Glory Film Company

Episode 32: The Investment Committee (1)

Youngkwang’s laptop contained a wealth of information. When he woke up in a new, unfamiliar body after leaping 19 years into the future, the data on the device proved immensely helpful. Details about his new identity, relationships, and future plans were meticulously recorded.

Admittedly, his first impression was marred by stumbling upon a collection of amateur script drafts, but as he delved into other documents, his interest in the young version of himself grew. Certain relationships and experiences also caught his eye, potentially valuable for his new circumstances.

The most revealing resource, however, was the journal.

The younger Youngkwang had a habit of jotting down his daily experiences and impressions, and one of the most frequently mentioned names was Yang Hyesoo.

Although the younger Youngkwang seemed burdened by discomfort and feelings of inferiority in his relationship with Yang Hyesoo, he also harbored a deep sense of unresolved tension. To Youngkwang, based on the journal entries, Yang Hyesoo was a talent worth cultivating a connection with, no matter the effort.

The young Youngkwang, who aspired to become a successful screenwriter, had graduated from Hanmin University’s Department of Theater and Film. Among his nearly 100 drafts, many were university assignments, naturally attracting harsh criticism. The harshest critic, often leading the charge, was none other than Yang Hyesoo.

It wasn’t personal.

She simply seemed annoyed at having to critique work that didn’t even meet basic standards.

Unlike Youngkwang, who struggled, Yang Hyesoo was the star of the department. Her keen eye for scripts and sharp tongue made her both respected and feared. She didn’t just tear apart Youngkwang’s work—she ruthlessly critiqued the projects of classmates and seniors alike, earning her a fair share of enemies.

However, before she even graduated, Yang Hyesoo won a prestigious Korean scriptwriting competition and went on to join Jeil Entertainment, Korea’s largest investment and distribution company, as a rising star on its investment committee.

A sharp, unyielding personality like hers might actually be ideal. She has the eye for quality and the integrity not to be swayed by external influences. If I approach her subtly and get her to review our script, there might be an opportunity.

This indirect approach wasn’t Youngkwang’s first choice. He preferred a straightforward path. However, signs were emerging that such a strategy wouldn’t work this time.

Interestingly, records on the younger Youngkwang’s phone suggested he and Yang Hyesoo had maintained occasional contact.

Wait. After writing all this stuff about her in his journal, why did he keep reaching out to her?

*****

“This is it! Wow! I really want to see more. It’s like my dead romantic instincts are being revived,” exclaimed Bae Youngho, unable to contain his excitement during a private screening at My Way Pictures.

The 20-minute edited preview had drawn an enthusiastic reaction from the team.

“The atmosphere is so unique. Audiences bored of cookie-cutter films will love this. It’s going to get a strong response and spread by word of mouth,” said Lee Deokjae, known for his cautious evaluations.

“The combination of the camera work and lighting is pure art. That bus overturn scene? It’s flashier and more realistic than most action films. The sheer number of cuts is incredibly trendy—young viewers will love it,” another team member added.

“Actor Lee Jaehyun’s range of expressions is remarkable. And Kang Jooyeon’s ability to differentiate between her 20s and 30s? Incredible. Both are so nuanced,” chimed in Choi Suhyeon and Jang Hyunmin, each highlighting their favorite moments.

Youngkwang was equally pleased. The edited version exceeded his expectations, managing to stay within budget while delivering everything they had envisioned.

“So, where are you taking this first?”

With the preview ready, it was time to knock on the doors of potential investors. Lee Deokjae inquired about Youngkwang’s next steps.

“Jeil Entertainment, of course.”

Youngkwang confidently named the biggest investment firm.

But Lee Deokjae frowned.

“Jeil Entertainment won’t bite right now.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a rumor that Stay Films is securing a massive investment from them—hundreds of billions of won.”

“Stay Films? You mean CEO Gu Bonjik?”

The mention of Stay Films made Youngkwang’s brows furrow in irritation.

