The Fading Halo
“I heard PD Oh Ji-tae has started developing Tug of War Season 2.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. Seems like he's spreading the word everywhere that he snatched it right out from under you after you ditched it.”
Chae Seo-hee's info network no longer surprised me.
No, wait.
Actually, wasn't this the perfect time to dig deeper?
“Keep it to yourself. Now spill it for real.”
“How I found out?”
“Yeah.”
“Trade secret.”
“I'm dying of curiosity here.”
“You gonna cast Choi Jae-hyuk and Seo Jae-yeon in my project?”
“Don't talk nonsense.”
“What about Jeon So-ra and Kim Ra-un then?”
“I'm out. Oh, look, text from the department head.”
I figured I wasn't getting it today and started to stand when Chae Seo-hee whispered.
“My sister's a reporter.”
“What? Really?”
“Secret.”
A name flashed through my mind right then.
“Reporter Chae Seo-young?”
“......How'd you know?”
“She always wrote glowing articles whenever I put out a project. Even defended me during the whole Young Perfect Al backlash.”
“Surprisingly, it's not like she was just taking sides.”
“Oh yeah?”
“She covered me, then wrote based on her own judgment of what was right.”
Wasn't that the same thing?
She took my side because she thought I was right.
“I thought she was moonlighting as a paparazzi or something......”
“Paparazzi? Anyway, it's a secret.”
“I'll keep it, but why make it a secret at all?”
“If you start asking for planted articles, it'd be a headache.”
Fair enough.
If I'd known back in Team 3 that her sister was a reporter, Joo Young-hoon would've exploited her like crazy.
“Why the long face?”
“Kinda deflated now.”
“Deflated how?”
“Thought it was gonna be some massive bombshell secret.”
Maybe bump hearing test immunity and add +10 connections or something?
With that long-standing mystery solved, I headed up to the department head's office with lighter steps.
Unlike me, the department head wore a gravely serious expression.
“Why so chipper?”
“No reason to mope.”
“So carefree. SBX has been testing the waters, you know? 'Let's keep working well together' and all that.”
“Oh yeah?”
Terrestrial TV's clout had waned a lot, but now that SSK had stepped out from Tvic's umbrella, SBX was still one of the big players for sure.
That said, it didn't mean we had to kowtow to them unconditionally.
In the old days, the broadcasters colluded so well that once they blacklisted you, you were done. But not anymore.
Now it was all about keeping good relations all around.
“Should I watch out for SBX?”
“You're not representing SSK, so why bother?”
“So I can do whatever?”
“Yeah. If shit hits the fan, pin it on the rogue employee and cut ties.”
The department head tossed out that chilling joke and asked.
“Think SBX won't greenlight the IP rights?”
“Yeah. Probably.”
I'd been unsure at first, but seeing Oh Ji-tae bluffing confirmed it.
The SBX department head believed I'd come crawling back with my tail between my legs.
Or he figured there was no need to tie his neck to Tug of War Season 2 otherwise.
Maybe both.
“Want help?”
“How?”
“Plenty of ways. He's not even SBX's president—just the drama department head. No need to go all the way to their CEO.”
True. If you just looked at SBX's drama department, it was smaller than SSK.
Even if it was bigger, the department head was just an employee.
Broadcasters varied, but department heads weren't usually executives.
If the department head decided to move, negotiations could kick off immediately.
But...
“I'll handle it.”
I shook my head.
Sure, help from the department head or CEO would make it easy.
“No production budget assessment until SSK gives us a reason to invest.”
But the CEO's words still echoed in my ears.
I didn't want help creating that investment reason.
I had ways to solve it myself.
“How you gonna do it?”
“That's why SSK might wanna distance itself from me. Planning something pretty aggressive.”
“Worried about the company even now?”
“Gotta be. Company tanks, no paycheck.”
“You'd just bolt to Enflicks if we did.”
“Top choice, yeah.”
Still, SSK had grown on me since At Your Fingertips.
Didn't expect them to stay silent after I swapped out all of A and B Team's directors for nobodies.
