Chapter 116
Chapter 116
A Preemptive Strike
(I was hoping you’d do it, if you’re okay with it…)
“Yes, please send it over.”
(Alright. But don’t feel too pressured. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.)
“No pressure at all. I’ll take a look and get back to you.”
As times changed, JSENM had begun investing heavily to increase its share of the OTT market.
Like other OTT platforms, they were snapping up IPs to create original content, and I heard they had acquired all the promising scenarios from ‘Film Night’.
But even a good scenario is useless if it lacks the appeal to draw people in. JSENM was desperate to bring in top stars, and Yu Yeon-seo, whose stock was high these days, was on their list.
“Mother?”
“Yes.”
Surely this wasn’t a script the busy Vice Chairman had been eyeing herself. She must have called just to have an excuse to talk to him.
Yu Yeon-seo stared at his brother, who was drying his hair.
“Aren’t you busy, hyung? You’ve been coming home early lately.”
“I’m not busy.”
“Really?”
Was that true, or was he leaving work early because of me? Either way, it was a nuisance. Yu Eun-ho’s presence was preventing me from synchronizing my memories.
<This is a good thing. Your body is still far from recovered.>
Even the machine was saying this… There was no one on my side in this world.
As Yu Yeon-seo watched him with suspicion, Yu Eun-ho flicked him on the forehead.
“Why don’t you worry about yourself?”
“Ow.”
Ever since he’d caught him coughing up blood, Yu Eun-ho had developed this reckless streak. It didn’t hurt much, but it was annoying.
Still, it felt more relaxed and informal than his previous, overly cautious behavior, which stemmed from worrying his younger brother would cause another scene.
“Hyung, why are you treating me like this? It’s different from before.”
“Because you keep being so frustrating.”
Ah, but there were reasons for everything. He doesn’t even know how I feel, huh? Yu Yeon-seo clutched his chest in frustration.
“Do you want to go to the US?”
“All of a sudden?”
“Let’s get you a thorough check-up there.”
“No thanks. I don’t have time. Besides, you said the tests showed no problems.”
That’s what made it even stranger… Yu Eun-ho worried it might be a rare disease the doctors had missed, while Yu Yeon-seo was frustrated because he knew the reason but couldn’t explain it.
“So, what’s that?”
“Probably the project I’ll be working on.”
He slowly read the synopsis and plot summary that Choi Yu-jin had sent.
The Imperial Seal (Working Title)
Synopsis
The year is 2021, in a constitutional monarchy of the Republic of Korea.
The writer was quite well-known in the romance genre, and the director had at least three works under his belt. A constitutional monarchy setting? Interesting. But…
‘Romance…’
Can I do it well? I’ve seen a lot, but… I should read more.
The Republic of Korea is abuzz with the scandal of the century as the sole princess, Lee Seo-eun, and Seong Hyeon-woo, the second son of the Cheon-oh Group, abruptly announce their engagement. However, this engagement is…
“You need me to inherit the throne, and I need your power to secure my precarious position.”
“And?”
“Let’s make a deal.”
It was a well-crafted contract for their mutual benefit.
A contract marriage between royalty and a chaebol in a constitutional monarchy? It was a cliché. But there’s nothing more entertaining than a well-written cliché.
‘There’s a story here.’
After quickly scanning the brief descriptions of each protagonist, Yu Yeon-seo flipped to the next page.
‘The actress slated for the female lead is…’
Shin Ye-won. The woman he had seen when he visited Jin Su-ho’s set. One of the top three actresses in the country. It couldn’t have been easy to cast her; he could tell the company had pulled out all the stops.
‘And they want me for this?’
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. Shin Ye-won and Yu Yeon-seo had never worked together, but their visual chemistry was a combination acknowledged by countless people. They were also a pairing constantly shipped by drama fans in their “what if” scenarios, imagining characters from different shows together.
However, for him to be slotted into a project they had invested so much in, enough to secure Shin Ye-won as the lead?
‘This could be fun.’
It was the perfect situation to generate buzz. He sent a message to Choi Yu-jin, agreeing to do it, then closed his eyes. The brief introductions of the two main characters in ‘The Imperial Seal’ were ironically quite similar to him and his brother.
