Chicago Typewriter: Episode 3

by gummimochi

Pay no mind to the man behind the curtain, unless that same man happens to be writing under the cloak of someone else’s name. Things are about to get even stranger in Se-joo’s world when the past keeps bleeding into his grasp on reality and makes him question just how much of the words on the page actually belong to him. But even in the darkest of times, all it takes is one small word of encouragement that acts as a guiding light to keep pressing onward.

 
EPISODE 3 RECAP

Seol raises the shovel above her head… and slams it into the ground. Se-joo passes out from shock. Over at Seongsucheong, named after the royal department that oversaw shamanistic rituals in Joseon, Bang-jin’s shaman mother thinks of how the hanja character in Seol’s name means “snow.”

She senses an imminent downpour and remains wary of an encounter that could either spell good fortune or doom.

Seol stops digging Se-joo out of the wrecked car to wipe her face with a handkerchief, as a gold pocket watch falls out of the pocket and onto the ground. Meanwhile, Writer Yoo begins typing on the old typewriter. He stops for a smoke, and the antique Carpe Diem matchbox gives him momentary pause.

In a mountain cabin, Se-joo awakens to the sound of Seol’s voice promising to take good care of him since she’s his superfan. He finds himself tied down to a bed, his bandaged head encased in a cone, and fear strikes his core as he remembers Seol wielding a shovel moments before he passed out.

His fisheye perspective picks up on Seol with a syringe, and he shakes as she spells out how fortunate he was for surviving that crash and that she happened to be in the area. He wonders if she’s actually crazy, and it’s almost as if she heard him because she answers “no” before clarifying that she did what she could to treat his injuries because they’re currently trapped her in the mountains.

She then lowers the syringe to feed him, but Se-joo keeps his mouth tightly shut. He’s told not to move but he grunts in protest, wondering if she’ll use violence to make him comply. She grabs his jaw instead, saying this is her first time feeding a human via syringe, but he doesn’t budge.

So she pinches his nose, and despite Se-joo’s best efforts to hold out, he opens his mouth to breathe, and Seol swoops in. He’s left puzzled by the taste and is told that it’s liquified porridge fed to him by a syringe because it was the only instrument available.

“You should’ve said so sooner,” Se-joo complains. Seol isn’t surprised when he refuses medication either; she’s already anticipated his response and mixed the sedative in with the food.

He growls that he won’t be able to sleep peacefully when he hasn’t the faintest idea of what she’ll do next. He doesn’t have much of a choice, though, because the meds kick in soon afterward.

Ji-seok and his publishing team look despondent when the deadline comes and no manuscript arrives. Just then, a typographical document under Se-joo’s name entitled “Chicago Typewriter” starts coming in, and the publishing team immediately gets to work.

While Writer Yoo kicks back to enjoy some music and discovers Seol’s errand service business card, Seol hikes out to a cliff where she calls out to her father. Her voice echoing in the canyon, she tells her father that she’s doing fine and that she misses him.

She remembers when she was a young girl and her father surprised her with a swing he built himself soon after she came to live with him. He’d gifted her with the antique gold pocket watch that fell out of her pocket earlier, explaining that he found it in the snowy mountains.

Although the watch was broken, her father pointed out the second hand made of gold—this was for someone who knew that “the right small things are what moves the bigger things.” He advised her to live and enjoy her life remaining true to each passing moment, words that Seol has lived by. She only now realizes that the pocket watch is missing.

We learn that Seol’s father passed away during a rescue operation, and that Seol makes an annual trip up to the mountains where his ashes were scattered. The bad news is that the torrential rain has made it impossible for her to return.

Se-joo wakes with a jolt in bed, finding himself free from restraints. He begins to panic when his phone doesn’t pick up a signal and the landline is disconnected. Suddenly, Seol appears in the doorway, asking flatly, “Trying to escape?” Yeah, that’s not at all creepy.

She reminds him that they’re presently trapped here in the mountains, and he slowly backs away with every step she takes. As she reaches for the shovel, Se-joo grabs whatever is behind him and thrusts it in front of him. HA, it’s a spoon.

In fact, there’s a whole boxful of them, and Se-joo gripes over how she used a feeding syringe. She says she couldn’t possibly feed him with such a common utensil — furthermore, she previously kept him in restraints in case of any fractures.

