Location: Yangcheon District, Seoul
Specific Site: Department Head's Office, SBS Headquarters
Department Head Cho's expression flickered between tension and anticipation. It was Christmas Day, and he had turned down his wife and daughter's wishes to spend the holiday together. Not because he didn't care, but because tonight carried even greater expectations.
The co-produced drama My Love from the Stars, a joint project with Netflix, was scheduled to air at 8 PM.
In Japan, it would broadcast at the same time. In China, it would air at 7 PM on Penguin Video. Other countries like Russia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia all lined up within this prime window.
This was the golden slot for weekend dramas. For Department Head Cho, a sulking daughter could be coaxed, and a wife lost could be replaced—but missing a breakthrough performance? That kind of opportunity might never come again.
"Secretary Jo, once you deliver the final report, you can go enjoy Christmas," said Department Head Cho.
Secretary Jo, head of the broadcasting secretary office, looked around. The Deputy Director, Department Head Cho, screenwriter Yoo Taeseok, Director Gong Gil, and the Netflix representative were all still present. There was no way he could just leave.
He cursed under his breath but forced a bright smile. "I have frequent contact with Nielsen and TNS. I'll be able to get the viewership data easily. Besides, I'm also curious how well the drama does."
Nielsen and TNS were the two largest market research firms in South Korea. Their data collection methods were nearly identical, selecting households from various age groups and professions, then installing devices to monitor their viewing habits. The tech had evolved, but the core method remained—whatever was being watched, when, and by whom, was crystal clear.
In the conference room, the high-ranking figures gathered like a storm cloud. As the TV station's representative for My Love from the Stars, Secretary Jo usually carried authority—and had even once pulled strings with the second female lead—but in this crowd, he was nothing more than a glorified errand boy, pouring tea and fetching snacks.
"Mr. Yoo, Mr. Gong, are you confident in the show?" asked Netflix representative Sophina, her English crisp and polished.
Yoo Taeseok responded in slightly clumsy English, "When I Close My Eyes became a pan-Asian film hit. I believe our drama can reach similar status."
"Pan-Asian is good," Sophina said. "But Netflix's goal is to create global-tier content."
Director Gong Gil picked up the cue. "Global? My Love from the Stars will make it."
He spoke with vigor, which pleased Sophina.
Yoo Taeseok, however, wasn't quite so optimistic. He understood Western markets well. Western audiences didn't appreciate the subtle, restrained style of Eastern romance. They preferred relationships that locked in early, then survived waves of hardship, either ending in triumph over class barriers or spiraling into tragic endings. To him, Netflix promoting My Love from the Stars to Western viewers was a waste of resources.
In a sense, he wasn't wrong. Take Twilight, a wildly popular Western soap opera—it followed that exact model.
As the executives chatted, the first episode of the drama aired on SBS. It opened with a fictionalized excerpt from the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty, referencing a historical UFO sighting. Similar records also existed in China, the most credible one appearing in the Zizhi Tongjian, which described a flying object shaped like a cap entering homes at night, later transforming into a wolf. It was dubbed the "Hat Demon." The Song imperial court deemed it a hoax meant to stir fear, and officially banned any mention of it.
Chu Zhi played Professor Baek, the alien recorded in the Annals. He descended with a gust of wind, toppling a wedding sedan and sending it careening off a cliff.
Time paused. Professor Baek caught the bride, who was destined for widowhood before even reaching the groom's home.
In this context, "widowhood at the gate" meant the groom had died after the engagement but before the wedding.
From the very start, Professor Baek's powers were on full display: time manipulation, sensory perception seven times sharper than humans. This marked the beginning of an epic love story, one deeply tinged with reincarnation tropes. It was borderline Mary Sue, with a twist: only the female lead was reborn, while Professor Baek remained immortal through the centuries. His undying devotion whispered: "Even if you reincarnate across three lifetimes, I'll still love you."
The first episode, combined with Chu Zhi's performance of the OST my.destiny, ran for a total of 63 minutes and ended around 9 PM.
The moment it ended, Department Head Cho couldn't wait another second. He immediately sent Secretary Jo to retrieve the ratings report.
But come on, that quickly?
Even with installed monitoring devices, compiling data still took time. Calling now would get nothing but static.
Internally cursing Department Head Cho into oblivion, Secretary Jo kept up appearances. "I'll contact Nielsen and TNS right away."
Quietly closing the office door, he returned to the secretary suite and fired off emails to both companies.
It was hard to say if other big South Korean firms regularly worked overtime, but market analysts definitely did. Both Nielsen and TNS responded within three minutes. Within fifteen, he had the viewership data for Seoul. Nationwide stats would take another half hour.
No matter how much he hurried, there was simply no bypassing the process.
A decade ago, it was common for top-rated Korean dramas to average 30 percent viewership, with peaks over 40. One even broke the 60 percent barrier. But that was ten years ago.
