Chapter 98: A 3.4 Rating for Real Life

Which shared the Korean rights to , managed to successfully export the series to Vietnam, Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia, and other Southeast Asian countries at a rather high price, thanks to CEO Seo Soon-ae’s connections.

It was a massive hit across the board, no matter the country.

Of course, it was true that Korean dramas held the dominant position in the Southeast Asian market.

But the craze stirred up by  this time was beyond all imagination.

Actors like Jung Sung-woo, Ishihara Sakura, and Chun Na-young gained explosive numbers of followers, with comments flooding in under their posts in languages I couldn’t even recognize—that was something, sure.

‘Why is the  company account’s follower count increasing like this? More importantly, when did they even make an SNS account?’

I learned about ’s social media existence only after following a link Chun Na-young sent me to Instagram.

What’s more, their followers had surpassed 100,000.

The real issue was that videos and images of me appearing on “Dang Quiz” had been uploaded on the company’s feed.

The number of likes and comments in unknown languages under those posts was enough to make me flustered.

-You’re about to become an influencer, writer!

Chun Na-young’s message made my head spin again.

I immediately asked CEO Seo Soon-ae what was going on, only to receive a brazen reply: “I just made the most of the trickle-down effect.”

Should I be happy that we have such a resourceful CEO?

As I was left awkwardly unsure what to do with all this unwanted attention,

♤♣♧♥ Congratulations ♥♧♣♤

The new series  has

▶ Been recommended as a popular TV drama ◀

‘Romance Comedy Drama’

It’s been registered in the category!

- Star rating: 3.0

- Additional reward: Godflix membership upgrade [Platinum]

‘ got a 3.0 rating?’

I hurriedly logged into Godflix with my creator account to check.

Previously, the works of Lim Sung-hee and Jung Tae-mi had been categorized separately as “remake productions,” but now, the show was clearly listed under the “popular dramas” section, even classified within the “Romance Comedy” genre, just like any regular Godflix title.

Furthermore, in the info box, the writers’ names—Park Eun-sook and Lee Jung-hyuk—were listed together.

Before, even if just one episode aired, it would immediately be tagged as a “remake production” and notifications would pop up.

But seeing that this notification only appeared two months after  finished airing, I couldn’t help but wonder if Godflix itself hadn’t expected this outcome.

‘Hmph. And a 3.0 at that. I’ve never seen a 3.0-rated show even in the Gold tier before.’

Would you like to claim your success reward?

As always, I answered “Yes” to the ever-welcome system prompt.

A rain of cash bundles totaling five billion won tumbled down with a loud flutter.

Watching the cash fall right into the bag I’d thoughtfully prepared, expecting just such a downpour, I felt like Godflix and I were finally getting on the same wavelength.

‘The money’s great, but I’ve really been waiting for the Platinum upgrade.’

Maybe it was because I’d seen so many bundles of Shin Saimdang bills by now.

I was getting used to these sudden windfalls.

▶Godflix Drama Content (Platinum)◀

 - Time Slip, Romance

Rating: 3.1

 - Caper Movie, Comedy, Action, Noir

Rating: 3.2

 - Fantasy, Sitcom, Family

Rating: 3.3

 - Romance, SF, History, Revenge

Rating: 3.4

 - Fantasy, Human

Rating: 3.4

I began reading through the thumbnails and drama synopses, examining each of the works now available at the Platinum level.

The obvious difference from previous tiers was, of course, that the ratings all exceeded 3.0.

More importantly, there were many more multi-genre dramas now.

For instance,  was technically a romance, but fused with time-warp sci-fi elements.

 told the story of con artists catching other con artists—a caper movie type of drama, a new genre that had never been seen on Godflix before.

 was a fantasy sitcom about the Twelve Zodiac Spirits pretending to be family members and living among humans.

 was an epic saga about a non-human who had lived for nearly a thousand years, mingling with people, loving, and seeking revenge, while  was the story of a woman trapped in a time loop, dying and being reborn each day, struggling to set her life straight—a “mayfly drama” of living one day at a time.

There must have been several reasons why such a diversity of genres had emerged.

It mirrored the evolution of the drama market itself.

In the past, romance was romance, genre shows were genre shows, historical dramas were historical—each with clear boundaries. But as time passed, and more dramas flooded the market, viewers’ standards rose, making it impossible to compete with just one genre alone.

Of course, just because you mixed genres didn’t mean the drama would always be good or fun.

On the contrary, if genres were poorly blended, the show often became muddled and failed—most of the time, in fact.

Like Park Eun-sook’s , for example.

Honestly, I had never even thought of writing a mixed-genre drama before.

I couldn’t even pull off a straight romance in my disastrous first work, .

‘Looks like Godflix thinks  succeeded as a hybrid genre show.’

It made sense, since it was a love story between a superpowered female lead and a killer male lead.

I debated whether to watch  or  first, since they both had the highest ratings, and finally decided to try .

I started to meticulously count every single bundle in the cash pile Godflix had dropped, with the intention of returning it to Godflix after verifying the total and then starting my viewing.

