Chapter 14. The Fundamentals of Writing an Article
One thing was certain.
The person who had engineered the dumpling scandal wasn't simply aiming for the dumpling market itself.
The market was too small for that.
If it had been semiconductors or automobiles, maybe.
There had to be some other goal they wanted to achieve by reorganizing the dumpling industry.
If Harok could figure out what that goal was, maybe he could also identify who had planned everything.
He tapped his nose lightly with a ballpoint pen and kept thinking.
Let's go through the memories from my previous life again.
If he compared the way the dumpling scandal had unfolded back then, the planner's true intention might reveal itself.
First came Harok's exclusive.
Then the media war.
Then the suicide of Mirae Food's president.
Within a year, more than half of the dumpling manufacturers shut down.
The companies that filled the empty space were major corporations such as TS Foodnet and Geumyeong F&B.
Together with Samho Foods, the dumpling market was reorganized into a three-company structure.
So what?
Harok couldn't remember whether the dumpling market had grown to eight hundred billion won or one trillion won ten years later.
But even if he assumed the number-one company captured an enormous share, it would still only amount to around four hundred billion won.
TS Group's total annual revenue exceeded four hundred trillion won.
Geumyeong Group was around fifty trillion.
Samho Foods, as a specialist food company, had annual revenue of only around two trillion won.
Even Geumyeong Group was too large to engineer something like this just for the dumpling market.
Hong Yunjung's theory made sense in broad strokes, but the details were full of holes.
He felt like he was close to grasping something.
But nothing quite came together.
Just then...
"Senior, what's wrong?"
Yubin, who had been working across from him, suddenly poked her head up.
Whoa. Why is she here?
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you out on your beat?"
"I had an appointment nearby, so I stopped by to write my article."
She's unusual.
Most junior reporters tried to avoid the newsroom.
Once they came inside, there were too many seniors acting like overbearing mothers-in-law, so younger reporters usually did everything possible to stay away from the office.
At Yubin's level of seniority, she normally wouldn't even schedule personal meetings anywhere near the company in case she accidentally ran into a senior.
But Yubin was different.
She arranged meetings nearby.
She came into the office.
"Celebrity drug story?"
"Yes."
"Did you pitch it?"
"I explained the contents to Chief earlier."
"What did he say?"
"Of course he liked it. These days, articles that generate lots of PVs are king."
After the internet became dominant, the old rules of journalism had begun to collapse.
In the past, newspapers were full of stern articles that analyzed social issues and proposed solutions.
They sounded almost like lectures.
But as the online era arrived, those old-fashioned articles were steadily pushed aside.
Newspaper circulation kept falling.
The influence of the internet grew beyond comparison.
Now, journalists had to write articles people actually wanted to click.
Nobody cared about stiff articles that simply tried to sound important.
In that sense, celebrity drug stories were excellent material.
Especially when a top star like Benon was involved.
"Just imagining Chief looking delighted is already annoying me."
"Hehe."
Harok checked the clock.
It was almost six.
He was about to close his laptop and prepare to leave when Yubin stopped him.
"Senior, wait."
"What?"
"Are you busy tonight?"
"Why?"
Yubin smiled brightly.
Harok immediately sensed that she wanted something from him.
I need to escape.
"Senior, if you're not busy, could you review my article?"
But Yubin was faster.
"The drug article?"
"Yes."
"You already finished it?"
"I wrote a draft. Please read it first. Feedback is welcome."
She hasn't even formally pitched it yet, and she already wrote the whole thing?
That kind of initiative was good.
And if a junior was working hard, how could a senior refuse to help?
Harok opened his laptop again.
"Send it."
"Hehe. Thank you."
Clack, clack.
"Sent. Please review it carefully."
"Then you find me Sergeant Park Junhyeong's mobile number from the National Police Agency's Foreign Affairs Division."
"Sergeant Park Junhyeong? Who should I ask?"
Harok's eyes widened.
I thought she was finally getting competent. She doesn't even know how to get a police officer's number?
