Chapter 103: The 100-Million-View Challenge

Episode 1 has aired.

Even before it began, the show stirred up buzz thanks to its star-studded cast, brilliant director, and renowned writer.

As befits UBS’s nickname as the “Master of Authentic Historical Dramas,” it attracted the hopes of countless viewers.

Living up to the hype, Ahn Yuseok, who played young King Sejong, delivered a jaw-dropping performance that overwhelmed the audience.

Script, acting, directing—every aspect proceeded flawlessly, with not a single weak link.

Among fans of historical dramas, word spread quickly that a masterpiece had finally arrived after a long drought.

Of course, the praise wasn’t limited to just historical drama fans.

Airing in the coveted Friday and Saturday 9 PM time slot, the first episode achieved a staggering 19% viewer rating.

“19%? That’s higher than the finale of !”

It now felt like ancient history to worry about whether ratings would surpass 20% or not.

A writer who guarantees double-digit ratings with every drama.

That’s me.

“Hoo.”

I watched as praise-filled comments flooded the portal in real time.

-God Jeonghyeok!
-Light Jeonghyeok!
-Any drama Jeonghyeok writes is a must-watch!

With a dulled sense of excitement, I briefly skimmed through chat apps and online communities.

Whenever I followed the links sent by CEO Seo Sunae, they were always packed with admiration and flattery for me.

‘Hmm. Is it really that much?’

It wasn’t as if I was dissatisfied with  that I wrote.

But I wasn’t happy at all.

Why? Why is that? Why, indeed.

It was all because of Park Rael.

Ever since I saw writer Park Rael’s , my own success didn’t move me much anymore.

People often say that when you reach the top, you can’t enjoy your position and instead feel anxious about the up-and-coming juniors.

It was an anxiety I could understand.

But the reason I felt anxious now wasn’t because I felt threatened by his dazzling genius.

It was the idea that, once his work was released to the world, mine would be pushed to the sidelines.

That people would stop watching my dramas and wait only for Park Rael’s new releases.

In the past, those things would have made me uneasy.

If not for Godflix, that is.

I had the ever-reliable Godflix, and there was no better answer sheet than that.

As long as I kept releasing Godflix works like I was now, it wouldn’t be hard to maintain double-digit ratings.

I knew that just writing Godflix dramas as I was now wouldn’t hurt my popularity or success.

But I no longer wanted to settle for that.

I started to feel dissatisfied with Godflix’s 3-point-something works.

After upgrading to Platinum rank, the newly unlocked 3.0~3.2-point works were undoubtedly excellent.

At least, until I saw .

‘Something’s still a little lacking.’

Now I began to notice flaws in Godflix that hadn’t bothered me before.

I knew well enough that, with OTT platforms now the standard, one drama’s success no longer meant another’s ratings would crash.

And yet, I felt keenly that I needed some kind of extra edge.

‘I have to write something even greater than that arrogant, blond genius’s script, no matter what!’

I screamed that silent determination inside me.

A new notification has arrived!

[A mid-term reward has been triggered.]

It was at that moment.

As if reading my anxiety, a Godflix notification popped up on my phone.

‘What’s this?’

Curious about the unfamiliar phrase “mid-term reward,” I instantly opened the app.

Congratulations!



Remake’s first episode viewership

Has reached 19%!

Would you like to receive the mid-term reward of 500 million won?

Well, dissatisfaction is one thing.

‘But a reward is still a reward.’

I hurriedly scooped up the falling stacks of cash.

Complete the production of a long-running drama to the end

And be sure to claim the [Gold Quest (#1)] Wish Ticket (Grade B)!

Fighting!

‘Maybe I should just settle for this?’

That didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Writing Godflix dramas one after another and earning 500 million, 1 billion at a time.

Wasn’t that more than enough success already?

That blond guy—he’s a genius, so he probably doesn’t have anything like this.

Lost in such realistic thoughts, I was gazing at the sparkling bundles of cash.

A new notification has arrived!

‘Again?’

[Platinum Quest (#1)]

-Create a drama viewed by 100 million people.
-Reward: 5 billion won

As always, Godflix dangled a bigger carrot, pushing me toward greater growth.

‘A drama viewed by 100 million people, huh.’

With Korea’s population at 50 million, it obviously didn’t mean a drama just aired on local TV.

‘So, it’s telling me to make an OTT drama.’

I immediately searched the portal for “Setflix all-time most-watched ranking.”

A long list of American series appeared.

The top spot went to “Thursday Season 1,” with 252 million viewers.

The sixth place had 100 million viewers, which meant I had to at least make it into the top six.

‘Wow, so now it’s not ratings but viewer count that matters?’

That was Godflix for you.

Honestly, when I was told to break 20% ratings, I thought the next quests would be about breaking 30%, then 40%, and so on in sequence.

But instead, it jumped over all that and demanded I surpass 100 million views.

“Hoo.”

My head began to ache.

