PD and Haegeuk (3)
“Hyung, so what do you want me to do? You've already given your word that Lee Min-soo will appear, and now you're saying you're gonna back out?”
She always treated him with the respect due a bureau chief in public settings—or even in private ones, for that matter—but when it came to touching the production budget, she turned into a beast with a savage heart.
-I'm not backing out. What do you mean back out? Why do you keep saying that like it's the end of the world?
“In my book, that's backing out. Come on, Bureau Chief. This is the script Kim Sang-hee sharpened her knife for. You saw it yourself.”
-I saw it. I did. I read the whole thing.
“Even at 2.5 billion per episode, that's barely 40 billion total. You telling me KBC doesn't have that kind of money?”
-Hey, the director said hell no, even if it kills him. He thought it was fine too, but the higher-ups shot it down. That's why I had a bad feeling when he suddenly wanted to grab drinks out of nowhere.
“It's not the director who cut it?”
-No, definitely not. He's sure of it. He thought the budget was no issue.
If even the director got shot down, that meant rejection from Strategy Planning level or higher.
As the call dragged on, Jang Seung-won's face cycled through shades of red and blue, heated up like a flaming persimmon, then sank pale with resignation—a kaleidoscope of emotions.
He peered through the window into the room.
The sight of the three of them clutching their scripts and laughing heartily stabbed at his chest like needles.
Kim Sang-hee's bright, wrinkle-free laughter reminded him of his wife's disappointed face when he forgot their anniversary.
Lee Min-soo's kindly smile as they chatted brought back the time he bought his dad a budget Android instead of the flagship iPhone he wanted.
And Jeong Seo-hoon, who never let go of his script with both hands...
“I'm the dirty one, fuck.”
***
“What worries me, though, is whether we might end up giving this rebel army—er, Suyang—a free pass. Giving the villains a sympathetic motive could leave room for glorification, no?”
“Don't worry, we'll handle that perfectly in the script. Looks can be deceiving—I'm a descendant of a servant from Prime Minister Kim Jong-seo's household.”
“Oh my. So Writer Kim, you're from a family with real backbone, servant stock. That explains the Kim surname.”
Jang Seung-won glanced around cautiously before stepping in.
“That call took a while.”
Kim Sang-hee pounced the moment he entered, like a ghost sensing prey.
Maybe it was her production crew instincts kicking in.
Jang Seung-won played it cool. “That guy's always been a chatterbox. I thought it was work, but he was just bragging about his dog having puppies.”
“Ah, yeah, that's worth bragging about forever.”
As he spoke, he shot Kim Sang-hee a subtle signal only she would catch.
Of course, Jeong Seo-hoon picked up on it instantly.
Thanks to a war hero's sharpened senses, he'd already overheard the call from outside, making the gesture seem blatant.
Kim Sang-hee got it too and clapped lightly.
“It's getting late—shall we wrap up? PD, you've got work tomorrow, and we've kept you long enough.”
“Oh, sure? Hanging with you young folks got me way too excited.”
“Aigoo, it was fun for me too, sir. We'll do this again—maybe a few more times before the engagement party.”
“Sounds good.”
Jeong Seo-hoon clocked the secret glance between the PD and writer.
They were planning to talk alone after breaking up the group.
They sent Lee Min-soo off first, then tried to usher Jeong Seo-hoon out next.
“When's your manager coming? Takes about 20 minutes?”
“Nah, didn't call him.”
“Taxi? Come on, you're known now—better take the van.”
Jang Seung-won fretted, and Kim Sang-hee chimed in.
“Listen to the PD. Taxis are iffy for you now, Seo-hoon. Buses and subways? Forget it.”
“You two have more to discuss alone?”
“No? We'll head out right after you.”
“Is there a scheduling issue?”
Jeong Seo-hoon nailed it, and Kim Sang-hee flinched.
Jang Seung-won, catching her slip, sighed softly. “Why do you think that?”
“Your face looked off when you came back from the call, PD. Then the glance with the writer, and suddenly wrapping up. Figured something was up.”
“Sharp actors are great, but too sharp? Kinda stressful.”
Jang Seung-won chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head.
Jeong Seo-hoon glanced where Lee Min-soo had gone. “Sir seemed to sense it too but played dumb. His face said as much.”
“Be straight with me. You're pretending not to know about Chae Ji-hyun's feelings, right?”
“I wanna know too. Tell me without the burden.”
“No choice now. Sending it back would just tank trust. Let's go together. Oh, keep what I told you from sir, okay?”
“Of course.”
He'd assumed they wanted production talk without actors, but if Lee Min-soo got left out while Jeong Seo-hoon tagged along, it might hurt the veteran's feelings.
Better to bury it.
The three headed to Kim Sang-hee's nearby cocktail bar.
They ordered water, hangover remedies, and drinks—no booze.
“Budget department threw a wrench.”
“Budget?”
“Can't do 2.5 billion per episode—try 1.8 billion, they said.”
“1.8 billion? Who're they kidding? Big dramas are trending with skyrocketing budgets. Trendy historical fusion like this, and they ignore trends?”
