Return of the Genius Photographer

With the PD’s signal, the show began.

The host, Jung Yoon-joo, carrying the unmistakable elegance of a former model, glanced at her cue cards and began the proceedings.

“Alright, before we reveal the theme for the third mission, let me first explain the format.”

A tense atmosphere filled the set.

The twelve contestants standing before Yoon-joo waited in suspense, barely breathing.

“Based on your results from previous missions, you will be divided into three teams: Black, White, and Gray, according to your ranking.”

This part was familiar, having been covered in the pre-meeting. It was a group competition mission, and understanding her words, the contestants began to glance around, likely calculating their potential teammates based on their previous scores.

“Each team will receive the same concept, and within that, you’ll need to stand out individually.”

As if expecting this reaction, Yoon-joo continued with a smile.

“After the mission, we’ll calculate each team’s score by excluding the highest and lowest individual scores, and the eliminated contestant will be selected from the team with the lowest overall score.”

At the mention of elimination, murmurs rippled through the contestants, with the camera capturing each worried face.

Watching them, I found the whole scene quite engaging.

‘Wait… excluding the highest and lowest scores?’

That part hadn’t been in the pre-meeting, likely added to emphasize fairness in the scoring process. Since the photographers were both mentors and judges, this safeguard seemed sensible.

Of course, there were separate judges, and we were just panel members assisting with the judging, so our influence on scores would be minimal. Still, it was reassuring to know they had measures in place to prevent bias.

Just then, Yoon-joo moved to introduce us, the mentors for the mission.

“The mentors who’ll assist you with this mission have been specially brought on board.”

Spotlights illuminated our panel seats, and the contestants’ eyes turned toward us.

“First, we have Photographer Kang San.”

At Yoon-joo’s mention, Kang San stood and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Next is Photographer Kim Jin-goo.”

Kim Jin-goo was introduced next.

“And finally, Photographer Nam Woojin.”

With a straightforward introduction, Yoon-joo presented each of us. I guessed that in the actual broadcast, they’d probably play a short video of our introductions at this point.

“Each of you will choose a mentor to guide you in the third mission.”

With that announcement, excited whispers grew louder. Some contestants were already eyeing us, weighing their options, while others looked confused, still processing the mission details. A few recognized Kang San and Kim Jin-goo and were whispering to others about them.

It was a range of reactions, but no one seemed to recognize me.

“The selection order will start with the Black team, whose members scored highest in the second mission.”

At her call, four Black team members walked forward to the front of the runway.

“Alright, Black team, you have three minutes to discuss and decide.”

I overheard snippets of their tense conversation.

“Let’s go with Kang San.”

“Yeah, definitely…”

“Even if we get eliminated, it’ll be a great experience.”

“Working with Kang San would be…”

Their decision was swift.

“We choose Photographer Kang San as our mentor.”

Just as I expected, Kang San was picked first.

“Next, White team, please come forward.”

“We choose Photographer Kim Jin-goo as our mentor.”

As expected, Kim Jin-goo was chosen next.

“And that leaves the Gray team to work with Photographer Nam Woojin for the third mission.”

Naturally, the lowest-ranking team would be working with me.

“Who’s that?”

“Never heard of him before… He looks pretty young.”

“Uh-oh, are we in trouble?”

My team members exchanged nervous glances, their uncertainty evident as they looked my way.

“Now that all the teams are set, it’s time to reveal the theme. For the third mission on Challenge! Supermodel Korea, the theme is paparazzi photos.”

With the theme announced, the host continued.

“Now, contestants, please follow your mentors to the designated meeting rooms.”

And with that, we headed toward the meeting rooms.

***

The atmosphere in the meeting room was as grim as a funeral.

Whether from tension or anxiety, my team members were sighing heavily, lost in thought.

What should I say to them first…?

It was such an awkward situation.

‘I wonder if the other teams feel like this too?’

Curious about the energy in the other rooms, I considered it might just be nerves before the mission.

But then—

–Wow!

–That’s awesome!

–We don’t even have to worry about elimination!

‘Of course not.’

Cheers echoed through the wall. Likely from Jin-goo’s meeting room next door… they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Meanwhile, here we were…

“Can we even win?”

“I’m facing elimination again…”

The atmosphere was sinking into despair.

“This just isn’t fair, is it?”

A tall woman, the tallest among the contestants, grumbled.

“What’s the difference between this setup and telling the lowest-ranking team to just go get eliminated?”

Unfazed by the camera and crew beside her, she openly aired her complaints about the judging format.

And her dissatisfaction seemed to give the others permission to vent their own.

“Exactly. Besides, it’s not even like we’re starting on equal ground…”

“We didn’t even get to choose our teams…”

But the more I listened, the more uncomfortable I felt.

I could understand them feeling nervous since their futures depended on this, but… this felt like they were saying they were doomed to fail just because they got me as their photographer.

‘No, don’t let it get to you. You knew this was coming.’

I shook my head, grounding myself. I’d anticipated reactions like this even before meeting them.

By now, the production team probably thought I was dancing in the palm of their hand.

But they were wrong.

This was exactly what I wanted.

Just wait—I’m about to close my hand right over theirs.

‘First, I need to turn this mood around.’

To do that, I had to reshape how these aspiring supermodels saw this situation.

Breaking the silence, I asked, “How much do you know about the photographers?”

The room fell quiet at the sudden question.

“Um, not really.”

“I know a little bit.”

“I’ve heard of some famous ones…”

Their puzzled faces looked back at me.

“First, let’s talk about Kang San. He’s one of the top ten photographers in the industry.”

I met each team member’s eyes with a serious expression as I continued.

“His free spirit lets him work across any genre, and he’s known as an ‘all-rounder’ among photographers.”

