CHAPTER 027: Positioning Strategy
CHAPTER 027: Positioning Strategy
“How about Peach Sunmu?”
At my single line, awe spread across the faces of Lee Soonja, the grandmas, and the PD filming me.
“Aigoo, now that you mention it, this really tastes just like peach.”
At some point, the grandma in the red headscarf had moved right up close to me.
She looked completely disarmed now.
“Oh! When you call it Peach Sunmu, you get it right away. Then if we just change the name, it’ll sell out—!”
“No. That alone won’t do it.”
I drew a firm line across Lee Soonja’s overly excited face.
If naming planted intuitive understanding in consumers, then next you had to sink roots with positioning.
“Going further, we need to position Peach Sunmu.”
“What’s ‘positioning,’ then?”
“Literally, it’s setting its position. Defining the first impression Peach Sunmu will show people.”
I continued, holding the sunmu in my hand.
“Rather than just explaining it as a peach-flavored sunmu, we choose how we want people to perceive it.”
Advertising is a battle of perception.
In an era overflowing with information and products, clear positioning creates the decisive reason to choose our product.
“So I don’t think we should introduce Peach Sunmu as a vegetable.”
Lee Soonja tilted her head like she didn’t understand.
“It’s a vegetable—how can you not call it a vegetable? What are you, Janggeum or something?”
“Keep going, our handsome young man!”
“Young man, drink some water while you talk!”
At some point, the grandmas had sat in a circle around me.
The red-headscarf grandma even fanned me with her hand.
The PD smiled and pushed the camera in, clearly enjoying the sight.
“If we talk about this sunmu as a vegetable, people will form a prejudice. They’ll imagine that bland taste vegetables have. But if we say it like this, the situation flips.”
I scored the point with one decisive copy line.
“Peach Sunmu isn’t a vegetable—it’s the healthiest fruit.”
After filming, PD Go Kangmin and the production crew returned to the studio office.
They were there for a rough cut, but their faces looked like they’d seen a ghost—completely dazed.
Because they were tired?
These were people who’d endured a 1-night-2-days no-sleep shoot. This level of work wouldn’t daze them.
It wasn’t physical fatigue.
It was mental shock.
“Right now… it’s not just me who’s spaced out, right…?”
At the youngest writer’s words, everyone nodded.
“No, how is he that good at talking? Did he come from doing something else?”
“But he’s twenty-one. He just became an adult—when would he even have time?”
“True. He debuted young as an actor, too.”
“It makes no sense. I majored in journalism and broadcasting, so I tried an ad-marketing club for a bit. But he’s better than most people actually working in the field.”
Everyone nodded at that.
The broadcasting industry and the advertising industry were inseparable.
They’d watched that work up close for so long, so the shock only doubled.
“Then the Instagram promo wasn’t PR fluff. It really was him.”
“Agreed. Seeing him in front of us, ideas just pouring out—now I know for sure. I didn’t trust him enough.”
“Hey, honestly, that was reasonable doubt. If you didn’t doubt it, people would’ve called you a blind stan.”
“Ugh, thanks for shielding me. What do you want to eat?”
“Mm. A Java Chip Frappuccino. With lots of whipped cream.”
The mood was warm.
It was all because the shoot had gone well.
Everyone seemed to have shaken off the slump from the last Choi Seungjun episode.
“He’s going to be a legendary guest, isn’t he? We got entertaining footage, he worked the farm hard, and he even came up with promo ideas no one asked for.”
“And it’s even crazier that the ideas weren’t cringe—they actually sounded convincing.”
“Not a legendary guest—shouldn’t we call him a legendary rookie? I’ve never seen a six-stat celebrity like this.”
“Right. And he’s got acting as the baseline. If a grandma mistakes the role for the real person, that means he acted for real.”
“His character’s good, too. He’s from that Brave Citizen Award thing.”
“Oh, right. And it wasn’t an act—he really is like that. Look at today: even though he’s tired, he’s the one making sure the staff get drinks first. I seriously fell for him there.”
“Me too. Ugh, a handsome guy really lives up to his face. In a good way.”
As the meeting started turning into a fan meeting, PD Go Kangmin pulled it back.
“Now all that’s left is for the live commerce to turn out well. What was the sales rate for the live commerce on that last Choi Seungjun episode?”
“Forty percent. We didn’t even sell half.”
“That was truly the worst. This time it’ll be good, right?”
“From what I see, it’s not about whether it sells out—it’s about how many hours it takes to sell out. We might even set the shortest record.”
“Prep the thumbnail ahead of time. The moment the live commerce sells out, switch the thumbnail immediately.”
“Yes!”
Just as PD Go Kangmin was wrapping up the meeting with a satisfied expression, his phone rang.
It was a TVM broadcast writer he’d worked with as a colleague in the past.
“Yeah. What?”
-Sunbae, I heard you filmed today?
“What, you were going to ask how Ryu Sunho was?”
-Hahaha, I like that you’re so direct, sunbae.
“This is first-come, first-served.”
-Huh? What’s first-come, first-served?
“Ryu Sunho. Whoever gets him onto TV variety first wins. He’s a genius who’ll do anything you make him do.”
The next day, Wednesday.
“…Hk!”
I woke up from a horrific nightmare.
A dream where everything up to now vanished like a midsummer night’s dream, and I returned to being an ad man with burn scars.
My whole body was drenched in cold sweat.
“Haa…”
Gasping for breath, I felt my desperation for this dream again.
A second chance.
I would succeed without letting it slip away.
Without losing my resolve.
But why did I dream that…?
The skin on my cheek stung.
