Action 12. What He's Holding
Gong Seok-jun, the headquarters manager, stared at him with utter disbelief.
"Hyun-woo. You're using hypnosis, right? Aren't you?"
"Yeah. Want me to put one on you?"
"Now that I think about it, I feel like I'm already under it. Why didn't I ever think to pressure you with my position and just assign you to Writer Mun A-young?"
"Because you're the kind of person with the exceptional character to trust your subordinates?"
"If you can't say nice things... No, but seriously, how did you convince her? Writer Hong Hee-young didn't throw salt over her shoulder at that insane idea?"
"She said all she has at home is imported herb salt."
"That's... Water?"
"Evian."
"Rich."
The manager, who had been spacing out, suddenly jolted.
"What am I even saying? Is this really hypnosis?"
"Hypnosis my ass."
"No, okay. Fine. We could greenlight a season 2. But what's this about her writing it herself?"
"She asked for a share of the webdrama in return, remember?"
"You think I asked for that thinking it'd make money?"
He wasn't wrong.
Writer Hong Hee-young had demanded 10% of the drama's equity as compensation for her writing.
And that was an incredibly favorable condition for me.
Twelve 20-minute episodes equaled four hour-long ones in volume, and her usual fee came out to around 70 million won.
In other words, we'd normally have to pay 280 million.
The webdrama would need to gross 2.8 billion for her to break even on principal alone...
Frankly, that wasn't easy.
Over half of webdramas didn't even hit break-even.
I had no intention of taking a loss, but I couldn't guarantee massive profits either.
"She has passion for it."
"Passion, my foot. You think a 20-year veteran moves on passion? At that point, she's got an imugi coiled in her gut."
Who knows. Maybe everyone treating her like one turned her into the real deal.
Deep down, she still held onto that fiery moment when she wrote the first letter of her first script.
I doubted anyone without that spark could write dramas that toyed with people's hearts.
As those thoughts crossed my mind, the door opened, and CEO Han Sung-hoon walked in.
We were in the CEO's office, after all.
"Ah, sorry. The call dragged on."
"No problem."
"Let's start with Writer Mun A-young. Do CE, what did you think of the script?"
"I read up to episode 6, and it was really fun."
"Think it'll be a hit?"
"Yes. Even if luck's against it, I think it'll comfortably clear 10%. She has a rare dedicated fandom."
It wasn't me boasting some genius insight—the reactions from everyone who'd read it were similar.
The manager said he'd enjoyed it a ton too.
"Headquarters manager."
"Yes."
"Contact Tvic and check if Senior Ryu Hyun-seok from Team 1 can take it. He's worked with Director Kim Dae-hyun a few times, so it should be positive."
"Got it."
"We'll sort that separately..."
The CEO turned his gaze to me.
"When we proposed making you oversee Team 4, you said something, right, Do CE? That you still lacked confidence in yourself."
"Yes."
"I thought you meant luck. Criminal Community, At Your Fingertips—both had a lot of random elements. You got the At Your Fingertips script at a variety show shoot, right?"
"That's right."
"You breathed life into those scripts, Do CE, but luck played a big role too. In casting and staffing especially."
"Yes."
"So I figured you were trying a small webdrama. Something you could shape entirely on your own terms. No room for luck to interfere."
Swap "luck" for "superpower," and it'd be spot on.
"I thought it was a good attitude. Liked how you took the senior role seriously."
"Thank you."
"That's why this situation doesn't make sense to me."
CEO Han Sung-hoon looked me straight in the eye.
"The original's reputation is sky-high, the writer's got a huge ego, and the cast is basically locked in already."
I thought we could swap actors, but since that was the common view, I held my tongue.
"The original cast were in their early thirties back then—perfect acting age. Still young, full of energy. But now they're over forty. And their careers haven't panned out to top-star status."
I knew that.
The Tug of War actors had ended up as one-hit wonders.
They'd bungled guarantee negotiations by refusing to accept it, missing out on chances.
