Script Polish and Rights Roadblock
Up to now, I'd never worked with a veteran writer.
Yeom Jae-moon had a long career as a writer, but he wasn't a pro who'd penned multiple works.
In that sense, collaborating with Writer Hong Hee-young was both comfortable and uncomfortable.
The comfortable part? She grasped exactly what I meant, like clockwork.
No need for lengthy explanations.
Just toss out the premise, and she got it right away.
The uncomfortable part? Even so, she always wanted reasons.
Even for minor tweaks, I had to convince her.
Thinking about it, that's only natural—but Ko Young-tae, Gil Sang-hoon, and Writer Yeom Jae-moon were the "fix it first, see later" type.
Still, it wasn't a big problem.
In fact, with her existing script as a reference, things were progressing smoothly.
She was just too accustomed to 60-minute (or 70-minute) episodes and needed time to adapt to 20-minute ones.
Maybe it wouldn't be twelve 20-minute episodes after all—eight 30-minute ones could work.
As I dove deep into script work with Writer Hong Hee-young, Kwon Cheol CE brought in the first polished draft.
An undercover cop infiltrating the gangster world.
A well-worn trope, but one that doesn't polarize audiences much and offers plenty of variations.
The protagonist's descent into the violent gangster life, the bonds of friendship and trust formed there, the thriller tension of hiding their true identity.
It could encompass all that.
But...
"Out of these three main threads, which one's the core? The story's fun, but the protagonist's constant agonizing builds fatigue."
"Hmm..."
"Maybe loosen up on one of them?"
It was all crammed in so tightly—too much, perhaps?
"And the moments where the protagonist feels satisfied are scattered throughout the script."
"Satisfied?"
"Yeah. Satisfaction as a cop, satisfaction as a gangster. They're ping-ponging back and forth."
"Is that a problem?"
"It is. Viewers won't know which emotional arc to latch onto. I don't know how the ending plays out yet, but if you're leaning toward the gangster identity for the finale, front-load the cop satisfaction early. Let it fade toward the back, then hit hard in the moment of choice. You get what I mean?"
Kwon Cheol listened intently, then smacked his own forehead.
Wasn't that too hard?
"Doesn't hurt?"
"Not at all. Feels great. That's why the emotional line felt blurry. And why scene 22 in Act 3 lacked tension."
"Right. In scene 20, he saves the kid and rediscovers his cop duty—that's when the gangster persona starts peeling away."
"Whoa. You see all that?"
"First time reading it. Fresh scripts always pop for me."
"Nah, it's not that. This is the clearest feedback I've gotten since joining the company."
"Glad to hear it."
"Gimme a sec—gotta call the writer!"
As Kwon Cheol dashed off to phone the writer, No Jae-wook shuffled over, shoulders slumped, dragging his chair.
"I got dropped."
"When?"
"Two days ago. The division head said it's really no good. Man, the writer was such a nice guy."
"Once you succeed first, No Jae-wook CE, you can pull him up."
Truth be told, I'd heard from the division head already.
Honestly, it wasn't bad for Team 4 if No Jae-wook wasn't holding a project.
With four CEs diving into production at once, the whole team would overload.
Even CL Teams 1, 2, and 3 juggled production and backup staff carefully.
Still, he looked so dejected I opened my drawer.
Inside were three scripts I'd set aside in advance.
"Wanna check these out?"
"What's this?"
"Scripts I enjoyed. Grab one if it clicks."
Out of the 34 I'd reviewed last time, these were the top three.
Two hadn't even been touched by planners—serious potential there.
The kind I'd have tackled myself before At Your Fingertips.
"Ghost possession boxing...? The premise is insane."
"I hesitated, but threw it in. It's absurd, but weirdly fun."
High chance it'd shine in Acts 1 and 2, then fizzle—but if it sustained, ratings could surprise.
Prime B-grade guilty pleasure drama?
KBX's specialty.
After wrapping up with No Jae-wook, I spotted Chae Seo-hee with eyes sparkling.
"Come on, enough already."
"Nope. Gonna see this through with my own hands."
"Then why the gleaming eyes?"
"My goal. The moment you see my script and yell 'Eureka!' because it's flawless."
"Ugh, so stubborn."
"Who'd I learn it from? Never lost a stubbornness contest since picking those eight unknowns."
"You're my senior, Seo-hee. Who's learning from who?"
"Oh, right. Yeah."
Ugh.
Team 4 was peaceful as ever today.
No matter what plans I cooked up for a Tug of War Season 2 webdrama, one thing came first.
Securing the rights.
SBX held those rights.
Actually, Enflicks had the exclusive SVOD (subscription video-on-demand) rights.
Nothing unusual.
Broadcasters used to bundle old shows' SVOD rights in bulk deals with OTTs—rerun rights secured, but not the source IP.
Hoarding a 10-year-old drama yielded zilch, but bundling 10 or 20 for OTT meant big bucks.
SVOD only, not full IP transfer.
So, I needed to convince SBX, the IP holders.
Straightforward.
Someone paying for rights to a no-revenue relic?
Expect 50-70 million won—win-win for SBX.
Haggle a bit?
Visitor badge from reception in hand, I hit the elevator.
Ignoring the stares from staff who seemed to recognize me, I reached the 8th floor.
Nam CP from SBX waited there.
"Nam CP. You came out?"
"Was heading in when the elevator pinged. Felt like it might be you, Do CE."
"How've you been? Been a while, huh?"
"Feels like months? C'mon, not in the hallway."
I knew Nam CP from before.
Han Sung-hoon had smoothed things with SBX's Park National Director over the Youngperal-Criminal Community mess, then set up drinks for us grunts to connect.
Back then, Nam CP didn't think much of me.
I'd been clinging to Youngperal's coattails.
But my excuse—"survived Manager Jang Gi-un's attacks, ended up here"—landed.
Neutral zero, maybe?
We've crossed paths since, and post-At Your Fingertips boom, his attitude shifted.
Figured no downside to buddying up with me.
Same for me with a network CP.
"Do CE, why don't you age? Thirty-five this year?"
"Yep."
"Whoa, so Criminal Community was at thirty-three? Kid."
Tell me about it. Time flies.
Hired October at 32, now November at 35.
We chatted amiably.
Connections are king.
"Alright, spill. You didn't call just to say hi."
"What, can't I?"
"Nah. Business time."
"Well... I'm eyeing one of SBX's shows for a Season 2 webdrama."
Nam CP's eyes widened.
"Webdrama? For real?"
"Yeah. Budget around 1 billion won."
Lowballing production cost—rights usually 5% of budget, by custom.
Slim chance it'd stick verbatim, but webdrama might greenlight easy.
No direct competition, right?
"Why bother? Ride the At Your Fingertips wave with something bigger. Cheap shoots could tarnish your filmography."
"Blame SBX for making killer dramas."
"Flatterer. Which one?"
"Tug of War."
"Tug of War? Hong Hee-young?"
"Yes."
"Principally, rights just need our okay... but Hong'll glare daggers."
He lowered his voice in the empty office.
"Who nuked her Oxygen Alert fandom? She'll sit still?"
"Met her once—reaction lukewarm, but curious."
"Yeah? Your hits got her hoping?"
Nam CP tilted his head, then grinned wide.
"Webdrama from a 10-year-old show? Easy money. What's your number?"
"Standard 5%."
"Roughly 50 mil. Need division head's nod, but he'll okay. I'll push."
Nam CP flashed a sly smile.
Don't forget this favor.
My line was set.
"Won't forget your help."
"No."
"Pardon? No?"
Nam CP looked baffled at the Park National Director's words.