The Contract! (1)
Only after Jiwoo had walked out of the audition room did the people inside finally let themselves breathe.
The performance they had just witnessed could not possibly have come from a human being.
"PD? Where on earth did you dig up a monster like that?"
"Haha... I was just as shocked. Honestly, I never expected a performance of that caliber..."
PD Kang Wonseong couldn't finish the sentence. Everyone in the room understood what he meant anyway.
Every last person here had assumed Jiwoo would make the same fatal choice Kang Sora had.
It wasn't written in the script, but Kang Sora's episode was about a girl who failed to overcome her own death, lingering in this world as a ghost until the protagonist helped her pass on. They had only slipped in a brief depiction of the moment she died, as a flashback.
And still, it had been enough to freeze the blood in their veins.
"What do you think, Writer Kim?"
"Do you really need to hear my opinion? Everyone in this room is thinking the exact same thing."
Writer Kim Eun-joo looked toward the agency representatives and went on.
"By the way, PD Kang. Didn't you say Jiwoo doesn't have an agency?"
"An agency? Well..."
PD Kang Wonseong gave a slight nod, understanding exactly why Writer Kim had brought it up. Not for the agencies' sake—for Jiwoo's.
If he introduced her to a better agency and earned a little gratitude, he could get her into his next project too.
Or maybe she's planning to write something with Jiwoo as the lead?
Either way, he hoped he would be the one directing it.
Which means a little competition wouldn't hurt. Looking at them... nobody's getting up. They're all watching each other.
A little nudge seemed necessary.
PD Kang Wonseong cleared his throat and spoke.
"From what I hear, she's already in talks with an agency... Are you all really fine just sitting here? I only said she's in talks..."
Chairs scraped in unison. Before he had even finished the sentence, the agency reps shot to their feet as one and rushed out of the audition room.
"Those bastards didn't even wait for me to finish... Manners really have gone to the dogs."
"That's because you practically shoved them out the door, PD. Not that I'm complaining. The better the terms Jiwoo gets, the better the quality of the work."
Writer Kim Eun-joo smiled, the corners of her eyes lifting. In that brief span she had already read Jiwoo's temperament, her attitude, and even the benefit that would come back to herself.
"Psychometry, just like I said."
"Ah! I told you not to call me that, PD!"
Writer Kim Eun-joo smacked PD Kang Wonseong on the shoulder. There was no force behind it—anyone could tell she wasn't actually angry.
"But PD... is this really her first time acting? No matter how I look at it, she seems like she's been grinding in this industry for years. And... I feel like I've seen her somewhere."
"Right? You thought so too. I felt it as well. That... what's-her-name..."
PD Kang Wonseong was irritated by the feeling of a name hovering just out of reach. Would slamming his head on the desk jog it loose? He decided he didn't want a headache badly enough, and abandoned the idea.
"Ah... I remember! You know! The person who comes to mind when you say Korea's greatest actress!"
"Korea's greatest actress... that's a pretty long list."
Everyone had their own image of the ideal actor. But if you had to name just one...
Of course.
"Shin Joo-yeon?"
"Yes! You thought the same thing. I caught a whiff of Actress Shin Joo-yeon in Jiwoo's performance."
PD Kang Wonseong replayed the footage he had just shot. Then he slapped his thigh.
"You're right! Looking at it like this! But... how does Jiwoo have Shin Joo-yeon's scent on her? Do they know each other?"
"That's..."
Wouldn't it be faster to just ask next time we see her?
"Hoo..."
Only after I had escaped the audition room could I finally catch my breath.
"What kind of questions were those, anyway?"
Every single one of them had been about my skin. Not a word about the acting. Had the performance been that disappointing? Even as the thought crossed my mind, a clean, refreshing feeling settled over me—it was finally over.
I did suffer for days over that acting, after all.
Practice had been ten minutes a day, max. The rest of the time I had spent watching livestreams, with high school studying squeezed in on the side.
Watching streams had been surprisingly fun. Every streamer had their own distinct character, and the hours just melted away. Studying after so long had made me anxious I wouldn't remember anything—but I remembered all of it, easily enough to blow that anxiety right out of the water.
That's probably because I've got Jiwoo's memories.
Thanks to that, even when I got stuck on a solution, putting in the time was enough to work through it. Up through second-year high school problems, at least.
Third-year and CSAT problems are still out of reach, but I've got three years. That's plenty.
I clenched a small fist and whispered a private fighting! to myself.
Stares snapped toward me.
Apparently a girl pumping her fist alone in a hallway looked pretty pathetic, because every eye in the vicinity locked on.
Right... even after you leave the audition room, there are still people waiting outside.
At first the other contestants had glared at me like I was some nepotism hire, cursing me with their eyes. Those looks had thinned out considerably.
The reason was simple.
They thought I had failed. The little pep rally I had just given myself was not the behavior of someone who had gotten the part.
That didn't mean the remaining stares were exactly warm.
