CHAPTER 041: Ratchet Effect
CHAPTER 041: Ratchet Effect
【Aura Formation: LV.1 — Eye-Catching Aura】
【For a brief moment, it captures people’s attention.】
Aura.
That word people commonly use to describe an actor’s overwhelming presence.
Even if you just stand still, eyes get drawn to you, and when the camera catches you, you stand out as if a spotlight is pinned on you.
That… appeared on me?
Reading the description more closely, it didn’t seem like an insane level yet.
It said LV.1, and that it only held people’s gaze for a “brief moment.”
Still, the difference between having aura and not having it would be huge.
I could become a scene stealer on screen, or leave a strong first impression in a role meeting.
And if it goes further, when I meet people in everyday life, the illusion called “real-life reviews” will spread and raise my value.
In many ways, it was obviously going to be a big help toward the final goal of “becoming the world’s best actor.”
But how do I raise this Ripple Effect?
Let’s think from an advertising perspective.
In advertising, ripple effect means the influence you have on the target.
In other words, how much the ad changes people’s perception or purchasing behavior.
Then likewise.
If purchases happen because of ads I appear in, or if people’s perception changes because of my activities, should I think of Ripple Effect as going up?
I can confirm the details little by little as I keep working.
Either way.
I’m pretty satisfied.
For reaching Likability 30, I even got a new title.
【Title Granted: LV.3 — Word-of-Mouth Trigger】
【Box Office Pull +15%】
【Effect: Viewership ratings and reservation rates for your projects increase somewhat.】
I was getting closer and closer to the film’s success.
And I also gained one Stat Point.
That made a total of 2 Stat Points.
If I gather just one more, I can raise a stat to A+.
But there was a problem: my rapidly rising Recognition Level had entered a plateau.
If I had to guess, I’d appealed enough to my own age group, but it hadn’t reached the middle-aged and older demographic.
The communities where I mainly go viral aren’t their territory.
Then.
I need to pull them in through TV appearances.
The drama is over, so the only answer left is variety.
A variety show from PD Yeom Jaeho’s team, with strong mass appeal.
I have to appear on it.
TvM Variety Department conference room.
PD Yeom Jaeho’s team had scattered meeting materials around and was in the middle of an intense discussion.
“Then we’re locking the location to France, around Saint-Tropez?”
“Yes. We got the filming permit. There are lots of tourists, and there are plenty of places nearby to grab scenic inserts, so if you think about what we’ll capture on video, it’s the best.”
“Okay. Then it’d be good to have someone who speaks French.”
“It’s such a famous tourist destination that the more languages we can handle, the better, I think. English and French as a baseline, and the more the better?”
“That’s too greedy. We’re not hiring a diplomat. Where would you even find someone like that?”
At that point, Writer Jeong Gaeul grinned and added,
“Why not? We’ve got Ryu Sunho.”
“Ah, right. They said Ryu Sunho can handle basically any language, didn’t they? That’s what his manager said.”
“Is that verified? It’s not the agency exaggerating it?”
“Come on. Team Leader Jo Sehun has years in management. Would he lie about something like that? If it gets exposed, things get awkward on both sides.”
“Well, we’ll find out when he comes in.”
“Yeah. Since you all know at least one second language, test him.”
Looking at the casting sheet, PD Yeom Jaeho tapped the paper with his pen.
“Language matters, but the vibe matters first. Like I said before, we’re not going there to do business—we’re going there to shoot a variety show. We need someone who can grab attention.”
“Whose attention?”
“Locals, viewers, and us. All of it.”
Just then, there was a knock, and the youngest writer came in.
“Ryu Sunho is here!”
“Oh, okay. Tell him to come in.”
The moment Ryu Sunho stepped inside—
“······!”
The slack, exhausted air in the conference room compressed tight in an instant.
The murmuring conversation, the flipping of papers, even the clacking of pens.
It felt like an illusion, as if all the noise in the world was being sucked powerfully into him.
It was only a brief moment,
but everyone there had their eyes stolen by Ryu Sunho standing at the door.
The writers looked at each other as if entranced.
Eyes that said, You too? Me too!
PD Yeom Jaeho was the same.
This… isn’t a feeling a rookie can have. How does a rookie with less than a year since debut have this kind of presence…?
Then he looked at Ryu Sunho again with bright, lively eyes.
“Hello.”
“Nice to meet you, Sunho. You must’ve had a hard time getting here.”
“Not at all. It wasn’t even that far.”
Then some light icebreaker talk.
Ryu Sunho carried the conversation forward without any tension at all, not like a rookie.
The writers dropped their guard at the wit he slipped in here and there.
He’s not trembling—he’s good.
He’s not just here as a language patch.
First impression: pass.
PD Yeom Jaeho got to the point.
“Our shoot will be in Saint-Tropez, France, for about a week. If you count flight time with extra buffer, think of it as being out of Korea for about ten days starting from the last week of October.”