Seol admits there was a dash of vengeance there, then grabs the shovel again and marches outside. Se-joo chases after her and asks if she’s heading out to scope out his future gravesite. He takes her arm, asking her why she’s here. She replies, “Because you’re holding onto me.”

He lets go and amends his question, saying that he wants to know how she just happened to show up at the crash site. But Seol has had it with Se-joo’s deluded theories that she somehow orchestrated their chance encounters, hollering that this is her late father’s cabin and that she’s on her way to retrieve one of her father’s belongings—if anything, she’d like to know what he’s doing here.

She mutters that she shouldn’t have rescued Se-joo, but she did in the hopes that his near-death experience would’ve changed him. She was crazy enough to even consider forgiving him if he’d been grateful for saving his life, but she can see that it wasn’t the case.

She reminds him that she was the only soul in these woods that can help him, so he better ask her for help if he wants to survive. She storms off and returns to the crash site to search for the pocket watch.

Se-joo, meanwhile, is unable to get a signal on his phone. He’s reminded of the deadline that has come and gone and smiles at a pillar that has markings of Seol’s height over the years. He looks at a photo of young Seol with her father, then picks up her copy of one of his novels, which is full of annotated notes… and a photo of himself, taken ten years ago.

He realizes that this is what Seol meant when she said they met once. He remembers when he’d been struggling to write at Subway when he pleasantly discovered that his empty coffee cup had been swapped out with a fresh cup, along with an encouraging note from his “first fan.” That was Seol, who then surreptitiously took a photo of him.

He heads out to the crash site where Seol continues her search in the dark. She backs into a rock and falls backward… when Se-joo catches her. An extended silence passes before Se-joo breaks it saying, “See? If you save my life, I will surely do the same.”

He prides himself for coming to her rescue, which triggers Seol to break out of her reverie. She pushes him away but doesn’t get far before crying out in pain. He helps her walk back, his arm around her shoulder before shifting positions and warning her that this better not be a planned scheme.

She tries to wriggle out of his grip, but he holds on, apologizing for his behavior toward her and thanking her for saving his life. He explains that apologies don’t come easy for him, so he tries to avoid situations where he has to.

She asks why he’s so distrusting of people, and when he says it’s because he’s been betrayed many times before, she says that’s the same for everybody. He in turn asks why isn’t smiling as much before, and she replies that she stopped because he was reminded of the book “Misery,” and that she isn’t his fan anymore.

“Then why is your heart racing?” Se-joo asks. Surprised, Seol wiggles out of his grip and walks away.

Neither Seol nor Se-joo can sleep that night, and when she spots him staring at her, she awkwardly looks away and hides in her sleeping bag. He affirms with an all-knowing chuckle that this moment is one that fangirls dream of, and it’ll only be harder for her to hide her feelings.

But there’s no need to feel bashful when she isn’t alone in hiding one’s feelings. He knows now that she isn’t a stalker or like the psychotic caretaker in “Misery.” She responds with loud snores. Lol.

Later that night, Seol unzips her sleeping bag to breathe. She hears Se-joo moaning nearby and realizes that he’s running a fever. She vows to get immediate medical attention somehow, but a delirious Se-joo protests, “Don’t go. If I go back… it will open up hell. I’m… a bit scared.”

“I feel like… I’d be okay with dying this way,” he adds weakly. “I don’t want to go back to the old days. That time, ten years ago… was a nightmare. It was hell. I don’t want to go back.”

Tears in her eyes, Seol tells him: “I might not know what happened, but you have to go back.” As she runs through the woods, we hear her say in voiceover: “They say god will take back your talent if you don’t overcome [difficulty]. I don’t wish to see your gift being taken away. That time, ten years ago… your writing saved my life. So I pray you don’t let your talent be taken away, for your sake and for mine.”

Some time later, Se-joo wakes in his own bed, much to his surprise. Upon hearing noise outside, he checks it out to see hot food laid out for him. He hears another noise in his office, where he sees a cigarette in an ashtray and the original copy of the typographical manuscript.

Remembering Ji-seok’s idea of hiring a ghostwriter, Se-joo confronts him when Ji-seok arrives at the house. Ji-seok is happy to see him up and about, worried that Se-joo was overworked and self-medicated with sedatives and alcohol. But what Se-joo wants to know is this: Who wrote the manuscript in his office?

“What about it! You sent that in by fax on the morning of your accident!” Ji-seok hollers back. He says the story is the talk of the town and joyfully hugs Se-joo.

