Chapter 44
Chapter 44
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Is This the Big Leagues?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Is this what they call the big leagues?"
"Channel One" was an affiliate of the world's largest corporation, Ilseong, and even on the 34th Earth, where all sorts of media outlets proliferated, it was the broadcasting station with the greatest reach.
I'd rearranged my part-time schedule to land a gig here. I'd swapped the day off I'd made for Wednesday to the weekend.
As a result, my workdays shifted to five per week!
It felt like I was constantly tweaking my schedule, but for Ungnyeo Steelworks, five days was the standard anyway, so no issues there, and the rest were quiet too. The one perk of part-time gigs.
"No way, hyungnim. You've got three products lined up for shooting today? You sure you're okay?"
"Don't worry. My body's tough as nails."
We took the employee entrance at the back of the building and rode the staff elevator.
When we got off, a female writer flipping through the script looked worried as she asked,
"Chang-sik came again? I get extras and staff, but stunts are kinda dangerous, aren't they?"
"Hey! Looks can be deceiving—I'm a trained physical cultivator, you know?"
"Sigh. What's the point of physical training? You should just do beauty stuff... Oh! And Mr. Han Jae-yeon, right? I heard you did great last week too. Today... Huh? Three products? You sure you'll be okay?"
The place we'd come to was [Guardian Angel], one of the many sub-channels run by Channel One.
Fancy name, but...
'It's just home shopping.'
Not your average wares, though—artifacts and self-defense gear.
[Fortress-level crimes are rampant these days, right? Oh man, it's so scary.
Even stalking cases that the Righteous God's priests can't handle properly keep popping up, and just when you think it's over, you get those random hit-and-run terror attacks. Sure, the police clean things up after, but only after you're already hurt!
It's so terrifying I can't even walk the streets at night anymore!]
As the hysterical shopping host ranted, I slipped into the black outfit the writers handed me.
With my big build, neck scar, and now this dark getup, I looked like a textbook criminal.
"Now, please wait in standby."
My part-time job at Guardian Angel was a kind of stunt work.
The difference from regular stunts? It wasn't choreographed action for movies or dramas—it was live demos to show off self-defense gear performance.
"Alright, action!"
At the writer's cue, I stepped in front of the camera. A pretty woman recoiled in feigned terror at the sight of me.
"Wh-who are you?"
Pure acting, of course. And terrible at that.
"Come with me for a sec."
"N-no!"
"Quit yapping and move it."
"Who are you to order me around?"
No need for fancy acting on my part. I'm basically just a re-enactor, so they don't nitpick the performance!
I just grimaced and growled a bit.
"...Talking back?"
"......!"
Ordinary line. But for some reason, the woman's face—who'd been phoning it in—went genuinely pale.
"D-don't come closer! I'll shoot!"
'What the hell?'
She was supposed to fire right then, but she ad-libbed a line not in the script.
'Is she hamming it up? What a diva. Seriously.'
Annoyed, I twisted my face and closed in on her aggressively.
"Shoot? Yeah! Do it!"
"Eek!"
Flash!
The ring on her finger flared with light and shot at me.
I dodged it.
Just as scripted: [Take the hit if you can, but dodge if possible.]
Flash!
The beam I evaded arced like lightning back toward me. I bent at the waist to dodge again.
Flash!
It curved once more. I sprang right to evade.
Flash! Flash!
The light's movements grew fiercer. I dodged as best I could. Script said dodge as much as possible.
But then...
'Huh? Dodge again?'
I managed eight times, but the ninth was iffy. I could dodge, sure. But unlike the first eight from reflexes or combat experience, this one pinged my combat foresight.
Didn't want to flash foresight on camera, so instead of dodging outright, I turned my head to track the beam—
Thwack!
"Urk!"
I groaned. Acting, technically. The protective suit I'd worn underneath absorbed most of the impact.
Not painless, though—like getting shot while wearing Kevlar.
Crackle!
Mana swirled, and steel chains wrapped around me. Bound tight, I hit the deck and rolled.
[Report filed. Combat police will summon in 10 seconds. 9. 8. 7...]
Flash!
Space ripped open, revealing a svelte cop in uniform.
"Hello! Your friendly neighborhood police, here for the people! Combat Police Special Forces, Song Hana!"
I chuckled at her perky entrance.
Who'd guess this girl could solo an underworld district?
Familiar face, too.
'Isn't that the dog owner's from before?'
The one who'd dragged her pup to the restaurant and bickered with the Righteous God's apostle. Master-class powerhouse—I wondered what she did for a living. Cop, huh.
"Test over! I'm out! Bye, everyone!"
She vanished, and the host grabbed the mic again.
[The Safety Ring series, steeped in tradition and history, is already a luxury accessory and high-grade magic tool in itself. You saw the stuntman's amazing moves, right?
