Glory Film Company

Episode 31: The Watchful Eyes (2)

“Is Park Mujin making moves? How much?”
“Not sure yet. I haven’t gotten that far.”
“And Director Kwak signed with My Way? Didn’t we tie him down with a clause for his subsequent projects?”
“You said we should rein him in by being stricter this time—control the editing rights and all that. It was your idea, wasn’t it?”
“You idiot! That’s what I do! You were supposed to cajole him from the shadows, sweeten the deal, and keep him locked in. Do I have to micromanage everything?”

Inside the office of Gu Bonjik, the CEO of Stay Films, his shouting filled the air.

Standing before him, Chief Jung, the bearer of bad news, lowered his head as if he had committed treason.

“So you’re saying they’ve started something with that money?”

Three billion won—a sum that seemed too small to launch anything meaningful. Gu had assumed Lee Deokjae’s personality would prevent him from embarking on anything too ambitious, and the money would just dribble away over a year or two. But now, hearing that My Way Pictures was actively planning films and even securing investments, he was flabbergasted.

“Are there any investors aside from Park Mujin?”

Compared to major investment firms, the amount might seem insignificant. But the name Park Mujin carried weight. If others followed his lead, who knew how much My Way Pictures could grow?

“Well… apparently, there are others. But it seems like they’re not all on the same project.”

“What do you mean? Are they running multiple projects simultaneously? And securing funding for all of them?”

“Uh, maybe?”

“How much?”

“I… don’t know the exact amounts…”

Under Gu’s relentless questioning, Chief Jung mumbled incoherently, clearly overwhelmed. He had only shared what his radar had picked up, hoping to flaunt his intelligence. He hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction from Gu.

“They’re probably making a movie with the script Lee Deokjae found,” Gu said, his face hardening with certainty.

It wouldn’t align with current trends, but a story with a solid core could explode under Lee Deokjae’s talents. Yet Chief Jung tilted his head.

“Uh, I haven’t heard anything about Lee Deokjae yet. But I did hear something about Director Kwak and a rookie director.”

“A rookie?”

“And apparently, actress Kang Jooyeon is starring in the rookie director’s project.”

“Kang Jooyeon?”

Gu’s eyebrows shot up as he repeated the name.

The more he heard, the less sense it made. Yet a deep sense of foreboding coursed through him, warning that this was something he couldn’t afford to ignore.

*****

“Haha, when we’re so in sync, every project is bound to be a hit!”
“Absolutely. The expectations are sky-high for this one.”
“At Stay Films, adaptability and quick thinking are our greatest strengths, wouldn’t you agree? Haha!”
“You must be working hard. From what I’ve seen in the lookbook, location seems key for this project. The shots look amazing already.”
“Well, our cinematographer, Director Yong, is a pioneer in the DP system. Since the camera, lighting, and grip teams are integrated and operate systematically, we can test everything—time of day, angles, you name it—to get the perfect shot. By the time pre-production is done, the storyboard is practically flawless. That eliminates any on-set losses and cuts risks significantly.”
“Exactly! I’ve heard Director Yong has incredible charisma. Rumor has it he’s unstoppable on set. He’s worked with Director Kwak for a long time, hasn’t he?”
“Since the first project, I think. And guess who brought them together? Yours truly.”
“Really?”
“Haha. Back in the day, when I was a full-time producer. You know, a producer’s basic skills involve planning, pulling the right people together, and matching those who’ll work well as a team. It was obvious to me those two would click.”
“Ah, those were the days.”

Over the past few days, Gu Bonjik had been meeting with influential figures from major investment firms. Strengthening the relationships he had carefully cultivated, he dropped hints about upcoming investment opportunities, gauged industry trends, and subtly probed to see if My Way Pictures was overstepping its bounds and drawing attention.

Fortunately, it seemed that no major investment firms were seriously interested in My Way Pictures yet. However, what did concern him was that these firms were keeping a close eye on My Way’s activities—especially Park Sunghoon, the head of Jeil Entertainment.

“This guy named Ha Pilsung—apparently, he’s an ex-erotic film director. I hear he’s preparing to debut with a rom-com now.”
“Ha. Erotic films?”
“He’s made some famous ones, apparently. At least, in that industry, people know his name. When I asked around, several people said they were familiar with his work.”
“Well, it’ll probably fizzle out soon. The fundamentals and systems are totally different. Breaking into commercial films isn’t that easy.”
“But the real question is how he managed to bring Kang Jooyeon on board.”

Park Sunghoon couldn’t hide his irritation. He had tried multiple times to cast Kang Jooyeon in mainstream projects, only to be rejected. The idea that she would work with a director like Ha Pilsung was enough to annoy him.

“A former erotic film director and a washed-up actress? The picture seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it? You can see exactly what they’re aiming for—probably a risqué, R-rated film. Rom-com? Yeah, right.”
Gu Bonjik waved dismissively, showing no interest.

“You think scripts like this haven’t crossed Kang Jooyeon’s desk before? I can name at least ten that were sent her way. She rejected all of them, saying there was no artistic merit, the characters weren’t compelling, the plots lacked coherence, or the intent was too vulgar. What makes this one any different?”
“It’s not. She’s probably just afraid of being completely forgotten by the public. This might be her last chance, so she grabbed it. There are no other scripts coming her way anymore. I’d bet she’s regretting not taking up those offers from more credible directors or projects back when she had the chance.”
“Could be.”