At that moment, Ryu Sunho’s gaze wavered slightly.
Ten days…?
My heart sank.
It overlapped exactly with a crucial filming period for Vacuum State.
I couldn’t stop the film shoot.
But I, a rookie who had only just debuted, couldn’t exactly tell PD Yeom Jaeho to change the schedule, either.
Then I’d have no choice but to give up—
Is it right to start with giving up?
A line I’d repeated like a mantra in advertising.
Do your utmost, then accept what comes.
Giving up first like this is the worst.
Let’s look for a possibility.
If I bring up the schedule issue now, it ends right there.
So how?
At that moment, a psychology theory I used often in meetings back when I was in advertising flashed through my mind.
The Ratchet Effect.
The theory that once consumers’ standards go up, they’re hard to lower again.
When income rises and they start consuming expensive products, it becomes difficult to go back to cheaper ones.
People’s expectations are the same.
Once they experience a high standard, it’s hard to return to what came before.
That eventually leads to loss aversion, making them choose to satisfy expectations even if it’s unreasonable.
Then.
Let’s change the order.
If I talk about the schedule problem right now, I won’t even be given a chance.
Because there’s no expectation placed on me yet.
Instead, if I show my value to the maximum first, a chance might appear.
I need to make them feel that losing me is a loss.
Ryu Sunho looked at PD Yeom Jaeho and said,
“If we’re filming in France, language ability will be pretty important for communication on site.”
PD Yeom Jaeho answered as if he’d been waiting.
“I heard from your manager, Sunho—you can do almost every language?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Then shall we do a light French free talk? Here, with Writer Kim Minju.”
Writer Kim Minju opened first.
And as Ryu Sunho responded and carried the conversation quite smoothly,
Writer Kim Minju exclaimed in admiration.
“You’re really good. This isn’t just ‘studied a little.’ I think you’re better than me.”
“At this level, would you say he can handle orders smoothly with locals?”
“Not just orders—he could probably even joke around.”
After that, writers who knew Spanish and German tested him in turn, but the results were similar.
“…You really can do everything.”
“How many languages can you even speak?”
“…I’m starting to feel pathetic.”
The mood in the conference room shifted again.
Not simple curiosity anymore—looks mixed with awe.
PD Yeom Jaeho straightened in his seat.
Good visuals, has the power to draw the eye. And he’s basically a walking translator?
PD Yeom Jaeho’s attitude visibly became more proactive.
From an evaluator’s posture to a recruiter’s posture.
Leaning forward, he asked,
“Besides that, can you cook?”
“My mother is a great cook, so I learned a lot by watching from the side. And I’ve lived on my own for a while too. Things like braised short ribs are basic for me.”
“Oh… And from the My Hands, My Farm video, it looks like you can make cocktails too?”
“Ah, yes. I don’t have a bartender license, but I can make basically any cocktail.”
PD Yeom Jaeho’s body leaned more and more toward Ryu Sunho.
“The peach turnip you put out on My Hands, My Farm—are you sure that was your suggestion?”
“Yes. It was my idea on set.”
Then PD Yeom Jaeho slapped the desk and said,
“No need for a long meeting or overthinking. This is it.”
“?”
“Sunho, let’s go to France together.”
“!”
The writers reacted in surprise.
It was quite unusual.
Normally, casting is decided after the meeting, through internal discussion.
But confirming casting like this, face to face, on the spot meant PD Yeom Jaeho was completely hooked.
This is this kid’s absolute lowest point right now. We have to get him. There’s no character that fits our program more perfectly than this.
But what was it?
Ryu Sunho didn’t give a crisp answer.
It felt like something was catching.
Reading his expression, PD Yeom Jaeho asked,
“Is there something holding you back?”
“I…”
Ryu Sunho carefully explained the circumstances related to his film shoot schedule.
At that, a silence fell over the room as if cold water had been thrown on it.
The writers’ faces, which had been bright just moments ago, filled with blank despair.
Especially the topknot-haired writer immediately objected.
“Then it’s impossible. We got the Saint-Tropez filming permit for October. If it overlaps with the film, he can’t appear.”
Other writers nodded along.
PD Yeom Jaeho too.
He bit his lip and thought for a moment, torment flashing across his face.
Damn it, the timing is the worst. Then what—stick to the schedule and find someone else? Can we even find someone with skills like his?
It was so frustrating.
Everyone in the room was staring only at his mouth.
…But then we’d have to reschedule everything. That loss is too big…
At the end of the long silence, just as he was about to make a decision,
Ryu Sunho spoke first.
“I’m sorry for giving you an unnecessary dilemma.”
It wasn’t giving up.
It was the final gambit.
So-called FOMO marketing.
A strategy that uses the fear that customers might miss out on something to induce an impulsive purchase decision.
It’s in the same vein as the warning phrases often used in ads like “limited sale” and “closing soon,” pressuring consumers.
W-what? Why are you giving up!