“Yeah, Gu. Apparently, he’s brought Ahn Junseok’s next project to Jeil.”

“Ahn Junseok?”

“The head of Jeil Entertainment, Park Sunghoon, is deeply connected with Gu. They’re practically inseparable, always trading favors. I don’t see the point in wasting time on something that’s not going to happen.”

Lee Deokjae smiled bitterly.

Youngkwang was familiar with the name Ahn Junseok—not personally, but through his work.

Gu Bonjik has certainly leveled up.

Securing the next film by Ahn Junseok, arguably Korea’s most celebrated director, and drawing in hundreds of billions in investment—Gu was playing in the big leagues.

I should’ve paid closer attention to Gu’s movements.

Youngkwang’s expression darkened.

“Honestly, everyone’s so focused on Ahn Junseok’s script right now. Instead of Jeil Entertainment, wouldn’t it be better to take it to Smile Entertainment or Art Park?”
“Yeah, we have some contacts there too.”

The consensus leaned toward this alternative plan, as having familiar faces in those companies would make it easier to gauge the internal sentiment.

“Wait, you haven’t watched it yet? It’s only a 20-minute cut—how long could it possibly take?”
“We’d like to pitch it ourselves. Can’t we arrange some time for that?”

It seemed like they’d have better luck pulling a number at a public service office. The edited version of 300 Days After We Break Up, which they’d pushed into review through their connections, was not even being considered by any investment firm.

Could it be…?

Youngkwang’s sharp instincts immediately kicked in.

If there are people listening, rumors about us must’ve reached them too. If they found out about Kwak Junghoon’s contract for his subsequent projects, it’s obvious they’d have lost their minds.

Thinking from Gu Bonjik’s perspective, it was a reasonable suspicion that he might have resorted to underhanded tactics.

It wouldn’t be surprising if Gu pressured not only Jeil Entertainment but other investors to mess with us.

If anyone could pull such a stunt, it was Gu.

In that case, the best course of action might be to stick to his original plan and break through head-on. While reaching someone like Park Sunghoon, the head of Jeil Entertainment, seemed impossible, perhaps contacting Yang Hyesoo—someone he already had a connection with—could work.

As Youngkwang was forming this plan, something unexpected occurred at Jeil Entertainment.

*****

“Hey, Yang Hyesoo! What’s your problem?”
“This clearly doesn’t fit the scale. If it’s being produced simultaneously, we could save over 10 billion won, but they’re just throwing money at it?”
“Are you a production company producer? Do you even know the system? Movies don’t get made with production costs alone. For a blockbuster of this size, promotion and marketing are the keys. Don’t you even know that?”
“Sure, spend all you want on promotion and marketing, but it’s useless if the core content is weak.”
“What did you just say?”
“Director, have you actually read this script?”
“What are you babbling about now?”
“It’s just a mess. It doesn’t even have a solid logline.”
“What? Yang, are you out of your mind? Can you take responsibility for that statement?”
“No, I’m just saying it doesn’t feel right. For a project of this scale, shouldn’t it immediately click? Did you feel that? Or is it just me?”
“What do you mean ‘feel’? Are you a shaman? Did you get some divine revelation over the weekend? Can you just magically tell what works and what doesn’t? Show me concrete evidence!”
“Anyway, I can’t support it right now. I’m abstaining. Let me review it more thoroughly and get back to you.”
“What?”

Yang Hyesoo stood her ground against Park Sunghoon, whose frustration made him look like he might pass out from sheer indignation.

“She’s insane.”
“There she goes again.”
“Criticizing Ahn Junseok’s script? She’s out of her mind.”
“No kidding. If she were alone with Director Ahn, she wouldn’t even dare open her mouth. She only acts like this behind his back.”

Most of the spectators naturally sided with Ahn Junseok and Park Sunghoon. Even those who shared some of Yang’s reservations refrained from speaking up, as many had pent-up grievances about her behavior and work style. They took this opportunity to vent their frustrations.

