Behind the Baekhak Arts Middle School, known for its beautiful mountain, splendid water, and fresh air, lies the (definitely not luxurious) staff training center.
In a room on the second floor, which doubles as a reception area and the chairman’s office, a strange event was unfolding.
It was not the chairman who was scolding a teacher, but the teacher who had begun to scold the chairman.
“Professor Park. If you barge in during a student consultation …”
“Consultation? Let me join in too. After all, this student is from our department. Why did you hold this without even informing the department head?”
Even more bizarrely, a direct descendant of the Baekhak Group’s owning family was taking a humble posture towards a mere teacher.
Park Chang-woon grumbled roughly, indicating he would speak his mind whether Baek Yi-hyun was a chaebol chairman or not.
“What? An interview?”
“Do you know how much of a snake our school’s chairman is? If you had followed him tamely when he asked for an interview today, you would’ve ended up with a school ambassador business card and on the nine o’clock news.”
“Do you think the Chairman would really do that?”
“He has a nasty habit of using students as scapegoats in the news during tax inspection seasons…”
Moon In-seop’s expression hardened as he planned his escape from Baekhak Arts Middle School.
Park Chang-woon, sensing his intention like a ghost, belatedly defended the chairman’s character.
“No, it’s not that serious. When top students make noisy news appearances and we spread good deeds on the internet with hired commenters, even the National Tax Service feels a bit too pressured to audit us suddenly.”
“Don’t get me wrong. Listen. All private educational foundations are somewhat corrupt! It’s just a matter of who gets audited first. It’s like… sneaking out the back while everyone else lines up to get whacked?”
“Ah, what am I saying to a kid.”
Park Chang-woon regretted bringing up such a needless topic, and Moon In-seop regretted listening to it.
They arrived at the Creative Writing class amidst an awkward silence. The moment the door slid open, the noisy classroom fell quiet.
“Ah, so it’s chaos here when I’m not around. Did I ever say to start a riot instead of self-studying? Huh?”
Releasing Moon In-seop into the classroom, Park Chang-woon stood at the podium.
He began the class energetically without even erasing the ‘Self-Study’ he had scribbled on the blackboard.
“Did everyone have a good summer break?”
The less seasoned students responded with a “Yes.”
Park Chang-woon grinned.
“Then, gather by groups. It’s time for a fun critique session.”
Soon, the students of the Literary Arts began tearing each other’s novels apart.
Thus, another day of peace was maintained in the Literary Arts Department at Baekhak Arts Middle School.
However, where there is light, there is darkness, and where there is yang, there is yin, such is the principle of harmony between heaven and earth.
Unlike the peaceful Baekhak Arts Middle School, there were places facing times of shock and horror.
Baekhak Cultural Broadcasting.
It was a cable channel owned by the Baekhak Media Group, playing a key role as a ‘subsidiary’ in the projection of Baekhak Group’s soft power.
What good would it do for Baekhak Entertainment’s celebrities to produce dramas through Baekhak’s own production subsidiaries if the shows couldn’t be broadcasted on their own network? It would only benefit other broadcasters.
There, they held political influence through news production, a vast newsroom staff, extending their investigative and media power, and so forth…
Baekhak ‘Media’ Group’s media power would be impossible without including the broadcast station.
But now, that very station was at risk of disappearing.
– This can’t be happening!
– We’re sorry, we’re sorry, we’re sorry……
Terrible shock and horror had struck Baekhak Cultural Broadcasting.
Employees engulfed in madness screamed in fear.
The worst apocalyptic situation imaginable.
In other words, the government, wielding the threat of canceling the reapproval for comprehensive channels, was threatening to completely shut down Baekhak Cultural Broadcasting.
Unlike the three major terrestrial broadcasters, which are semi-public due to receiving their frequencies from the government, comprehensive channels, or ‘general programming channels’, are more like private enterprises.
However, these enterprises, operating as ‘broadcasting stations’, could influence national policies, so their qualifications were periodically reviewed by the government for business continuation.
That is, if the government says to shut down, comprehensive channels had to cease operations.
In this context, it wasn’t strange that Baekhak Cultural Broadcasting was facing an apocalyptic situation as the government growled about overturning their business.
But why was the government tormenting BMB?
Because BMB had first tormented the president.
During the last presidential election, under the command of the now deceased former chairman of the Baekhak Group, BMB tried to make one of the presidential candidates look like a dimwit.
However, that very victim ended up becoming the President.
Naturally, everyone was aware of the dangers of retaliation, and the blades of vengeance that struck Baekhak Cultural Broadcasting sent shivers of terror through everyone at the station.
But the higher-ups saw things differently.
“Ah, fuck, he’s pretty fucking pissed off.”
“What can we do? We have to take the beating until he gets over his grudge.”
The top executives at the station were already aware that the actual closure of the station was virtually unrealistic.
BMB isn’t just some shoddy channel; it’s a well-known comprehensive channel in Korea.
It has broadcast several international dramas and highly acclaimed variety shows.
If the President were to shut down such a station, it would naturally backfire as media oppression.
And given the conservative tendencies of the Broadcasting and Communications Committee, the committee commissioners would likely not actually go through with erasing BMB.
So, all these threats were essentially just bluffs…
However, even a bluff wasn’t without its damage.
“Ah, how long will this go on?”
“I don’t know either. I know that our headquarters is currently negotiating with the Blue House…” (TL: Blue House is South Korean version of White house)
“This will completely destroy the station’s image. Absolutely destroy it.”
Being labeled as a in major public opinion was already a fatal blow to its image.
Especially in the broadcasting and telecommunications industry, where credibility is crucial, such deterioration of trust inevitably led to a drop in viewer ratings.
And a fall in ratings led to lower advertising rates, withdrawal of investments, and celebrities refusal in casting.
“Ah, this is driving me mad…”