It’s only after Ji-seok exits the house does he admit that was a close call. When Writer Yoo, who’s been waiting outside, remarks that it was cruel of Ji-seok to threaten his star writer just because he whined a tad, Ji-seok admits as much, though he won’t stop if it means saving his and Se-joo’s careers.

Writer Yoo tsks to himself, bringing up that this is why the adage that “those who were sinful in a past life are reincarnated as writers” exists. Curious.

Se-joo reviews the “Chicago Typewriter” manuscript in his office, questioning whether or not he subconsciously wrote it. He acknowledges that the story is the same one born from his brain and wonders if there’s a gap in his memory from that night, or if Ji-seok is lying to him.

He’s still staring at it the next morning when Ji-seok calls and gleefully tells him that the serial novel was a hit domestically and abroad. It’s only when he reads fervent comments from excited readers does he finally lets himself believe that he could’ve written the manuscript himself.

Se-joo later participates in a press conference where it’s announced that his newest serial novel “Chicago Typewriter” will be adapted into a movie, musical, and webtoon. Writer Yoo sits in the back, where he’s joined by the reporter who covered the case on Se-joo’s stalker fan who committed suicide, and the latter wonders if Se-joo used a ghostwriter.

Se-joo has a packed schedule for the rest of the day, including filming a commercial with Tae-min. He slips away as soon as the director yells “Cut!” and isn’t interested in catching up with Tae-min. But the latter praises him on the success of his latest serial novel, though he admits something about its refreshing writing style felt unfamiliar at first.

Se-joo stops in his tracks and turns to ask what Tae-min is getting at. Tae-min replies that he means nothing by it—just that it was unexpected to see Se-joo, a cynic toward love, write a story of romance.

Se-joo tenses before falling back to his usual comeback, telling Tae-min to stop trying to act like a likeable celebrity and spend more time writing, like he does.

Tae-min’s day is about to get worse when he returns home to find his father sorely disappointed in his latest revision. He’s told to start from scratch and that his sense of inferiority to Se-joo is still apparent in his work. Tae-min’s spots one of Se-joo’s novel peeking out on his father’s desk, and then throws his draft away.

Seol makes her grand return home to Seongsucheong, where the women catch up on Seol’s restorative time away over soju. When Seol slips up that she also spent some time with people, Bang-jin’s mother asks if something happened up in the mountains—perhaps a man?

Seol spits up her drink, but she’s pleased to hear that Se-joo has published the start of a new successful series. Over at his home, Se-joo declines postponing his next deadline. He ends up staring at a blank screen, though, unable to overcome his writer’s block.

A voice calls out, “Hey, buddy!” and Se-joo opens his front door… and the grounds are covered with fog. Amidst the mist stands a man in a hat, who calls him by his name in the 1930s, Seo Hwi-young, then strikes a match before holding it up like a guiding light and turns back.

Se-joo follows until he can’t see the flame anymore, and then a rickshaw driver asks him to move out of the way. As the rickshaw passes by, Se-joo gets a good look at the passenger’s face.

And then like magic, neon signs light up around him, and Se-joo finds himself in the middle of a busy street in the 1930s. Suddenly, Soo-yeon grabs his wrist and starts running. A gold pocket watch drops behind them, so she doubles back to retrieve it before ordering to run again.

She drags him through the streets, but unable to lose their pursuers, they hide in a corner. Hearing them approach, she thinks fast and pushes him against the wall and tells him to do something for their country instead of writing useless romantic tales… and then kisses him.

She remains alert to make sure the danger has passed before breaking away, though Se-joo is still in shock. She deposits the gold pocket watch in his hand, citing that he said it was his father’s and didn’t even let her touch it.

She declares that they’re even now, but he pulls her back to reveal her bloody arm, asking, “Why were they chasing you?” She tells him to keep up his indifference toward her instead of asking questions that might only get him hurt, then tips her hat and walks away.

Se-joo wakes at his desk, the sun pouring in through his window. He’s surprised to see a copy of the next installment of the manuscript beside him, written in typographical font. But what’s even stranger is that the events in these pages follow the exact order of the dream he just awoke from.

His secretary enters to collect his next installment, but Se-joo faces a moral dilemma, thinking, I… didn’t write this. He then lets the pages go.

Tae-min’s mother meets with the big-mouthed reporter to come up with a story that will bring Se-joo down for good. She likes his idea of spreading the rumor that Se-joo has hired a ghostwriter.

