Suddenly Misunderstood (4)
Eleven in the morning, outside a meeting room at Ace Pictures. While the man standing there wore an utterly unremarkable getup, the woman beside him radiated such a dazzling aura that anyone could tell from a distance she was a celebrity.
"Yerin, they're all here already. Shall we go in?"
"No. Let's wait a little longer."
"......."
Top star Cha Yerin and her personal manager, Manager Choi. The two of them had arrived at the meeting place early, but thanks to Cha Yerin's stubbornness, they were cooling their heels outside in pointless waiting.
"Yerin, the director and the writer are here waiting for you already...."
"Yes. If they want me to wait, why shouldn't they?"
In this industry, half the battle of a power struggle was the first impression. Show up ten minutes late on purpose, burn the other side's nerves, and subtly etch into their minds the message that you were the one running the show. That had always been the immutable negotiation formula of the proud top star Cha Yerin.
And so, at exactly ten minutes past the agreed time, Cha Yerin finally lifted her head with languid grace.
"Hm~ Shall we go in now?"
"Yes, yes! Let's hurry. We can't be any later than this. And please, please keep it smooth this time, Yerin. Got it?"
Manager Choi, who had been anxiously checking his watch, wiped his face dry and urged her on, but Cha Yerin only wore an easy, unhurried smile.
Click—
The moment Manager Choi carefully opened the door, every gaze in the room snapped toward them. Cha Yerin stepped inside with her pre-prepared, gracious smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Oh my, I'm a little late, aren't I? So sorry~"
A throwaway apology delivered with a light, twinkling laugh. Usually at this point, the other side would be bobbing their heads and stammering, "Not at all, we just arrived ourselves."
"Oh, no trouble at all. Please, have a seat."
"Traffic must have been terrible. Haha. You've had a long morning, I'm sure."
And just as expected, Ace Pictures' production director and casting director leapt up to offer gestures of welcome, and even PD Woo Youngtaek made no show of displeasure.
But then—
"Yes, you are quite late. What kept you, exactly? Making busy people wait."
"...?"
A voice utterly dry and cold, freezing the air in the meeting room in an instant. Cha Yerin's head turned toward it before she could stop herself.
Who the hell is this bastard?
There sat a man she'd never seen before, staring straight at her with a perfectly blank expression.
"And this would be...?"
"Ah, th-that's the writer! As we mentioned before, he wanted to be present for today's meeting as well."
At her frosty question, casting director Lee Junsang broke into a cold sweat and hurriedly made the introduction. Either way, the rookie writer's face remained expressionless, and Cha Yerin found that attitude grating for no reason she could name.
"Ah, ahaha! So sorry to have kept you waiting!"
Just before Cha Yerin exploded, Manager Choi rushed in to mediate.
"W-we ask for your kind understanding. R-right, Yerin? You should sit down too."
"...."
Cha Yerin suppressed her boiling fury with visible effort, crossed her legs, and settled into the seat across from Ji Yeonwoo with aristocratic insolence. Thereafter followed a round of perfunctory greetings and a few exchanges of meaningless small talk, but across the table hovered the tension of a time bomb that might go off at any moment.
"Ahem. Well then, shall we get down to business? You should have already reviewed the broad strokes of our terms."
As PD Woo Youngtaek carefully opened the casting negotiations, Manager Choi, as if he'd been waiting for exactly this, produced the documents he'd prepared.
"Yes. Our actress is reviewing the script positively. tvM has clearly put real care into planning this project, so we'd genuinely like to be part of it. However... there are a few additional conditions we'd like to add."
"Please, go ahead."
"First, we'd like her per-episode fee set at thirty percent above her last MBS project. Also, long on-set waits are hard on an actor's condition management, so we'd appreciate it if you'd set up a private standby trailer for her."
The demands from Cha Yerin and her agency were endless. Five-star hotel accommodations for location shoots went without saying, a guaranteed center position on the main poster, first claim on the making-of footage, a clause prohibiting more than eight hours of filming per day, and on and on and on. Gradually, an expression of discomfort settled onto the face of PD Woo Youngtaek, who had been listening in silence.
"Hm. That's... quite tight."
"Ahaha. Well, most leading actors these days handle all of this as standard practice, you know."
