Return of the Genius Photographer

Paju Film City, created as part of the Paju Cultural Industry Community, was a hub for everything related to the film industry, living up to its name.

From well-known film production companies…

To special effects firms, sound studios, and even cinemas.

Anything related to film was clustered nearby, making it an ideal location for ongoing shoots.

This also applied perfectly to the paparazzi photo shoot, which required multiple sets.

“First, set up the large props that we’ll use as background.”

“Got it.”

“Make sure the props over there are mounted with wires.”

I inspected the set in the studio we rented specifically for this shoot, making sure everything was in place.

With just a few days left until shoot day, I knew time was tight.

Survival programs are always like this, and with such a tight schedule, I had no choice but to come out and urge the crew on myself.

I had been spending quite some time at the set when—

“Well, it’s starting to look like a proper set.”

“Photographer Jung Woong, you’re here?”

Jung Woong had come by briefly to check out the shoot location.

“Is everything finished now?”

“No, we still have some final touches left.”

After a quick tour of the nearly completed set, he nodded with a surprised look of admiration.

“You can tell a lot of money’s gone into this. Are you really okay with that?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He asked cautiously, and I responded with a nod and a smile.

“I still don’t get it. Do you really need to go this far?”

When he first heard about what happened in the meeting, Jung Woong had disagreed with my approach.

He thought investing fifty million won in photos that would only air briefly on a broadcast was excessive.

From a practical perspective, he had a point.

Fifty million won was no small amount.

That money could be spent much more effectively on other shoots.

But my viewpoint was different.

“I’m sticking to what I said before. I see this broadcast not just as a project but as a chance to show my attitude and commitment to photography.”

If these were merely photos taken for a broadcast mission, perhaps his opinion would make sense.

But a broadcast isn’t just about the final products.

Moments like brainstorming with the models or capturing the shot itself—all these stages would be shown on camera.

My goal was to make sure my dedication and approach to the shoot came across, allowing the audience to see and feel it.

So, even if my actions seemed excessive for now, I knew that the image I’d portray and the recognition I’d gain in the future would make it all worthwhile.

In simple terms, I’d call it an investment in my future self.

“Hahaha!”

Upon hearing my explanation, Jung Woong burst into hearty laughter.

“Remarkable, truly remarkable.”

With an amused, exasperated smile, he shook his head and patted me on the shoulder, showing his support.

“As expected from you. You’re quite something.”

“Thank you.”

I offered him a brief word of gratitude.

“Well, it seems like the shoot preparations are going smoothly, so I’d better be off.”

“Leaving already? You must be quite busy.”

After a short conversation and a satisfied chuckle, Jung Woong stood to leave.

He hadn’t been here long, so I wondered why he was in such a hurry.

Curious, I asked, and his response was—

“Your competitor reached out to me.”

“Pardon?”

That definitely piqued my interest.

*****

A dusty old warehouse filled with a stale smell.

Kang San was inside, checking his equipment.

‘It’s been so long I barely remember where everything is.’

He didn’t have a personal studio.

Primarily working overseas, he rarely needed one. And frankly, he found the idea of maintaining a studio cumbersome.

However, when he was back in Korea, he occasionally needed a space, so he rented this warehouse to store his equipment.

As Kang San uncovered his gear, removing the sheets, a voice called out from the doorway.

“You’re probably the only photographer who treats such expensive equipment this carelessly.”

Jung Woong stepped into the warehouse, addressing Kang San.

“What do I do without a studio here?”

“I’ve told you before—you could store it all at my studio.”

“Ah, who would that benefit, huh? Planning to use it behind my back?”

Kang San chuckled playfully at Jung Woong’s words.

“Haha, well, who could stop me?”

Jung Woong’s tone was joking, but he knew Kang San would never actually leave his equipment with him.

Kang San disliked feeling indebted, and he wasn’t one to give or accept help easily.

“So why did you call me here?”

“Bored. Figured I’d have you keep me company.”

They continued chatting as they checked the equipment, and as they were nearly done, Kang San suddenly turned to Jung Woong.

“About that kid you mentioned last time… your protégé?”

“Woojin?”

“Yeah. I happened to overhear something during his shoot, and he said something strange.”

Kang San explained what he had witnessed—how Photographer Kim Jin-goo had pressured Woojin, asking him about his commitment to photography.

And Woojin had responded that he’d be willing to die twice for it.

Why would he say he’d die twice?

This curious answer had left Kang San with a lingering question.

“Why not once, but twice?”

“Probably just because he’s got such a strong resolve. You tend to obsess over the oddest things, you know.”

Jung Woong shrugged, dismissing it as nothing unusual. Woojin was an exceptional student in many ways, but there was nothing particularly strange about that conversation, in his view.

‘This kind of obsessive attention to small details is just part of Kang San’s identity,’ Jung Woong thought to himself.

To Jung Woong, Kang San had always been an unusual friend.

Unfettered by the rules set by others, he would insist on his own answers.