“By the way, hyung, do you remember everything from that day?”
“Vaguely.”
“Then you might have seen the culprit too?”
“Perhaps… You were always interested in people. I was different.”
Yu Eun-ho had a tremendous thirst for knowledge and preferred reading books. In contrast, Yu Yeon-seo had enjoyed having people’s attention focused on him, so he had paid more attention to his surroundings.
“When you put it that way, being a celebrity really is the perfect fit for you.”
“Right?”
[Hey, I’ve got great news. Jang Ye-jun just called, said he absolutely wants to do your film.]
[Really?]
[Yes. It looks like we’ll get investors right away and start shooting soon.]
Lee Jeong-hun, who had just thrown his hat into the ring as a director, was filled with the dream of finally making his directorial debut.
Jang Ye-jun was a top-tier actor. Naturally, investments followed, and the production company was pushing to start filming.
[We’ve got Jang Ye-jun and quick funding, but the director is weak, don’t you think?]
[Even if he used to be an adaptation writer for Director Cheon, he doesn’t have much clout as a director.]
[The scenario is good, right? Let’s use it.]
But then, a problem arose. The production company and the investors informed him that he was off the project.
[So, you’re saying… you’re replacing the director for my own synopsis?]
[Writer, I mean, Director-nim, you don’t have the name recognition, do you?]
[But this is a scenario I’ve worked on for years…]
[Come on, you know how things work. Why are you acting like this?]
It was a quiet injustice in the film industry: an obscure director writes a great scenario, only for the production company and investors to take the synopsis and replace the director.
But he never thought it would happen to him.
“Haaah…”
Lee Jeong-hun slumped down on a planter outside the building and let out a deep sigh.
He had anticipated the risk of not receiving his share of the profits as stipulated in the contract once the movie was made. But he had never imagined being completely shut out of his own project.
“Director-nim.”
He teared up seeing the name on his screen. When he answered the call, Director Cheon Seong-min asked in surprise.
(What’s wrong with your voice?)
“They swiped my script.”
(Hey, man. You used to be a writer, what’s with that language?)
“That’s not the problem right now.”
On the verge of tears, Lee Jeong-hun poured out his grievances. Even with a background as an adaptation writer for a master director, he had no power in the film industry. He rambled on for a while, complaining about the state of the Korean film industry and how society was messed up.
Director Cheon, who had been listening silently, sighed and said.
(Haaah… Where are you? Can you get over here?)
“The bar you always go to, right? I’m on my way.”
(Yeah, I’ll pay for the taxi, so grab one.)
Lee Jeong-hun stood up and hailed a cab with a listless gesture.
“Oh?”
“Hello.”
When he trudged into the bar and headed for Director Cheon’s table, he saw someone else was there. It was Yu Yeon-seo.
“Oh… if I’d known you were here, I would have come another time.”
“It’s fine. I was just curious about the person who wrote the audition script. You know who I am, right? I’m Yu Yeon-seo.”
“I’m Lee Jeong-hun.”
Yu Yeon-seo poured a glass of soju for Lee Jeong-hun, who sat down awkwardly. After a moment’s hesitation, he downed the drink in one gulp.
“Kuhh…”
“So, I hear you got kicked to the curb by the investors and the production company?”
“Wow, you really cut to the bone the moment we meet. Haven’t we just met?”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“…You’re right. It is the truth.”
As Director Cheon refilled his empty glass, Lee Jeong-hun downed it again in one go.
Yu Yeon-seo observed him closely. Lee Jeong-hun’s state seemed closer to resignation than anger. His painstakingly crafted synopsis had been stolen, and he wasn’t even angry?
“I guess this kind of thing happens a lot? You seem… used to it.”
“It happens. I just never thought it would happen to me.”
“Aren’t you furious?”
“What more can I do?”
The film industry is a closed circle. Even if someone in Lee Jeong-hun’s position protested or filed a lawsuit, the power lay with those who had the money and controlled distribution. You had to be prepared to be blacklisted from the industry just for trying to fight for your rights.