That one sentence slammed into PD Yeom Jaeho’s head.
You’re just sending him off like this?
His mind spun urgently.
Other candidates? Sure, there are decent people I’ve worked with before. With them, we can make this program a “good variety show.” But if we have him, it could become a variety show people talk about for years. That difference… and you’re telling me to give it up?
That first-entrance impact he’d just seen, and the outstanding foreign language ability.
On top of that, marketing ability and even cooking-support ability.
If he gives that up, how much viewership is he giving up?
Once his thoughts reached that point, there was no reason to hesitate anymore.
Just as Ryu Sunho was about to tidy up his seat and rise—
“Wait!”
PD Yeom Jaeho tested the last possibility.
“Really… is adjustment completely impossible?”
“Yes. It’s my first lead film.”
That one sentence decided everything.
PD Yeom Jaeho glanced at the list of casting candidates on the table, then finally stared straight at the topknot-haired writer and ordered,
“Writer Kim. Rebuild the schedule. And change the broadcasting station and location permits to next year, all of them.”
“What? PD, then…?”
As the writers stared in shock, PD Yeom Jaeho turned to Ryu Sunho and said,
“…Sunho, let’s go together next year. This program has no meaning without Ryu Sunho.”
The whole time we were leaving TvM, Team Leader Jo Sehun couldn’t close his mouth.
“Sunho, you… do you even know what just happened? In all my years in management, I’ve never seen something like this.”
He still looked like he hadn’t calmed down.
“PD Yeom Jaeho pushed an entire program’s production schedule to next year because of one rookie actor. This… does this even make sense? Wow. What the—”
“I still can’t really believe it either.”
“Of course you can’t. This isn’t just ‘something.’ And it’s not just any PD. It’s Yeom Jaeho.”
I understood his fuss.
That decision by PD Yeom Jaeho was that extreme.
That trust wouldn’t become a reward—it would become a debt.
I need to do well with a heavy sense of responsibility.
Since it was delayed because of the film shoot, I need to shoot the film well.
“Team Leader.”
“Huh?”
“What time is tomorrow’s film call time again?”
At Ryu Sunho’s words, Team Leader Jo Sehun stared blankly for a moment, then let out a hollow laugh.
“Ha… seriously, you… were you an ox in a past life? Wait—I’ll organize it and send it right away.”
In his eyes were pride and awe mixed together.
And so Ryu Sunho threw himself back into filming Vacuum State, busy again.
Filming that continued without a break.
Most of it was Ryu Sunho’s solo sequences.
A call comes in to “Jeong Dogyun,” who had been living in seclusion, and he hears from the police that traces connected to a certain criminal case have been found.
At first he thinks it’s voice phishing, but a few days later, a summons arrives.
A piece of paper printed with the line that refusal could lead to criminal punishment.
Because of that, his adoptive father—the politician Jeong Gijeon—erupts in extreme rage, and Jeong Dogyun is forced to come out into the world to figure out what’s going on.
He barely makes it outside in a precarious state, but he feels strange at how indifferent the world is toward him.
No one recognizes Jeong Dogyun.
At first it seems like someone’s prank, then later it feels like some kind of conspiracy.
But soon, he guesses.
What if he has become an invisible man?
Even if he doesn’t pay the bus fare, even if he doesn’t order at a café, no one stops him.
Freedom, liberation, release.
He no longer has to shrink under people’s gaze.
He slips into crowds and strides through the streets as much as he wants.
But that joy doesn’t last long.
More than “freedom,” the “desire to be recognized” grows larger.
To gain attention, Dogyun barges into a busking stage, and even goes to the police station to turn himself in.
And yet the world treats him as perfect air.
“Cut! Okay!”
Each time Director Ji Seongwoo’s voice rang out, quiet admiration spread among the extras and bit-part actors on set.
They were people assigned to play passersby enjoying the performance in front of the busking stage.
The moment filming ended, they whispered to each other.
“Wow… did you see that just now? When he’s acting, he looks like a real lunatic.”
“The assistant director kept warning us not to look at him, so I barely held back.”
“Is he really a rookie? The way he uses his body is on another level.”
Even extras brought in for a single day of shooting were completely captivated by his acting.
But with the relentless forced marches, the staff’s fatigue had reached its peak.
Their admiration gradually turned into a mechanical reaction, and morale on set was slowly hitting rock bottom.
“Ha… my body’s wrecked.”
“Did I sleep three hours yesterday…? Even surviving on coffee has a limit now.”
“At this rate I’m going to nod off when we shoot the next scene. Seriously.”
“But there’s nowhere to rest here…”
It was right then.
From one side of the set, several dazzling, golden trucks rolled in in a line.
Not one—several.
Food trucks loaded with all kinds of food.
And even a trailer packed full of massage chairs.
As everyone stood there, bewildered—
from the passenger seat of the lead truck, a man wearing sunglasses stepped down.
“The Golden Goblin has arrived.”
It was Han Seungwoo.
.