When taking photos, he often focused on things that others ignored.

And the results? They were nothing short of stunning.

It was this personality that led to his early success abroad.

A man seemingly indifferent to the world, yet someone the world couldn’t help but notice.

That was Kang San.

“He must really love photography, that’s all.”

Ignoring Jung Woong’s reply, Kang San continued his musings, fiddling with his camera.

“I wonder why that young guy is so immersed in it…”

Then, he turned his gaze toward Jung Woong, locking eyes with him.

“Every photographer has a story, don’t they? The fact that he said ‘twice’ makes me curious about his story.”

“Haha, would you look at that. If you’re that curious, just ask him, won’t you?”

“Forget it. Let’s just get ready for the shoot.”

Kang San pulled the sheet off his equipment, bringing out a camera.

“Oh, isn’t that the Nikon D2Xs? How’s it perform?”

“Don’t know yet. It’s my first time using it.”

Seeing the new camera, Jung Woong’s eyes gleamed, but Kang San responded nonchalantly.

“Time to put some models to work until I figure out the best way to use it.”

“Tsk, those poor souls are going to have it rough.”

“Between the paltry pay, mentoring, and judging, testing new gear is about the only thing I can look forward to, right?”

Kang San laughed, clearly entertained.

Jung Woong shook his head, feeling a bit sorry for the models who’d have to endure Kang San’s shoot.

*****

Elsewhere, the Doshuko shoot was in full swing.

“Photographer Kim Jin-goo, we’re ready to start your interview.”

A small space had been prepared for the interview, and the camera focused on Kim Jin-goo.

“Photographer Kim Jin-goo, could you please introduce yourself?”

The question was scripted, and Kim Jin-goo replied smoothly, without hesitation.

“I’m a photographer who primarily works on celebrity photo shoots. Most of the fashion spreads and album photos you see of celebrities come from my hands.”

“What motivated you to join this project?”

“The reason’s simple. Among these participants, there might be a future top model. I thought I’d seize the chance to meet them early.”

Kim Jin-goo continued his answers with a friendly, approachable smile.

“Did you spot any promising models?”

“Hmm… I think Ms. Lee Jin-kyung stands out. There’s something alive in her gaze.”

The questions flowed on.

“Have you heard that another team, led by photographer Nam Woojin, is investing millions of won of his own money for a shoot?”

The PD’s eyes gleamed as he asked.

Word had already spread among the crew about Woojin’s shoot. Not only was it surprising that he was funding it himself, but the amount—a whopping fifty million won, far exceeding his appearance fee—had become the talk of the set.

Kim Jin-goo was well aware of this as well.

‘Trying to win with money, is he?’

He recalled his earlier encounter with Woojin in the conference room—how Woojin’s daring gaze had ignored his “kind” advice. He’d thought Woojin was ambitious, but never imagined he’d go to such lengths for this shoot.

‘Ridiculous.’

To Kim Jin-goo, Woojin’s actions seemed foolish, a naïve move typical of amateurs at that age.

“Well… I think it’s a shame.”

“Sorry?”

“I’ve been there myself. Falling into the illusion that spending more on a shoot guarantees better results.”

Still smiling pleasantly, Kim Jin-goo continued.

“Investing in good equipment and a proper setup is important, but the quality of the shoot isn’t determined by the budget alone.”

His tone was relaxed and generous, as if he were imparting wisdom to a student.

“If anything, I’m glad. As a senior, I now have a chance to teach him that photography isn’t something you create with money.”

With that, the interview concluded.

*****

Jung Yoon-cheol reviewed the footage of Kim Jin-goo’s interview with a satisfied expression.

It was so flawless that there was almost no need for additional editing.

Working with a seasoned professional like Kim Jin-goo, who knew exactly how to convey his message while maintaining his image, was certainly a perk.

Just then, a staff member watching the playback beside Yoon-cheol asked him cautiously.

“Um, PD, who do you think will win?”

“Hmm?”

“Between Photographer Kim Jin-goo and Photographer Nam Woojin, I mean. Aren’t they clashing a bit? I’m curious about what will happen after the mission wraps up.”

The question made PD Jung chuckle as he turned to ask, “Who do you think will win?”

“Well, probably Photographer Kim Jin-goo, right? His experience and reputation are leagues above.”

The staff member replied confidently.

After all, despite Woojin’s rising profile as a rookie, the difference in age and career experience between him and Kim Jin-goo was vast.

It was like comparing featherweight and heavyweight.

To the staff member, the idea of Woojin beating Kim Jin-goo seemed absurd.

“And if Photographer Kim Jin-goo were to lose, it’d be a bit embarrassing, don’t you think? He’s clearly looking down on Woojin. If Woojin ends up winning…”

The staff member trailed off with a worried look.

“Well, that’s not really our problem, is it? We’re just here to capture the fun moments along the way.”

At this, PD Jung narrowed his eyes and grinned mischievously.