In a certain office, the refined and classic interior design stood out.
A man sat in front of a desk, holding a tablet PC and reviewing a script.
But soon, the man took his eyes off the tablet PC and rubbed his eyelids.
This man was none other than Han Sung-joo, the CEO of Sallamander Studio.
“As expected… there’s not a single script worth watching.”
Sallamander Studio was a production company that had been experiencing rapid growth recently.
Although the company was already considered mid-to-upper tier in the industry, about a year ago, with the success of as a starting point, they produced a string of hit works and had grown into one of the country’s top ten production companies.
Because of this, so many scripts were submitted to the company every day that even CEO Han couldn’t review them all.
Yet Han’s expression wasn’t a bright one.
That was because, among the submissions, there wasn’t a single work that truly captured his interest.
“All the works are the same old thing. The overall quality is high, but there’s nothing that really stands out…”
In truth, Sallamander Studio’s rise to its current level was largely thanks to CEO Han’s influence.
With his keen eye for selection, he recognized good scripts early, proactively produced them, and drove them to success.
However, no matter how skilled CEO Han was, without a genuinely good script, he couldn’t showcase his abilities.
After all, Han was a producer, not a writer.
And for several months now, not a single script had come in that suited CEO Han’s tastes.
As he continued to rub his eyelids, CEO Han let out a sigh and muttered under his breath.
“Am I just worn out?”
Originally, CEO Han hadn’t been this much of a workaholic.
But a year ago, after the death of a writer he cared for like a sibling, he began to walk the path of a workaholic.
That’s right.
Ho-jun’s death.
That loss drove CEO Han to bury himself in work, almost out of his mind.
The reason was simple.
If he didn’t keep himself busy, he simply couldn’t escape his sorrow.
And paradoxically, this was the driving force that enabled Sallamander Studio’s incredible success over the past year.
Yet, deep down, CEO Han was starting to think that maybe this was as far as it would go.
It wasn’t because Ho-jun’s death no longer made him sad.
Although much of the wound from Ho-jun’s passing had healed, now, it just felt like he was tired of everything.
Forcing himself to go against his nature, he’d ended up falling into a rut.
“Maybe it’s finally time for me to step back from the front lines. Still, it’s a relief that all three drama planning teams managed to find scripts they liked.”
Originally, Sallamander Studio consisted of just CEO Han and the Drama Planning Team 1.
But as the company grew, so did its size, and now there were staff up to Team 3.
And recently, it seemed all three teams had rolled up their sleeves and found scripts they wanted to produce.
“Ah, come to think of it, didn’t Kim Seoan from Team 3 say there was a meeting today?”
Unlike Teams 1 and 2, which recruited both rookies and established talents through personal connections to plan and develop works, Team 3 focused on discovering scripts submitted for open review—just like CEO Han had done.
In fact, Team 3 was created because CEO Han simply couldn’t read all the unsolicited scripts himself anymore.
And recently, CEO Han had received word from Kim Seoan, whom he’d scouted from another company and now considered the key member of Drama Planning Team 3, about a meeting.
“They said it’s a drama they absolutely want to produce, right? I guess I should read the script.”
With that, CEO Han rummaged through his email and found the script Kim Seoan had sent.
It was a script and proposal titled .
He opened the proposal first and immediately checked the writer’s name.
“Kang Tae-ha… That’s a name I haven’t heard before.”
It sounded somewhat familiar, but dismissing it as déjà vu, he began reading the proposal.
The proposal itself was extremely impressive.
With a well-organized format, it succinctly outlined the story, key features that must be recognized, and unique selling points—all of which piqued his interest.
But CEO Han didn’t let himself get prematurely excited.
Among the scripts he’d read recently, there were plenty of cases where only the proposal was good, and the script didn’t live up to it.
Without any change in expression, CEO Han opened the script file on his tablet PC.
But as he began to read, his posture gradually changed.
From leaning back on the sofa and skimming the script from a distance, he soon found himself hunched forward, almost burying his face in the tablet, absorbed in the script.
He turned the pages feverishly, utterly immersed, and when he finally finished the last chapter of Part 3, he let out a long, pent-up breath.
Only now, after all that tension, was he able to breathe.
“How could there be a work like this…”
Unconsciously, CEO Han muttered to himself.
And for good reason.
was, hands down, the best script he’d read in the past year.
The script, the characters, the dramatic structure—everything was perfect.
No, it went beyond mere perfection—there was something dazzling about this script.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this way.
“Yes… This is the first time since .”
Of course, CEO Han didn’t think was a flawless work.
He couldn’t deny that it was the best drama of that year, but if you lined up all the hit works in history, it would be somewhere towards the back.
But was, of all the works CEO Han had ever seen, the one that contained that elusive, sparkling something.
Maybe the reason he’d been so obsessed with work all this time was because he desperately wanted to find another work like that.