"Time to make a run for it."
After today's audition I had a long-overdue dinner planned with Mom. There was still time, so I figured I would do a little shopping and then go meet her.
That was the plan, anyway.
Until someone called my name.
"Excuse me! Jiwoo! If you could just spare us a moment...!"
"No, please—talk with us!"
"What are you talking about? Obviously Jiwoo is going to talk with Mint Entertainment! Just give me a little of your time."
Huh? What was this? I stood there, briefly stunned. The people charging toward me were the same ones who had been sitting in the audition room moments ago. A few of them had even been watching me with open suspicion—and now they were hunting me down.
"What's going on?"
"Ah. We're people who would like to sign you, Jiwoo. Please, a contract with Aurora Entertainment—of course we'll match the terms as best we can!"
"No! Come with Panda Entertainment!"
So. They had all come because they wanted to sign me. Why? Hadn't they disliked me until a few minutes ago?
I never got an answer. Staying here any longer would only be a nuisance to the other contestants.
"Let's move somewhere else first and then I'll hear you out. This is where the contestants wait and practice."
"Ah... kindhearted on top of everything else... Someone like this wouldn't have any skeletons in the closet."
The agency reps looked visibly relieved by my attitude.
I had no idea why they were making those faces. The stares aimed at me had just started to ease off—and now, thanks to the sudden appearance of a pack of agency people, the waiting room was full of jealous eyes again, pinning me in place.
A bed of nails, basically.
I just wanted out of there.
"Shall we go? On the way in I noticed there's an in-house cafe on the first floor... Ah. I'm not an employee, so I probably can't use it?"
"That's fine. I have a company card."
"So do I!"
"I have one as well!"
The reps whipped out their cards in unison and brandished them at me like trophies. I wanted to refuse—to say I would buy my own coffee—but their expressions were so deadly serious I couldn't get the words out.
I'll just pick the cheapest thing on the menu.
I checked the board. The cheapest item was an Americano, and it was a staggering six thousand won. A note underneath said employees got twenty percent off with a company card, but still.
Twenty percent off six thousand is forty-eight hundred. That's still expensive.
In my days as a man I used to stand there trembling just to pay for a two-thousand-won coffee.
Just stop thinking about it.
I shut my mouth. Dragging up the past only made me miserable, and it wasn't like I could tell anyone about it anyway. The reps, unfortunately, seemed to take my silence as dissatisfaction with the menu.
"If nothing here appeals to you, let's go somewhere else! Or I could take you to dinner—!"
One of them already had his phone out, looking ready to book a high-end tasting-menu restaurant on the spot. I snuck a glance at the screen.
The places he was scrolling through were expensive enough to make me doubt my own eyes.
Whatever this was, it was not that. I scanned the menu again in a hurry and ordered something with a slightly higher price tag.
"I'll have a caramel macchiato."
Only then did the reps' faces brighten a little. Even if it was for a contract, treating a complete unknown to a luxury course dinner had been crossing a line, and they seemed to realize it a beat too late.
The coffees came out and we sat down. Finally, time to hear them out. It was still only four-thirty. I was meeting Mom at five, so I had enough time.
I looked at each of them in turn, then opened my mouth.
"I'm already in talks with an agency."
"We know."
"PD Kang already told us."
All of them nodded as if this were old news. All five of the reps sitting here.
Then the conversation was simple.
They were bringing up a contract even knowing I was already in talks—which meant they were prepared to offer terms good enough to poach me. I was willing to listen.
Before that, though.
"The agency I'm talking to said they'd give me thirty million won as a signing bonus."
A beat of silence.
"...Excuse me?"
".....?"
"Hold on... thirty million for a rookie?"
The reps' brows crumpled the instant they heard the number.
So they hadn't heard that part. I had already told Director Kang Wonseong about the signing bonus, too.
"I guess thirty million really is too much for a nobody like me? Then let's just pretend this conversation never happened..."
I stood up from my seat.
Every face at the table wanted to stop me. But none of them could throw down more than thirty million without their CEO's approval. What they were authorized to offer was a contract and, at most, five million—ten million if they stretched it.
Looks like there's nothing more to say.
I still had time before I was supposed to meet Mom, but hanging around any longer wouldn't do me any good. I was ready to leave.
"W-wait! If I could just have a moment to consult with my CEO..."
I could feel how desperate they were getting, scrambling to keep me from walking away. I hesitated, unsure what to do with that.
That was when it happened.
A light arm settled across my shoulders.
"...What?!"
"You're throwing fifty million at a rookie?! Don't spout nonsense...!"
All they had done this whole time was call everything a lie, a joke, empty talk. Not once had they put a concrete number or a real condition on the table. Just the same recycled promise that they would treat me well if I came to them.
And then I checked the identity of the person with an arm around my shoulders.
"Director Kang Ho-yeon...?"
"Well? If you agree, Jiwoo, we can sign the contract right now. What do you say?"
Hold on... what was the Director doing here?