Plus, when the supporting cast rebelled against Director Im Woon-jae, it must've gone up the chain.
Yet the CEO and department head said nothing to me.
They showed faith.
Oh, right. And the incentives were generous.
Who wouldn't think of the company after that?
“Spill it now. What's your plan?”
“In my view......”
When we'd wrapped up, the department head spoke.
“For that to work, the project has to be insanely good...... You confident?”
Usually, I'd think back to the superpower world inside my ability for these questions.
Not this time.
Still.
“Yeah. I am.”
The answer was the same.
An ordinary Tuesday.
A celebrity entered the Tvic Korea building.
“Wasn't that Do Hyun-woo just now?”
“Think so?”
“What's he doing here?”
It was SSK's Do Hyun-woo.
He wasn't famous enough to get called out on the street even after a few TV appearances, but Tvic Korea was different.
He'd turned a project Tvic declared zero-budget into a mega-hit, paving the way for SSK's independence.
Before that, he'd made legends with an 8-episode thriller starring eight unknowns.
So when Do Hyun-woo visited the production line team, curiosity exploded.
Soon, as he started his meeting with the line producer, employees gathered in clusters to gossip.
“Begging for production budget, right? Come to convince the LP?”
“What else?”
“Dude's obsessed with webdramas? Didn't they already shoot down his pitch?”
Tug of War was fun, but what could a webdrama do?”
“That's why he's here begging.”
Back when SSK had an exclusive supply deal with Tvic, this was common.
Unless it was 100% SSK-funded, you needed Tvic Korea's LP budget approval.
But things had changed.
Tvic only had first-look rights now—no need to schmooze staff in person.
Yet here he was, which screamed production troubles.
In plain terms: no money, so crawling to Tvic.
“Guy only fixates on weird shit.”
“This one's next-level.”
“Couldn't even clear the IP rights.”
“If SSK won't step in, even internals think it's trash.”
As they buzzed, Do Hyun-woo emerged from the production line team's door, meeting over.
His face was neutral, but sharp eyes caught the subtle slump in his shoulders, the disappointment.
“Everyone, thanks for your hard work.”
Do Hyun-woo left Tvic with a smile.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
“Sorry, our actor's schedule doesn't line up.”
“We're managing the filmography tightly. Webdrama's a bit tough.”
“I heard you haven't secured the IP rights yet......”
What to call this?
A stroke of misfortune after good luck?
Nah, too off.
Right—geoksejigam. A sense of dramatic change in a short time, like generations shifting.
Spot on.
Feels like the idiom was coined for my inner thoughts.
When At Your Fingertips started blowing up, I got over 100 business cards from entertainment companies.
Even while dodging their calls, that's how many piled up.
Their pitches were all similar.
Consider our actor for your next casting—we'd be thrilled.
Even a small role; give us a shot, we won't disappoint.
We'll trust anything Director Do Hyun-woo makes blindly now, etc.
I knew it was mostly lip service.
They'd weigh options if I actually offered.
But this level of cold-shouldering? Didn't see it coming.
Three reasons: unsettled IP, webdrama format, original work exists.
My response was always one.
“IP will sort soon. Webdrama, but aiming for OTT slot. Original helps us transcend webdrama limits.”
All true, no lies.
But no one listened. Some even smirked.
Not outright, but you feel it.
Even got advice.
Shouldn't you swallow pride, talk to SBX first?
Young guy like you can't be so rigid.
I'll remember. Watch me.
But how do attitudes flip this fast?
At Your Fingertips ended recently, still Top 10 on Enflicks.
Success halo fades this quick?
Not just the rejections talking.
Rejection's fine.
Problem: they dismissed my actions as arrogance or stubbornness.
Overheard managers chatting.
I hadn't changed since Criminal Community or At Your Fingertips.
Yet in this mess, one agency lent me actors.
Surfer Entertainment, with Oh Ha-eun and Min Jae-yul.
Shockingly, they handed over Oh Ha-eun.