The unexpected investment meeting was convened to fast-track the approval of Ahn Junseok’s new project.

Jeil Entertainment had a meticulous process for minimizing risks, including its unanimous decision system. For any project to proceed, all members of the investment committee had to agree to move forward. This system provided stability but also made it difficult for groundbreaking projects to emerge.

From the company’s perspective, the system ensured they avoided unnecessary risks in pursuit of rare blockbuster successes.

Despite Park Sunghoon’s aggressive push, Ahn Junseok’s project failed to pass during the initial meeting. The stumbling block was none other than Yang Hyesoo’s dissenting vote.

Park Sunghoon, visibly stressed, shouted at her in frustration, but it was futile against her unyielding stance.

By the time a follow-up meeting was held that afternoon, a few more dissenting votes had emerged, leading to the conclusion that Ahn’s project required further review.

The investment committee’s shift wasn’t solely due to their opinion of Yang Hyesoo. Instead, it stemmed from the professionals’ shared desire to create high-quality films. Regardless of personal feelings toward her, the committee members reconsidered their stance, leading to additional dissenting votes. This disruption, however, was undeniably instigated by Yang Hyesoo, much to Park Sunghoon’s frustration.

“Hey, can we approach this positively? The budget can be adjusted, and any weaknesses in the script can be developed further. Right now, you should all be focusing on the fact that this is Ahn Junseok’s next project! Do any of you have a personal grudge against him?”

Although he chastised the committee for letting emotions influence their decisions, Park himself was visibly losing control, slamming his hand on the table in anger.

“And you, Yang Hyesoo—if you’re so confident, bring us a better script. Something sharper and sexier than Director Ahn’s work!”
“Excuse me?”
“Anyone can criticize without offering solutions. You’re getting paid to work, not just talk. Get out there and find something, or admit your limitations and apologize.”

Park stormed out of the meeting room, leaving behind a cold, tense atmosphere.

“He’s not wrong, you know.”
“Exactly. Director Ahn is someone you can trust. Everyone acknowledges both his fundamentals and his genius.”
“Sure, the script might feel lacking in its first draft, but films can evolve and improve until release.”
“Even if the text doesn’t fully convey it, the visuals can completely transform how it’s perceived.”

The pressure mounted, with accusatory stares directed at Yang.

Though she was used to being isolated for speaking her mind, even Yang Hyesoo wasn’t an emotionless robot. As a junior-level committee member, she could have simply gone along with the consensus. There were others who bore responsibility for such decisions—why had she chosen to fight this uphill battle? She felt a sudden wave of regret.

Perhaps that was why…

Buzz.

The vibration of her phone broke the uncomfortable silence in the meeting room.

Under normal circumstances, Yang would have declined the call.

“A moment, it’s an urgent call,” she said, seizing the opportunity to escape. Pressing the call button, she walked quickly out of the room.

Why is he calling me all of a sudden?

Puzzled but curious, she answered.

“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s been a while. This is Youngkwang. Lee Youngkwang.”

“I know. What’s the occasion?”

“I’m working as a producer at a company called My Way Pictures now.”

“Oh, really?”

“I wanted to pitch something to you.”

“Pitch?”

“You once told me this: The day you fully understand what’s wrong with your garbage scripts, that’s the day we can finally talk about what films really are.”

Youngkwang quoted one of her famous lines from his old journal, catching her off guard.

“Wait, did I really say that?”

Though she clearly remembered, Yang feigned surprise, trying to cover her slight embarrassment.

“I think I’ve figured out movies a bit now,” Youngkwang said, laughing confidently. “And I’ve got something I want to show you.”

“Really?”

The Youngkwang she remembered was timid and brooding, yet here he was, speaking with bold confidence. Could he really have something worthwhile?

Sighing lightly, Yang, who now found herself in a desperate position, decided to take a chance.

“Why don’t you come by our office? I’m actually on the lookout for something worthwhile right now. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”