CHAPTER 015: The Contract of a Once-in-a-Generation Rookie
CHAPTER 015: The Contract of a Once-in-a-Generation Rookie
“Come in.”
He was welcoming me with his words, but Park Juwon’s face was awkward—Why are you here? written all over it.
Well. That’s how it turned out.
“But how did you even know where I live?”
“I asked Seo Yoonha sunbae.”
If I’d asked Park Juwon directly, it would’ve turned into setting a time, setting a date, pushing it back again and again.
It was a bit bold, but I figured he could chalk it up to the guts of a rookie who’d just turned twenty-one and let it slide.
As expected, Park Juwon looked a little surprised, but not offended.
That said—
Bzzz— Bzzz—
KakaoTalk messages kept coming in from Seo Yoonha.
[Seo Yoonha: But why are you going there? Are you going to practice the script?]
[Seo Yoonha: Why are you only matching lines with Juwon oppa?]
[Seo Yoonha: I’m the shaman, shouldn’t practicing with me help more?]
[Seo Yoonha: Why aren’t you replying?]
[Seo Yoonha: Oh? Are you eating lunch?]
[Seo Yoonha: Good. You should eat your meals on time.]
Just skimming the previews made my head spin.
I’d already replied with thanks for the address, so I’d answer the rest later when I had time.
“Mind if we drop honorifics? I’m your senior, and I’m hyung.”
“Yes. Be comfortable.”
“Okay. I’m flustered you showed up out of nowhere, but I did say it. Thing is, I don’t really cook. Going out to eat is annoying because of people’s eyes.”
“It’s fine. I like delivery food too.”
“Mm… okay. But I didn’t know you were coming, and I ordered chicken for myself. So order something you want too.”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Ah, the chicken must be here. Use my phone and pick something from the delivery menu.”
Park Juwon went to the door.
“Huh?”
I heard a stupid-sounding gasp.
And then—
Click.
He came back in with Seo Yoonha.
“I knew you’d be here. Why are you practicing without me?”
Why was she here now?
…
Park Juwon gave Seo Yoonha a rough explanation of the situation.
Then—
“So we eat first, then practice?”
“I’m going crazy. Seriously.”
Park Juwon squeezed his eyes shut.
One was a lunatic about food.
One was a lunatic about practice.
That was written all over his face.
“Anyway, you pick too. I’m doing chicken, Sunho is…”
“I picked eggplant rice bowl.”
“…That’s a pretty old-man taste for your age. Anyway, Yoonha, you pick what you want too.”
I hadn’t expected Seo Yoonha to come.
Park Juwon and Seo Yoonha were in the same agency.
There was no need to ask both of them about the same company.
‘Still, if I think positively—’
Seo Yoonha had started as a child actress and had spent a long time in the industry.
So she might’ve heard things about other agencies too.
Yeah. This might actually be good.
The delivery arrived, and an awkward meal began.
Park Juwon shot Ryu Sunho a sideways glance.
The guts to barge into his home using a throwaway “let’s eat sometime” line as an excuse.
The motive was obvious.
‘He came to get something out of me in the end.’
Rookies approached seniors for the same reasons.
Networking, or getting roles introduced.
Park Juwon was used to that, so he kept his guard slightly up as he dealt with Ryu Sunho.
But what came out of Ryu Sunho’s mouth completely missed his expectations.
“Sunbae, when you choose an agency, what do you think matters most?”
It wasn’t a simple Which one is good?
Ryu Sunho brought up the eight agencies whose cards he’d received after the script reading, laying out each company’s pros and cons along with his own concerns about his acting career.
‘This is…’
This wasn’t the depth of concern a twenty-one-year-old rookie should have.
Park Juwon went blank for a moment.
When he’d been a rookie, he’d gotten drunk on praise for being good at acting and had signed with the place offering the biggest advance without much thought.
At the same time, the emotion he’d felt at the script reading came back vividly.
When he first walked into that room, he’d seen Ryu Sunho as nothing more than a lucky rookie from commercials.
But once the reading started, Ryu Sunho never shrank, even among veteran actors—he held his own pace.
Park Juwon’s testing gaze had been made ridiculous.
Ryu Sunho had expressed Seoho’s emotions perfectly.
That overwhelming skill that even Park Dusim had praised—that wasn’t luck.