My teammates were completely focused on me, picking up on the gravity of my words, though they still weren’t sure of my purpose.

“And as for Kim Jin-goo, he’s so established that he handles almost all the celebrity shoots in the country.”

I spoke with a calm tone, as if narrating the situation to them.

“In short, the photographers who went to the other teams are truly remarkable.”

As I continued, the faces of my low-ranking Gray team members grew tense.

Finally, one of them, the tall contestant who’d first voiced her complaints, looked at me and asked,

“Then what about you, Photographer?”

The question hung in the air, and Woojin responded as if he’d been waiting for it.

“Well, I’m similar to all of you.”

“What…?”

“To be frank, I’m behind compared to those two.”

Then he added, “Just like you’re behind the other teams, right?”

The blunt honesty struck a nerve, and the participants’ expressions tightened.

“But isn’t that what makes you desperate?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Are you going to just sit here whining, lose, and head home empty-handed?”

One contestant fired back, flustered. “But it’s so unfair… our chances are…”

“If you think you’ll lose, you’ll lose, even in a winnable fight.”

Woojin didn’t miss a beat, as if he’d expected the reaction.

“Aren’t you here to win? Give it everything you have, like it’s life or death.”

His tone was soft and low, yet there was an unmistakable pressure behind his words.

There was something almost charismatic about Woojin as he spoke.

“And effort never betrays you. Even if you don’t win, if an agent notices you, this could lead to other opportunities.”

Gradually, the mood in the room began to shift.

“If you’re going to use this media exposure to your advantage, think about how you’ll make the most of it.”

It was as if they were under a spell cast by Woojin’s words.

“If anyone’s going to sit here whining like a seven-year-old, you’re welcome to leave now. This might be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for you, but for me, it’s just work.”

Strangely, a spark was returning to the eyes of the contestants who had been drowning in despair a moment ago.

“I haven’t even started, and I won’t work with someone who’s already lost. So if you’re leaving, do it now.”

The atmosphere was entirely under Woojin’s control now.

Like a veteran helmsman, he skillfully steered his wavering team back on course, raising their spirits.

“And if you trust me and follow along, I’ll make sure we win.”

There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice.

Finally, some of the contestants, no longer hiding behind hesitation, looked at him with tentative hope.

“Can we really win?”

“We’re all people who were nearly eliminated in the last round…”

Though their despair was fading, their confidence hadn’t fully returned. They must have felt the pressure of potential elimination.

Perhaps they were even afraid to hope for fear of disappointment.

“You mentioned chances earlier, didn’t you? I don’t fight battles I can’t win. In fact, this is an opportunity. You know the phrase, ‘high risk, high reward,’ right?”

Woojin’s answer was bold, as though he didn’t notice—or chose not to notice—their remaining doubts.

“No one expects anything from us right now. If we win, the payoff will be that much greater.”

Silence spread through the room.

“So think about how much spotlight we’ll get if we pull this off.”

But this silence didn’t signify unease or doubt as it had earlier.

It was a crescendo—a sign that the hope buried deep within them, overshadowed by their frustration, was beginning to rise.

“Let’s change our team name.”

Woojin stepped toward the whiteboard standing in one corner of the room. At the center was a sheet labeled “Gray Team” to mark their group, which he removed without hesitation.

In its place, he wrote a new name across the center.

— Underdogs —

“From now on, our team name is Underdogs.”

*****

Gnet Rooftop

While Woojin was deep in the throes of a heated meeting, photographer Kim Jin-goo had already wrapped up his discussion and was out on the rooftop with PD Jung Yoon-cheol, smoking a cigarette.

“Haha, PD Jung, sounds like you’ve got a great spot lined up, huh?”

With a greedy smile, Kim Jin-goo looked at Jung Yoon-cheol. To Kim, the mission itself held little importance; he was far more intrigued by the prospect of PD Jung’s promised treat.

After all, his participation in this shoot was just to boost his visibility on television—definitely not to seriously work with a bunch of amateur models. Let alone young, inexperienced hopefuls. Spending time in serious meetings about them felt like a complete waste.

“Of course. I’ll make sure it’s somewhere you’ll enjoy, Photographer Kim.”

“Ha, knew I could count on you, PD Jung. You really know how to win people over.”

As their conversation deepened, carried along like the trail of cigarette smoke, Jung Yoon-cheol broached another topic.

“By the way, Photographer Kim, could you do me a small favor and help me get some good footage?”

“What kind?”

Kim tilted his head in curiosity.

“I want to capture Nam Woojin getting a bit riled up on camera.”

Seeing Kim’s curious look, PD Jung continued his explanation slowly.

“The main reason we brought in Woojin was for some dynamic footage. Let’s be honest, his career doesn’t have the same credentials or recognition as yours.”

“True enough.”

“So since he’ll only appear for this mission anyway, I thought we could get some entertaining footage out of him as he interacts with the contestants we’re ready to eliminate.”

“And how, exactly?”

“Well, since Woojin’s new to television, don’t you think a little nudge from you could get a nice reaction? A shot of him snapping on camera could be golden.”

With a smile, PD Jung exhaled a puff of smoke, implying he didn’t need to elaborate further. Catching on, Kim took a long drag on his cigarette, grinning as he considered the idea.

‘Hmm… he’s been surprisingly calm so far, but if I poke him just right, he might lose his temper, forgetting the cameras are even there…’

Kim had already tested Woojin a few times, seeing if he’d crack. After all, fresh-faced rookies who didn’t understand their place in the industry needed to be knocked down a peg. But Woojin’s composure had kept him from rising to the bait—so far.

But now, with PD Jung’s permission, he could really let loose…

‘Hehehe.’

Thinking of Woojin, Kim let out a sinister chuckle. Jung Yoon-cheol’s suggestion was too tempting to pass up.