Return of the Genius Photographer

Jung Woong’s studio was a place where many types of people came and went every day.

From external clients who had scheduled photo shoots, to the receptionists who greeted them, to the photographers who rented workspaces, and the assistants who helped them with their shoots.

Among all these different groups of people, the largest by far were the photography assistants. Each photographer had at least one, and sometimes as many as three or four, assistants. As a result, the studio had built a sizable community of these assistants.

Especially in the case of Jung Woong, who frequently attracted people eager to learn photography under him, he had more assistants than most other photographers. While many of these assistants were only there to help out temporarily, some harbored dreams of becoming photographers themselves.

As Professor Lee Kang-sik once pointed out to Jung Woong, these assistants didn’t see themselves as just ordinary helpers. They thought of themselves as disciples, learning from the master, hoping to one day stand where he stood. They were like young lions in Kilimanjaro, eyeing the position of their leader, believing that one day, through observing and assisting, they could rise to his level.

For these aspiring photographers, the current rumor circulating in the studio was anything but welcome news.

It was the dead of night, the cold air pricking at their noses. Three of Jung Woong’s assistants sat in a street-side tent bar, nursing their drinks. The sound of soju glasses clinking echoed in the quiet of the small establishment.

“Phew!”

Minsoo, who had just downed a shot of soju in one go, followed it up by sipping some fish cake broth as if it were a side dish. Then, with a sigh, he spoke.

“Hey, did you hear the rumor?”

Yeongsoo, sitting next to him while nibbling on a piece of fish cake, replied gruffly.

“What rumor? You’ve been so busy lately; do you even have time to hear rumors?”

“No, seriously. If it’s true, it’s huge! Hyung, you know about it, right?”

Minsoo turned to Jinsoo, who was silently pouring himself another shot of soju. Jinsoo didn’t respond, but Minsoo took his silence as confirmation.

Minsoo, who drank fish cake broth like a side dish, Yeongsoo, who ate the fish cake itself, and Jinsoo, the eldest, who used more alcohol as his side dish—though they’d started their assisting jobs at different times, they had all been working under Jung Woong for quite some time, each nurturing dreams of becoming renowned photographers. Their similar names and shared aspirations had quickly bonded them, leading to many nights like this, enjoying drinks together after work.

But tonight’s conversation cast a serious shadow over their usual lighthearted gathering.

“So you knew about this all along and didn’t tell us?” Minsoo demanded, looking incredulous as he directed his question at Jinsoo.

Jinsoo remained silent, his expression unreadable—whether he was carefully choosing his words or simply didn’t want to talk was unclear.

“Hey, what’s going on? Just tell us already!” Yeongsoo, growing impatient with the tense atmosphere, urged Minsoo to explain.

Minsoo sighed deeply before beginning.

“Alright… Jung Woong’s taken on a disciple.”

“What? What do you mean? A disciple? Are you sure about this?”

“I heard it from the receptionist today. I didn’t believe it at first either, but seeing Jinsoo hyung’s reaction, it’s gotta be true.”

Yeongsoo turned to Jinsoo, seeking further confirmation.

“Is this really true, Hyung?”

Jinsoo nodded in response.

“Yeah. You’ll see soon enough. Jung Woong’s even given him his own studio.”

“And… is it true that the kid’s a high school student?”

“What?!”

Yeongsoo struggled to keep up with the conversation. He’d been so swamped with work lately that he hadn’t paid attention to anything outside of his duties. To hear something so shocking now, it was almost too much to process.

From what he gathered from their conversation, Jung Woong had not only taken on a disciple but had also prepared a studio for him. The idea that Jung Woong, who had never once mentioned the word “disciple” in all the time they’d known him, had suddenly taken on a student, was already a huge shock. But the fact that the disciple was a high school student was even more unbelievable.

If this was all true, it would be incredibly humiliating for the assistants who had always seen themselves as Jung Woong’s students, learning from him. Yet, the more they talked, the more it seemed like this rumor was, in fact, the truth.

“Why would I tell you something that would only upset you?” Jinsoo said, his words putting an end to the conversation.

“Isn’t this going too far?” Minsoo protested, clearly agitated.

“I’ve been working here for two years now! And I haven’t even had a chance to properly handle a camera. But now a high school student who just walked into the studio gets his own workspace?”