—You’ll know when you see it. How careless you were.
Seo Yoonha’s words echoed in his ears.
She’d been right.
This wasn’t some rookie who popped out of nowhere—this was someone who’d thought about this road for a long time and honed himself.
Without realizing it, Park Juwon lowered his guard.
Guilt over his first prejudice and admiration for a junior carving his own path at such a young age surged together.
He set down his chopsticks and spoke in a serious voice.
“Sunho, our company is…”
It was a surprisingly passionate explanation.
He talked not only about the agency’s strengths, but also the rotting problems inside, honestly.
Seo Yoonha, shoveling cake beside them, added what she knew too.
“Yeah, and Team Leader Park is way too soft.”
Without getting carried away or excited, Ryu Sunho listened carefully and nodded at their advice.
Seeing that steady seriousness, Park Juwon felt sure he could keep a good relationship with this guy for a long time.
Before they knew it, time had flown.
“Are we really not practicing the script?”
“Next time, next time. Sunho says he has plans later too.”
They all went back to their own homes.
Left alone, Park Juwon looked around the living room.
The place where Ryu Sunho had been sitting and the place where he himself had been sitting felt like a stark contrast.
One side was full of passion for the future.
The other leaned on past glory, settling into the present.
“…How did I end up like this?”
Hiding behind the armor of “a genius who doesn’t try,” running away whenever acting got hard—he felt ashamed of himself.
Ryu Sunho’s shining eyes forced him to face the longing he’d forgotten.
He walked to the dusty trophy shelf.
Only a single Rookie Award trophy sat there.
The award he’d received the moment he debuted.
The joy from back then had long since faded.
The space beside it had been empty for years.
He picked up the script he’d thrown on the floor.
This time, he could practice for hours with it in his hands.
In the end, I chose Flash Entertainment, where Park Juwon and Seo Yoonha were.
They’d offered the biggest advance, and from what I’d heard, they seemed to take good care of their artists.
I liked the family-like atmosphere.
I didn’t like agencies with distance—ones that felt too purely business.
Maybe it was because I’d suffered through power dynamics while working at an ad company.
A vibe of mutual respect and looking out for each other suited me.
“Welcome, Sunho!”
Team Leader Jo Sehun greeted me brightly.
He was the one who’d handed me his card at the script reading.
When I’d been sweating under all that attention, he’d even offered me a handkerchief.
“I used that handkerchief well that day. Thank you.”
“Haha, it was nothing. By the way, did you come alone? Your parents didn’t come with you?”
“They live outside the city.”
“Oh dear, they’re busy. It’s not easy to sign alone at your age. If there’s anything you don’t know, ask whatever you want.”
He was kind without ulterior motives.
If I’d sensed even a hint of looking down on me or trying to milk me, I would’ve flipped the table and walked out.
But there was none of that.
He explained everything carefully, step by step.
Then we got to the main point.
Negotiating the detailed contract terms.
From what Park Juwon and Seo Yoonha told me, it was normal for a rookie actor to have no advance payment.
Acting lessons, portfolio production, audition support—there’s no immediate profit; it’s an investment structure premised on future success.
Agencies think of it as absorbing losses for a set period under the concept of “training costs.”
‘But I’m an exception.’
I’d landed a commercial without an agency, and that commercial had passed three million views.
My marketability was already proven.
In a case like this, I could demand a high advance without talking about invisible “potential.”
This was the price I’d set for myself.
100 million won.
I’d already secured 300 million won from the exclusive model contract alone.
By comparison, this was pretty reasonable.
Team Leader Jo Sehun’s gaze wavered for a second, then—
“Alright.”
He quickly regained composure.
“I’ve heard a lot from Juwon. That you have real work ethic. And your acting is already verified.”
“Thank you for thinking well of me.”
So Juwon had put in a good word.
The more I learned, the more he seemed like a genuinely good person.
I’d have to repay him later.
“Then now, the signature…”
“Ah, one moment.”
I wasn’t done yet.
There was one contract condition I absolutely couldn’t give up.
Important enough that I’d move elsewhere even if it meant taking less money.
“I want to add a consultation right for publicity and marketing. A clause stating that I have the right to consult in advance on all publicity and marketing related to my activities, and that the agency will establish plans while respecting the actor’s opinions.”
“…!?”
He looked like he’d never seen an artist ask for something like that in his life.
