Bring Me That Writer Now! (5)
—Just what the hell did you do?!
The moment I picked up the phone, Han Kanghee's lion roar tore through my eardrums. Reflexively pulling the phone away from my ear, I broke into a grin. A truly excellent reaction time — and a reaction I had predicted to perfection.
"Ooh, your voice is positively bursting with energy today. You haven't changed a bit, sir."
—What? You little maniac! Do you even know what's happening right now because of you?!
Oh, I know very well. How could I not, when I personally planted the bomb that's currently eating you alive? But I put on my best clueless voice and played innocent.
"Why? Did something happen?"
—You don't KNOW, so you're playing dumb?! Those 'final drafts' you handed over — they're nothing but discarded drafts riddled with plot holes! And the location bookings — why are they all screwed up! Why is the lead actor's schedule off by exactly one day for every single shoot!
"Huh? Really? Did I send the draft version? I distinctly remember sending the REAL real final version... or did I? Was the real-real-final actually the real one? The file names were so similar, I must have gotten them mixed up."
—Are you messing with me right now, you lunatic?! Hey, you dog! Because of you the entire set is in chaos, and the actors' agencies are losing their minds too! How do you plan to take responsibility for this?!
I fought desperately to hold in the laughter leaking out of me and answered with artful nonchalance.
"Hmm... how should I know?"
—What? Hey, Ji Yeonwoo! What did you just say?
"I said it's not my problem. I already submitted my resignation, remember? As far as SBC's concerned, I'm a complete outsider now. Why are you asking me about your company's work errors? Besides, I honestly can't remember whether it was the real-real-final or the actually-real-real-final, so you folks should dig through the hard drives and find it yourselves."
—You son of a— it WAS deliberate! The botched schedules were your doing too, weren't they?! Do you seriously want to die?!
Leaning against the wall, I manufactured the most wronged-sounding voice in the world.
"Oh, come on. Don't be so dramatic. You know perfectly well how hopeless I am with numbers, sir."
The laughter kept slipping out. Ah, I shouldn't be doing this. Hiding my giggle behind a cough, I pressed on.
"Ahem. Matching up the booking dates was honestly confusing. It wasn't intentional, so I'd appreciate some gracious understanding. Though I'm curious — how exactly did everything end up off by exactly one day? Whoops."
—You little—!! Urgh—!!
Over the phone, I heard the unmistakable sound of a man's airway constricting — khk — as my insufferable provocation landed. And listening to that sound...
Wow, this is so goddamn satisfying.
It was like chugging an entire one-and-a-half-liter bottle of soda in one go. I'd been craving carbonation ever since that meat earlier, anyway — consider the cola debt paid in full.
—Y-you little punk! You think you can pull a stunt like this and get away clean? I promise you! You will never set foot in this industry again! I will bury you if it's the last thing I do!
A vicious threat. The ominous rumble of the industry's most senior CP — yet far from scaring me, it only made me want to laugh. That line belonged in the mouth of a third-rate movie villain. Besides, I'd committed all of this fully prepared to walk away from the industry forever. What was there to fear?
—It's too late for regrets now! I swear I will bury you! Do you hear me?!
"Yes, sir! Fighting!"
—Why you insane bas—!
Click.
He hung up on me. One-sided, of course.
"Mm. What a happy man."
All the way back to the private room, I had to battle the laughter bubbling up under my light, springy footsteps. When I finally arrived, I composed my expression as best I could and opened the door. But something about the room felt oddly empty.
"Huh?"
The bearded PD who'd been holding court in front of me, drenching me in flattery and sweet talk, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, only the woman PD with the glasses remained, fidgeting anxiously as she waited for me.
"Oh, you're back, Writer."
"Where's the gentleman who was here?"
"Well... he stepped out for a quick phone call. He'll be right back, any minute now, I promise!"
He probably went to report upstairs. Something along the lines of: we can't hook this writer. Without further delay, I picked up my coat from the table.
"Mm. I see. Well, in any case, I think we've said what needed saying, so I'll be heading out. Thank you for the meal."
"No, wait! Writer! One moment!"
The bespectacled PD scrambled over in a panic and grabbed my arm.
"Please, just a little longer! He really will be right back!"
"I'm afraid I have a rather busy schedule of my own. And honestly, I don't see anything left to discuss here."
"Th-that's..."
Her eyes trembled violently, as if an earthquake had struck behind her glasses. Her lips flapped as she hunted for an excuse — until finally she blurted it out.
"You haven't finished eating! Look at this — there's still so much meat left! We prepared all of this specially to treat you properly, so you should take your time and enjoy it!"
"...?"
"You'll... you'll eat more, won't you? Right?"
I looked down at the beef on the grill pan, releasing its rich, nutty aroma. And not just any meat — this was premium two-rib-marbling hanwoo beef. Who knew when I'd get to even look at it again? It did feel a little wasteful to abandon it like this.
"Hmm... well then."
My deliberation did not last long. With lightning speed — and with what I'd insist was a very natural motion — I lowered myself back into my chair.
"If he really will be right back, then out of courtesy, I'll wait a little longer."