Even Manager Choi, saying this, looked slightly sheepish. Even accounting for Cha Yerin's star power, more than a few of the excuses were rather strained. But the battle-hardened Manager Choi recited the demands without batting an eye.
"And finally, there's the matter of script revision rights."
"Script revisions? Didn't we make ourselves clear on that in advance? It's not possible."
"Ah, well, you see—"
"Excuse me."
Without warning, Cha Yerin, who had been sitting back with her arms crossed merely observing, cut bluntly into the conversation.
"Isn't the Min Ayoung character far too passive? Audiences these days just don't go for heroines who depend on the male lead, do they?"
"...."
"Mm~ And how should I put it, the balance with the other characters feels a little off as well, so I'd really like our side's input to be actively reflected, if at all possible?"
"Input," was the pretty word for it — in practice, it was a declaration of war on the writer's authority, an announcement that she intended to butcher the script to her own taste. At this line-crossing demand, the pupils of the casting director and production director quaked. But under the network director's special order to spare no expense, and weighed down by the sheer gravity of a top star named Cha Yerin, they were about to bow their heads in reluctant agreement.
"Yes, well then, we'll do our best to accommodate that part—"
"That's not going to work."
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, Ji Yeonwoo sliced through the conversation with a single stroke.
"W-writer?"
"Accommodate what, exactly? The reason I'm sitting here in the first place is that the terms you've already proposed are absurdly inflated. I came to cut them down."
"...? What are you talking about right now?"
Ji Yeonwoo laced his fingers together on the table and declared, quietly.
"Exactly what I said. A thirty percent raise on her fee? No. We're cutting twenty percent from the first proposed figure. Furthermore, we'll be revising all of the basic clauses you'd provisionally agreed to with the production company. Full coverage of hair, makeup, and staff costs? Scrapped. The wages and meals for Cha Yerin's personal entourage — you can cover that out of your own pocket, or your management's. Whichever."
"...?!"
"If you want to stay in a luxury hotel during location shoots, pay for that yourselves as well. And script revisions are absolutely out of the question. Even if you're unhappy with a character, melting perfectly into that role is what being an actor is, isn't it? Why are you picking a fight over that?"
"H-hey! Writer!"
"I'm not finished. What else did you say — a private trailer? I consider actors rehearsing their scenes together on set to be the single most important thing, so I can't in good conscience allow private performances. Consider that request never made."
Under the merciless, breathless carving-up, the meeting room fell as silent as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over it. But the eyes of the people seated there darted about busier than ever. The production director and casting director, aghast at the writer's sudden lunge, exchanged frantic signals with their eyes, while Manager Choi kept stealing glances at his own actress, going white as a sheet. Only PD Woo Youngtaek maintained a careful silence.
And in that atmosphere of thin ice, Ji Yeonwoo added one more line, as if deliberately driving in the wedge.
"If you don't like it, don't do it. There are actors everywhere."
There are actors everywhere.
The instant she heard those final words, the thread of reason Cha Yerin had been clinging to by her fingertips snapped clean through.
"Are you done?"
"Yes."
"Ha! Unbelievable. Honestly, unbelievable."
Cha Yerin burst out with a hollow laugh and shot to her feet.
"Writer, I can see why the writing's good — you clearly can't see the people in front of you. I'm Cha Yerin. Even without this little drama, my company has scripts piled up to the ceiling! Oppa, get up! What more is there to discuss here?"
"Y-Yerin! Wait just a moment!"
"Let go! I'm not doing it! Tell them to scrap the whole thing!"
Bellowing at the top of her lungs, Cha Yerin snatched up her handbag, kicked the door open with a resounding bang, and stormed out. Manager Choi, white with terror, stammered out an apology and scrambled after her.
Before long, those left behind in the wake of the storm sat dazed, watching Ji Yeonwoo's every move.
"W-Writer...? What on earth do you plan to do now...?"
"I don't understand why you suddenly slashed the terms like that... That's as good as saying you don't want to work with her at all, isn't it...?"
"PD-nim, why aren't you saying anything? We have to keep Cha Yerin, no matter what."
"Hmm."
Amid the panic-stricken crowd, Ji Yeonwoo sipped his coffee at his leisure. Watching the spot where Cha Yerin had vanished, the corners of his mouth curled up.
Heh. Right on schedule.
And at that very moment, in the parking lot, Manager Choi roughly seized the arm of Cha Yerin, who was marching off in a huff.
