Chapter 108: The Superman vs. Batman Strategy

When people in the industry, like those in dramas or films, first encounter a good script, they often say they were so engrossed they lost track of time.

It means they were immersed as if reading a captivating novel, but in reality, reading a drama script—which is usually full of scene directions, character notes, dialogue, and all kinds of technical codes—is no easy feat.

However, sometimes—very rarely—there are scripts written as elegantly as novels.

Such scripts have everything written so naturally.

Why should one shed tears here? Why fall in love at this point? Why become angry in this moment?

A script where all the joys, sorrows, anger, and happiness of the characters are conveyed naturally, just by reading, can truly captivate the mind of the reader.

What the revised version of  lacked was romance.

To address this, Lee Junghyuk switched the male lead, who had previously handled incidents with ease, to a supporting protagonist, and newly hired a female lead who could intervene in events and become entangled with characters through an emotional perspective.

Originally,  was an apocalypse drama about saving a world doomed by a virus.

But by drastically overhauling the characters and the plot, it became an epic saga of a female lead, a lover, trying to prevent the death of the male lead who became deeply entangled with the world’s demise.

The fact that all this was done in a “natural” way, rather than by forcing developments or characters, left Kim Seungpyo amazed at Lee Junghyuk once again.

Of course, it might sound a bit odd that Kim Seungpyo keeps harping on about things being “natural.”

But it’s not just because Kim Seungpyo gained a sense of awe for nature after chasing hurricanes in Florida as a so-called storm chaser during his time broadening his horizons in America.

It’s because Kim Seungpyo was originally a director who sought that kind of naturalness in his scripts.

Anyway, with the revised script now on the table, utterly different from before, Lee Junghyuk’s script was truly—

“Natural.”

“So natural.”

It was a conversation as fragmented as those of old-timers in an anime club, missing both subject and object, but that seemed to be enough to wrap up the discussion about the revised .

With the evaluation of the work finished, it was now time to negotiate.

Sensing the shining enthusiasm in Kim Seungpyo’s eyes—even brighter than when he first saw —Lee Junghyuk leaned back against the soft café chair and asked casually.

“Will you give me a chance with this project, Author?”

“Are you sure you can do better than Director Bong Chanho?”

“Didn’t you get rejected by Director Bong anyway?”

“You’re not confident against Director Bong either, are you?”

“Hmph, of course I’m not.”

Judging by Kim Seungpyo’s sly, American-influenced smirk, he must have something up his sleeve.

“You mean you’re not confident you’ll lose?”

“No, I’m not confident I can win.”

“?”

“There’s a difference between being confident and being arrogant.”

“I see.”

The mood was right to cheerfully declare an “Okay, call!” like in a clever crime caper, but I paused for a moment.

Realizing I was making a rather excessive request, I nodded and immediately conceded.

“Then we’ll need a special strategy to beat Director Bong and that blond, tanned punk genius duo.”

“Well, if such a strategy exists.”

What does it take to defeat a world-class director and the genius writer he’s chosen?

It didn’t take long to find the answer.

“Then let’s do it this way.”

After hearing my proposal, Kim Seungpyo agreed right away, calling it an excellent idea.

And so, shaking hands, we sealed a certain contract.

---

On a dark, damp, and muggy night in September.

The heat wave had lasted for a week—so oppressive that a fan was useless.

‘It’s impossible to call September autumn anymore.’

Four in the morning.

Lifting my fingers off the now-humid keyboard, I headed out to the empty kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee.

I held the hot mug under the spout of my new ice dispenser (life-changing, highly recommended) and filled it with plenty of ice.

Sipping iced Americano in front of the air conditioner, I gazed out at the navy-tinted Yeouido Park, lost in thought.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit proud that I could run the air conditioner twenty-four hours a day without worrying about the electricity bill.

