After CL Group’s massive bombardment, the situation at God Media was nothing short of disastrous. To a writer, having their words rendered useless was the equivalent of having a soldier’s gun taken away on a battlefield.
“Sigh. I think I might try preparing for a webnovel.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Even if you write a script for a drama, there are too many variables before it’s actually made. At least with webnovels, you can show them to the world as soon as you’re done.”
“Exactly. The criteria for whether it’s good or bad is clear — it’s based on how many readers look at it.”
“If a drama is a large brand-name supermarket, a webnovel is like a small independent business. It would be much more peaceful knowing that I just need to do my part well.”
The assistant writers gathered in the God Media meeting room voiced their struggles with the current situation. Im Seong-hee, Jeong Tae-mi, and Pyeong Taek-su, who were with them, weren’t unaware of the circumstances.
These three had already participated in making dramas, but the new assistant writers had never truly been part of a properly functioning production since *The Flower That Bloomed on a Dry Branch* finished and *Traveler* stopped filming.
Im Seong-hee and Jeong Tae-mi, who had shared many ups and downs with Lee Junghyuk, had a vague hope that the current crisis would eventually be resolved over time. However, they also understood the hearts of those who were looking for an exit strategy in this unstable situation. They knew better than anyone that the drama market was a chaotic place.
“I heard the drama produced by One Star Dragon got a slot on TBS for Friday and Saturday.”
“Sigh. We’re in such chaos, but the rest of the world just keeps turning. It’s unfair.”
In truth, Im Seong-hee was the one whose heart ached more than anyone else’s. Her script work was almost finished, the lead actors were cast, and the slot was cancelled just a week before filming was supposed to begin. Jeong Tae-mi was in a similarly grim situation, as she had the director and lead actor cast and was simply waiting for a broadcast slot.
“If the situation is like this with the broadcast stations, couldn’t we try releasing it through an OTT platform?”
Pyeong Taek-su adjusted his black horn-rimmed glasses, trying to fan the flames of hope.
“I heard that once a work is scheduled and then cancelled, people assume there’s something wrong with it, making the next scheduling attempt even more difficult.”
“Isn’t it too blatant if they’re only doing this to God Media’s works?”
“Hey. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The CEO and the Writer said they were looking into the situation.”
“This is just a rumor, but there’s talk that CL is intentionally sabotaging us.”
“CL? Why?”
“Our writer is the ex-husband of their CEO.”
“Gasp!”
The assistant writers were exchanging glances, trading their own speculations with their eyes.
“Now, now. Let’s not increase our anxiety for no reason. The Writer told us to gather, so let’s just wait. Okay?”
However, the conversation inevitably circled back to their grim reality. They weren’t the ones who could break this wretched atmosphere. Im Seong-hee just hoped Lee Junghyuk would arrive soon.
“Oh. You all gathered early?”
As if to sweep away their gloom, a bright-faced Lee Junghyuk entered the meeting room with Seo Sun-ae. Those who had expected a despairing speech like ‘Our luck at God Media seems to have run out. Thank you all for your hard work and everything until now’ were quite flustered by the lead writer’s unexpected brightness.
“Have you all eaten? If not, let’s have a company dinner. It’s been a while.”
“A company dinner…?”
A company dinner in a shitty situation like this? Lee Junghyuk announced his ambitions while radiating a cheerful and bright energy like never before.
“Because starting today, we are going to dive into a new project. We’re going to write a sitcom!”
‘A sitcom?’, ‘Writing a sitcom?’, ‘Suddenly?’, ‘All together?’ Their eyes darted around busily as if they could read each other’s thoughts.
In fact, they didn’t question the act of ‘doing a sitcom’ itself. Among the works Lee Junghyuk was creating, *Clumsy Zodiac* was a sitcom, and Pyeong Taek-su and several other junior writers had been struggling with it for months. That work didn’t have a single main writer; instead, four writers were co-credited and handled each episode.
Since it was the first drama they were writing on their own, they were full of motivation, but without a main writer, the content often went off track. Because of that, the progress was slow as they repeatedly revised and overturned the script. They had assumed Writer Junghyuk’s deep intention was for them to build their scriptwriting skills rather than actually producing the work.
But now, Writer Junghyuk was declaring that everyone here would work on *Clumsy Zodiac*.
“Writer. To be honest, sitcoms have been dead for a long time. It doesn’t really hit home that we’re all going to write a sitcom together.”
Jeong Tae-mi carefully summarized and delivered everyone’s thoughts.
It was true. The reason they had treated *Clumsy Zodiac* as a mere stepping stone for writing was due to the chronic problems of the ‘sitcom’ genre. There was a time when South Korea poured out masterpiece sitcoms. In the early 2000s, there were sitcoms like *Four Men, Four Women*, *Un-pung Orthopedics*, *No One Can Stop Them*, and *One Stop* — works filled with famous scenes that still become internet memes today.
There were several reasons why it was difficult to make sitcoms like those today, but there were two main reasons.
First, the working environment for actors and staff had changed. In the days when they far exceeded the fifty-two-hour standard work week, there were actors and staff who filmed through the night every single day. In the case of daily sitcoms, scripts were written in fragments and sent via quick service, and it was common for something filmed the day before to be edited at dawn and broadcast the next day. In short, everyone produced those insane results because they were pumping adrenaline with a tiger chasing them from behind.
In 202X, if you did that, not only the Labor Department but also the Human Rights Commission wouldn’t stay quiet. If you look at the sitcoms that came out a few years ago, you can feel a sense of stability that is distinctly different from the sitcoms in their prime. It was natural since they were filmed in a stable environment.
