First Fan Meeting (1)
“Are you out of your mind?”
After hearing about the fan meeting, Jeong Su-ryeon shook her head in disbelief.
“You're just gonna let any fan who wants to come show up? And what, for free?”
“Can't I?”
“Of course not.”
Jeong Su-ryeon took a deep breath, then unleashed a rapid-fire barrage like a submachine gun.
“You planning to rent out Jamsil Stadium or something? If you announce a free fan meeting and say everyone's welcome, you have no idea how many people would show up. You know why even museums charge a small entry fee? Free ones are always packed with kindergarten tours and school trips, so regular visitors can't enjoy it properly.”
“Something about taking money from fans just feels off.”
“Think of it as merch sales. You're packaging and selling your time that one day to the fans. They're buying that one-of-a-kind experience as a limited-edition good.”
“Hmm...”
“Concerts charge for tickets too, right? Same thing.”
“Got it for now.”
“And charging money is respect to your true fans. Otherwise, they'll have to fight off casuals and randos. Even true fans scrapping among themselves is chaotic enough.”
“That's a fresh take. Impressive. Doesn't sound like you at all, sis.”
“...Anyway, treat it like a paid show and go from there. Fans will appreciate it too.”
Listening from the side, their mother asked with brimming curiosity.
“So, how much could our Seo-hoon charge for his fan meeting tickets?”
“Depends on the guy.”
“There’s gotta be a market rate, though.”
“Even at 500,000 won, it'd sell out in seconds, but he'd get hate for being money-hungry. Under 100,000 won feels right.”
“What about the venue? Really renting Jamsil Stadium?”
“Mom, come on. He's not a singer—why Jamsil?”
“What's stopping our Seo-hoon from singing? He crushed that OST so hard the original singer couldn't even complain.”
“You're a Baek Hyeo-seon fan—how can you say that?”
“Blood's thicker than fandom, kiddo.”
Jeong Su-ryeon scratched her head furiously.
“Something around a few hundred seats would be perfect. Rent a decent outdoor auditorium or whatever.”
“I know a spot. Holds about 200 people.”
“Where?”
“The engineering school's wedding hall at my university.”
Jeong Su-ryeon quickly searched on her phone and said,
“But isn't this basically an auditorium? Looks kinda plain.”
“Come on. Seo-hoon's a Korea University student—why hold it anywhere else? Fans are dying to see what his school looks like.”
“It's pretty nice, actually.”
Jeong Su-ryeon stopped objecting and dove into scheduling.
“Handling every detail ourselves would be a nightmare. Better to go turnkey with an experienced agency. Yeah, they'll take a cut, but we're charging tickets anyway.”
“Don't know any agencies like that.”
“I'll handle it. But what do I get in return?”
Their mother smacked her daughter's back.
“If you wanna cast Seo-hoon when you're a PD someday, you should be sucking up now—not haggling with your own brother over pocket change! Jeong Su-ryeon, just do it for cost and call it even!”
Jeong Su-ryeon picked an agency experienced in fan meetings, and Jeong Seo-hoon signed the contract officially.
“Make sure there's strict ID verification so no scalping.”
“A bit of scalping driving prices sky-high actually helps marketing. Boosts Actor Jeong Seo-hoon's value even more.”
“Fans not suffering unnecessarily is more important.”
“Understood. We'll verify ID from booking and again at entry.”
Phone checks at the door alone prevent most scalping.
“Offline seats at 110,000 won, online streaming at 39,000 won seems fair.”
The agency set up a fan meeting site and posted announcements. Promotion ended there—just a heads-up on the Virap community.
The post went up, and the entire Virap fandom exploded.
Oh So-hee fidgeted anxiously, waiting for the fan meeting tickets to go on sale.
“5, 4, 3, 2, 1—open!”
She infinite-refreshed and smashed the button the instant booking started, but...
“Argh, fuck! Hit it right at open and queue's already over 80k? Damn telcos! No wonder they steal satellites—they suck at internet!”
Only 200 offline seats, and her number was 80k+? Fate saying give up and grab online streaming.
“Ugh, frustrating. Guess online ticket it is.”
Grumbling, she bought the online ticket and called her friend Kim Da-hye.
Her gloomy tone gave it away instantly.
“What number?”
—70k range.
“Still beat me. I'm 80k.”
—70k or 80k, same difference. Quibbling over acorns.
“Come to my place on fan meeting day. We'll watch together.”