Not just anyone has reflexes like that. Gotta be a high-rank ability user.
And yet! Even he couldn't escape the Safety Ring's binding spell! Proof it's our best safeguard.
Now, the specs on this Safety 332... And all this for...]
I listened to the pitch, still chained up.
This was my new gig.
Not many volunteers, they said. Protective gear prevents serious injury at best, but doesn't nullify the hit entirely.
Plus, Guardian Angel's self-defense items were top-tier—could be lethal for a normie if they botch it.
"Good work!"
3 p.m. Three shoots done, paycheck in hand.
One mil per, times three: three mil. Two more booked for Sunday.
'Nice.'
Some bruises, but high-end rice cakes would fix that. Weekends only, but at this rate, I could kit out the elite troops with pets.
"Hyungnim! All good? Ow... Rolling on the floor wrecked my back. I gotta act, not do stunts..."
Chang-sik scampered over, whining. Made me think...
'Figured a high-pay gig like this was some shady criminal stuff.'
But nope—totally legit. Embarrassing getting smacked by artifacts repeatedly, but the pay? Chef's kiss.
"You wrap up okay?"
"Did stunts and helped staff a bit. Man, those PDs... Always 'maybe next time' with the carrot dangling... Huh?"
Mid-rant, Chang-sik froze, staring somewhere.
Curious, I turned too.
There was a bear.
'What? Smart pet? First time seeing one that big.'
Not for civilians. Too bulky for cars, and mass jacks up teleport fees.
Purpose was obvious.
'Broadcast gear. That form's for outdoor shoots.'
Sure enough, three guys yammered in front of the bear.
"Come on, greet the viewers: 'Hello, hyungnim!' Hello, everyone! We're here at The One Channel for a shoot today."
"So many people... Gonna trigger my panic attacks..."
"Weather's perfect today. Should be hitting the barbells."
"Hey, ask it for a moon balloon, moon balloon."
"But isn't it broadcast time now? Deadline's looming."
Not one bit of real [conversation]. Just collective monologues.
Chang-sik groaned watching them.
"Ugh. They half-ass it and they've got five mil subs... Jealous as hell."
"Famous guys? Comedians?"
"What? You don't know them? Bestselling novelist Amundsen, shonen manga artist Strong Sword, gag master Burst Laugh."
"Nope. That popular?"
Never heard of 'em. Not into that scene, guess. Chang-sik looked shocked.
"No way, hyungnim—what do you even do all day? They dominate top spots on big portals and platforms."
"Hmm. Must be popular."
Duh, but not my jam. What do pro novelists or mangakas have to do with me?
His next words, though? Head snapped around.
"Super popular. Copyrights alone net them over ten bil a month."
"Ten... what?"
Stunned.
Ten bil?
"Yeah, top novelists and mangakas rake in more than most celebs. They pull crowds as streamers and variety stars too—internet shows, main channels, everywhere. So jealous. Ugh."
Chang-sik kept blabbing, but it all blurred out.
One phrase echoed in my ears.
'Ten bil a month. Ten bil a month...'
Twenty-four-seven grind for a month nets me ten mil. This? A hundred times that. And 'copyrights alone'—meaning even more?
What if I pulled that kinda cash?
'Could mass-produce a hundred knights to duel sword masters one-on-one.'
Different vibe from other rich folks. Their wealth? Inherited from elders or handouts, 99% of the time.
These guys? Built it from scratch.
"Hyungnim? You zoned out hard."
"Huh? Just tired."
"Yeah, I get it. Oof. Was gonna intro you anyway, but now my body's killing me, so whatever."
We headed out of the waiting room.
And bumped into a group coming the other way.
"Oh! Scarlett noona! Here for a shoot?"
"Yup. You... Whoa?"
Scarlett, mid-flirty reply to Chang-sik, spotted me and froze in shock. Her entourage—manager, cameraman, stylist, makeup artist—halted too.
"Huh? What's up?"
"Oh, nothing. But isn't that the bouncer guy? What's he doing here?"
"I got connections at the station! Hooked him up with a gig."
"A part-time at the station? Thought you were going silver..."
Her whisper didn't escape my sharp ears.
'Got it—you didn't buy a word I said.'
Whatever. Scarlett shook off the surprise and flashed a bright smile.
"Anyway, hi! Didn't expect to see you here—threw me off."
"Yeah. Thought you just DJed, but you're shooting too?"
"Eh, just broadcaster level. A-anyway, gotta run! Good luck!"
"Sure."
She nodded casually and went on her way. Gibberish from behind like 'Sis? Who's got you so stiff?' or 'Ooh, sis, is that...?' Who cares.
'Ten bil.'
That was all in my head.
'Ten bil a month.'