CHAPTER 033: New Terms
CHAPTER 033: New Terms
“Sunho, welcome! Things have been crazy lately because of ‘ ’—congratulations.”
“Thank you, Team Leader.”
The marketing team leader sat down in the chair across from me and continued.
“Thanks to you, Sunho, our Mate Beverage sales have skyrocketed. Especially after your appearance on ‘ ’, it’s practically been a vertical rise. We didn’t even ask for it… We never expected you to look out for our product like that. On the company level, we’re truly grateful.”
Hearing that sincere thanks made me genuinely happy too.
That the advertising campaign I took part in actually led to real results was the greatest sense of reward I could feel, both as an advertising professional and as an actor.
“So—this is what I’d like to propose. How about continuing our relationship with a new contract?”
“…?”
He took out a new contract from his briefcase and carefully slid it across the table.
“We’re well aware there’s still quite a lot of time left on the current contract. But we want to take our partnership with you longer, and more solidly.”
“……?”
“So we’d like to terminate the existing contract and propose a renewal under new terms.”
He let it sit for a moment, then spoke with a solemn expression.
“How would you feel about signing again, under a three-year Exclusive Model Contract going forward, with a model fee of 2 billion won?”
“……!”
For a moment, my mind went completely blank.
‘Two billion…?’
It was shocking enough that they were offering a long-term contract of three years to a rookie, but the amount was even more staggering.
Compared to the previous contract fee of 300 million won, it was nearly seven times more—an unprecedented set of terms.
It came out to roughly 700 million won a year.
A famous actor commonly labeled A-list gets 500 to 600 million won per year.
A top-tier idol gets around 700 million won in model fees.
And yet they were offering that kind of money to me, a rookie who had only just debuted.
‘…Would I have been able to make an offer like this?’
If you looked only at present value, it was an impossible offer.
But if you were confident I would become a top actor in the future?
Thinking in terms of future value, it might even be a reasonable number.
It was the cost of blocking other brands at the source and preemptively securing the “Ryu Sunho” brand.
Mate Beverage’s decision-maker had to be someone with strong self-confidence and excellent judgment.
They weren’t betting on “rookie Ryu Sunho,” but on the value of “future top actor Ryu Sunho.”
I liked that boldness.
“It’s a good offer.”
At my answer, the marketing team leader let out a sigh of relief.
But I still needed to check what needed checking.
“May I take a look at the contract?”
“Yes. Take your time.”
I examined the detailed clauses carefully.
The model fee was on terms where 30%—an advance payment of 600 million won—would be paid first, and the rest would be paid in installments.
‘That’s satisfactory.’
It was above industry standard.
Other than that, the ad and photoshoot schedule and appearance conditions were at a manageable level.
Team Leader Jo Sehun read through the contract as well, then nodded, apparently deciding there were no particular issues.
“Good, Sunho.”
When we finished signing, the marketing team leader smiled as if he’d been waiting for this and spoke up.
“Ah—come to think of it, your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it? September 17.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So we’d like to run an event at the brand level to commemorate the birthday of Sunho, the face of Mate Beverage. What do you think?”
“What kind of event?”
“We’re considering a birthday café where fans can gather, for starters.”
The marketing team leader beamed.
The moment I heard him, calculations began running fast in my head.
‘Fandom–brand linked marketing.’
This wasn’t simply a gift that took care of the model personally.
It was an effective marketing strategy that used fandom culture to form a bond between the brand and the fans and naturally induce virality.
Fans would develop a positive perception of the brand, and the brand could absorb the model’s image and the fandom’s powerful loyalty—a win-win strategy.
Not a bad idea. But.
‘It’s a waste to end it there.’
A birthday café is effective for consolidating an existing fandom, but it’s hard for that influence to expand beyond the fandom.
Couldn’t I turn this good opportunity into a campaign with more meaning and a wider ripple effect?
I thought for a moment and completed a plan in my head.
“I’m very grateful for the offer. But what if we used this good opportunity in a slightly different direction?”
“Hm? A different direction?”
“Mate Beverage has been continuing emotional rapport with consumers with the message, ‘We support you, who sweats,’ hasn’t it?”
“Haha, that’s right. As expected, you really are deeply interested in our brand.”