Sharing wouldn't require separate tickets, but for true fans, that's sacrilege. No canceling online bookings here.
“Damn. Whoever those lucky 200 are, so jealous!”
“Hyung, you booking Yoo Jeong-ah's fan meeting?”
His junior spotted Oh Tae-woo at the computer and asked.
Oh Tae-woo glanced over casually.
“Jeong Seo-hoon fan meeting.”
“Oh, that guy? Right, you said you're a fan.”
“Not a fan.”
“I've seen all his stuff too—man, it's killer. Like he yanked a real killer's soul and possessed it. Emotional acting on point. Most killer roles are overacted and fake, cringey to pros like us, but Lee Jin-wook? Pure murderer. No wonder you're a fan.”
“Told you, not a fan.”
“Then why book the fan meeting?”
“Yoo Jeong-ah might guest. Nah, she definitely will. Cop's intuition.”
His junior finally got it, clapping like a seal with exaggerated gestures.
“Our Oh Tae-woo hyung's Jeong-ah love is legendary. Success?”
“Yeah. No queue—went right through. Guess he's not as popular as thought.”
“No way. He's blowing up lately.”
“Agency slacked on promo, or fandom's weak sauce, something like that.”
“Nah, must be your ticketing pro skills. You nail Yoo Jeong-ah ones every time.”
“Lottery hates me, but ticketing? Unbeatable.”
“What's the secret?”
“Optimized internet, browser tweaks, finger dexterity. That's it. Anyway...”
Oh Tae-woo muttered to himself.
“Hope Yoo Jeong-ah guests for sure...”
Fan meeting day.
High school senior fan Kim Yu-ri clutched her hard-won ticket, strolling Korea University campus.
“This is Korea University, the top school in the country where oppa goes.”
At 17, with college entrance exams looming in two years, she felt just how amazing Jeong Seo-hoon was.
He'd aced into Korea U engineering at her age.
The conviction that no entertainer could top him grew firmer by the day.
“Gotta ace into Korea U engineering and be oppa's hooba too.”
She ID-checked at the entrance, dreams swelling, and followed signs to the venue—then froze, hand over mouth.
“Welcome, Kim Yu-ri.”
“Uh, uh...”
Running smack into Jeong Seo-hoon unexpectedly blanked her mind.
Why's oppa here?
Random encounter on the way? Ticket luck wasn't enough—double jackpot?
“We're shooting instant framed pics on-site. Wanna take one together?”
“Uh, y-yeah. Instant frame?”
“Yep. Gift for fans. No pressure if you pass.”
“Yes! Absolutely!”
Beaming, Kim Yu-ri glued herself to his side.
The cameraman snapped several shots fast, and Jeong Seo-hoon smiled softly.
“Frames later all at once. Head inside and wait?”
“Yes!”
Her face melted like sea urchin sushi in midsummer heat. She trotted meekly to the main hall like a lamb.
VJs captured it all for live stream.
Online payers stomped in envy, chat scrolling endlessly.
Most fans were women.
Rare male fans blended into the background.
Then came someone Jeong Seo-hoon had to look up at.
“Instant frame? Hmm, guy-on-guy feels awkward.”
The massive fan, easily over 190cm, flipped the paid chat into chaos.
“Still, hate to miss it now that I'm here. Photo won't go online?”
“Nope. Frame only—delete after.”
“Alright, let's do it.”
That nonchalant vibe screamed not a diehard.
Oh Tae-woo stood to Jeong Seo-hoon's right, hands behind back, swaggering.
Jeong Seo-hoon stared straight at the camera. The rattled cameraman steadied his voice.
“Okay, say cheese...”
“Hey, cameraman. No flash—bad for my eyes, doc says.”
“Got it.”
The cameraman, streaming VJ, agency staff, and venue crew all thought the same.
Why's a mobster here for this?
Pffft!
Oh So-hee and Kim Da-hye both spat out their beer.
“Ah, fuck! Scared me!”
“Tae-woo oppa! Why's Tae-woo oppa there? Criminal in the crowd? Stalker hiding? He go to catch 'em?”
“Kim Da-hye! Be real! That grizzly ditched us cuties to snag his own ticket!”
One-per-person rule meant no sharing anyway, but rage-blind little sis didn't care.
“Without that bear, I'd be there!”
Her 80k queue didn't matter now.
Meanwhile, some online payers recognized Oh Tae-woo.