What is a work?
There is no definitive answer.
If you ask five people, you’ll get five different answers, and picking the best one isn’t easy because each answer is shaped by the unique life paths and insights of those who give it.
That’s what a work fundamentally is.
It varies depending on who creates it and with what mindset. Even renowned director Ko Tae-min, known for his meticulousness, was no exception and currently observed the situation silently.
Lost in deep thought amidst all the commotion, he mused that everyone’s view on works differs.
‘This is evident just by looking around.’
To Park Jun, the creator of “Sword”, a work means loyalty.
He took his greatest supporter as a source of motivation and crafted his work as a form of gratitude, so in Director Park’s view, a work is likely a form of righteousness.
The case for Lee Geum-sook, the writer, and Choi Hee-won, the PD of “Special Mobile Unit 808”, was different. For them, a work is like a stepping stone over a brook.
When individual interpretations come together in the world of the work and are placed like stones, they eventually form a bridge. Ko Tae-min had recently observed their working method.
To Kim Jun-ki, who became a criminal, a work was desire.
‘That guy treated works like pottery.’
He handled everything as he pleased, forcefully breaking anything that didn’t meet his expectations. Ko Tae-min had witnessed his extreme actions many times.
Finally, what is a work to himself, Ko Tae-min?
‘What a work means to me…’
Ko Tae-min didn’t struggle with this question for long.
‘A ship.’
A ship navigating the vast sea.
Ko Tae-min viewed his works like a ship, where everyone rows together with one heart and one mind, eventually reaching the destination of completion.
Perhaps this fixation was what made him known as a “meticulous master,” since he believed all oars must move in unison to create.
So.
Perhaps.
This chaotic situation made him realize that the weight of being a master now held him back.
‘Things are too complicated now. It wasn’t like this before.’
Ko Tae-min reflected on his past.
Looking back, making his first movie was simple.
His ship was no bigger than a raft, with only himself rowing. No one interfered with where it was heading.
After several hits and successes,
his ship grew slightly but was still manageable as a rowboat.
Most passengers were his fans or followers. They understood his vision and helped row.
However,
when he finally reached the ranks of the masters,
the ship had grown too large.
‘…’
Ko Tae-min looked around.
Renowned pianist Ham Ah-yoon, top-notch crew members from various fields, up-and-coming Sua, and Mystic’s representative Kim I-seo… The meaning was clear.
The ship had grown too large, with a diverse group of passengers.
Considering other factors, the scale was likely double what was visible. With more investors watching now.
More people naturally meant more conflicts.
This was why it was increasingly difficult for Ko Tae-min to create the works he pursued. He had to strive for “perfect cooperation” with the growing number of people.
Of course, leading them could be the director’s ability.
Ko Tae-min knew that using his position and power, he could suppress the passengers to some extent.
But he had his own beliefs against doing so.
‘Once you force it, perfect cooperation becomes impossible.’
Coercion always leaves resentment.
Control might be possible. If Ko Tae-min forced people to row, the ship would move, but the forced individuals would harbor resentment and doubt.
People rowing with resentment and doubt wouldn’t cooperate well, leading to imbalance. Ko Tae-min disliked the results that came from such methods.
He believed only when everyone shared the same destination and moved forward with equal effort could a work truly be called one.
In the past, people around him remarked that what he pursued was too unrealistic. However, Ko Tae-min always replied that creating things that don’t exist in reality was worth pursuing despite their lack of practicality.
The way everyone moved forward with the same heart.
His association “Barungil” also had this meaning.
Thus, Ko Tae-min tested Sua in front of everyone. He believed that by evaluating Sua’s insight, the production team members would change their minds to a degree.
But.
‘…It was too much to ask.’
There was a significant problem.
‘Ham Ah-yoon’s status as a legend.’
Ultimately, Ko Tae-min’s persuasion failed. Though most recognized Sua’s discernment, many still thought Ham Ah-yoon was superior.
He couldn’t blame them. They valued verified piano skills over verified insight.
Ko Tae-min continued to ponder.
Is there a way to encourage cooperation without forcing anyone? If resentment arises in someone’s heart, it would tarnish the finished work—was there an optimal solution?
That’s when,
“Didn’t you just hear Ah-yoon play? Are you still challenging her?”
“Yes. I’m serious about the Kim So-hee role. I also have a passion for music and believe I’m not inferior.”
The conflict between AWA Entertainment’s director and Sua began. First, Ko Tae-min was surprised by Sua’s attitude.
‘Sua’s confidence is unlike a rookie’s.’
Perhaps it was the confidence only a rookie could show.
Shouting loudly towards Ham Ah-yoon’s side was something others wouldn’t dare to do. Especially with the numerous production team members on Ham Ah-yoon’s side.
He hadn’t thought to warn her beforehand.
He hadn’t anticipated Sua would be so bold. Neither he nor anyone here had expected it. Most people’s similar expressions evidenced this.
‘Heavens. I need to find a solution…’
Ko Tae-min thought even harder. Conflict between both sides was undesirable since Sua was a promising new talent he cared about, and Ham Ah-yoon was a respected legend he admired.
The conflicting situation between both sides was troublesome.
However,
Ko Tae-min decided to compromise with his beliefs for the first time.
‘This can’t be helped. Mediation is necessary.’
Though his ideal was the “Barungil” where everyone united, he couldn’t let things reach the worst scenario. Ko Tae-min knew when to choose the next best option.
Even if the ideal picture had to be abandoned, it would be better than the ship breaking apart. It was time to rely on the director’s authority. Only force and coercion could calm this situation.
But.
Something strange happened.
“Alright.”
When Ham Ah-yoon cut in, disregarding the director,
“Then let’s do this.”
The moment Ham Ah-yoon and Sua’s gazes collided and the two began to find a compromise,
Ko Tae-min paused.
‘Sua and Ah-yoon… No…?’
Their figures began to appear different.
‘…Kim So-hee and Park Min-seo?’
Kim So-hee with savant syndrome.
Elite genius Park Min-seo.
Ko Tae-min’s sunken eyes moved like lenses, and before him, the two roles merged. The image of the two geniuses fiercely competing on their pianos became vivid.
‘This… might not be bad.’
Ham Ah-yoon’s suggestion was rational during this time.
Even though she held such a position, she didn’t try to suppress Sua with authority. Instead, she suggested a reasonable condition.
“A battle of piano skills is unreasonable.”
Ham Ah-yoon, who had piano skills but wasn’t chosen by the director, offered to step aside if Sua could showcase enough talent.
‘…’
Instead of intervening, Ko Tae-min crossed his arms quietly.
This was the instinct and intuition of a master.
Everyone held their oars but had different directions and meanings. As the ship “Crescendo Tomorrow” was caught in a storm, it seemed that a resolution would come if he waited a little longer.
It didn’t seem like it would take long either.
At most, three minutes. It seemed like the outcome would be clear within that time.
