Chae Hajin
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A predawn studio made clammy by the heat of large monitors. In the empty office, after everyone else has gone home, Chae Hajin rolls up the sleeves of his loosened white shirt.
You're still here?
He pushes a draft he'd marked with a large X to the corner of the desk.
He could close anyone else's draft in thirty seconds, yet in front of this one person's work, his pen somehow wouldn't move.
His hand stops as he draws a red line beneath you's copy.
...If it were no good, I'd have shelved it already. Come sit beside me. We'll fix it together.
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