Chapter 136: The Gospel of God Media

In the distant past, during the Spring and Autumn period of China, the greatest scholars of the age—whose fame resonated through subsequent generations—Confucius and Mencius, referred to a person known as a “Hyang-won” as a “pseudo-believer.” Later, this became the etymological root for the term “pseudo-religious fraudster bastard.”

Confucius said, ‘A pseudo-believer is the enemy of virtue. I have no desire to teach such a person.’

Mencius said, ‘I fear that the pseudo-believer will throw the world into chaos for the sake of their own honor and greed.’

Looking at this alone, one can see that the history of cults and pseudo-religions runs quite deep. In the modern era, these figures usually frequent densely populated areas. During my younger days, there were cultists near Shinchon Station where I lived, and most of them spoke a similar language.

“Hello. We are students of the Way. Your energy is so bright. If you don’t mind, could we talk somewhere nearby?”

In my experience, those who said such things usually had strangely scuffed shoes and eyes that were smiling while their mouths remained dead. Such negative perceptions of cults have persisted from the past into the present. Even today, the method of distinguishing them is quite easy and simple.

So why do people fall for them?

The biggest reason is internal deficiency. Those who lack peace of mind and feel a sense of anxiety so great they want to grasp at straws are usually the ones who fall into cults—for instance, lonely people who cannot rely on friends or family. Or people who have squandered their fortunes after being deceived by the temptations of Satan, like cryptocurrency or American stocks. Or perhaps employees of a small-to-medium enterprise in a grim situation, targeted by a large corporation, with all their projects halted and their survival in the drama industry uncertain.

Rather than living in frustration against a bleak reality, it feels much easier to just toss on a white tablecloth and praise a cult leader. In that sense, Kim Seung-pyo, an outsider watching God Media’s ill-timed workshop, couldn’t help but have a certain thought enter his mind.

‘Have they all gone crazy?’

Today, he had been invited to God Media’s workshop and had traveled all the way to Ganghwa Island. In the banquet hall on the roof of a large resort building were the executives and staff of God Media, who didn’t look like they were in a desperate situation at all.

“Oh, Director, you’re here?”

Im Seong-hee, who approached with a bright smile, was wearing a pure white dress she wouldn’t normally wear.

‘Didn’t they say God Media was in a difficult spot?’

He had come all the way to Ganghwa Island to offer encouragement, but his jaw dropped as he saw them. Not only had they rented out an expensive-looking buffet hall, but they were also walking around with open bottles of champagne and wine.

“What is all this?”

“What do you mean? It’s a workshop. Would you like a glass, Director?”

Jeong Tae-mi, whose eyes were also strangely glassy, approached and offered Kim Seung-pyo some wine.

“Did I come here misunderstood? I definitely heard you were all in a difficult situation, so I came to… this is like…”

Was this not a scene reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah?

“What’s there to be having a hard time about? Everything is great right now.”

“What exactly is so great?”

Both Im Seong-hee and Jeong Tae-mi began to mutter something in low voices, as if they were possessed.

“The writers’ work process was reorganized into a horizontal structure.”

“The annual salaries were doubled.”

“If we’re shorthanded, he hires as many people as we need.”

“He did it all for us! He did everything!”

It seemed that logic would no longer work on people with disheveled hair wearing white clothes. Kim Seung-pyo decided to find the main culprit behind this situation. Conveniently, the prime suspect, Lee Jung-hyuk, was just entering through the banquet hall doors.

As if they were truly possessed by something, all the employees of God Media cheered as they saw Jung-hyuk.

“Lee Jung-hyuk! Lee Jung-hyuk! Lee Jung-hyuk!”

“Ah, he is so gracious!”

Jung-hyuk, who happened to lock eyes with Kim Seung-pyo, approached him and offered a relaxed greeting. Kim Seung-pyo expressed his concern about the incomprehensible situation.

“Writer, isn’t this not the time for this?”

“Haha, not the time? Whatever for?”

Kim Seung-pyo asked in a whisper, as if afraid someone might overhear.

“I mean… do you know how much the loss is from the projects that were just overturned? How can you throw a party like this?”

“Don’t worry too much about the money.”

“Two projects were flipped, and we don’t even know what will happen to the ones currently scheduled. How can you act like this when the losses are so high?”

“Now, now, let’s stop talking about money. We have plenty of it.”

Jung-hyuk stood tall with his arms crossed.

“I don’t make dramas for the money, you know?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Good grief.”

A vein throbbed on Kim Seung-pyo’s forehead as he realized that a normal conversation would be impossible with anyone here. Jung-hyuk looked at him and smiled benevolently.

“Don’t worry too much. I’m doing this because I have a plan.”

Watching Jung-hyuk walk away after those words, Kim Seung-pyo shook his head. He eventually picked up a glass of wine with a ‘whatever happens, happens’ attitude to soothe his burning insides.

“What on earth are they thinking?”

***

Meanwhile, at the after-party for the filming of *The Rose of Sharon Has Bloomed*, where world-renowned master Director Bong Chan-ho and rookie genius Writer Park Ra-el were leading the charge together.