The second reason was money. To film that many well-known actors over dozens of episodes, it naturally cost a huge amount of money. That meant they would have to use unknown actors as a gateway to success, but due to market logic, no production company or broadcast station was willing to challenge such an experimental genre.
One might ask: Wouldn’t making a short sitcom with famous actors be a solution? However, a sitcom is supposed to show various sides of the characters over a very long period to make the audience feel attached to them and draw out realistic laughter through small stories. Therefore, the concept of a ‘short sitcom’ was an oxymoron. To shape characters and write funny stories in a short time, one would have to follow the unconventional path of comedian content on YouTube. The rigid mindset of the broadcast station people, who thought ‘that’s a sketch, not a sitcom,’ also played a part.
Therefore, Lee Junghyuk’s statement about doing a sitcom in this day and age elicited glances that said things like, ‘Ah. I guess there’s no such thing as a permanent number one, or a permanent genius,’ ‘Writer Lee Junghyuk is past his prime,’ and ‘He’s lost it after a few dramas fell through.’
Not only did he choose a genre that seemed out of touch, but Lee Junghyuk also announced that he would apply the internal system reorganization he had mentioned before to this sitcom project.
“As I mentioned last time, Writer Im Seong-hee will be the second writer, and Writer Jeong Tae-mi will be the third writer.”
After announcing the people for the key positions, Writer Junghyuk divided the other writers into teams based on character and story composition and assigned them roles.
“I know your hearts are troubled because of the various bad things that have happened recently. But if you believe in me and follow me, we will surely find a breakthrough.”
He added that he would immediately apply the salary increase and improved treatment he had promised before, not just as a verbal ambition. Of course, he noted it wasn’t mandatory, and those who wanted to leave could do so at any time with their severance pay.
The writers, as well as Seo Sun-ae, were stirred by the radical proposal to set aside the currently halted works and devote everything to *Clumsy Zodiac*. As the CEO of God Media, Seo Sun-ae couldn’t help but be concerned. The damage from the halted productions was already significant, and increasing the writers’ salaries and benefits was simply a losing proposition for a business owner. Even if it was funded by Lee Junghyuk’s personal incentives, she hadn’t agreed to doing such a reckless-looking genre instead of a project with potential.
The meeting ended with the request for everyone to think it over and let them know their decision. Although the salary increase was an extraordinary offer, most of the assistant writers agreed they would leave because of the system reorganization and the uncertain future.
Those who remained were Im Seong-hee, Jeong Tae-mi, Pyeong Taek-su, and the assistant writer with curly hair. There were only four of them.
“Writer. Will you be okay? Half of them left.”
“CEO. Half of them stayed.”
‘What?’ Seo Sun-ae barely held back her question and took a deep breath. She tried to catch her breath and steady her mind to suggest another way to overcome the current situation, but…
“You’re right, Writer. Half of them stayed!”
“It reminds me of the old days, and I like it.”
Im Seong-hee and Jeong Tae-mi, whose pupils seemed slightly dilated, chimed in with Writer Junghyuk. They were clapping when there was nothing to clap about. Their mouths were slightly open.
‘Wait. Are they drooling a little?’ She decided to treat it as an optical illusion.
“He raised our pay and gave us a new job!”
“Our Writer is truly the best!”
Seo Sun-ae began to worry that they had gone a bit crazy because the dramas had fallen through. Madness also flickered across Lee Junghyuk’s face as he raised his hand high. It reached a point where he seemed more human and less worrying when he was struggling in a slump.
“Follow me! Let’s pioneer a new market for sitcoms!”
“Hurrah! Long live Writer Lee Junghyuk!”
“Waaaaah!”
“…I’m going crazy.”
It seemed Seo Sun-ae was the only one with a headache.
***
After the *Stuntman Go Sang-young* documentary was aired on Setflix, the prevailing review was that it captured the human Go Sang-young without any provocative development while vividly depicting the situation of the stuntman industry and the filming sets. Because of this, it spread through word of mouth without any advertising, eventually reaching number one on Setflix, and public opinion about *Traveler* began to shift positively.
– Honestly, isn’t it not the production crew’s fault?
– I heard the car company compensated them for a mechanical defect.
– So *Traveler* is Go Sang-young’s posthumous work; it’d be too much to let it be buried like this.
– I’m looking forward to the An Yoo Seok and Grace combo like crazy.
The *Traveler* production crew, who had resumed filming, were relieved by this public opinion and should have focused solely on filming. They really should have.
“Sigh… My head is killing me.”
Director Kim Seung-pyo’s joy over his documentary’s immense popularity was short-lived, as he was now struggling with the filming of *Traveler*. This was because the lighting, sound, and editing staff he had previously worked with were leaving the set one after another, saying they were joining other productions.
It was true that time was money for them, and they were losing out as long as filming was stopped. However, most of them were like family, having been together since *Twin Love*. Quitting so suddenly like this was too much.
Among them, according to the cinematography director who had filmed the documentary with Kim Seung-pyo, a certain proposal had even come to him. It was a proposal to move to another production for double the amount he was currently receiving. Those were mostly works being produced or prepared by One Star Dragon.
Faced with such blatant interference, Kim Seung-pyo was left helpless before he could even take any other action. He didn’t have enough time to blame them. The new staff he hurriedly hired weren’t lacking in skill, but it took too much effort just to get them in sync.
“Sigh…”
Therefore, Kim Seung-pyo, the leader of the set, was struggling through the process with a creaking team.
It was then. From far away, a food truck and a van arrived side by side, kicking up a cloud of gray dust. And from the van, Lee Junghyuk, wearing clothes so white they shone with a silver glow, descended with his followers—no, his writers.
“Now, everyone, even a trip to the mountains requires a full stomach! Fill your bellies before you get to work!”
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.