“Writer?”

“Ack, you startled me.”

“I knocked. Didn’t you hear?”

I must have been so focused on counting the bundles of bills, which I thought I’d become numb to, that I didn’t hear the knock.

I was so startled by CEO Seo Soon-ae’s sudden entrance that I almost spilled all the money in my bag.

I nudged the bag on the floor backward with my foot to hide it, and asked what she needed.

“Ji-won came by to see you. She said she can’t reach you.”

I must not have noticed because I’d silenced my phone to check Godflix.

“Writer, were you working?”

Seo Ji-won stared at me with her round, bright eyes and asked.

“Oh? Uh. No, not exactly working.”

“You didn’t forget you promised to go see a movie with me, right?”

Oh, right.

“No, I didn’t forget.”

I glanced at the clock. 3 p.m. Now that I thought of it, I had promised Seo Ji-won we’d go to the movies together on Saturday.

“See? You did forget. What would you have done if I didn’t come? Seriously, you’re such a handful. Let’s go.”

I suddenly remembered that I’d been about to click on episode 1 of .

Honestly, with a 3.4 Godflix rating, wouldn’t it be more fun than Director Bong Chan-ho’s new movie? For a brief moment, that logical thought crossed my mind.

“Ahem. Sorry. Let’s head out right away.”

Seo Ji-won’s words—“You can write drama anytime, but you can only see a Bong Chan-ho movie in the theater now”—came to mind.

No, more precisely, I realized: you can watch Godflix anytime, but seeing a movie with Seo Ji-won might only be possible right now.

“Let’s go. To the movies.”

***

A movie theater in Yongsan.

This place, operated by the CL Group, is not only their flagship brand, but with 3,888 seats, it’s the largest movie theater in Korea.

With a cumulative audience of over thirty million, it’s also a complex cultural space, combined with a shopping center, where people can enjoy all kinds of activities.

Naturally, it’s packed wall-to-wall with people, weekdays and weekends alike.

I wondered why Seo Ji-won wanted to watch a movie in such a crowded place—honestly, I was a little worried.

But nobody recognized us at all.

“Am I developing a celebrity complex? Somehow, I’m starting to care that nobody’s noticing you.”

“Kekeke. No one expects to see a celebrity at a crowded theater like this in broad daylight.”

Seo Ji-won, now quite good at disguises, offered her analysis.

Apparently, this Yongsan theater is a favorite spot for many celebrities.

Ordinary people assume celebrities would rent out an entire screen or sneak in early in the morning or late at night for secret rendezvous.

Me included.

“Writer. This way.”

“Yeah.”

“Coming here together like this really reminds me of the old days.”

“Yeah, back when you used to beg to see plays in Daehak-ro, you were just a kid.”

“How about now?”

“Well.”

I averted my gaze from Seo Ji-won’s steady stare and focused on eating popcorn.

“Is this a new flavor? It’s good.”

“Tch. I’m over thirty, you know. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Muttering, Seo Ji-won led me to the IMAX theater.

I knew this place boasted the world’s largest IMAX GT screen and dual projectors.

My ex-wife’s family used to brag about it all the time.

“You should’ve picked somewhere quieter. It’s so crowded here.”

“Come on. The whole point of the theater is enjoying the bustle with everyone.”

Because it was IMAX, there were a ton of seats, but the theater was still packed with no empty spots.

Our seats were right in the middle of row H, so we had to squeeze past already-seated people, apologizing as we made our way in.

They say Manager Woo has the golden touch, and snagging these seats really proved it.

“Ah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

I nearly spilled the popcorn I was holding when I tripped over the leg of a young student sitting right next to me.

“Are you all right? Give it to me.”

“I’m fine. Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“I feel cozy and it’s nice.”

Seo Ji-won took the popcorn and sat down.

I sat right next to her, as close as possible.

The kid whose leg I’d tripped on kept catching my attention, and to eat popcorn, I’d have to reach past toward Seo Ji-won.

“Writer, you sure like popcorn?”

“It’s good.”

“Tch. Just leave it with me, then.”

“No, I’m fine. This is easier.”

I grabbed a handful of popcorn from the tub on Seo Ji-won’s lap and munched away.

Figured I’d better eat quickly before the movie started—nobody likes a noisy eater during a film.

I reached over for another handful, but my hand bumped into Seo Ji-won’s, who was picking up a piece herself.

For some reason, I felt a sharp jolt in my chest, like it had just stopped.

Now that I looked, Seo Ji-won’s face was bare of makeup today; I hadn’t noticed before since she wore a mask coming here, but as she lowered it to eat popcorn, her face looked especially clear.

“Ahem.”

I quickly pulled my hand back. Something felt odd.

“Not having any more?”

“You eat it all.”

“Okay. The movie’s starting. I’m so excited.”

For some reason, Seo Ji-won’s side profile, flushed with a rosy glow, seemed unusually bright.

Seeing her so oblivious to my feelings, I even felt a bit sulky.

“Enjoy the movie.”

I quickly brushed aside my growing thoughts and focused on the screen as well.