"Hey, Cha Yerin!! Are you really going to keep doing this?!"
"Let go! You sat there through that humiliation and now you're telling me to go back and sit?!"
"Just listen to me! If you let this one go, it's over — over, do you hear me?!"
"Ah, damn it! That fortune-teller nonsense again?! It's all superstition! How long are you going to believe what some con artist tells you?!"
Cha Yerin screamed with spite, but Manager Choi didn't back down, gripping her shoulders firmly.
"Fine. Call it superstition. But then tell me — what happened to every project you tossed aside after ignoring that woman's reading?"
"What?"
"Have you forgotten that every drama you threw away refusing to do it, Song Jia snatched up and turned into a ratings monster? You spent the whole year-end awards ceremony watching Song Jia take trophies and regretting it so much you couldn't sleep."
Song Jia. A thorn-in-her-side actress the same age, one the press never tired of framing as her rival. The moment her name came up, both of Cha Yerin's eyes trembled, almost imperceptibly.
"Think carefully. This script, this insane casting lineup — if Song Jia slides her spoon into it and walks off with a Grand Prize? Could you live with that?!"
"...."
The instant the image of Song Jia flashing a loathsome smile on the awards stage flickered through her mind, her heart plummeted and her blood ran cold.
This project, going to that bitch Song Jia?
Cha Yerin's eye for a script was, in truth, exceptional. This one guaranteed entertainment, pure and simple. And the characters were so vividly alive that the work was bound to burrow deep into the public consciousness. And Song Jia wanted to sink her teeth into that?
"...."
She could forgive everything else. But watching Song Jia climb over her back to rise? She'd rather die. The shoulders that had been wound tight as a bowstring slowly sagged.
Her clenched fists trembled violently, but she quickly recovered her composure and let out a long breath.
"Haaah, fine! Fine, I'll do it! It's not like I can't just do it!"
It felt like her pride being shredded to ribbons, but this was a time to swallow her pride and fold.
A little while later. The meeting room door opened again, and Cha Yerin stepped back inside. Not a trace of the face that had been blotchy with rage remained; she wore a calm, cool expression, as if nothing had happened.
"...! You've returned!"
"Phew. I apologize. I got a little emotional back there."
"N-no, not at all! We completely understand!"
Cha Yerin took her seat with studied nonchalance, feigning magnanimity. Behind her, Manager Choi finally released a sigh of relief and sat down as well.
"Ahem. Have you had a chance to collect your thoughts?"
"Yes. Thinking it over, the writer has a point. For the sake of a good production, it's right for the actor to meet the work halfway. That's it, I understand now. We'll proceed with the contract exactly under the terms the writer named."
Inside, she was vomiting blood; outwardly, she spoke with the elegance of a stateswoman extending gracious mercy. I've conceded this much for someone of my caliber. Now it's your turn to fold. So thinking, Cha Yerin fixed Ji Yeonwoo with a long, pointed stare.
But his next words blew completely past her expectations.
"The contract? No."
"I beg your pardon?"
Ji Yeonwoo tapped the table lightly with his finger and murmured, low.
"There was a small miscalculation on our end. The terms I just named won't fit our budget allocation after all. Her fee — we're cutting another ten percent from that."
"...!!?"
"And remove the guaranteed center position on the main poster. Once filming starts and we see how the supporting cast performs, if they look better, we'll shift the spotlight — and the screen time — to them at any time. If you can't accept even that, then there's no contract."
During the short time she'd spent wrangling outside with Manager Choi, something enormous had apparently shifted in the writer's state of mind.
The success of any drama hinges absolutely on the abilities of its actors, both inside the story and out. Their acting elevates a drama's craftsmanship, and their star power performs a role in marketing that nothing else can replace. There was every reason, then, that the appearance fees of leading actors soared into the astronomical.
So what, exactly, was this?
"What is this? Why is Cha Yerin's fee like this?"
In a meeting room where the casting confirmation for Living with an Ex-Boyfriend by Chance was in full swing, CP Ha Doun glared at his monitor and voiced his bewilderment. In his hand hung the appearance contracts of the principal cast.
"At the first meeting these people quoted three hundred million won per episode. So why has it been fixed at two hundred fifty million instead of going up? Did one of you fat-finger the numbers?"
"...."