"Th-thank you, Writer! He'll be right back, truly! Sir! Two more portions of the flower rib, please!"
"Ahem."
"N-no! Four! Make it four more portions!"
Clearing my throat, I picked my chopsticks back up. One simply cannot resist flower rib marbling.
At that very moment, in a hushed office somewhere inside tvM, a mountain of planning proposals loomed over the desk — and at its center sat a middle-aged man. Bureau Chief Tae Sanhyuk, the man who commanded the entirety of tvM's drama department, an absolute power broker whose word bent the whole of the Korean broadcast industry.
Scratch, scratch.
The only sound in the chilly office was the steady rhythm of a fountain pen gliding across paper — until...
Zzzt— Zzzt—
The phone sitting at the edge of the desk rattled violently. The caller ID read Woo Youngtaek, PD. The man who'd lately been obsessing over some rookie writer's script, making a spectacle of himself.
"Mm."
Tae Sanhyuk set down his fountain pen and answered the call at his leisure.
"What is it?"
A low, heavy voice. On the other end, by contrast, Woo Youngtaek's voice came pouring out in an uncharacteristic rush.
—Bureau Chief! SBC has apparently gone all-in on this!
He'd heard the man was in the middle of a meeting with an unknown rookie writer. So why was SBC suddenly entering the conversation? Tae Sanhyuk's brow creased almost imperceptibly.
"Calm down and give me a short report. Just the facts."
—Well, you see...
Woo Youngtaek laid out the entire sequence of events. A rookie writer who didn't so much as blink at audacious contract terms — and, lurking behind it all, the fact that Han Kanghee of SBC had made contact with that writer first. The moment he heard it all, Tae Sanhyuk's mind began churning at full speed.
'Han Kanghee moved personally?'
That crafty old fox never lifted a finger unless he was dead certain about the hand. What's more, the man was the executive producer on three separate dramas airing in the second half of this year. And that man was carving time out of his schedule to chase after a rookie? This meant one thing, beyond any doubt: there was something there. Then Woo Youngtaek drove the wedge in deep.
—And Bureau Chief — this writer isn't some green nobody.
"If not a nobody, then what?"
—I believe he was an assistant to that Seo Eunhye.
For the first time, Tae Sanhyuk's heavy-lidded eyes wavered.
"...Are you certain?"
—Yes. There were one or two things that nagged at me from the start, but after meeting him face to face and actually talking, I'm sure. Absolutely certain.
Seo Eunhye — the undisputed apex of the Korean drama world. The mere appearance of her long-rumored assistant writer was enough to startle even Tae Sanhyuk.
'An assistant to Seo Eunhye...'
All the scattered puzzle pieces in his mind began snapping perfectly into place. A polish to the prose no contest submission had any business having. A direct scouting offer from CP Han Kanghee himself. And that unshakable poise — the sheer audacity of his ambitions in the face of extraordinary treatment. If this was a monster rookie who'd absorbed every ounce of Seo Eunhye's hard-won craft, the whole bizarre situation explained itself.
"Hmm..."
Tae Sanhyuk's eyes sharpened to a gleam. The calculations in his head were already finished. The value he had assigned to Ji Yeonwoo had shot skyward, past any ceiling. Meanwhile, the PD's anxious reporting kept streaming in.
—The atmosphere in that meeting is dangerous. I don't know what card SBC played, but the writer looks ready to walk out the door this very second. If this goes on, he'll run straight to SBC. It's urgent, Bureau Chief!
Whether they had a mole somewhere or not, SBC was always one step ahead. And every single time, it was tvM's bitter routine to have the rice bowl snatched from its hands and regret it after the fact. But not this time. Losing this writer wouldn't just mean losing a single drama — it would mean surrendering the initiative for years to come.
"PD Woo."
—Yes, Bureau Chief.
"What's your read? Can we reel him in to our side?"
—...Honestly, I can't say I'm confident. There's a limit to what I can do on my own authority.
"Mm."
A few dozen seconds of brooding silence. Then, as if his resolve had hardened into stone, Bureau Chief Tae Sanhyuk spoke.
"Reset the terms."
In this business, half-measures and careful hedging got you robbed blind while you watched. You had to crush them with an overwhelming hand.
"Set the fee at fifty million per episode and lock in a confirmed prime-time weekend slot. Tell him he has full authority over the main direction and all primary casting. Guarantee a production budget of no less than thirty billion won — and settle it with the signing bonus prepaid at double the highest treatment in the industry right now."
—Ex-excuse me? Even so... conditions like that are completely unprecedented—
"He's Seo Eunhye's reincarnation. Whether it's a few billion won or a few tens of billions, he's worth every won we burn."
Tae Sanhyuk was certain. In a tug-of-war against SBC, anything less than this level of a bet didn't stand a chance.
'No — it may not be SBC alone, at that.'
The other networks might well have joined the fray, waging their own covert wars in the shadows. Which meant he had to be prepared to bleed — to surrender flesh — in order to snatch up the great fish named Ji Yeonwoo. No matter how much flesh it cost.