Tightrope Over Tvic
“……Jeon So-ra?”
“Yes.”
“Is it really Jeon So-ra? Did the head office confirm?”
“Yes. I spoke with her agency rep. It’s definitely her.”
“That’s, uh……”
Gong Seok-jun chuckled as he watched Han Sung-hoon’s face.
“I’ve never seen you like this, sir.”
“Yeah. It’s been a while since I was this shocked. What happened?”
“From what I heard, nothing special. Hyun-woo just passed her the script, and she said she wanted to do it. Even her agency’s baffled.”
“How did he even think to send it to Jeon So-ra?”
“No idea…… But apparently, he told the 3rd team leader that you don’t know a thing about actors.”
Han Sung-hoon’s eyes deepened.
“Coming from an actor himself, maybe he sees things we don’t. Honestly, I was more shocked when he snagged Kim Ra-un in a week.”
“True…… Actors are a breed of their own.”
“So, what do we do? We can keep a lid on it for a bit, but word’ll spread fast. Leak it to Tvic?”
Tvic was still insisting they couldn’t fund At Your Fingertips if Kim Ra-un was the lead.
That had rubbed SSK the wrong way.
Production volume was up to Tvic’s content division, sure—but flat-out refusing budget? That was fishy.
Especially with their exclusive supply contract nearing its end. It felt like a power play.
Bonus points for slapping down Do Hyun-woo, the guy who’d already gotten under their skin.
Word was, he’d pulled some bold stunt at the ethics committee.
But Jeon So-ra could flip the script in one move.
If her comeback was a Tvic original, they’d have to eat crow.
Gong Seok-jun figured Han Sung-hoon would go for it.
But after a long silence, out came the unexpected.
“Head. We’ve got three contracts left, right?”
“Yes.”
“Two are about to start shooting?”
“Yes. One each from Teams 1 and 2.”
The Tvic contract ran through this year, but if they didn’t deliver all three shows, it auto-extended.
Meaning, once they supplied the third next year, obligations ended.
Of course, they weren’t rushing to cut ties.
Content production was a house of cards—one flop and your back buckled.
They had reserves for a hit or two going south, but who knew?
This industry could turn a hundred-billion-won investment into 1-20 billion in sales.
“Next up are Teams 3 and 4?”
“Yes. Team 3’s Oxygen Alert and Team 4’s At Your Fingertips.”
“Head, tweak the timelines so those two drop as close together as possible.”
Gong Seok-jun caught the intent in those clipped words.
Three contracted to Tvic.
Four in SSK’s pipeline.
The fourth? No obligation to hand it over.
Especially without Tvic’s funding.
Han Sung-hoon wanted to walk the tightrope.
If At Your Fingertips flopped, extend with Tvic.
If it hit big?
Wave goodbye.
For that, Teams 3 and 4 needed to launch neck-and-neck.
But tightropes didn’t always end in triumph.
Sometimes you fell.
“That means footing At Your Fingertips’ full budget. We can’t shop other channels mid-walk, right?”
“Nope.”
“One slip, and we eat the whole production cost.”
“We can handle it.”
“We’ve gotta plan for the worst. Everything we put out from now could tank.”
Gong Seok-jun tapped his calculator briefly.
“Exactly 10 billion. No more.”
“Tight. Do CE’s in for it.”
But you didn’t climb high without handling the squeeze.
“Let’s do it. Can’t sell to Tvic forever.”
Gong Seok-jun hesitated, then asked.
“Sir, you’re betting on At Your Fingertips hitting big?”
Han Sung-hoon smirked.
“Don’t overthink. If Tvic won’t fund it, would you shelve the show?”
Gong Seok-jun shook his head without a second thought.
Not because of Jeon So-ra.
When Do Hyun-woo first pitched revamping a 15-year-old volleyball script, he’d raised an eyebrow.
But the script? Crystal clear.
This needed to see daylight.
Even if it bombed amid brutal reviews.