“But the truth is, I’m not someone who sweats enough to deserve that kind of support.”
The two of us chuckled lightly.
“Rather than me, I want to support the people around us who sweat a lot for everyone.”
“And… who would that be?”
“Firefighters.”
“……!”
Their eyes widened.
I continued.
“Instead of a birthday café for me, we send a drink truck for the firefighters.”
At that moment, the marketing team leader’s eyes flashed.
It was as if he was instantly calculating the ripple effect in his head.
“Firefighters… That’s a strong public-interest message. It would create good synergy with your positive image, Sunho, and it’s also the kind of picture the media would like…”
“And to take it further—so it doesn’t end as a one-time thing—I want Mate Beverage to donate and install refrigerators that are always filled with Mate Beverage drinks at fire stations nationwide. Like an energy station.”
That changed the story.
It wouldn’t just be a birthday celebration event for a model—it would be elevated into a public-interest campaign with social meaning.
Mate Beverage’s brand identity would become firm, and public loyalty would be strengthened.
It had meaning for me too.
‘Because Kang Seoho’s original dream job was to be a firefighter.’
A linkage to the role I was playing.
If it went this way, it would be the perfect chance to wash away any negative image from playing a villain and maximize broad public favorability.
“……”
Silence followed.
The one to break it was the marketing team leader’s quiet exclamation.
“Expanding a one-time event into a sustainable campaign…”
He looked at me with eyes full of awe.
His admiration was a different kind from Team Leader Jo Sehun’s.
Beyond pure surprise, it carried the professional respect of an industry worker.
“It’s closer to brand activism that makes people directly feel the brand’s core values, beyond simple CSR. This is…”
Team Leader Jo Sehun, listening beside us—
“…Wow, Sunho. You really…”
He let out a hollow laugh like he couldn’t believe it.
“In over ten years of being a manager, I’ve never seen a kid like you. The way you think is just different.”
The marketing team leader rapidly jotted something down in his notebook, then looked up at me and said,
“In that case, how about we attach a name like ‘Mate Heroes Campaign,’ carrying gratitude for the firefighters’ hard work?”
Good.
It was copy that felt like it was being elevated from a simple event into a campaign.
But why was he asking me that?
“Even when I saw you in that ‘ ’ video, I thought you weren’t ordinary… You’re not just an ad model—you’re a partner.”
The marketing team leader shook his head once, then reached out his hand to me with a satisfied smile.
“Thank you for the great idea. I’ll talk it through properly on my end, and we’ll do it that way.”
Once the main cast of ‘ ’ was confirmed, Nine Film moved quickly.
The success or failure of a film ultimately depended on the size of capital, and confirming the main cast was the single most crucial variable for securing investment.
A conference room of a major distributor in Sangam-dong, Seoul.
Director Choi from the distributor flipped through documents and said,
“The script… is very intellectual. It’s artistic, too.”
It sounded like praise, but cold barbs were hidden inside it.
“But to be honest… commercially, there are a lot of question marks.”
CEO Park Kyungsu’s expression stiffened slightly.
He expected those words, but hearing them directly still stabbed like a knife.
“This kind of philosophical black comedy has too narrow an audience base. And on top of that, burning this level of CG budget on a rookie director is a big gamble from our perspective.”
Director Choi continued as if driving in a final nail.
“And the biggest hurdle is the lead actor. Ryu Sunho.”
CEO Park Kyungsu responded calmly.
“You’ve seen the buzz around actor Ryu Sunho. With ‘ ’, he already proved ratings and public appeal.”
“Drama and film are different. And wasn’t he a near-supporting role? Entrusting a lead role to a rookie who has only just debuted, and placing the fate of a project worth over ten billion won in his hands… It’s true that we’re hesitant.”
Director Choi paused as if choosing his words, then offered an alternative with an expression like he was doing them a favor.
“Why not put Park Juwon forward as the lead instead? If Park Juwon takes the Jeong Dogyun role, we can greatly reduce investment risk. We can proceed on far better terms than now, too.”
In the end, it was this again.
It was already the third time he’d heard it.
It was impossible.
He had brought it up carefully to Park Juwon before, but Park Juwon’s stance was firm.
He had no intention of taking the lead role—he wanted only Professor Baek’s character.