A data-entry error? Veterans with over a decade in the broadcast business making a rookie mistake like this? CP Ha Doun fired off the accusation with clear irritation.
"And where did all the riders attached to the back go? Personal hair and makeup staff wages, location shoot expenses, a dedicated vehicle support — why did all of it just vanish?"
"CP-nim, you won't believe it, but that's correct. This is the contract as finalized with the actress's side."
"What? Is this kid messing with me?"
CP Ha let out a disbelieving scoff. By industry convention, if Cha Yerin's side floated three hundred million as an opening feeler, they'd contrive one excuse after another to ratchet it higher in the main contract. His own internal plan had been to hold the last line anywhere between three and five hundred million — and yet, out of nowhere, two hundred fifty. They'd been cut nearly in half.
"It doesn't make sense. It simply doesn't."
At CP Ha's remark, the staff seated around the meeting room hurriedly began flipping through the printouts in front of them.
"Uh, it's real? This doesn't match our budget plan at all?"
"Fine, Cha Yerin, but why is Baek Kangmin's pay like this? His agency flat-out stonewalled and said they'd never accept this amount."
"Huh.... Choi Taekyung signed under these conditions too? Is this a system error?"
It wasn't only Cha Yerin. The appearance fees of the entire cast, leads and supporting players alike, from Choi Taekyung on down, had been slashed at least twenty percent below expectation, and the assorted ancillary riders that had once been attached as a matter of course had been wiped clean away.
What on earth had happened here? Agencies were the ones who bared their teeth to squeeze out even a million won more for their talent's market value. Unless they'd all fallen under hypnosis together, this was simply impossible.
"Hey, Lee Junsang. Explain this. What happened here?"
"Well, you see... we weren't the only ones at the final negotiation table."
Casting director Lee Junsang swallowed dryly and spoke with care.
"Writer Ji Yeonwoo was in attendance."
"What? Why was the writer in someone else's fee negotiation?"
"At first we assumed he'd just come to check the actors' images or something. But then the writer suddenly started slashing everyone's price."
Lee Junsang's expression had shifted into something like a man bewitched.
"'If you don't want to do it, don't. I'll find other actors.'"
"Wh-what?! What kind of lunatic talk is that?!"
CP Ha shot up from his seat in disbelief.
"Against lead actors, no less? What if the casting falls apart! Do you want your debut work to sink before it even airs?!"
"Yes, well... the agency CEOs themselves stormed in raising hell, but the writer didn't so much as blink. On the contrary, as if it made no difference to him whether his own work sank, he fired back that he'd take the script back on the spot. And in the end..."
He trailed off, his mouth dry, and finished.
"Cha Yerin's side folded first. As you can see, every other actor followed."
A heavy silence settled over the meeting room. Writers usually badger the production company to raise the fee of whichever actor they've fallen in love with, scraping art and camera budgets down to the bone if they have to. So what was this grotesque inversion? Moreover, in his fifteen-plus years rolling through the broadcast industry, he had never once heard of a rookie writer trampling the pride of a high-and-mighty top star this thoroughly.
"...What kind of nerve does that writer have? If he's got all his leads seething before the first shoot even begins, how does he plan to handle the tantrums on set?"
"Department Head."
At that moment, PD Woo Youngtaek, who had been quietly reconstructing the sequence of events, spoke up with a grave face.
"Isn't that exactly why he reined them in ahead of time?"
"What? Reined them in?"
"Yes. So he never has to watch them nitpick the script and lord it over the writer on set — he clamped the leash on tight before crank-in even arrived."
"...And you're saying he did all that deliberately? A rookie writer with zero set experience?"
I hold command of this drama — he declares it, and carves the power structure of the set into everyone's bones. So that the actors would never make light of the writer, and not of the directing staff either. When the thought landed, a sigh mixed with incredulous laughter burst from CP Ha and everyone else present.
"Good grief.... What on earth is that madman doing?"
"You really can't underestimate the grind of having served under Writer Seo Eunhye. How many moves ahead is this man seeing?"
"I told you already, didn't I? This rookie is no rookie. His sheer nerve is on another level entirely."
What the network had expected from its writer was simply a quality script, delivered on schedule. But Writer Ji Yeonwoo was a monster who soared far past even that expectation.
The script reading is going to be very entertaining.
The corners of Woo Youngtaek's mouth curled slowly upward.