Gu exuded confidence.

“They won’t get additional investments, and even if the film gets made, it’ll bomb. Does My Way Pictures even have a capable producer? A skilled production team? The director’s a rookie, and the lead actor paired with Kang Jooyeon is another newcomer. Audiences these days don’t just flock to something because it’s provocative. Standards are much higher now.”
“Still, you never know with the public. Even if it doesn’t do well in theaters, it could blow up on IPTV.”
“Well, that’s possible. But do we really need to worry about that? Haha.”

Gu noticed Park Sunghoon’s persistent focus on Kang Jooyeon and decided to redirect the conversation. He handed over a book he had prepared.

“What’s this?”
“A tough contract to secure. It’s Ahn Junseok’s script.”
“Wow, finally.”

Park Sunghoon’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“What about the casting?”
“Jung Hyeyoon and Lee Sungjin. Both are top priorities, and they’re very likely to sign. Lee Sungjin even said he’s willing to work regardless of the pay. Haha.”
“Well, we’ll see about that when it comes time to sign the contract.”
“Haha, true enough.”

Ahn Junseok.

In an era where production committees had strong influence and capital dictated the course of filmmaking, Ahn Junseok was one of the few exceptions. Alongside Park Seyoung, he was one of Korea’s most brilliant young directors. Known for pushing boundaries, his films had excited audiences by showing what movies could be. He had even won awards at international film festivals and topped global OTT platforms with exclusive releases.

Now, Gu had successfully brought one of Korea’s hottest directors under his wing.

“What’s the genre?”
Park Sunghoon asked, stroking the book as if it were a treasure.

“A disaster film. With elements of science fiction.”

Gu lowered his voice for dramatic effect.

“And it’s a series.”
“Wow.”

Park Sunghoon’s small eyes widened in excitement.

“It’s a standalone masterpiece, but after watching the next installment, you can’t help but feel anticipation for the expanded universe.”
“Ah, so it’s the kind of concept that works well as a series? Like The Voice of God?”
“Yes. The characters are vivid, and the worldbuilding is exceptional. It’s exactly the kind of thing young audiences love these days.”
“I’ll have to take a look at the script.”

Park casually pulled the book toward himself.

“You’ll read it quickly, right?”
Gu Bonjik nudged with a smile.

“Well, even if I do, internal meetings will take at least two weeks, no matter how fast we push it.”
“Director Ahn Junseok said he’s taking a summer vacation next week, and he’d like to know the outcome before he leaves.”
“Ah, is that so?”
“You know me—I brought it to Jeil Entertainment first because it’s my priority. But the director’s stance is a bit different….”

Gu sighed, feigning exasperation, while his gaze seemed to add: You know there are other investors out there who’d throw money at Ahn’s project without hesitation.

“What day is he leaving?”
Park checked his schedule with a slightly irritated expression.

“Thursday… or was it Wednesday?”
“…Let’s push it strongly during Monday’s meeting and aim to provide at least a preliminary guideline by Wednesday morning.”
“Oh, that would make things so much smoother for us. Thank you.”

Gu smiled broadly, his tone turning accommodating. Park gave a distracted nod, unable to take his eyes off the book. All he wanted now was to get rid of Gu quickly and dive into the script.

Jeil Entertainment, with its overwhelming financial power and unparalleled influence in the Korean film industry, controlled both production and distribution. Its sway was so significant that most production companies—and even rival investment firms—had to consider Jeil’s opinions when planning investments or productions.

Gu had spent over a decade cultivating his relationship with Park Sunghoon and Jeil Entertainment for precisely this reason.

Perfect.

As Gu left Park’s office, he couldn’t help but grin. Bringing Ahn Junseok’s script had been a stroke of genius.

“Two hundred billion won per installment? Maybe three hundred? They’ll handle first-choice casting and everything. Let’s seal the deal.”

Securing the script early was another smart move.

“If production costs stay within that range? Of course, there’s no reason not to work with Stay Films.”

Ahn had handed over the script with a calm demeanor, confident in its value. For Gu, this script represented two significant opportunities:

First, it promised to elevate Stay Films’ status with a potential blockbuster hit.

Second:

“If all the funding floods into this project, there’ll be no money left for anything else.”

Jeil Entertainment’s purse strings would be firmly tied up for the foreseeable future. And with Jeil’s sway and Gu’s influence, no investors would consider funding My Way Pictures.

That’s their limit. Pathetic.

The Korean beef ribs he had eaten earlier with Park were finally settling in his stomach, leaving him feeling content.

While Gu was busy maneuvering to preemptively squeeze out any potential funding for My Way Pictures, another scene was unfolding elsewhere.

*****

“Are we sticking to the internal screening schedule for the rough cut?”
“Ugh, let’s just keep the first one as planned. My eyes are about to turn purple from staring at the footage.”

Youngkwang was fully immersed in the final editing of Ha Pilsung’s 300 Days After We Break Up. He had already laid out a detailed plan to use the rough cut to attract additional investment.