If I demanded it bluntly, I could look arrogant, so I added an explanation.
“I don’t mean I’ll decide every promotion strategy myself. I just want the authority to contribute ideas and consult on things directly related to my activities.”
“Why would you want that…? That’s going to be pretty annoying and burdensome.”
“Because I want to do my best with my activities. If I only do what I’m told, I become passive. If, from a professional perspective, my ideas are unreasonable, you don’t have to accept them.”
That wouldn’t happen, but still.
“Well… if that’s the condition… I think it’s fine. We’re not that rigid. Honestly, I’m looking forward to it. Sometimes a rookie’s ideas can be refreshing.”
Sorry, but they wouldn’t be that “fresh.”
I had some very seasoned ideas.
“Anyway, I was worried you’d struggle signing alone at your age, but that was needless worry. You’re more capable than I expected.”
“Haha, thank you.”
And just like that, I had an agency.
Bae Junhyeok and Jupiter HQ ultimately dropped out of the investor list.
Maintaining an uncomfortable relationship was too risky, and after seeing the script reading, MBS decided to increase its investment ratio.
In the end, production was confirmed with joint investment from MBS and the global OTT, WePlex.
On the surface, Bae Junhyeok went around saying he’d strategically withdrawn, but inside he was boiling.
It wasn’t entirely wrong.
The competing lineup was stacked.
An SBC medical drama that dumped a 40 billion won budget into it, and on KBN, a comeback by rom-com queen writer Choi Jeongin after seven years.
In particular, expectations for Survival Love were massive.
Writer Choi Jeongin, who wrote the work that swept Asia, and actor Na Dohyeon were partnering again.
The moment he pulled his investment from Possessed Investigation, Bae Junhyeok entered Survival Love as a sponsorship partner.
Since Big Blue Entertainment’s actor was participating as a supporting role, it even looked clean on paper.
Now it wasn’t just revenge—company profit demanded that Survival Love do better.
So he said it louder.
“Possessed Investigation is going to fail. I could tell the moment I went to the script reading. It can’t compete with Survival Love’s weight class.”
And he decided to turn his declaration into prophecy.
Bae Junhyeok started media play.
Through his PR team and reporters he knew, he spread malicious articles.
[Problem drama as original investor withdraws—can it succeed?]
[Director-writer conflict rumors, staff leaving—unstable production situation]
[Inexperienced rookie Ryu Sunho—drama casting off a single citizen award? Industry concerns over reckless casting]
Bae Junhyeok sneered.
‘Ryu Sunho, that brat.’
His acting wasn’t bad, but he was still too young to know how the world worked.
At that age, he’d think acting skill was everything.
But after rolling around for a few years, he’d learn.
In entertainment, what matters more than talent is publicity and marketing.
Smiling, Bae Junhyeok was sure the bitter taste of society would crush Ryu Sunho’s talent.
The shoot date was set.
The first shoot was in two days.
I was trying to build my stamina hard until then.
“Huff… huff… can’t we run a little slower?”
I got a running mate.
Park Juwon contacted me first.
He asked to work out together.
Said he needed me nearby to hold onto his beginner’s mindset or whatever.
Anyway, since he’d helped when I was picking an agency, I didn’t put up a wall.
But this guy—
His stamina was worse than I expected, and he was more serious about selfies than exercise.
I think he took over a hundred photos during a short break.
Then he told me to take one with him too.
“What’s your Instagram ID? I’ll tag you.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Really? That’s unexpected.”
Not yet. It wasn’t time.
“Then I’ll just write your name and post it.”
So Park Juwon uploaded a photo of us together.
And two days later.
On the morning of the shoot, a notification popped up.
【Goal Achieved: Popularity 10 Reached!】
【Reward Granted: Trait Draw x1】
A trait draw—I hadn’t seen one in a while.
Let’s roll it right away.
Clunk!
A kaleidoscope of light filled my vision.
The roulette spun fast, and the result appeared.
【Trait Acquired! High-Performance Algorithm (One-time)】
【Your messages transcend ordinary exposure algorithms, creating wide-reaching impact.】
【Effect: For one month after use, SNS posts you upload will automatically spread to the public through a transcendent algorithm.】
…!
This was the best reward I’d gotten so far.
Because I already had a method in mind for promoting the drama.