At the same time, since I regularly donated part of my earnings to environmental organizations for tax reduction, I thought perhaps today, even the ailing, sensitive Earth would close its eyes for a day.

‘Just ten years ago, summers weren’t this suffocatingly hot.’

I must be getting older.

Strangely, these days, I keep thinking back to those times—when I was a university student.

When I returned to school, the place I frequented at four in the morning was a bar.

It was a big bar at an intersection, selling everything from fried chicken to spicy whelk salad and kimchi stew at low prices to college students who drank until dawn.

By four a.m., most customers came in already stuffed and would have a few more beers for their third or fourth round before staggering out.

Thanks to that, I often ate the leftover chicken pieces they barely touched, grabbing a late meal.

While clearing tables, I’d sneak the cleanest leftovers to the kitchen and nibble away—they tasted amazing back then.

Now, unless it’s a combo menu of just drumsticks and wings from the thirty-thousand-won Golden Olive Fried Chicken at Bi*Q, nothing satisfies me, but the taste of that cold chicken from those days still—

Still…

No, I do remember, but honestly, Golden Olive Fried Chicken is way tastier.

Just as I was about to finish reminiscing,

Bzzzt—a vibration, and my phone rang in my pocket. It was Director Kim Seungpyo calling.

“Director, do you know what time it is?”

-It’s just past one in the afternoon American time.

“We’re in Korea right now.”

-Anyway, how’s the script going?

Just a moment ago, I had finished the first draft of the final episode of ’s 16-episode script.

I adjusted my grip on the phone and replied.

“I just need to revise and finalize it.”

-Good to hear. Actually, I just got a call from the other side.

“Oh, really? That was quicker than I thought.”

-See, I wasn’t just playing around in America. Anyway, get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.

“Sure, send me the time and address and I’ll be there.”

---

That evening, in the middle of Insadong Culture Street, Jongno-gu, Seoul.

Making my way through the hanok-style shops and crowds of foreign tourists, I stood in front of a large building’s main entrance.

“Whew, it’s hot.”

As I fanned my navy linen shirt in the sweltering weather, I noticed the [SETFLIX KOREA] sign on the building’s floor guide.

“Looks like I arrived a bit early.”

After checking the time on my phone, I didn’t bother to wait outside and went straight through the huge revolving door.

Inside the vast lobby with its high ceiling, the cool air conditioning greeted me, a sharp contrast to the heat outside.

Tidying my clothes and looking around, I spotted Kim Seungpyo and Seo Sun-ae standing by the front desk.

“Writer Lee Junghyuk, over here.”

“You’re here early. Hello.”

While Kim Seungpyo looked as casual as always, Seo Sun-ae was formally dressed in a white blazer and airy beige trousers—quite a formal look for such a hot day.

Seo Sun-ae handed me a pre-prepared access card and walked ahead.

The three of us headed straight to the employee-only elevator at the back of the lobby.

In the glass-walled elevator that showed the building’s interior, Kim Seungpyo joked with Seo Sun-ae.

“Wow, as expected of Setflix. The building is huge and nice.”

“The whole building isn’t theirs. They only use the fourth to the tenth floors.”

“Even so, that’s massive.”

“You’ve been to our company building too. We’re not behind.”

“Right, God Media’s building in Hapjeong Mecenatpolis is pretty impressive too. Hahaha.”

After a brief exchange, we arrived at our destination—the 8th-floor production headquarters.

As we stepped out of the elevator, a female staff member waiting to greet us smiled and said,

“Welcome, Writer Lee Junghyuk. I’m Jang Yeonhee, Team Leader of Content Production Team 2 at Setflix Korea.”

Team Leader Jang shook my hand lightly, then guided us down a corridor with deep gray tiles.

Turning the corner as instructed, we came to meeting rooms made of glass with blinds.

The largest meeting room was open, and inside, Setflix staff stood up and greeted us as we entered.

“Hello, I’m Lee Junghyuk, the drama writer.”