If they forced it, they risked even losing Park Juwon, the one remaining box-office draw.
CEO Park Kyungsu swallowed a bitter smile.
“Director Choi, Park Juwon is firm about the Professor Baek role. He even volunteered to audition himself.”
“I’m aware. But business is business. If Park Juwon takes the lead, most of this film’s risk is offset. That’s the most stable picture.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
CEO Park Kyungsu hesitated for a moment, then shook his head decisively.
“We’re grateful for the offer, but it will be difficult to change the lead.”
Through Team Leader Jo Sehun, I heard that Nine Film was having trouble securing investment.
“Sunho, about ‘ ’… It’s not easy to find a distributor.”
At the seriousness on his face, my heart dropped as well.
“They’re praising your acting to the skies, but they’re reluctant to invest, saying the film itself is too non-mainstream. And they say the risk is big too, with a rookie director and a rookie lead.”
The moment I heard him, memories from the past rose up in my head.
‘It’s a similar flow.’
Back when I worked in advertising, I remembered dissecting this film’s failure process in detail while analyzing worst-case marketing examples.
Even in my previous life, ‘ ’ had been turned away at the door by multiple distributors.
Even casting Choi Seungjun as the lead actor hadn’t been enough.
After repeated rejections, when Nine Film was wearing down, the only lifeline came down.
A distributor that finally promised investment.
But they weren’t saviors.
They began meddling in every aspect of the film.
The first thing that changed was the film’s title.
‘ ’, which carried a philosophical meaning, was changed into ‘ ’, a title that made it look like a fantasy film.
The marketing was even worse.
The film’s essence—black comedy and social satire—was completely ignored, and it was packaged and promoted as “a clumsy coming-of-age story of a boy who became invisible.”
The result was a disastrous failure.
Audiences went in expecting a bright, upbeat film based on the poster, then felt disappointed when it wasn’t, and despite critical praise, the box office was a complete flop.
‘It can’t happen like that this time. Never.’
There was no need to follow the past failure.
I had to step in so we wouldn’t be pushed around by a distributor.
But how?
‘Should I ask Chairman Han Taejun of Taeseong Ilbo?’
I shook my head immediately.
‘No. I can’t do that.’
Using the fact that I saved his son’s life like a weapon would be wrong.
It would be like demanding payment for saving a life.
I couldn’t treat their goodwill as if it were my rightful claim.
‘If I put in the investment money and participate as a co-producer?’
…It probably wouldn’t mean much.
At best, the investment amount I could put up would be around one billion won.
With that, I wouldn’t have the power to control a distributor.
Or what if I found a reliable shield—someone who wouldn’t be swayed by money logic, someone who would recognize the value of the work.
Someone who could raise the film’s authority.
‘Back then, didn’t quite a few directors come to the Divine Investigation set?’
Right. Director Baek Junbong was there too.
If I asked him and ran media play…?
“……”
Seeing me biting my lip, lost in thought, Team Leader Jo Sehun spoke as if he felt sorry for me.
“Don’t think about it too seriously. Let’s find another way first. The company will look into it too.”
As if trying to lighten the mood, he changed the subject.
“Ah, by the way, Sunho.”
“Yes?”
“Other than English—do you speak any other languages?”
Meanwhile, at the same time.
Content Trinity, Taeseong Group’s comprehensive media content affiliate.
The office air was, for some reason, subtly unsettled today.
In particular, footsteps going in and out of the pantry were unnecessarily frequent.
“Did you hear the news?”
“What news?”
“Director Han Seungwoo is coming back to the company.”
“What? Really?”
The employees gathered in the pantry widened their eyes.
“But why wasn’t he around the company all this time? He suddenly took a leave, so everyone was curious.”
“They said even the secretary’s office didn’t say anything. They only said it was for health reasons.”
“Ugh, things are going to get noisy again. Our director is totally this, you know?”
One employee fully extended an index finger and mimed cutting straight across the tabletop without hesitation.
A bulldozer.
It was a gesture that expressed his personality—he couldn’t rest until he did whatever he wanted to do.
“Well… he’s the royal family, so what can you do.”
“They say people change after they go through something big. We can only hope he comes back different.”
“But our team leader suddenly requested materials on Ryu Sunho urgently today. What’s going on?”