Minsoo pounded his chest in frustration as he continued.

“I don’t know where this kid came from, but didn’t he just become a disciple because of some connections or money? It doesn’t make sense! A high school student as a disciple?”

Jinsoo placed a hand on Minsoo’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Do you really think Jung Woong is the type of person who would do that?”

Jinsoo understood Minsoo’s frustration. “I get it, I do. I also had my doubts, thinking maybe some weird kid had latched onto Jung Woong. But still, it’s Jung Woong’s decision. He must have had his reasons, and it’s not for us to question. We just have to follow.”

Jinsoo’s calm, resolute answer left Minsoo momentarily speechless. He stirred his fish cake broth with his skewer, knowing full well that Jinsoo was right. But that didn’t mean he could simply swallow his disappointment.

“Aren’t you upset at all?” Minsoo asked, looking between Jinsoo and Yeongsoo.

“Yeongsoo, you’ve been working here for five years, and Jinsoo, you’ve been here for eight! If anyone should be his disciple, shouldn’t it be one of you?”

Minsoo’s question wasn’t just out of frustration. He couldn’t understand how his older colleagues were so calm about this, especially when he himself was seething inside.

“There’s one thing you’re misunderstanding,” Jinsoo said, taking a deep breath before responding. “I’ve never thought of myself as Jung Woong’s disciple.”

Jinsoo’s voice was steady but carried the weight of his long years of experience.

“Jung Woong is just as strict with himself as he is with others. The reason he hasn’t taken on a disciple until now is likely because of that. He holds himself to a high standard and expects the same from everyone else.”

Jinsoo reeked of alcohol, having been drinking nonstop. “I’m not his disciple. I’m just someone who considers him my mentor. And I’m fine with that.”

Minsoo and Yeongsoo fell silent at Jinsoo’s words.

Eight years.

Jinsoo had been at the studio longer than anyone else. If anyone had the right to feel disappointed, it was him.

“Being able to make a living as a photography assistant is something you won’t find elsewhere. Sure, the work is tough, but it’s steady.”

In 2007, the term passion wage hadn’t yet emerged as a societal issue, but wages for entry-level workers were notoriously low.

Many young professionals, especially in creative fields, were underpaid. In industries like design, it wasn’t uncommon for full-time employees to earn just over a million won a month, while interns were paid a meager 300,000 won.

In comparison, the conditions at Jung Woong’s studio were much better. Jung Woong made sure everyone working there earned enough to live on, unlike other studios that treated their assistants like unpaid labor.

Jinsoo had always been grateful for that.

“Rather than chasing some uncertain success as a photographer, I prefer to stay here, learn from Jung Woong, and wait for the right opportunity,” Jinsoo continued.

Now in his mid-thirties, his words reflected the practical wisdom he’d gained from his years of experience.

“And who knows, now that Jung Woong’s taken on a disciple, there might be more opportunities for us, too.”

But Jinsoo’s pragmatic view didn’t resonate with Minsoo, who was still in his early twenties and far less patient.

“Even so, I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I don’t care if it’s out of my hands with Jung Woong, but I’m going to check out this high school kid for myself.”

“Don’t,” Yeongsoo warned. “You’ll only end up on Jung Woong’s bad side.”

Listening to Jinsoo and Minsoo go back and forth, Yeongsoo was reminded of the martial arts novels he often read. This situation felt just like those stories where a young, hidden heir suddenly arrives to challenge the long-standing disciples of a master. The disciples, who had worked their way up from the bottom, were left feeling as though an outsider had taken their place.

Who in their right mind would be happy about that?

Yeongsoo could understand Minsoo’s frustration.
But as the saying goes, if you don’t like the temple, the monk must leave. If they couldn’t accept the situation, leaving the studio was their only option.

“Come on, let’s stop talking about this and just drink,” Yeongsoo said, raising his glass in an attempt to defuse the tension.

Minsoo and Jinsoo reluctantly followed suit, each lifting their glasses.

Clink!

As their glasses met, Yeongsoo noticed something in Minsoo’s eyes—an intense fire, burning with determination. He had a feeling that something was bound to happen soon.

Yeongsoo quickly downed his drink, the liquid burning its way down his throat, leaving behind an especially bitter taste.