Today was the day NetHolics threw down a challenge—not just to the three major terrestrial broadcasters, but even to cable networks.
Even without words, that message was loud and clear to the reporters.
The production environment is different.
So bring us everything worth having—scripts, production crews, directors, studios, actors.
A senior reporter glanced around briefly. The atmosphere was more electrified than at any script reading he had ever attended.
This was a historic moment—the beginning of a real shift in Korea’s media landscape.
“Daily Media, Reporter Wi Jaehwi, confirmed. Please wear this band on your wrist. Show it again if you need to re-enter.”
Instead of paper passes or lanyards, they had to sign on a tablet at the entrance. The reporters were handed wristbands stamped with the NetHolics logo and the title <Seoul Metropolitan City>.
“Look at this—branding the drama title right on it.”
It practically screamed: remember this name.
It was January.
Broadcasters, production companies, agencies—
everyone was aggressively launching their new-year strategies, investment plans, and upcoming lineups.
There was even a saying: projects locked in January were the ones being pushed the hardest that year.
After the holidays, people spent more time at home—and their social media activity spiked accordingly.
Which meant <Seoul Metropolitan City>’s script reading today was positioned as the first major move to shake the Korean market.
Click—! Click—!
With the wristbands secured, reporters began snapping photos for SNS uploads. The shutter sounds echoed even before the event had started.
They lined up, receiving bottles of water branded with the NetHolics logo, followed by boxed sandwiches.
By the time they were handed specially prepared goods kits, both hands were already full.
“They’re showing off their scale right from the start?”
“You feel it too, right? They’re spending a lot.”
The room buzzed. Everyone was trying to gauge the butterfly effect NetHolics might bring.
“How many people did they even invite?”
“At this point, it’d be faster to count who didn’t show up....”
There were too many people inside to even estimate.
—We will begin the <Seoul Metropolitan City> script reading shortly. Distinguished guests, please...
An announcement came through the speakers. Reporters simultaneously opened their laptops.
The senior reporter’s eyes caught a familiar name trending on the portal site.
[Following Han Yeoreum, snap— ‘Yeon Huijae Wall’ becoming a tourist hotspot?]
An actress who had run nonstop since debut without a single break. And today, the one expected to receive the biggest spotlight as the so-called “standard-bearer of DaeYeJong’s brilliance.”
A complete anomaly in his entire career as a journalist.
As the senior reporter briefly thought of Han Yeoreum, a heavy clattering sound reached his ears. He didn’t miss the moment.
“They’re coming in. Cameras up.”
At his words, Wi Jaehwi raised the camera hanging from his neck. Shutter sounds erupted all at once.
The cast of <Seoul Metropolitan City> was entering.
Click! Click! Clickclickclick!
Under dazzling spotlights.
* * *
“Hello.”
The first to speak into the microphone was Oh Seonyul, the director of <Seoul Metropolitan City>. NetHolics had chosen a top director instead of a top actor.
“Thank you very much for attending today’s script reading.”
Click! Click! Click! Click!
Cameras flashed relentlessly toward her.
In the action-thriller genre, her name was practically a rule of law. She was, in fact, a traditional film director.
For a film director to take on a drama was extremely rare.
Just selecting her had already planted the expectation that something different might happen.
And that wasn’t all. NetHolics had adopted a production method unfamiliar to the Korean industry.
For domestic dramas, where product placements had to be inserted throughout, filming typically proceeded up to episode four before going on air—after which filming continued simultaneously with broadcasting.
As a result, the latter half would change depending on audience reactions.
Adjusting character screen time, modifying romance lines—the drama would literally evolve in real time.
But a drama that “evolves” doesn’t come with only advantages.
[KBC’s “strong start, weak finish”... ratings plunge to 3.1%? Viewers furious over <Wife’s Dignity>]
[Production team of <Mr. Lawless King> apologizes after airing unedited revision scenes]
[HOT / Even for live production, this drama went too far.jpg]
[OurTown Chat / Why do dramas these days all start strong and end terribly? I dropped it T_T]
The biggest issue among them—
the so-called “on-the-spot scripts.”
