Top Management

I've read the 84-page screenplay over and over again.

Centered on the son of a North Korean operative and a National Intelligence Service agent, it’s an action spy film.

This new work by Director Lee Geum-hyeong, hailed as the godfather of action films for consistently delivering hits and twice breaking the ten million viewer mark, follows the usual pattern: in Chungmuro, the lead roles are often cast even before the screenplay makes the rounds. One of the top roles was swiftly secured by Park Hee-seung, and the scramble for the remaining spot was fierce.

And then it landed in Seo Ji-joon’s lap as the first choice.

Director Lee pushed for him, which was a welcome surprise indeed.

Considering Ji-joon's established status in the drama scene but lesser showings in films, it was quite a bold casting decision.

“How does it look? Do you think it’s okay? I’ve always wanted to work with senior Park Hee-seung. Not to mention Director Lee.”

“The news that Ji-joon got the script will spread fast,” said Director Lee Bong-joon, his legs trembling.

“This is something Park Hee-seung agreed to just by reading the synopsis, and Director Lee said he’s really sharpening his knife for this one. It feels like a career-defining work is coming. There must be many eyeing this script right now. If we take too long to decide and the director changes his mind...”

Unable to bear it, Ji-joon gripped the back of the sofa and took a deep breath.

Watching the two anxious men, I asked, “How did you both find the script?”

“It was fun,” Ji-joon immediately replied. Director Bong-joon nodded in agreement.

“Of all the scripts I’ve seen lately, this is the best. Though the storyline feels a bit loose, you can trust Director Lee’s action scenes. And they’ve already pulled nearly 20 billion won for the budget.”

He kept licking his lips, as if parched. If I said anything positive, he looked ready to rush off and sign the contract immediately.

Calmly, I ran through the script in my head again.

Born in South Korea, the son of a North Korean reconnaissance official and a spy from the South, caught up in the mayhem.

The role Ji-joon received was that of the son.

A result of a sham marriage and a representative of South Korea in judo.

The film constantly teases whether the son is a spy or not, an enemy or an ally, keeping the audience guessing.

A great character.

With a good narrative and significant presence, plus a variety of action scenes throughout the runtime, it was definitely better than the other projects I was considering. With everyone moaning about a script famine, this was clearly the best.

I exhaled briefly and made up my mind.

“I like it too. Let’s arrange a meeting with the production company as soon as possible.”

“Okay! Yes, we should do this!”

Director Bong-joon slammed his hand on the table, his face clearing as if he had shed internal waste and visceral fat. A smile appeared on Ji-joon’s face too.

“It might be better if Ji-joon contacts the director directly.”

“I’ll do it right away. I’ll also send my thanks.”

“This guy, complaining about everything before his military enlistment as if he was losing his mind. I guess he was holding out for this project.”

“See, I told you I have a knack for picking the right projects?”

After the noisy pair had left, I picked up my phone.

When I called the production company's number, it rang for a long time. The representative’s personal contact was also unavailable.

Maybe he hasn’t come into the office yet?

I left a message asking to get back to me as soon as he checks.

I felt a rush of adrenaline, as if I had taken a cold shower; my mind was clear. On impulse, I pulled out the scenarios and planning documents I had set aside from the drawer. Ji-joon’s next work was decided, but I have several actors to consider.

Nam Joyoon was waiting for Director Choi Seong-won, with whom he had worked on Alive, to send his next screenplay.

Jung Jae-i was preparing for auditions.

Still uncertain about their next projects were Lee Song-ha, Im Joo-won, and Song In-ho.

I went through the projects laid out on my desk again.

Among those I had read until my eyes were sore, discussed with the team, read again, and consulted with the actors, these were the ones I considered the best.

They were good enough to be confirmed as the next projects right away, to the point where everyone was wondering why the decision was hesitating.

Something was lacking.

So I had kept hesitating to make it final.

The feeling

 I had when I read the scripts for Cat Guardian Ghost and City Jungle.

That baseless confidence that it would succeed. The pleasant thrill of fitting my actors into the characters. The unbearable anticipation of wanting to see the finished product right away.

That was missing.

The aftertaste was not quite refreshing, so I kept searching for a better project, but this was still the best available. And now it was time to decide. Neither the production company nor the broadcasters would wait forever.

Yes. This is the best I can do.

I decided as soon as I read it, it had to be done. It’s rare to get such a feeling like a bolt from the blue about a project.

It was the same when I chose Alive and Royal Family before.

I had chosen what I thought was the best without the aid of future foresight, and it had returned the best results.

I can’t keep chasing dreamlike projects like someone searching for a bluebird. I can’t leave my actors idle for months or years. If the hiatus gets too long, some actors get anxious or depressed.

This is clearly the best choice I can make.

Let’s decide.

