All My Firsts Are You (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 65

“It wasn’t like I started out as a secretary from the beginning. It was back when the director decided out of nowhere to make an independent film without any support from a major production company or anything else. Honestly, we did manage to scrape together some funding through social crowdfunding, but it was still woefully insufficient. Still, we went ahead and somehow started production with just that budget—of course, everything was terribly under-resourced. Back then, I was one of the crew members, running around every day scouting locations and often having nothing but a rice ball bought on the street to get through a meal.”

She recounted those past hardships with her mouth, yet her face was oddly full of energy. Though we’d only just met today, I hadn’t expected someone like her to show such a lively expression.

On the contrary, the more animated her face became, the more my own must have gradually darkened in response. It was only natural, yet for some reason, I felt inexplicably let down. I envied—no, I was jealous of—her for knowing a version of Jun from a time I’d never witnessed.

Perhaps sensing my mood, she shyly smiled and opened her lips to speak again. I tightly clenched my hands beneath the table, hidden from view.

She said,

“We even went all the way to Hokkaido just to capture snowy mountain scenery, wearing three sweaters and layering three or four pairs of socks—and still ended up bedridden the next day from shooting in that cold. The equipment wasn’t adequate either, so we’d climb onto the roof of a flatbed truck just to get a low-angle shot. Now, thinking back on the director’s current fame and the abundant production conditions, it all feels like a distant past—but that’s just how it was back then. Every hardship ended only to make way for the next, yet it felt good because there was drive and passion. Maybe even more so than now.”

Since Secretary Yoon’s hardship stories were also Jun’s stories, I couldn’t help but think of Jun as I listened to her.

Yet, her nostalgic tone about a past when Jun had even more drive and passion than now inadvertently suggested that Jun no longer possessed those qualities today.

“I see. Sounds like both you and the director went through a lot back then.”

All that came out of my mouth was a hollow, disconnected reply—the kind of light, meaningless remark only someone who hadn’t been there could make.

“We really did go through a lot—so much so that…”

Her heavy gaze began pressing down on me.

“That film was none other than ‘The Train’—the director’s debut and most iconic work. When he first mentioned his idea for this film, nobody reached out to him. Aside from a diploma from a prestigious American university, he had no notable credentials to show. So ‘The Train’ was made on the bare minimum budget, thanks entirely to the director, the crew, and the generous donors who contributed without regard for how the money would be used. And against everyone’s expectations, that very film became a huge hit.”

Secretary Yoon tapped lightly on the side of her teacup with a long fingernail, pausing briefly to choose her next words.

“Even if you’re not directly involved in the film industry, Ha Ru, you surely understand how critical this moment is for the director. Back then, countless production companies outright rejected him—calling his projects a waste of money, urging him to pick trendier topics, ignoring him repeatedly. Now, production companies are lining up to invest in his next project based solely on his name value. It’s as if the stage is finally ready for him to realize his dreams.”

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