The Moment Talent Sprouts (3)
Kim Hyunjo spoke with his brow drawn tight.
"The writing isn't the problem. Unless they pre-produce the whole thing, they'll be shooting right up against air from the middle on, guaranteed—and the real question is whether she can survive that. Even writers with a few shows behind them start to crack once the schedule closes in and they're cranking out scripts page by page."
I hurried to throw the rest of what I had at him.
"Even if the writer is a rookie, a PD on Shin Tae-gyun's level has more than enough skill to carry a show. I looked into it. TVL handed them a slot after reading only a few episodes of the script. They had a rough year themselves—plenty of the dramas they built around top stars tanked in the ratings and got cut short—so they would have been careful with the lineup. They saw potential. That's why they gave this one a slot, and why they attached PD Shin, who's already proved he can direct and that he can draw an audience."
To scrape together anything that might help me make the case, I had carved hours out of a schedule that didn't have them, dug around, and even called TVL's advertising division and a production PD at Pan Production while pretending I was scouting sponsors. I had basically shot a spy film.
Please. Just let some of it land.
I waited with my heart hammering, and Kim Hyunjo was the one who spoke.
"What'd they give you over there?"
"Sorry?"
"No, forget it. They're not going to bribe anyone for Songha of all people. So why are you pushing this project like your life depends on it?"
Park Young-hoon, the Team 3 leader, scratched at his angular jaw.
"From all the digging he's done, looks like he got hooked. Happens sometimes."
"Sure. Still suspicious, though..."
I flinched, faked a cough, and turned my head.
This time the team leader looked at Lee Songha.
"What about you, Songha? Do you like this one?"
"Yes. I do."
Oh, thank God.
I let out a silent sigh of relief. My pushing a project and the person who would actually be auditioning pushing it were two very different weights. Some managers ignored what their actors wanted and bullied them into whatever the company ordered, but Kim Hyunjo and the team leader weren't that type.
"Yeah? Synopsis must be pretty decent, then. Let's give it a read."
"Cat Guardian Spirit? Sounds like a comic."
The two of them turned the pages and read.
Watching them, I felt uncomfortably close to a certain day years back—the one where I slid a thoroughly ruined report card across the table and waited for my mother to pass sentence. Team Leader Park's face and Kim Hyunjo's darkened in real time.
I understood, of course. How many people could look at that synopsis and believe a smash hit was about to be born? If anyone besides me was sure of it, I would have to seriously consider whether they could see the future too.
Even so. It was a synopsis. A first draft of a project. Would it have killed them to package the thing so it looked even a little convincing? I was starting to resent CEO Kim Pan-seok of Pan Production, and writer Hong Joo-mi along with him.
The last page finally turned. Kim Hyunjo closed the synopsis and sighed, and for several seconds a heavy silence settled over the room, tight as a hand around my throat.
He was the one who broke it.
"What do you think, hyung?"
"What do you mean, what do I think. What about you?"
"Whatever you think is what I think."
Kim Hyunjo looked from me to Lee Songha and back again.
"I'm honestly asking because I want to know. Why do you two like this? Did you pick it because you figured she'd fail the auditions for the network shows, so you went for something with a better shot? If that's not it, I really don't get it. Songha, what about this synopsis did you actually like?"
Lee Songha gazed at him, steady and unblinking.
"Because it's fun."
Kim Hyunjo sighed again.
"...What I'm asking is why. Which part of it is fun."
"I like the role. Jeong Haewon. I want to know what happens to her after this."
"If you're curious, you can just watch the drama."
"Oh."
No—she was not supposed to fold there!
"Still... I want to try it myself. If I'm auditioning, I like this role, oppa. I like this one, Team Leader."
Fortunately, Songha seemed to have made up her mind. She looked at the team leader as well, leaving no doubt about what she wanted.
I lined up my own answer and braced for it. Damn it. My heart had been on a roller coaster since this started.
"Fortune-Kicker, you..."
Mid-sentence, Kim Hyunjo's eyes narrowed.
"You—if you're about to say it's a feeling, don't even start."
"A feeling?"
At the team leader's puzzled look, Kim Hyunjo jerked his chin.
"Hyung, this guy turned down Sung Do-won because he had a bad feeling. I'm done trusting your gut."
"I was going to get into that once we settled Songha's situation... A bad feeling? The more I look at him, the stranger he gets."
Maybe I shouldn't have brought up the feeling at all.
They batted the conversation back and forth with me as the side dish, and then Kim Hyunjo asked again.
"So. Why are you so stuck on this project?"
"Because I think it's a good show. That's why I showed it to Songha, too. I've seen all of the director's previous work, and he's clearly skilled. The synopsis is a little flat, but I heard the script itself is really well written."
Heard it in the future, but still.
Thinking back to what that PR staffer had said—that the script had done all the work, that a drama lived or died by its writer—I figured I could treat "the script is good" as close to established fact. TVL's drama division wouldn't have given a slot to a rookie writer's script if the quality had been garbage.
If I'd been told the show succeeded because the actors carried it, or because of some other tangle of factors, I would have hesitated to put Lee Songha in it.
Slotting her in could change the future.