But at the same time, my motivation was burning.

Just thinking that a hundred million people around the world could watch my drama filled me with excitement.

I remembered writer Park Eunsook once saying this:

That Korean writers shouldn’t just be content playing in this small pond—they should branch out to the world stage.

And that’s me now. Not Park Rael, the genius born with superior genes, but me!

“Writer!”

“Ah, you startled me. Director Hong Juhee? It’s been a while.”

I was about to safely stash my windfall in the vault when,

Without so much as a knock, Hong Juhee opened the door to my workspace and strode in.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Oh, my phone. I was spaced out, lost in thought.”

“That jerk is back.”

“?”

“Director Kim Seungpyo, who flew to America.”

“Didn’t he go to film a movie? He’s back in Korea?”

Hearing Hong Juhee’s words, the assistant writers outside began murmuring.

“That guy—no, Director Kim Seungpyo—insists on meeting you.”

CEO Hong Juhee ground her teeth and forced a smile.

Her face quickly flashed with a look of “why does he want to see me? And does he even have any shame?”

“You’ll come with me, right?”

***

A diner near Seokchon Station.

Kim Seungpyo, who’d just come back from soaking up Hollywood, was tanned from head to toe.

He’d said he went to shoot a movie, but judging by his chubbier cheeks, it looked like he’d gone to shoot a mukbang instead.

To celebrate his return, me, CEO Hong Juhee, Director Park Sangtae, and Seo Sunae all gathered together.

Seo Ji-won and Ahn Yuseok were too busy filming variety shows after  aired, and regretted not being able to come.

“Director, I heard your indie film in the US even won an award at a film festival?”

Although Park Sangtae was no longer his assistant director, he still praised him with respect.

“So why’d you come back after winning an award?”

Having been annoyed ever since he turned down the  script and flew to America—to study abroad, not just film—Hong Juhee asked, voice sharp.

“Heh. Well, you know how it is.”

Though he’d been in America nearly two years, Kim Seungpyo’s mindset was still very much Korean as he avoided Hong Juhee’s gaze, burying his face in his earthenware bowl and eating only the soybean paste stew.

“By the way, Writer, you’ve become incredibly successful, haven’t you? Of course, I always knew you’d make it big with .”

Kim Seungpyo, sitting across from me, showered me with flowery words and praise.

“ owes its existence to , really. Seeing our Yuseok as the Crown Prince moved me so much—though I didn’t even raise him. Hahaha.”

I didn’t think Kim Seungpyo was lying.

He wasn’t the type to say anything he didn’t mean.

Still, for some reason, his heartfelt words left me feeling empty.

“ was incredible too, I heard? Broke the 20% mark right from the start. And that actress, Cheon Nayoung? She’s causing a sensation even among Korean-Americans in the States. They’re all wondering how you found someone with such a face. And you discovered her, right? As expected, your eye for talent is amazing.”

“ was killer too. I’m from the generation that loves Park Eunsook’s dramas. How does she keep writing so well? Ah, but of course, your writing stood out even more. You wrote the male lead’s lines, right?”

“, too. Our Sangtae did a great job directing it. In America, I kept craving gimbap and kimchi stew because of that. Hey, you! How could you film food scenes so well? I heard people all over were ordering delivery at midnight because of those scenes!”

Before long, I pinpointed the exact cause of his emptiness.

“Director, were you lonely?”

“……”

He used the word “our” a lot.

Yeah. It couldn’t have been easy to survive alone in a faraway, unfamiliar land like America.

Even for a great director, homesickness isn’t something you can just shrug off.

“You know, I really felt it again. No matter where you go in the world, Korea is the best.”

Watching him polish off the last drop of piping hot soybean paste stew, I was sure of it.

“But you know, Writer, it wasn’t all for nothing. Observing Hollywood’s techniques and production methods up close really broadened my perspective.”

“Is that so?”

“My network’s gone global too! I even made a lot of friends with my lousy English.”

“I see.”

“So, Writer…”

At that, Kim Seungpyo gently set down the spoon he’d never let go of until now.

Then, he clasped my hand tightly.

“Would you do just one drama with me? This time I swear I won’t run off. My mind’s made up. I’m a drama guy, through and through. Movies? Nah. Dramas are where it’s at. Making a Korean drama, eating Korean food with Korean people—that’s the best!”

For some reason, everyone gathered around looked at the wailing Kim Seungpyo with pity.

“Please, Writer. Trust me just this once. I’ll make your drama truly spectacular.”

“Can it reach a hundred million viewers?”

“…Pardon?”

“I mean, if you direct my drama, can it get a hundred million views?”

“A hundred million? Korea’s population isn’t even fifty million. How could a hundred million people watch our drama?”

“Exactly.”

Kim Seungpyo’s ambitious declaration didn’t really register with me.

No, even if it wasn’t Kim Seungpyo, even if his son came and shot it, that’d be fine.

As long as the next drama I wrote could reach a hundred million views.