Calm down.
Calm down.
Harok took a deep breath before answering slowly.
"Ask the National Police Agency's Public Affairs Office. They'll give it to you."
"Yes, sir."
Harok began reading through Yubin's article.
First of all, the lead was far too long.
It was a straight news story, but there was no urgency.
The whole thing dragged.
There were things to fix everywhere.
Clack, clack, clack.
Harok's fingers began flying over the keyboard.
Anyone who had ever written an article knew this.
There was nothing more nerve-racking than hearing constant keyboard sounds while someone was desk-editing your article right beside you.
You had poured your heart into writing it.
And then the sound of typing just kept going.
What did that mean?
It meant the article was a complete mess.
Yubin felt the same way.
At first, she had confidently sent him the article.
But as the corrections kept piling up, her insides began to burn.
The sound of the keyboard assaulted her ears for more than twenty minutes.
Unable to endure it any longer, Yubin cautiously poked her head up and looked at Harok.
"Is there really that much to fix?"
She asked carefully.
Harok raised his head and glared at her with sharp eyes.
"You call this an article? You said you lived overseas when you were young. Did you forget to learn Korean properly? I could write better than this with my feet."
Harok began tearing apart Yubin's article like a machine-gun rapper.
Yubin had thought they had become much closer after investigating stories together and sharing information.
Apparently, that had only been her imagination.
The moment desk editing began, Harok transformed back into the rude, merciless monster she remembered.
"Is it really that bad?"
"Ha..."
Harok let out a long, unpleasant sigh.
Yubin could only watch his expression like a criminal awaiting judgment.
"Why is the lead written like this? At least two or three of the six basic questions should appear in the lead. You need to give readers some expectation about what they're about to read."
"Last time, you told me my lead was too long..."
Harok glared at her for talking back.
"Are there only one or two kinds of articles in the world? Depending on the situation, the lead can be long or short."
"How am I supposed to know which one to use?"
"You're asking me that?"
"Then who am I supposed to ask?"
Even while being scolded, Yubin said everything she wanted to say.
"That's something the person writing the article has to decide. Are you trying to grab attention with a short, impactful lead? Or do you need a longer explanatory lead to deliver as much information as possible?"
Yubin nodded as though she understood.
"And the writing has no urgency."
She looked at Harok with a thoroughly intimidated expression.
"A straight news article needs urgency. Especially when the investigation is still ongoing. The reader should feel their heartbeat speeding up as they read. That's what a straight news story should feel like."
"..."
"And your sentences are too long. Keep them short whenever possible. Korean is such a pain in the ass that if you make a sentence too complicated, the subject and predicate stop matching."
Unlike English, where the verb follows the subject relatively early, Korean often placed the predicate at the very end.
As a result, the longer people spoke, the more likely they were to lose track of the sentence structure.
This problem was especially obvious in interview transcripts.
When long Korean responses were transcribed exactly as spoken, awkward subject-predicate mismatches appeared constantly.
"...Look at this. Why is this sentence even here?"
Then Harok suddenly sensed something was wrong.
Yubin, who had been talking back every few seconds, had gone completely quiet.
He looked up.
Only then did he notice her face.
She looked one step away from tears.
Seeing that expression made it difficult to keep scolding her.
"Ha... Now I want a cigarette."
Yubin's almost-tearful expression immediately brightened.
As though she'd been waiting for an opening, she suggested a smoking break.
"Want to go have one?"
Harok narrowed his eyes at her.
"Who do you think is making me want a cigarette?"
"Is it really that awful? I spent all day thinking over every sentence..."
Yubin lowered her head, clearly disappointed.
If she were still a trainee, Harok would have shouted loudly enough to shake the entire newsroom.
He was only treating her like a human being now because she had finally finished training.
"Let me tell you one last thing."
"Yes."
"Newspaper articles always use the inverted pyramid structure. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
"The reason newspaper articles put the important facts at the front is connected to the fact that newspapers are printed on physical pages."