Having finished a grueling day of filming, a small group of fewer than half a dozen people sat down for a simple meal. The menu was modest: grilled pork rinds over briquette fire and soju.

Director Bong, who was chewing on a piece of well-cooked pork rind, spoke up.

“As you all know, we must always be careful at times like this.”

“Why? Did we do something wrong?”

Unlike the others who simply nodded in silence, Park Ra-el asked back out of pure curiosity. Looking at her, Director Bong gave a gentle smile and shared the current industry situation as if it were no secret.

“It’s because CL Media is trying to monopolize the market with an aggressive attitude unlike before.”

“Why are they trying to monopolize it?”

“It’s because the management succession of the CL Group is still unstable.”

Usually, hearing this much would prompt a question like “What does that mean?” but Park Ra-el proved her genius by inferring the general situation even though she had only heard fragments of information.

“It seems CL Media was one of the key cards needed to secure management rights.”

“As expected, Writer Park is quick to understand. That’s right. CL Media needs to grow its size to the point where it can rival their distribution and food sectors. That’s why they’re trying to monopolize the market in such an unreasonable way.”

Despite it being hard to tell his age by his appearance, Director Bong Chan-ho was fifty-eight this year. The reason he could still work on the front lines despite being close to sixty was his innate directing and planning skills from his younger days, but his insight into analyzing the market and catching the flow played a huge role.

It wasn’t experience gained from twenty years on set after his debut. He had learned it from the stock market, where he had spent a lifetime crashing and rising. Having once lost his entire fortune, been smacked on the head by his wife, and become a shrunken head of the household in front of his children, he knew the truth.

‘Do not try to catch a falling knife, and do not go against the flow of the water.’

Like those famous stock market proverbs, as soon as he realized the current market situation, he decided to simplify most of his scheduled events and reduce external activities. This was because the probability of being hit by flying sparks decreased when one kept their head down and stayed crouched during times like these.

“You’re weaker against the strong than you look.”

“Ahem, let’s just say I’m like a stalk of rice that bows lower as it ripens.”

Even though she spoke sharply, Park Ra-el also knew that in the current situation, it was best to stay quiet and keep her place rather than gloating over the misfortunes of their rival, God Media. Therefore, she said no more and quietly picked out well-cooked pork rinds and ate them.

Aside from the occasional popping sound of the pork rind grease, the quiet dinner party—neither joyful nor sad—continued.

***

Inside a resort on Ganghwa Island where God Media’s workshop was being held.

“Everyone, eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves today. We’ll hold the meeting tomorrow.”

“Whoo! You’re the best, Writer!”

Having learned through his experience in America that alcohol and nicotine improved the quality of life for workers, Jung-hyuk decided to guarantee the employees’ freedom to their hearts’ content.

‘Gathering at a lodging, sleeping in the same place, and rubbing shoulders is how things spring forth. Yes, indeed.’

Whether what sprang forth would be ideas or romance would depend on individual choice. Regardless, in his own way, he believed it was the virtue of a leader to lead with a comfortable and free atmosphere rather than letting the staff get discouraged at a time like this.

However, where there is an optimistic romantic, there is bound to be a cold realist on the other side. Hong Ju-hee, who was in a position where all production had been forcibly halted and she was about to lose all the staff she had worked with, could not enjoy this situation at all.

There was a saying that if you can’t avoid it, enjoy it, but having actually faced an unavoidable disaster, it was simply painful and stinging. Was it a curse that she had formed a deep connection with Jung-hyuk from the beginning?

Lately, except for God Media, writers and production teams who used to commission H Studio to produce works began to disappear one by one. If this bad luck continued, it wouldn’t be strange for H Studio to be forced to close at any moment.

Even if she were to abandon Jung-hyuk now and declare to everyone, “I will never make another project of Lee Jung-hyuk’s,” it was already too late. Honestly, most of H Studio’s major filmography consisted of works that came out of Jung-hyuk’s head. Even if she wanted to surrender, the opponent seemed to have no intention or reason to accept it.

Looking at Jung-hyuk, who had been repeating the words “I have a plan” for several days without giving a clear, refreshing answer, only made her crave a drink. She had been invited to the workshop, but frankly, she had come as a form of escape because she couldn’t stand the gloomy atmosphere inside her failing company’s office.

Just as she was about to pour another shot of soju to go with the seasoned raw beef she brought from the buffet…

“Stop drinking so much.”

Jo Min-seong appeared and sat nonchalantly across from her.

“Why are you here? Did you come to congratulate me on my ruin?”

“You haven’t ruined yet.”

“Do you think a small business like mine—no, it’s not even small, it’s a micro-business—has the stamina to endure like Ten Entertainment?”

Without a word, Min-seong snatched the soju bottle she was holding.

“Then at least don’t drink alone. It looks pathetic.”

Rather than offering a proper solution, Min-seong filled her glass instead. No, she called him by his old title for the first time in a long while—the man who was her ex-boyfriend.

“Min-seong.”

“…What?”

Hong Ju-hee, who knocked back the filled glass, let out a sigh.

“How did we end up like this?”