-sterile surfaces. Followed by printing the company logo in 14 different fonts — because apparently, Helvetica looked "too smug."

On her second day, she had a five-minute break and went to the pantry for coffee. As she stirred her cup, she felt eyes on her.

"Is she the new PA?" someone whispered.

"She won't last the week."

"I heard the last one cried. Twice. In the bathroom."

Taeri stared into her coffee like it held the secrets of survival.

When she returned to her desk, Jinhwan appeared like a summoned ghost.

"You took seven minutes. Breaks are five."

"I—The elevator was slow—"

"Time doesn't wait for elevators."

He handed her a folder. "And remove all pens from my drawer. I only use black ink. The rest offend me."

Lunch break was no better. She sat eating in the corner when Jinhwan entered the lounge… wearing gloves.

He wiped down a chair. Twice. Then laid down a paper towel before sitting. From a sterilized container, he removed his tofu and broccoli, placing each piece on a sectioned tray using tongs.

Taeri watched in stunned silence. "He's not real," she whispered 

By day three, she had started muttering to herself.

"If I make it to Friday, I'm buying myself cake."

That afternoon, Jinhwan rang her intercom.

"Miss Kang, report to my office."

She entered cautiously.

"I need a 30-slide presentation on all Daehan-approved air fresheners and their scent profiles."

"…Excuse me?"

"For tomorrow. I don't like inconsistencies in the lobby's smell."

She stared at hi

m.

He looked up. "Problem?"

"…No. Of course not."

As she closed the door behind her, she muttered, "Please let this be a prank show. I'm ready to sign the release forms."