“Hmm… Which production company is it?”
“Concept Films.”
“They’re big.”
At least it wasn’t a company trying to make a quick buck. ‘Concept Films’ was a well-established production company. He recalled the things he’d crammed about the film industry from his secretary, Cha Yun-ho, after becoming a director at JSENM.
‘Should I develop him?’
To prevent any butterfly effects, his memory of what Lee Jeong-hun had created was faint. That meant one of two things: either he later became a blockbuster director, or he became disillusioned with the film industry after this incident and disappeared.
In any case, Director Cheon himself had taught him directing, and judging by the audition script, his scene descriptions and dialogue were quite detailed.
“What can I do for you? Should I make sure their film gets buried in some late-night slot in Changwon?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There was no need for us to meet today, but you specifically called him here while I was present. Isn’t this what you were hoping for?”
Lee Jeong-hun’s eyes widened, as this was news to him, but Director Cheon coughed, flustered. He couldn’t deny there was some truth to it, but he hadn’t expected to be called out so directly.
“I just called him to hear him out.”
“Hmm… Is that so? Alright, I understand.”
Yu Yeon-seo narrowed his eyes and stared at Director Cheon. Despite his words, if he helped Lee Jeong-hun, Director Cheon would feel indebted. And since Director Cheon was no freeloader, he would try to repay the favor somehow later on.
“Alright then, Mr. Lee Jeong-hun. What do you want to do?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you want to make your directorial debut with a new synopsis? Or do you want to salvage that one, one way or another?”
Was that even possible? Slightly drunk, Lee Jeong-hun stared blankly. The chances were slim, but one could still dream, couldn’t they?
“That was a synopsis I held onto for years. Honestly, it’s a waste to just let it go… I wanted to make my directorial debut with it. I really wanted to make that film…”
“Then it’s simple.”
Yu Yeon-seo filled Lee Jeong-hun’s empty glass, then raised his own for a toast.
“We’ll just make it first and release it.”
“What?”
“Mr. Lee Jeong-hun, that synopsis isn’t the final version, is it? There must be lines you don’t like. You can revise all that, right?”
“Well, yes…?”
It takes about three to five years to make a movie, and a completed film’s release is only ever canceled if its subject matter happens to clash with a societal controversy at the time of release. Suspicions of plagiarism? They usually just turn a blind eye and push forward.
There are countless scenarios in the world, and overlapping themes are plentiful. As long as the dialogue and situations don’t match exactly, the industry is lenient toward similarities. It’s usually brushed off with a ‘Hey, that’s similar to ours, but oh well, they must have spent a lot of money too’ attitude.
“So… you’re saying, Mr. Yeon-seo, that we should strike first?”
“Yes.”
So, an overlapping synopsis is fine. As long as they make it and release it first, there’s no problem.
By the time ‘Concept Films’ produces and releases their movie, it will have already lost its originality because of Lee Jeong-hun’s film. What’s more, the public would assume that the movie made by ‘Concept Films’ had plagiarized Lee Jeong-hun’s work.
This was, of course, on the condition that Lee Jeong-hun’s film was well-made and successful, but seeing how Director Cheon was empathizing and heartbroken as if it were his own problem, it didn’t seem like he would refuse to help…
“Kid, you can’t make a decision like this over a few drinks.”
“Director-nim, I have a lot of money.”
After he had collapsed and woken up, Chairman Yu had given him an allowance, begging him to just rest and not work. That allowance, of course, was on a scale far beyond that of an ordinary person.
“You said Jang Ye-jun was so impressed with the synopsis that he’d do it no matter the pay. That means the script is amazing. I can’t miss out on this.”
Above all, the instincts of his original self, which could smell money like a bloodhound, were screaming at him. This had the scent of a blockbuster.
Lee Jeong-hun nodded blankly. But how did he know that Jang Ye-jun had taken a pay cut? Information must travel fast when you’re part of a major corporation.
“We’ll finish everything in two years, no, a year and a half.”
‘White Tiger’ is called a miracle, right? Then we can do it one more time, can’t we?