“I’m Director Kim Seungpyo. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Seo Sun-ae, CEO of Godflix.”

After exchanging business cards and pleasantries, we sat down and began the meeting, following what had been discussed in advance with Setflix.

“We received the first draft of  you’ll be working on with us this morning. Our entire Team 2 reviewed your script together.”

“From episode 1 to the last, episode 16, honestly, we have nothing to ask you to revise.”

“It was so solidly written, all the internal feedback was positive.”

“Thank you for the praise. The last episode is still being revised, though.”

The discussion about the quality and development of  proceeded smoothly.

Perhaps because it had already been checked and revised once by Kim Seungpyo, and also because I had confidently included my own strengths this time.

However, there was a minor issue when it came to promotion and production scheduling.

“Actually, Team 1 already has a work in production, so there may be an issue with the launch dates overlapping.”

“Since it’s also a Korean drama, and it’ll draw a lot of attention just like your  at launch, that could be a problem.”

Since it was strictly confidential, Setflix didn’t name the project Team 1 was producing, but I had a vague idea it was Director Bong’s .

‘If the production periods overlap, it’d be awkward to push banners or teaser ads for just one project.’

Promotions work better when concentrated on one thing at a time, rather than being spread thin.

As the timing of the launch due to promotional concerns came up, Seo Sun-ae made a counterproposal.

“As I understand, Setflix’s Content Production Team 1 and Team 2 operate as different CPs—is that correct?”

“Yes, each team is a separate CP, as you said.”

“If so, what about setting up the promotion as a competition?”

“A competition? How do you mean?”

Seo Sun-ae’s point was this.

Since each CP is different, there’s no overlap in allocated promotional slots. Even if the production periods aren’t exactly the same, OTT platforms have a thick post-completion viewership base.

Thus, when two anticipated Korean dramas are released around the same time, comparisons are inevitable, regardless of timing or promotion.

“In that case, why not boldly frame the promotion as if two anticipated blockbusters are clashing head-on, like Superman VS Batman? That’ll draw more attention and bring extra promotional effects.”

This is a strategy that sometimes appears—encouraging viewers to watch both to compare, sparking consumer curiosity.

‘Since it’s an OTT platform where you can upload everything at once, viewers are free to choose—making this possible.’

Seo Sun-ae’s proposal was abrupt but persuasive; Setflix asked for a moment and began exchanging opinions.

In fact, most people in the industry already knew from speculative articles that Director Bong Chanho’s new work would soon be produced and launched by Setflix this year.

Production Team 2 likely hadn’t expected our side, God Media, to be so willing to launch alongside Director Bong’s work.

Yet, instead, we actively suggested it—perhaps because we had brought a solid, convincing ending.

After long discussion, they reached this conclusion.

“That kind of bold promotional approach matches Setflix’s direction. If possible, we’d like to try it.”

“Thank you for considering it positively.”

“Yes, but there’s one concern.”

After hearing the team’s opinions, Team Leader Jang Yeonhee cautiously lowered her voice.

“We’d prefer if a new face was cast as the lead, rather than actors who have already starred in your previous works.”

Not only I, but everyone here, knew that by “new face” they didn’t mean an unknown rookie.

‘They mean someone fresh, attention-grabbing, proven in skill, who won’t lose out to any top star.’

In short, actors like Seo Ji-won, Chun Na-young, or Ahn Yoo-seok, who have played my persona, couldn’t be the leads this time, even if cast.

“If you can cast such an actor, we’ll proceed with the contract and promotion as you wish.”

This was one of the anticipated requests we’d discussed during numerous meetings at God Media over the past few months.

And Kim Seungpyo and I had already prepared for it.

“In fact, we’re already in the process of casting the lead.”

“Already? May I ask which actor you’re contacting?”

Catching my signal, Director Kim Seungpyo replied confidently.

“The actor we’re casting is the Korean-American actress Grace Kim.”