I'd even heard an assistant director grumble, "They still think they're the essence of push-pull."
We'd worked on the same project once.
"Putting those actors in there could drag cherished memories out of fans' minds and ruin them."
CEO Han Sung-hoon asked.
"So what exactly are you trying to achieve with this project, Do CE? I can't figure it out."
It was a sharp question.
A few days ago, the manager had asked something similar, but the nuance differed.
He'd questioned my choice; the CEO was probing the outcome.
And I had an answer.
"While working on projects, there are moments when conviction hits. The certainty that this one will succeed."
I still didn't know if my superpower guaranteed hits.
Script possession didn't come with lines like "This show's ratings: X%."
That's why I'd poured everything into Criminal Community and At Your Fingertips.
The funny part? Pouring your all in like that birthed conviction at some point.
"If Criminal Community flops, it means something's seriously broken in this world."
"So if it flops, I'll quit being a CE."
I could say that much to the no-name actors trembling in anxiety.
Even as Oxygen Alert, launched two weeks early, racked up hits, no real unease stirred.
This conviction didn't come from superpowers.
It came from my own eye.
And yesterday, I'd felt it again.
Writer Hong Hee-young had given me something intriguing.
"Take a look at this."
"What's this?"
"Wrote it about eight years ago? It's a script I've held onto for ages."
Reading it shocked me.
It was eerily similar to the season 2 storyline I'd been refining—fate and coincidence.
I asked if she'd had the same idea already.
"No. The character names are different. It was a new work."
"A couple who loved like fire in a movie break up, reunite after seven years—what happens. But I just realized."
"This... is the story of Coincidence and Inevitability."
She'd known it unconsciously too.
That their coincidence and inevitability wasn't true love—just a fleeting one.
That their story wasn't truly over, but her immature self from ten years ago had forced the curtain down.
Hearing her story, conviction bloomed.
If the writer and I thought it, why wouldn't viewers?
If they could think it, what was so hard about empathizing?
So...
"No matter how I look at it, I think this project will succeed."
"How much?"
"As much as it can."
"You mean breaking webdrama limits?"
"I think that's up to how we make it. It could be number one in the webdrama pie—or break out entirely."
"Plan?"
"I have one."
CEO Han Sung-hoon, who'd been watching me intently, spoke.
"There's something you should know, Do CE. If you say that and it flops, no chance at overseeing Team 4."
"Yes. That makes sense."
"Hyun-woo, you..."
The manager started to say something, but CEO Han Sung-hoon raised a hand to stop him.
"Do CE has conviction, but I don't. To satisfy original fans, visuals can't lag. We'll need the original cast too. That's 200 million minimum?"
"Yes. Even tight, it'll top 150 million."
"No budget until you give SSK a reason to invest."
It was a cold stance.
It seemed cold, but...
Was I imagining it felt like expectation toward me?
Like, Can you turn that conviction into numbers, and those numbers into a work?
I nodded firmly.
"Yes. I'll make it happen."
A strange silence lingered in the CEO's office after Do Hyun-woo left.
Gong Seok-jun spoke first.
"That kid sure doesn't scare easy."
"Yeah. Wanted to pressure him a bit... but feels like he saw right through me."
"What was on your mind, CEO?"
"You shouldn't have to ask."
The manager shrugged and asked.
"But if that project really tanks, you'll cancel Team 4 oversight?"
"Have to."
"Then we'd need a new overseer. Team's running great around Hyun-woo now."
"We'll hire if needed."
Gong Seok-jun thought for a moment.
"Punishment but no reward? What if it actually succeeds?"
"No need to play blind man's buff."
Gong Seok-jun blinked, then jolted.
"Promote him? To senior?"
"Mm."
"No way. What company makes a thirties guy a manager? Mid-thirties at that. Other team seniors will revolt."
"Then he needs results big enough to shut them up."
"With a webdrama? Possible?"
Han Sung-hoon recalled Do Hyun-woo's eyes.
"That's what I'm curious about too. What'll Do Hyun-woo make?"