The Unexpected VIP Wedding Contract
When Namhun opened the door to the CEO's office, he found Kang Seokho already seated on the sofa with a middle-aged man in a tailored suit.
“You made it. Come here, son. This is President Park Jongsu of Happy Wedding.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jang Namhun.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m President Park Jongsu of Happy Wedding.”
“All right, have a seat over here.”
As Namhun settled into his chair, President Park felt a sudden tension coil in his stomach.
He had poured everything he had into arranging this meeting.
One hour before Kang Seokho’s wedding reception began.
President Park had rushed to the venue.
The team leader had reported that the wedding singer assigned to perform the opening song was none other than Namhun.
The moment he heard the name, President Park had blinked and asked, “Who the hell is that?”
At fifty years old, he had never even known Namhun existed ten years ago.
“Haven’t you ever heard ‘Forever Only You’? It was pretty popular back then.”
The team leader’s words had sent him to his streaming app, but the song had been completely unknown to him.
In other words, to President Park, Namhun was just another obscure singer.
“Why did Director Kang choose this guy for the opening song?”
Top-tier artists were lined up like Vienna sausage for VIP weddings.
Kang Seokho had to have a reason, but the unease lingered.
VIP weddings thrived on word of mouth.
One glowing review could drag in golden clients who moved like migratory birds.
If anything went wrong, Happy Wedding’s revenue could take a hit.
He could hardly tell them he had cobbled the entire arrangement together on the spot.
The knot in his chest finally loosened the instant he heard Namhun’s performance.
“Holy shit.”
President Park had been in the wedding-hall business for more than twenty years.
He had worked with every kind of wedding singer imaginable.
Of course, many of them were names he recognized instantly.
After thousands of live performances, he barely felt anything anymore.
Yet after Namhun’s song, he felt as if someone had slapped him across the face.
“This isn’t just an opening song. This is a divine blessing.”
It wasn’t even a professionally set concert hall.
A singer’s true power shone through in any wedding venue.
Naturally, several VIP guests had felt the same awe.
As soon as the ceremony ended, they had crowded around President Park, begging to hire Namhun on the spot.
“How much does one cost?”
VIP weddings guaranteed hundreds of millions in revenue per event.
The laughter that had started as a reflex never stopped.
But the guests had one ironclad condition.
“Please hire Jang Namhun.”
That was how President Park had ended up asking Kang Seokho for a connection.
Kang Seokho had shot it down without hesitation.
“It’s impossible. If my wife hadn’t been a former fan-club member of Namhun’s, I wouldn’t have even tried.”
As a businessman, however, discarding hundreds of millions was unthinkable.
President Park had latched onto the hem of Kang Seokho’s trousers and refused to let go.
“Well… all right. I’ll try to convince him.”
Given how difficult it had been to arrange this meeting, President Park proceeded cautiously.
“I heard you’re raising three children on your own.”
The moment he heard it, Namhun had pinched his own thigh hard enough to leave a mark.
* * *
“I’m raising university students now, so I know firsthand how hard it is to raise kids. How much money it actually takes.”
Watching President Park desperately try to show empathy, Namhun felt genuine admiration in his chest.
‘He’s pulling this off because he really knows what he’s doing.’
Kang Seokho’s ability to fool such a seasoned operator was nothing short of incredible.
‘How much charm did he use, anyway?’
President Park had spent over thirty minutes dancing around the question, but Namhun had already pieced everything together.
‘So you want me to sing at a VIP wedding reception, just like with Seokho-hyung.’
Popular singers never sang for money; they were always swamped with personal invitations.
But plenty of singers performed wedding songs as a side gig.
Some companies even had in-house wedding singers on retainer.
“Singers whose names you know instantly charge roughly 100 to 200 million won for two songs.”
Once Namhun learned the market rate, he was stunned.
He had performed at enough events to know better, yet he had never bothered to ask how much he was actually paid.
He had just shown up and sung.
“Sera mentioned it once, you know.”
“If a wedding-song request comes in, you get half as a favor from me.”
At the time, he had laughed it off as a joke.
He had never imagined the request would actually happen.
‘100 to 200 million?’
How many minutes would that take to perform?
Thirty minutes, including setup, would be more than enough.
Adding travel time, two hours at most.
A whole month of blue-collar work at the logistics center had barely covered that kind of money.
Of course, that rate was for established names.
He doubted he could even reach that price tag.
“How much was he paid again?”