The irritation must have been the trigger for the dream.
Yesterday, I’d worked in the blazing sun for too long.
I should calm down a bit.
Me—and my skin.
To buy a mask pack, I headed to the “Forever Young” near my house.
As I picked items, people around me recognized me and whispered.
“Uh…?”
“Isn’t that him?”
“I think it is?”
But it felt like they couldn’t quite approach first.
Maybe because of the image from playing Kang Seoho.
Then I should approach first.
“Hello.”
Only then did people brighten and crowd in.
“Right? !”
“Kang Seoho!”
“Ah, no way—he’s insane in real life…”
“I never imagined I’d see you somewhere like this!”
More and more people started turning their heads.
Half recognized me, half were like, Who is that?
In general, the younger they were, the higher the rate of recognition.
“Could we take one photo together?”
“Ah, yes. Of course.”
They remembered me and recognized me.
This much fan service was only proper.
But I couldn’t let it become a black-history moment.
To hide my red, sunburned skin, I cupped my face with my hands.
And naturally—
“Hahaha, what’s with the flower-hands pose?”
“Ah, so cute.”
“Your real personality is totally different from Seoho.”
“……”
Ah.
That wasn’t what I was aiming for.
It’s fine.
It was natural.
“Your ears are red too. Are you okay?”
“Ah, it’s just that my skin got sunburned from filming.”
“Hehehe, don’t worry. I won’t upload it anywhere. I’ll just keep it for myself.”
After that, I took photos with a ton of people.
Still stuck with that awkward “skin-covering” pose.
“Could you sign too?”
“A signature?”
I froze.
I didn’t have an official signature yet.
I couldn’t exactly use the business signature I used back when I worked at a company.
I was about to just write my name, when an idea flashed through my mind.
Let’s do this.
I took the pen and scribbled on the paper.
And then laughter burst out again.
“Pffft!”
“Puahaha!”
Why were they laughing?
“Because it’s Sunho, you wrote ‘Prefer’ in English?”
“Is it weird?”
“No, it’s totally Ryu Sunho—and it’s cute!”
What does it mean that the signature is “like me”?
After the unexpected fan meeting ended,
I went to pay for the mask packs—the reason I’d come—and the cashier stuffed in a whole pile of mask packs.
“This is…?”
“It’s a gift from me as a fan. So you can take good care of your skin.”
The cashier smiled brightly.
“Ah, it’s okay. I’ll pay for what you gave me too.”
“It’s not free. But please do one thing for me.”
“A favor?”
With sincere eyes, the cashier said:
“From now on, please stay healthy and keep working actively!”
Meanwhile,
a conference room at KBC’s drama division.
Romcom queen writer Choi Jeongin was biting her nails with an anxious expression.
Her tablet was filled with nothing but articles about .
Before even started, all the buzz had been stolen.
“Hah… I shouldn’t have gotten ahead of myself and texted Park Eunju.”
She shot a death glare at Bae Junhyeok.
He was the one who’d suggested holding the press conference at the same day and time as .
“Isn’t this all because we jinxed it with the press conference? I really believe in superstitions.”
Bae Junhyeok frowned for a moment, but quickly swapped to a slick expression.
A fast face change worthy of a former actor.
“Don’t worry, Writer. It hasn’t even started yet. ”
He laid it on thick, choosing his words to ease Choi Jeongin’s worries.
“I watched the script reading, and I saw the set too, and overwhelmingly—”
He was about to say was better, but then he recalled Ryu Sunho’s acting from the script reading.
The expression that even devoured Park Dusim.
“Why do you stop mid-sentence?”
At Choi Jeongin’s sharp voice, Bae Junhyeok snapped back and finished with a lifted corner of his lips.
“Overwhelmingly, is better.”
Then he raised a finger and jabbed at the sky.
“And let’s look broader. Does it have to blow up only in Korea? Writer Choi Jeongin’s writing already conquered the continent. Now it’s not just Asia—go global, even to America.”
“America? Isn’t that a bit of an empty fantasy? blew up in Asia, but the response in America was weak.”
“The times have changed, Writer. Is K-content’s status what it used to be? Now it rides an OTT like WipleX and goes straight into American living rooms. With your writing, Writer, it’ll absolutely hit.”
Maybe what Choi Jeongin needed was just certainty.
At Bae Junhyeok’s blustery confidence, her expression began to loosen bit by bit.
“I hope it turns out like you say, Vice President.”
And that night,
the “American response” Bae Junhyeok wanted really did explode.
On IMDb, America’s largest content community, a user started posting about a Korean drama.
-Wow, I found a seriously fun Korean drama.
-What is it?
-Don’t wanna. I’m gonna watch it alone.
-If you’re watching alone, why post on a community? Attention seeker?
-Haha, sorry. I was just joking. I figured you’d get more interested that way.
-So what’s the title?
-Oh? Even the title pulls me in. Feels like it has a double meaning. What does it mean?
-If I tell you, it won’t be fun. You’ll understand after you watch. And you’ll realize they named it ridiculously well.
-As expected of WipleX guys. They really know how to make a title intriguing.
-Ah, and I won’t say much because it could be spoilers, but if you can, I recommend wearing a seatbelt while you watch up to episode 3.
-Why?
-What seatbelt?
-There’s a villain, and because of that guy, your emotional swings are going to bounce like a roller coaster. You’ll laugh, get mad, cry. That’s the hint. Go watch, then come back and discuss it with me.
-Ah, damn! You’re baiting so cleanly!
-Still, the rating’s good. I’m watching too.
Of course, the target wasn’t .
It was .