As I shook off the lingering regrets like dregs, a knock sounded.

“Team leader.”

It was Director Lee Tae-shin from Pretty Girl, looking disheveled as if he had run up the stairs.

He didn’t even enter the office but stood awkwardly by the door.

“It’s about the kids' YouTube broadcast. They were invited to the YouTube company today to tour the practice and recording studios together...”

“Oh, that.”

“They’ve just arrived and are getting ready to film. It will be a short shoot, about one or two hours.”

The world has indeed become colorful.

In the past, video platforms were mostly for uploading music videos. But nowadays, there's an overflow of content and live broadcasts, with professional staff involved from planning to editing.

The views and the impact that comes with them have grown tremendously.

“Let’s go down together.”

Closing the script, I stood up to find Director Lee Taeshin flustered and hurried.

"What? This isn't something significant enough for the team leader to see personally."

"Of course it is. I've come all the way here; I should at least greet everyone."

Despite having worked together for a while, Director Lee still acted like a new recruit eating in a mess hall. Leading him, I headed down to the rehearsal studio. There, a woman holding a camera was happily chatting with the members of PrettyGirl.

"Team Leader!"

"Did you come to see us filming?"

O Yeondoo, Lee Hwain, and Yoon Sol, all in similar sportswear, looked around, including Jeong Jaei, who, despite standing out, strangely seemed to blend in.

The woman with the camera and I exchanged greetings.

"I came to say hello. Hi."

"Hello, I'm a YouTuber who was born to talk. Just call me casually."

"Uh... alright."

Not sure how to address her comfortably.

"Please take good care of today's shooting."

"I should be the one asking that. But, Team Leader."

The YouTuber glanced at PrettyGirl and then lowered her voice.

"I hope it's alright to ask this since we've just met."

"Go ahead, say it."

"Is Ji Joon oppa unwell? Is he currently in Korea?"

"What?"

"I've been a fan since he debuted."

Ah.

"Of course, I'm a fan of PrettyGirl too! But has Ji Joon oppa's next project been confirmed yet?"

"..."

"Not yet, I see. That's okay, I can wait."

I wonder if Ji Joon is still at the company.

He's always been good to his fans, so maybe I should ask. Today's shooting concept involves touring W&U Management; it would indeed look picturesque if Ji Joon showed his face even for a moment.

"Just a moment, I'll make a call."

I stepped out of the rehearsal studio and called Ji Joon. The line was busy. When I tried Director Lee Bongjoon instead, I heard his voice even before the call rang through.

[Hold on.]

His voice stern, mixed with a mechanical sound, followed.

[Someone just said, 'I've avoided Hong Gildong and even dodged Salt this year, but I couldn't escape espionage.']

Espionage?

The YouTuber's voice I was just listening to.

Through a grimy view, like being scrubbed with sandpaper, the monitor screen with the broadcast window was visible. It was the monitor in my office.

[Honestly, espionage shouldn't even be mentioned with baseless films like Hong Gildong and Salt. Those two have been disasters in the film industry both last year and this year. Espionage failed because of divided opinions, but many who saw it were quite satisfied.]

Divided opinions? Failure?

Words were forcibly jammed together.

I was listening with my ears and scooping up sentences from the rapidly scrolling chat box with my eyes.

-Even as a fan of Ji Joon, defending espionage is crossing a line.

-It's not a matter of taste; it's just not fun.

-An action movie that's all action for two hours, but if the action is boring, what are you supposed to do?

-The director wanted realistic action, right? It failed because domestic audiences only like sensational stuff, but he says it's his favorite film.

[Please don't talk about the director, it's irritating. People really criticized it at the internal screening, even Park Heeseung tried to stop it, but he wouldn't listen... Anyway, my point is, while espionage did fail, it doesn't deserve this level of ridicule, well...]

-A film that barely broke even on a budget of four million?

[Ah, shit.]

My blood ran cold.

-Hello?

I stood there like a corpse until I finally snapped to my senses at the sound of Director Lee Bongjoon's voice. My body, stiff until then, relaxed as if sedated.

Thank goodness.

I hadn't called the head of the espionage production company.

...Wait.

"Did you call the director?"

-Huh? Ji Joon is handling it right now.

Ah, damn.

I rushed past the elevator to the sixth floor, running up the stairs instead.

"This film isn't happening, just hang up...!"

-The call seems to be over. What did they say?

Damn!

"Where are you now?!"

-In Conference Room B on the fourth floor.

I burst into the conference room right away. Ji Joon was happily tapping on his phone, a bright smile on his face that seemed to make the ground beneath sway, engulfing me in a dizzying sensation.

"Did you say we're doing the movie?"

"What are you...?"

"Espionage, are we doing it?"

Ji Joon looked bewildered as he answered.

"Yes."

Ah.

Damn.

Screwed.

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