Now, the internet dominated. Over the past three years, especially since 2018, short videos, games, gossip, and endless distractions had fractured the audience's time and attention. These days, even reaching 10 percent was considered a hit. This was true not just in Korea, but across the globe. It was proof that the creative environment and historical moment mattered far more than individual talent or collective effort.
Secretary Jo must have relayed this reality to Department Head Cho, only to get chewed out for it. In Korean workplaces, a superior didn't need a valid reason to scold you. Often, they didn't need any reason at all.
Standing by his computer, Secretary Jo muttered as he prepared to step out for a smoke. "The 2021 ratings champ was MBC's Embrace Truth, Embrace You, with a peak of 27.2 percent and an average of 19.1. That was considered high for recent years."
My Love from the Stars might just be able to match that.
Twenty minutes later, emails from Nielsen and TNS arrived.
Side note: these companies didn't provide data out of goodwill. The TV station subscribed to their entertainment reports, paying handsomely each year. Only because of that could they get tonight's data for "free."
The subject line from TNS read: "Detailed Ratings Report for My Love from the Stars"
Seoul's debut episode rating: 24% Nationwide average: 23.4%
Peak viewership occurred between 5:00 and 6:24 in the episode. The report included a detailed breakdown and theorized why so many viewers tuned in during this 90-second window. TNS believed it wasn't just coincidental channel-surfers—someone must have been so impressed, they called their friends to tune in.
They were right. This scene showed Professor Baek stopping time to save the bride in her past life—immediately followed by a scene of modern-day Professor Baek taking a shower.
"Twenty-three percent at launch? TNS must have faulty samples," someone muttered.
In recent years, top dramas barely averaged 20 percent—and that was only after word-of-mouth built over time. MBC's Embrace Truth, Embrace You had only 10.4 percent at debut.
"A launch like this is incredible already. What is this, Lu Bu cutting down Fang Yue?"
His shock was understandable. Even a decade ago, these were top-tier numbers. Secretary Jo opened the second report.
Nielsen, based in Oxford, UK, was one of the world's top three market analysts. Compared to TNS, it had even more global recognition. Its report, titled "Launch Data Overview: My Love from the Stars," showed even higher numbers.
"This drama's launch is a smash!" Secretary Jo's doubt vanished. Just earlier, he had thought casting Chu Zhi was pointless—but that had more to do with his personal dislike for foreign stars coming to Korea to cash in. A touch of national inferiority had colored his judgment.
It wasn't personal. He had no grudge against Chu Zhi. And now, My Love from the Stars's explosive premiere benefited the entire station. Secretary Jo quickly printed multiple copies and bolted back to the meeting room like a man on a mission.
"What are the numbers?" Department Head Cho asked at once.
Everyone turned to look. Screenwriter Yoo Taeseok, the Deputy Director, Sophina—their eyes pinned Secretary Jo to the wall.
Taking a breath, Secretary Jo beamed. "It's huge! Both Nielsen and TNS report viewership around 24 percent for the premiere!"
"Huh?" Department Head Cho snatched a copy from his hands.
Secretary Jo dutifully handed out reports to every exec in the room. As expected of someone who'd climbed to head secretary, he knew how to work a room. He even printed an English version just for Sophina.
The executives' expressions followed a familiar arc—confusion, dawning realization, then pure elation. They were all industry veterans. They knew exactly what these numbers meant.
"I'm going to be the director of a national drama?" Director Gong Gil couldn't help but fantasize.
A show with peak viewership over 50 percent and an average over 30 could be called a national drama, a rare feat that would land it among the top 50 of all time.
Yoo Taeseok, known for penning tearjerkers, had one national drama under his belt—but that was over a decade ago. Pulling it off again in the modern internet age? That was a whole new challenge.
"We can definitely get there! With numbers like this, we could—" Yoo Taeseok began.
Korean dramas were often shot while airing. If ratings dipped, the show could be axed mid-run. If they soared, producers would monitor audience feedback and make live adjustments. In Heirs, for instance, viewers said the second male lead looked better with his hair down—and he never tied it up again.
But My Love from the Stars was different. Because it was co-produced with Netflix, the entire show had been pre-shot and wrapped. No changes were possible.
Yoo Taeseok pivoted. "This show has the potential to become a national drama."
"Sharp eye, Minister," Secretary Jo offered his praise at just the right moment.
"It's thanks to everyone's efforts," Department Head Cho said, beaming from ear to ear.
"The Asia-wide ratings come out tomorrow," said Sophina. "But with these numbers, I'd say we're already halfway to success."
"Netflix has prepared a bonus for the entire cast and crew," she added.
"Excellent results like this deserve a bonus from us too," Department Head Cho chimed in.
Secretary Jo beamed. As the production lead representing the station, he would get a bonus from both Netflix and SBS. Double the cash. Chu Zhi was a blessing.
In the face of cold, hard Korean won, Secretary Jo's national inferiority complex evaporated into thin air.