The Vacant Senior Seat
Gong Seok-jun, the headquarters manager, finished his breakfast-lunch combo of a sandwich while reviewing documents and stood up from his seat.
His stomach felt bloated; he wanted to move around a bit.
Or maybe it wasn't his stomach—it could be his mind that was truly unsettled.
Why on earth is Do Hyun-woo so fixated on that…?
Of course, there was still time.
Roughly two months.
He could just swap out the project in the meantime, but from what Gong Seok-jun had observed, Do Hyun-woo was the type to throw his heart into a work.
People like that hit it big or flop spectacularly.
And once they latched onto a project, they rarely let go.
Lost in such thoughts, he was climbing up and down the stairs for some exercise when the emergency exit door on the fifth floor swung open, and someone stepped in.
"Ah, thank you for the praise. I didn't do much myself. It's just that the actors worked so hard…"
He could only see the top of the head, but he recognized Do Hyun-woo instantly.
The voice confirmed it.
Familiar scene.
It was commonplace.
CEs who achieved success like Criminal Community got flooded with praise from all directions—it was something everyone went through.
With a hit like that, even the tiniest connection would prompt a call.
Did that make his head swell?
That was the thought crossing Gong Seok-jun's mind when—
"I haven't been here long, so I haven't really thought about switching jobs…"
Switching jobs?
Switching jobs?
"I don't know much about Enflicks' rank structure either…"
Enflicks?!
Gong Seok-jun bounded down the stairs two at a time, and Do Hyun-woo, mid-call, jumped in surprise.
But he didn't hang up hastily.
He was wrapping up the conversation at a pace that wouldn't offend the other party.
Watching this, Gong Seok-jun was mildly impressed.
A typical employee would've slammed the end call button.
He's got more backbone than I thought.
Come to think of it, without that grit, he wouldn't have halted a script reading midway or colluded with the director to tweak the call sheet on a whim.
His 'shy Hyun-woo' image made him seem timid, but Hyun-woo never actually backed down.
Did I mess up?
What if he really jumps ship?
At that moment, Do Hyun-woo ended the call and spoke up.
"You might misunderstand, but I got a call from a headhunting firm…"
"Hyun-woo, why so jumpy?"
"Pardon? Hyun-woo?"
"We can drop the formalities, right? You're like my son."
"Y-yeah."
"Even after I told the CEO your script was meh… you still don't know?"
"Yeah…"
"Embarrassing…"
Gong Seok-jun broke the awkward silence and opened his mouth.
"Hyun-woo. Enflicks is great. Big, lots of money. But do you think you'd get a Fully Exclusive Mandate there? Make something like Criminal Community? You know how bad the office politics are? Directors have their cliques—cliques!"
"Even my F.E.M was thanks to office politics…"
"Ah, right…"
Then Do Hyun-woo cracked a sly smile.
"Manager, I have no plans to switch jobs."
"Huh? Why? Honestly, Enflicks is worth considering. Same OTT world, and they're scouting you."
The manager wasn't wrong.
And though he hadn't said it, this wasn't the first headhunting attempt.
First direct contact like this, but headhunters had called a few times before.
Probably right after Criminal Community dropped.
Still, I had no interest because of my superpower.
No matter how I thought about it, I couldn't have made Criminal Community without SSK.
Eum Sung-hyun's casting would've been tough, but the seven supporting actors? Impossible.
Each agency hoards their unknowns; they'd push their own pool on me.
And if my superpower suggested even weirder casting for At Your Fingertips?
Would I have the pull to push it right after jumping ship?
Even at SSK it wouldn't be easy, but here I had a track record of success.
I didn't know how long I'd stay, but I planned to rack up at least two or three more hits.
As I mulled this over, the manager approached, probing.
"Why? Why no job switch?"
"Could I dream of something like At Your Fingertips anywhere else?"
"That's a pipe dream…! Can't you drop it?"
The manager sighed deeply, plopped down on the stairs, and patted the spot beside him.
I sat, and his voice shed its professional shell.
"Hyun-woo. You really doing that?"
"That's the plan."
"Can you say you're being objective? Not swayed by Criminal Community's success?"
Probably something he'd agonized over more than I had.
But not anymore.
My mind was made up.
"Manager, what'd you think when you first read the Criminal Community script?"
"…Boring."
"Same here. But it had this weird vibe. Like adding just the right thing would make it shine."
No empty words.
This instinct had nothing to do with my superpower.
Back then, I didn't even know precursors existed.
"A week of pondering, and bam—it hit me. What to add."
"Time loop?"
"Yeah."
"You nailed the ending too, right?"
"How'd you know?"
"Saw the writers' phone interview. Article dropped earlier."
Why publicize that?
I'm already killing it—let the writers or spotlight hogs take the shine.
"So in your eyes, At Your Fingertips is another rough gem like Criminal Community?"
"Yes. Scene density is insane. Dialogue, actions, emotions—never a false note. Strip the cheesy packaging, and something epic emerges. I'm sure of it."
Was this the power of words?
I'd thought it before, but declaring it to Joo Young-hoon yesterday had solidified it.
Criminal Community started as a reluctant gig, but soon became my passion.
At Your Fingertips was the same.
Gong Seok-jun, studying my face, nodded.
"Two months. No answer by then, it's off. Can't tolerate a new team's lead flailing on direction."
"I promise. Two months."
I glanced at his expression.
Atmosphere felt candid—worth probing.
"But who's the senior coming? Okay if I helm projects anyway?"
"Sneaky punk. Learning the bad habits first."
"Haha…"
"Vacant."
"Pardon?"
"Senior spot stays vacant. Otherwise, how could you temp-lead?"
Vacant?
A new team with an empty head?
"Big secret, so drop it. Told you to find answers steady."
Gong Seok-jun dusted off his pants and stood.
"Let's go."
Yeah.
Time to find the answer.
From the moment Criminal Community's teaser dropped, time had crawled.
Two weeks to full episodes.
Four weeks for all eight.
Short span, but felt like six months.
Then, post-finale, time raced to repay the debt.
Amid that, promotions and incentives hit.
Promotions were no big deal.
Not just me—Chae Seo-hee and other seasoned assistant CEs advanced too.
Some whispered about my fast track, but "Criminal Community with F.E.M? Fair enough."
The real issue: incentives.
Word spread I'd claimed the lead and assistant shares.
No official announcement, but rumors flew.
Probably from finance.
Team 3, giddy over yearly performance, soured.
They hadn't joined Team 2's shade-throwing before, but now piled on.
Joo Young-hoon, already in the know, stayed mum.
As incentive drama faded, Team 4's formation was announced.
Three assignees:
Lee Dae-han CE from CL Team 1.
Newly promoted Chae Seo-hee CE.
And me.
Lee Dae-han was Team 1's number two, now Team 4 senior.
Rest via volunteers and new assistant hires…
"What do we do? No one's applying."
As Chae Seo-hee fretted, Teams 1-3 showed zero interest.
Less my issue, more Lee Dae-han's.
Infamous for squeezing underlings like rats.
Nasty temper too.
Chae Seo-hee trembled, but I sensed it:
Team 4 forms, Lee Dae-han bounces fast.
Han Sung-hoon probably holds dirt on his scandals.
Then Team 4 CEs run solo.
If holding key projects.
Hence, me grabbing the next one.
But…
Two days to Team 4 launch, and I still had no answer.