But if it had succeeded because the script was good, then swapping a single supporting role shouldn't turn a hit into a failure. Not unless that actor's performance was so catastrophically bad it dragged the whole show down with it.
"Then let's look at the script."
The team leader nodded.
"Hyunjo, you get us a copy. If the script checks out, we'll look into the audition. Better she auditions for a role she actually likes and thinks she can do well. Higher chance she books it, and if she does, breaking down the character will be easier too."
"Well... all right. Even so, just in case, Songha, you look through the synopses for the other projects too."
Kim Hyunjo nodded, then clicked his tongue.
"But this CEO of Pan Production is really something. Frustrating as hell."
"Sorry?"
Frustrating?
"This is his first project since he went independent from TVL, right? You'd think he'd call in every contact he made while he was still there. So why take on the risk of a rookie writer? A proven writer would be safer. Better."
Now that he said it, I was curious too.
I was barely worried about the show failing, because I already knew Hong Joo-mi could write. But what kind of confidence had made CEO Kim Pan-seok stake the future of his company—its very first project—on a rookie?
"They're all calling me crazy, aren't they?"
Kim Pan-seok, CEO of Pan Production, muttered it with his massive frame wedged into a small steel chair. Across from him, production PD Park Sukyung glanced up from the laptop and pushed his glasses back into place.
The CEO's eyes jittered, uneasy.
"No. They just need to see the premiere. The moment it airs, they'll get it—ah, so that's why Kim Pan-seok brought in a rookie writer at a time like this. I'm not anxious. Not even a little. Why would I be? I trust Writer Hong's pen."
"CEO, if you're not anxious, could you stop bouncing your leg? The laptop's shaking."
"What?"
Already intimidating, CEO Kim fixed him with a fierce glare, and Park Sukyung quietly looked away.
A pained groan scraped out of him.
"This really cannot fail. I burned through every contact I have on this project. If it flops, there is no second chance. It'll work out, right? The script's good, and that Shin Tae-gyun bastard looks like he's got no backbone, but his skills are solid. Huh? It'll work out?"
"Even if you ask me..."
"You're a production PD and you don't even have confidence in the show? Worrying is my job. I'm the one paying your salary. You're supposed to do the work convinced it's going to succeed!"
"Yes. I really think this one will do well. It's going to be a huge hit."
"A huge hit? We can't even cast the leads!"
Park Sukyung had nothing to say to that.
A knock came, and two people stepped into the conference room: writer Hong Joo-mi, so slight she looked as if she might not reach half of CEO Kim's bulk, and a man in his late thirties with a bird's nest still sitting untouched on his head—Director Shin Tae-gyun.
"Hello, sunbae."
"CEO... we're here."
"Oh, Director Shin. Writer Hong. Come in."
CEO Kim hastily crossed his legs and answered as if nothing were wrong. Writer Hong greeted Park Sukyung as well, sat down, and fidgeted with her fingers.
"Um... it sounded like people were raising their voices. There isn't a problem, is there?"
"What? The script's good—what problem could there be? Writer Hong, don't worry about a thing. Just trust me and follow my lead. From here on, all you have to do is keep turning out scripts. Just the scripts. Is the next episode done?"
"Yes. The first draft is out. I'm revising it with the director now."
"The script's all fine. Casting is the problem."
Director Shin scratched his head.
"Upstairs is losing it, telling us to lock the cast already. If we keep delaying, they might pull the slot."
At that, every face in the room darkened.
Park Sukyung sighed.
"And then Im Joowon fell through out of nowhere..."
"Aigoo, he got hurt—what can you do. Kim Yeonseong turned us down. Park Hyemin turned us down. How many actors are there in this country, and we can't find one to play our lead? We need the leads locked before we can even approach supporting cast... Should we drop the tier just a little? Half a step?"
Director Shin shook his head.
"The show going up against us in the same time slot on GTBN—they landed Kim Yeonseong."
"What? That Big Bear Production thing?!"
"Yes. Because of that, upstairs is saying we have to cast at Kim Yeonseong's level, no exceptions. Even if we set the three networks' shows aside, we cannot lose to our competitor, GTBN."
"That guy cut us off cold, said he doesn't do cable or the comprehensive channels, and then he went there? How did Big Bear get him?"
"Forty million won an episode. I heard they promised to pay it up front the second he stamped the contract."
"Forty million an episode, twenty episodes... that's eight hundred million won. They paid that right away? They have that kind of money?"
"Kim Yeonseong does all right in China, too, so they probably ran the numbers on overseas rights and everything else and decided fronting about eight hundred million to lock him down was still a win."
"Aigoo..."
CEO Kim started to press a hand to his forehead, caught himself with Writer Hong in the room, and cleared his throat.
"It's fine. Our script is good!"
"I heard theirs is good too," Park Sukyung muttered.
A stifling weight hung over the conference room when another knock came and the door opened.
"Um, CEO."
Pan Production's most junior production PD hovered in the doorway.
"What?"
"There's a call."
"In the middle of a meeting—aigoo, from where?"
"W&U."
CEO Kim froze.
"W&U?"
"Yes."
"CEO Baek Han-sung's place? The W&U with Sung Do-won, Park Sohyun, and Son Chae-young?"
"Uh, yes. I think that's the one."
CEO Kim kicked his chair back and shot to his feet.