Jang Seung-won couldn't say, “1.8 billion is plenty.”
Kim Sang-hee had padded the budget a bit out of greed.
Just her, Jeong Seo-hoon, and Lee Min-soo ate up over 300 million per episode...
But gotta think of Illegal's profits.
Illegal had recouped costs ages ago, raking in from overseas rights, music, reruns, streaming.
Writer and lead reuniting, backed by Su-jang-go's box office—guaranteed hit.
These bastards. Not the time to skimp—time to seize it.
Not the bureau chief or director's fault.
They tried, but corporate politics won.
That made it sting more.
“So scheduling's scrapped?”
Kim Sang-hee's calm voice chilled Jang Seung-won like ice water.
He waved frantically. “Scrapped? Don't jinx it. Scheduling's on. Just trim the budget a little.”
“That's scrapping it.”
Déjà vu hit as he forced a smile. “I'll make 2.5 billion per work somehow. Don't worry.”
“If Budget won't pay, what then? Not like you're robbing other shows.”
“If needed, I'll bleed my own brother dry. My survival comes first.”
“See that, Seo-hoon? That's production world. Even if you top out as actor, never come here—stay there, act till you die.”
Her joke at Jeong Seo-hoon barely eased tension before Jang Seung-won tensed again.
“No more realistic options?”
“First, I'll check OTT funding. They'll salivate over this. Keep options open, find ways.”
“You'll work hard, PD.”
To Jang Seung-won, it sounded less like concern, more like pressure: hustle and scrape up the cash.
***
The next day.
Before heading out, Jeong Su-ryeon warned him.
“Just casual catch-up. Casual. You don't know agency vibes. No signing today—don't hint.”
“Am I an idiot? Relax.”
The siblings and manager Ha Tae-soo headed to the reserved hanjeongsik spot in Gangnam.
Two neat-looking men in the private room stood to greet them.
“Sotae-seok, team leader. Nice to meet you.”
“Kim Jeong-min, manager.”
They eased into chat with praise-laced reviews of his works.
No contract pressure all meal.
They touted sales skills, actor care, long-term contracts with stars.
“If you share Su-jang-go sequel terms, it'd help adjust ours. No pressure if not.”
“A-grade or better.”
Jeong Su-ryeon skirted S-grade with “A or above.”
Industry norm—they got it.
“If you want to sign now, 2 billion advance, 85% split. Existing deals all yours, of course.”
“No advance, 100% fees, split extras only?”
“We'll consider aggressively.”
The men stayed smiling, serene.
Post-meal, in the car, Jeong Su-ryeon asked, “How was it?”
“Calm guys.”
“That's it?”
“What else?”
“Anyway, they want you bad. But agencies peg your market value around here.”
“How much?”
“You've tasted A-plus once, but too soon to lock A-grade? That's their vibe. Nail Haegeuk, and A-plus sticks.”
Driving Ha Tae-soo added, “No rush to sign. Dramas locked—take it easy. No agency needed now.”
“Still, gauged their valuation. Productive.”
Home, eager parents pounced.
“What'd the agency say?”
“Not agency yet—just label. Sign to join. 2 billion advance, 85%.”
“Straight gift or deducted?”
“Deducted, duh.”
Dad Jeong Tae-hyeon pitied. “Lifetime debt slavery? Acting's still hungry in Korea. Seo-hoon, please blow up this drama.”
“Dad, last drama and movie crushed it.”
“Combined, you get 100 million?”
“Uh... 60.8 million? Around there?”
“See? Success is cash. You just padded others' pockets twice.”
“Rookies start low. That's why Su-jang-go sequel and Haegeuk are S-grade.”
“But Haegeuk's budget-delayed? Fees hit post-shoot?”
“Industry norm. With Jang Seung-won PD, Kim Sang-hee, Lee Min-soo—it'll greenlight fast.”
***
“We'll await good news.”
“Thank you.”
Ending the cautious meeting, Jang Seung-won PD clenched his fist in silent cheer on the way back.
His steps to the station felt feather-light.
He spent the day joyfully plotting Haegeuk's direction.
Near quitting time, a Kakao from Bureau Chief Yang Jun-gyu:
[Yang-hyung] Drinks. Izakaya.
8 PM.
Jang Seung-won frowned, wrapping up.
“Ugh, swamped and he wants drinks...”
Grumbling, he headed to their usual izakaya.
Yang Jun-gyu had snacks and was on his first beer.
“Hyung—no, Bureau Chief. Why drag a busy guy out early for booze?”
“Dude, it's past 8.”
“Lunchtime for me. I'll just sip.”
Mid-shop talk over food, Yang Jun-gyu blurted, “You met NetPrime today? For Haegeuk?”
“Whoa, chills. Rumors fly fast.”
“Fuck. How could you?”
“No money, hyung.”
“1.8 billion per ain't chump change! Not heavy CG historical!”
“Props, sets, art, extras—stacked high.”
“You're doing Haegeuk?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Not that Haegeuk. Dumbass.”