Se-joo confronts Ji-seok in his office about hiring a ghostwriter behind his back. When he demands to know who’s writing on his behalf, Ji-seok immediately spills the beans.

As Se-joo drives away from the publishing house, he’s suddenly surrounded by fog. He pulls over to what he thinks is the side of the road, only to find himself at the cliff he drove off of not too long ago. He wonders how he could’ve gotten here, then spots a tiny sparkle down on the ground below.

Meanwhile, Seol laments about the loss of her broken pocket watch to Bang-jin, who was told by her mother that antique items can have a mind of its own. She points out that Seol’s father found it in the mountains—perhaps the watch returned to its original location and owner.

As Se-joo picks up the pocket watch, he’s reminded of being told that this watch supposedly belonged to his father and that Seol may have been looking for it. And then something astonishing happens: the second hand begins to tick.

Se-joo drives home and hears the sound of typewriter keys coming from inside his office. He peers inside and sees a man typing on the typewriter.

He moves quietly to get a closer look as Writer Yoo finishes typing his last key and raises his hand like a conductor finishing the last beat of a score.

He’s then jerked aside and finds himself face to face with Se-joo, who screams, “Who are you, you bastard?!” Writer Yoo does the honor of introducing himself as Se-joo’s ghostwriter: “Yoo Jin-oh.”

 
COMMENTS

Now we have a full name to the dashing man’s face, and yet much of Jin-oh’s character is still shrouded in mystery. And I have so many questions, including: How did he type that second installment on the typewriter while Se-joo was still asleep? Is it that Se-joo’s dreams of his past life, even if he gets to interact with it directly, are distant impressions of the past line by line? And how how much does Jin-oh know about the past and how it ties into the present?

Like a true ghostwriter, Jin-oh stepped into Se-joo’s shoes with such ease that most of the populace hardly recognized the change. I’m honestly impressed by how he can churn out content on a typewriter literally overnight, though his work is eerily close to the events in the 1930s. That makes me entertain several possible theories that are all centered in the idea that Jin-oh knows that he, Se-joo, and Seol are reincarnated souls. Much like how a spirit inhabits the typewriter and the stray dog, perhaps that same spirit is currently residing within Jin-oh, enabling him to write about the past with such accuracy. He was even able to enter Se-joo’s home office and chose to type at that desk rather than working at any other location and any other typewriter. It’s then I’m reminded that Jin-oh has a connection to the typewriter too, since he’s one of the two men Soo-yeon possibly shot. Suffice it to say that his character is the missing link to better understand the ongoing mysterious in both time periods.

That brings me to Se-joo’s moral dilemma about using a ghostwriter, an idea he was defiantly against. Even though it took some time for Se-joo to even acknowledge the possibility that he wrote the first installment of his newest novel, there was still that underlying uncertainty and fear within him, particularly when Tae-min suggested that the writing style felt a bit different from his previous crime-thriller works. You could see how much it pained him to hand over the pages he never wrote, and his anger at letting someone else at the helm of his work, even if it was written in a way he would’ve done so himself. This makes me even more intrigued about his relationship with Jin-oh in the past, and if it’s possible that when Soo-yeon kept nudging Hwi-young to write something meaningful, that it was Jin-oh’s past self who wrote it instead. Speaking of getting credit for other people’s writings, I’m inclined to think that Tae-min’s notable novel “Fate” was either ghostwritten by Se-joo or a story that was stolen from him.

Moving on, I still enjoy the developments between Se-joo and Seol, especially now that she gets to talk back at him. I found Se-joo’s “captivity” in the mountain cabin hilarious, with his irrational fears that Seol might actually be crazy enough to harm him. I like that Se-joo moved past his distrust toward Seol rather quickly in the series and that he opened up to her about where that hesitance stems from. It was great to hear Seol act as a voice of encouragement for him, telling him that he has a worthy talent to share with the world. It’s like a reminder of Soo-yeon challenging Hwi-young to push past what comes easy for him, and to dare to make a stance with his writing talents.

I do wonder about how the writing will use the whimsical idea of antiques having minds of their own and being attached to their owners. We’ve seen how our trio is drawn to the typewriter, and now we’re introduced to other objects that also connect them to the past. In truth, my mind is chock full of questions about each item’s significance, but for now, I’m more than wiling to wait it out and see just how this story will unfold.

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