“Chips down? Plan for the win.”
Gong Seok-jun dropped it, shifting lightly.
“Having no-names turned out for the best.”
He’d griped when they pushed Kang Min-sik and Oh Ha-eun—nothing like Criminal Community.
Now? Dodging guarantee costs was a godsend.
Couldn’t have afforded Jeon So-ra otherwise.
And DVX’s member would boost IP sales nicely.
“I’ll head to Tvic. You call Do CE and lock the budget.”
“Got it.”
A few hours later.
Tvic Korea’s rep was predictably hardline.
“If you stick with Kim Ra-un, we’re out.”
“Moral hazard?”
“You know how aggressive Director Do’s style is, Han.”
“Fair.”
“If you’re that sure, produce it yourselves at SSK.”
Han Sung-hoon nodded at Tvic Korea’s rep.
“Then we will.”
“Smart choice. After all—”
“No. SSK’s producing it.”
“……Pardon?”
“I kinda like the aggressive approach.”
Han Sung-hoon was grinning.
A month ago, handing the script to senior Kang Min-sik triggered my superpower.
Unthinkable.
I’d figured it was one-and-done per script.
Still don’t get why it fired up.
Recommended casting mismatched the actual role?
If so, why not when Jeong Ki-jun stamped Oxygen Alert?
Then a hunch hit.
Back then, nodding would’ve locked Jeong Ki-jun senior into At Your Fingertips.
I said no.
Passed it to Min-sik senior instead.
Rejecting the superpower’s casting voluntarily triggered another round.
Worth noting.
Can’t reject castings just to test rules, but lightning might strike twice.
And inside the possession? Something wild.
Early beats matched perfectly.
Park Sung-hwa’s life was unchanged.
Sole gain: details to boost Kim Ra-un.
I froze at ‘Kang Young’.
Kang Min-sik senior’s face.
Not just him.
Sticky Sa Mo-yeon and Pi Do-seon—previously vague—had new faces.
Sa Mo-yeon: Jeon So-ra.
Pi Do-seon: Familiar but unknown. Later learned: Ruan from idol group DVX.
Drama plot? Barely shifted.
Only tweak: Sa Mo-yeon felt younger?
Cast swap nuanced relationships, but no plot changes.
Exiting possession? Mind blown.
Min-sik senior and no-names? Fine. Echoed Criminal Community.
But Jeon So-ra?
Why our drama? She could snag any role.
Couldn’t shake the greed, though.
Lee Min-seon’s Sa Mo-yeon was a Venus flytrap—flowery facade hiding sticky doom.
Jeon So-ra? Yang Guifei.
Poisonous beauty you craved anyway.
Frankly……
Leagues apart.
Why this twist?
Should’ve recommended her over Lee Min-seon from jump.
Whatever. One thing clear:
I wanted Jeon So-ra cast.
So I sent the script to her one-woman agency.
Rejection be damned—regret worse than trying.
Her manager’s glare screamed murder.
“Boss said bring everything that comes her way, so I did. Director, this is rude.”
“……Sorry.”
Two days later: callback.
Bring scripts from episode 5 on.
After? Floating on air.
Like boarding a cloud-train.
Waiting on her wasn’t idle—explosions galore.
First: HiEn Games flipped. Moral risk from Kim Ra-un spooked the brass. Demanded 3 billion for worldwide rights.
3 billion was opener, sure—room to haggle.
But scraping every 100-200 million for production? Billions? No.
With Yoon Hyun-sol digging graves over our “doomed” drama, we shopped other game devs.
Landed on ‘TT Engine,’ makers of TOOL.
AOS like ROR, teetering on bankruptcy despite hype as ROR’s rival—marketing flop.
Folks think we’re ROR-locked, but nah.
Game footage is just a tool.
ROR fans might dig it; irrelevant to drama success.
Secured TOOL rights plus 500 million pure promo investment.
“Save our game, please.”
“……?”
Gong Seok-jun stared, baffled at my report.