As the series progressed, it wasn’t uncommon for the writer to lose control, causing the narrative to collapse.
—Anonymous 1: why are dramas like this these days there’s nothing to watch
—Anonymous 3: this drama is 4 episodes long what do you mean 12?
↳ Anonymous 33: 222 you’re mistaken right? Haha T_T...
—Anonymous 98: i’m staff on set T_T can’t say which one but the writer basically quit it’s legendary on-the-spot scripting lolol
—Anonymous 102: just give initials
—Anonymous 106: makes sense lol if you check the actors’ sns they’re literally shaking carrots LMAO
Even so, why was partial pre-production still preferred?
Money.
“Since this is 100% pre-produced, there is a risk of spoilers, so we ask for your understanding that today’s script reading will be partially cut.”
But this was a global company.
As if money meant nothing, they chose a bold approach—almost like declaring they didn’t care about PPL or advertisers.
They had managed to secure all ten episodes of the script from Seomun Ihwa in one go.
“100% pre-produced?”
Murmurs spread among the reporters. The unfamiliar production method doubled the sound of typing.
Tap, tap—
As Director Oh briefly introduced the project, she recalled the phone call she had received from Seomun Ihwa a few months ago.
In her long directing career, she had never experienced anything so absurd.
It was completely unprecedented.
“Hello, Writer Noh.”
“I’m Director Oh, actually. Not a writer.”
“Oh right, I’m the writer. Sorry, I got confused!”
“This isn’t the first time, so it’s fine. What’s the matter?”
“I’m thinking of revising the script.”
“...Excuse me? Revising?”
Seomun Ihwa was a person with immense pride.
A true professional. A writer who had never failed once—an absolute force in an industry where “absolute” rarely existed.
“You’ve already delivered the full completed script. What exactly would you be revising...?”
Her latest work was flawless. There wasn’t a single flaw to point out.
Every character felt alive, breathing within the script.
“I want to reduce the screen time.”
At her sudden statement, Oh Seonyul mentally retraced the story, trying to guess which character she meant.
“Oh? Which one?”
Apocalypse stories usually had fixed roles.
The intelligent type analyzing the situation to increase survival odds. freёwebnovel.com
The troublemaker dragging everyone into chaos.
The self-sacrificing type who would save even one more person.
The villain exploiting others to survive.
And finally—
“On Jihwa.”
The combat-type character—the one who delivers the greatest catharsis in dangerous situations.
“You want to reduce On Jihwa’s screen time? Are you serious?”
On Jihwa was a character who could deliver catharsis simply by existing. One of the few combat types.
But even now, her screen time wasn’t particularly large. Hearing that it would be reduced further—despite already having limited lines and appearances—made Oh Seonyul sigh.
“Han Yeoreum’s agency is JC, right? And this drama’s production company is Studio Another. You know—they’re under JC too.”
“Ah, so Jihwa landed a good agency? No wonder. She’s pretty solid.”
“Even if you don’t remember names, you can’t possibly not know Jegal Rok! If he hears that Han Yeoreum’s screen time is being reduced further, do you think he’ll stay quiet?”
<Seoul Metropolitan City> already carried numerous risks as it was.
It would be the first paid drama in a market used to free content—and an apocalypse genre, which was already difficult to make a hit domestically.
On top of that, it didn’t have a top actor who could draw audiences purely by star power.
Would people really pay for this?
At a time when even the film industry was struggling, asking viewers to open their wallets for dramas was a gamble beyond imagination.
Yet Seomun Ihwa, who should have carried both the excitement and the burden of opening a new era, said something incomprehensible.
“I already wrote Season 2. So I don’t think we should ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) consume too much of On Jihwa’s character yet.”
For a moment, Oh Seonyul felt her mind go blank.