No matter how many scripts he’d read, though, he never managed it…
“I never imagined I’d find the work I was looking for like this… Ha.”
Unconsciously, CEO Han shook his head.
And he grew curious.
What kind of person was this Kang Tae-ha who had written such a work?
Just then,
[CEO! The meeting I mentioned earlier with Kang Tae-ha has just ended—would it be okay to come by and say hello?]
A message arrived from Kim Seoan, and CEO Han immediately replied that it was fine.
A short time later.
Finally, with the sound of a knock, Tae-ha entered CEO Han’s office, following Kim Seoan.
“Uh.”
At that moment, a single tear rolled down from CEO Han’s eye.
***
Tae-ha entered the office with anticipation, only to be taken aback at the sight of CEO Han shedding tears.
It wasn’t just Tae-ha.
Kim Seoan, too, seemed surprised, and a heavy silence filled the office.
“Ah, what am I doing?”
Breaking the silence a beat late, CEO Han wiped his tears and spoke.
Kim Seoan quickly composed himself and, glancing at Tae-ha, opened his mouth.
“Haha, our CEO must’ve read another melodrama script. Isn’t that right?”
“…Well, yes.”
CEO Han played along awkwardly and forced a smile.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he reached out his hand to Tae-ha.
“I’m Han Sung-joo, CEO of Sallamander Studio. It’s a pleasure to meet you, writer.”
With a trembling heart, Tae-ha took the offered hand and replied.
“Yes, nice to meet you. My name is Kang Tae-ha.”
And thought to himself.
What a relief.
It had been a while since he’d seen CEO Han—he’d lost some weight, but didn’t look unwell.
“It’s good to see you again, CEO.”
Tae-ha greeted him silently, so no one else could hear.
And his thoughts continued.
“But still, why did he cry as soon as he saw me? Could it be… he recognized me?”
Tae-ha immediately shook his head.
No, that was impossible.
Right now, Tae-ha was a completely different person from Ho-jun—different face, age, background, everything.
So Tae-ha concluded that CEO Han must have cried for some other reason, and that the awkward atmosphere was just a matter of bad timing.
That was the logical train of thought.
Just then, perhaps to lighten the mood, Kim Seoan started to speak.
“I only learned this today during our meeting, but the writer’s original profession is actually acting.”
At that, CEO Han’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What? Is that true?”
Tae-ha scratched his head awkwardly and smiled.
“Yes, somehow it ended up that way…”
“And you know , right? He appeared there recently, and now he’s currently in .”
“Oh!”
CEO Han seemed even more surprised at Kim Seoan’s added explanation.
It was a habit of his to widen his eyes and shake his head when he was truly astonished.
But as Tae-ha, he couldn’t really understand why CEO Han was so surprised.
It was unusual, but not unheard of, for an actor to write as well.
Soon, CEO Han revealed the reason himself.
“After reading the script, I was certain that some veteran writer had just changed their pen name and submitted the work. But to think you’re a rookie, and still an active actor at that… I still can’t believe it.”
Kim Seoan nodded in agreement with CEO Han’s words.
“I was shocked too when I heard your story. Especially when I found out you were ‘that actor’ from —the one everyone was talking about on the Community recently.”
As an active production PD, Kim Seoan seemed well informed about all the trending incidents on the Community.
But Kim Seoan wasn’t the only one.
“Oh!”
“What is it?”
“Wait, you’re the one who was stabbed to death in Part 4 of ?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Wow. So even your acting ability is…”
Unable to finish his sentence, CEO Han simply expressed his admiration, while Tae-ha felt a bit embarrassed.
Finally, CEO Han seemed to have gathered his thoughts, nodded, and spoke.
“You might just become the first person in our country who can both write and act in his own work—a true Star.”
Kim Seoan assumed this was just some Lip Service and smiled quietly, nodding along.
But Tae-ha knew.
That it wasn’t just Lip Service.
He could sense how much genuine feeling was packed into CEO Han’s words.
***
After the meeting, Tae-ha rode a taxi home, deep in thought as he gazed out the car window.
“I was worried since it was a new challenge, but if even CEO Han enjoyed the script, then there’s no problem.”
CEO Han’s judgment when it came to scripts was precise.
You could tell just by looking at the dramas he’d produced over the past year.
So, having written a script as a new challenge, Tae-ha felt somewhat reassured.
“As long as I get approval from the Entertainment Agency, I should be able to continue my career as a writer without much trouble.”
He planned to start full-scale work on the script as soon as filming for wrapped up.
Until then, with the density of scenes that needed to be shot, writing would probably be difficult.
“If I sacrifice my work-life balance, I could pull it off, but I’d just end up dying of overwork. Anyway… will tomorrow’s shoots for episodes 11 and 12 go smoothly?”
As that thought crossed his mind, Tae-ha had no way of knowing.
That this would turn out to be something of a prophecy.
Outside the window, the sun was setting.
The whole world was bathed in red.