"What do you mean?"
"These days, because everything is online, you probably don't notice it. But articles weren't always something you could write endlessly. Newspaper space is limited."
"Right."
"That's why you put the most important information first. If an editor needs to cut the article to fit the page, they can cut from the bottom upward."
"Ah..."
Yubin reacted as though she had just been taught some profound secret.
But to Harok, her exaggerated reaction felt slightly mocking.
He was about to snap at her.
Then he stopped himself.
Understand her.
Forgive her.
He took a deep breath and calmed himself down.
Harok became extremely irritated whenever he saw poor writing.
He couldn't relax until he corrected it.
Even while sitting in a bathroom stall, he would find himself mentally editing signs.
If he saw a notice that said [Please refrain from smoking], he would want to cross out unnecessary phrasing.
He corrected misspellings.
He corrected awkward expressions.
The world was full of sentences that needed fixing.
If I scold her any more, she's going to cry.
Let's stop.
"Pay more attention next time."
"What about the reporting itself? Was that bad too?"
Harok shook his head.
"The reporting was thorough. The problem is how you turn it into an article."
Yubin's ears practically perked up again.
"Putting everything you investigated into the article isn't journalism. If that's what you want to do, you'd be better off just uploading the transcript."
"..."
"You need to ruthlessly cut facts that have nothing to do with the main angle. There was research showing newspaper readers usually only have the patience for two or three manuscript pages. These days, articles have gotten much longer because of the internet. But for straight news, even five or six manuscript pages is usually enough."
Harok continued explaining.
Then suddenly, something felt strange.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm recording these golden words of wisdom from my senior."
Harok rubbed his forehead.
My head hurts.
It took more than an hour to finish revising Yubin's article.
"You made me leave work late."
"I'll buy dinner."
"No. I'm going home early today."
Harok rejected Yubin's invitation to eat together and left the company building.
Ring, ring.
A call came from an unknown number.
For a social affairs reporter, the rule was simple.
You answered every call.
"Hello?"
"Is this Reporter Baek Harok?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Hello. I'm Producer Yang Sejong from MBS current affairs documentary Wednesday."
Wednesday?
It was MBS's flagship current affairs program, known for investigating major social issues in depth.
"Yes, hello. What can I do for you?"
"Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Sure."
Next week's topic for Wednesday was going to be [Garbage Dumplings, Afterward...]
The documentary would examine how the garbage dumpling scandal was first reported, how the media amplified it, and how Harok's article eventually reversed the narrative.
It would air in two parts.
"Reporter Baek, what made you decide not to simply repeat the police's version and instead investigate from another direction?"
Because I already knew the result.
That was what Harok wanted to say.
Obviously, he couldn't.
He had no choice but to come up with something reasonable.
"I simply thought that if pickled radish itself is edible, then shouldn't the ends of the pickled radish also be edible?"
"Ah, so such a simple question became the starting point of your investigation?"
"You could say that."
"But because many of the dumpling manufacturers are small companies, weren't there actually some hygiene problems?"
"Well, they are mostly small and medium-sized companies, so there were some weaknesses in sanitation management."
"What do you think is necessary to improve that?"
Why are you asking a reporter this?
What expertise do I have in food sanitation?
"Maybe stronger hygiene inspections. Or revising food-related regulations to better reflect reality."
"Since these companies are small, it seems they don't have enough money to invest in sanitation. Wouldn't production be safer if larger corporations handled it?"
"I don't know about that."
"Larger companies have more capacity to invest in standardized processes and factory automation. Wouldn't that help?"
Something about the questions felt leading.
Harok didn't want to continue the conversation much longer, so he simply gave the producer the answer he appeared to want.
"I suppose so. The less direct human handling there is, the better it probably is for sanitation. And major corporations care about their reputations, so they'd likely invest more heavily in hygiene management."
"Thank you for the interview, Reporter Baek."
"Yes. Sure."
After ending the call, Harok was left with an uneasy feeling.