Among his fellow vocal trainers, one or two occasionally did wedding-song gigs.
He wasn’t sure, but they had mentioned something around a few million won.
President Park’s tone suggested it would be far more.
Namhun could read other people’s exact impressions of his stage through his system.
The overall score for the opening song he had sung at the wedding had been a perfect 100 points.
Would it still be a 100 even if he sang it again?
“The director also said he listened to my song.”
Since the audience had scored him 100, President Park must have perceived the performance as perfect as well.
‘That must have been when all the cosmic energy was focused solely on me…’
A return stage that proved eight years of effort.
A reward for one year of dedication from Kang Seokho.
Plus the bride’s identity he had only learned on the day of the wedding.
A genuine desire to wish them joy for two fans.
All of those elements had converged to create something truly flawless.
But recreating that level of perfection again seemed almost impossible.
Yet he already knew the minimum acceptable score was 90.
Anything above that, and the matter would be resolved.
‘I’ll accept the amount once it’s decided.’
The moment he made up his mind, Kang Seokho jumped in.
“Ahem. President.”
“Yes?”
“You went to so much trouble to arrange this meeting, and then…”
The sharp rebuke in Kang Seokho’s tone made Namhun’s face shift instantly.
President Park caught the change and felt satisfied.
‘Look at that. He’s finally catching on.’
Realizing too late that Namhun had been visibly displeased, President Park panicked.
‘I unconsciously negotiated the whole time.’
The loss was on his side.
President Park completely dropped his original demand.
“Small catch, big win.”
Experience had taught him that chasing a small gain could ruin everything.
He had been there too many times.
When he had first started courting VIP clients, he had watched famous singers take one look at the budget and walk away.
Or worse, some had demanded ridiculous sums.
“Five thousand for half an hour.”
“I’m sorry, that’s a bit much.”
“Are you insulting me?”
Those encounters had nearly cost him entire contracts.
“Money solves everything,” he had thought.
Yet the deals had vanished anyway.
If he offered even more, things might have changed.
But for a business purpose, there was always a ceiling.
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about money. What’s the point?”
Namhun didn’t agree.
‘How could you not understand how valuable money is?’
For the past eight years, he had experienced its true weight.
Money could kill or save lives.
“I heard you’re preparing to return to your career as a singer.”
Namhun looked at Kang Seokho, who gave a small nod.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“If you’ve taken a long break and are now considering a comeback, I can be of help. Many people in the broadcasting industry already use our company.”
Network!
That was the hidden card President Park had prepared.
“In a way, it could be called a showcase before your debut. Don’t you see? Even trainees are performing these days.”
Leaving money and connections aside, Namhun realized this was an extraordinary opportunity.
Even with his system active, his practice hadn’t gone smoothly.
He needed an audience for the system to trigger.
The only person who could listen was Jo Wonhyeong.
That was a serious problem.
For example, even his cover of Ha Daeun’s “My Love, My Love” had scored far lower than the original because Jo’s taste differed from his own.
‘To make the best use of my abilities, I need an audience as close to ordinary people as possible.’
Where could he find such a crowd for practice?
He couldn’t busk in trot, and the Hongdae or Sinchon streets were too far from the trot audience.
But a wedding-guest group?
Gender, age, and tastes would vary wildly.
Even among Kang Seokho and Seong Yujin’s guests, there were plenty of entertainment professionals, but the ages and jobs were all over the map.
Designers, advertising planners, singers, actors, engineers, camera operators, PDs, announcers, and officers.
Most family and friends were regular people.
If it were an ordinary wedding…?
The guest list would be the general public itself.
That meant a genuine chance to test his system.
President Park read Namhun’s expression and spoke again.
“Please consider it in a positive light.”
President Park was determined to make it happen no matter what.
“How about half a million?”
Namhun was stunned by the sudden sum.
Even if he did one wedding a week, that would be 20 million a month.
But he quickly calmed himself.
He had no idea how many weddings would actually come.
If the guests weren’t satisfied, requests would dry up.
And after a while, the shine of a 100-point performance would fade.
‘Asking for too much could backfire.’
He had just started to worry when Kang Seokho cut in.
“That’s too much. Half of that would be plenty.”
“What?”
President Park had offered a full million and now it was only half?
He shot Kang Seokho a bewildered glance.
‘What the hell is wrong with this kid?’
Kang Seokho was equally stunned.
“Why are you poking your nose into a finished deal?”
“There is one condition, however.”