The CF Offer
"Melt my heart—nok-yong~"
"Aaaaah, thank you so much!"
That made well over a hundred nok-yongs by now.
The autograph session had started that morning and was already past the four-hour mark. The original schedule had them wrapping at one o'clock, but Yeon-woo had pushed straight through without even stopping for lunch, wanting to give a little more back to the fans who had been waiting since dawn.
Fortunately they had closed the queue midway through, so only a handful of people remained.
"Kim Ji-a, it's morning already. Time to get up."
"Let's give it our all again today, Ju-yeon."
"Melt my heart—nok-yong~"
The fan service requests ran the full spectrum. Some recorded him for a morning alarm. Others filmed him so they could play it back on the hard days when life wore them down. But the single most requested bit—by an overwhelming margin—was the mysterious nok-yong that had somehow taken over the internet.
Ever since it appeared in the film, idols had started copying it as aegyo, and the line was well on its way to becoming a full-blown meme. Yeon-woo had first been asked for it at the VIP premiere dinner with invited fans. Even though he was the original source of the bit, he had still been mortified when the autograph session opened that morning. After a full day of it, though, the phrase now came out as easily as pressing a button.
"Writer, Actor—thank you both for your hard work."
At last the session ended. Staff filed in and began packing the gift items into boxes. From the seat beside him, Writer Kim Jin-ju rose and came over.
"Yeon-woo-ssi, thank you so much. Really."
"I had fun thanks to you."
"I'm so grateful I don't know what to do. Let me buy you a meal at least—"
That was when Manager Kim Min-su stepped in.
"Ah, Writer Kim, that might be difficult today. He needs to head straight back to the company. There's a meeting booked."
"Oh, I see. Then anytime you need anything from me, just say the word! I don't care what it is—if it's for Yeon-woo-ssi, I'm in, no questions asked!"
Kim Jin-ju nodded at Min-su's words, thanked Yeon-woo again and again, and left.
"Hyung, did we have something on the schedule today?"
"Team Leader Jeong said to bring you to the office the moment the session wrapped. I'm not sure what the meeting's about."
"Alright. Then we'd better get moving."
Once they were in the car and on the way to the agency, Yeon-woo spoke up again.
"Ah, Min-su-hyung. Could you find me a decent guitar and violin? Director Park Chan-hong wants me to start practicing."
"Understood. But is that something you can pick up in a short time?"
"Well… I can play a little already, basically. I just got so buried in the drama wrap that it only just occurred to me."
It was a music film, and Yeon-woo had been cast as a composer. At least he didn't have to sing—that much was a relief—but the script was packed with instrument-performance scenes, which meant he needed to get practicing in a hurry.
The head office wasn't far from the Gangnam bookstore where the signing had been held. When they arrived, Team Leader Jeong and the operations staff were already in a meeting. The moment Yeon-woo opened the door, Team Leader Jeong greeted him warmly.
"Oh, Yeon-woo-ssi, come in. Your schedule was so close to the office, and we happened to be mid-meeting, so I figured it would be faster to just have you come here and talk it through in person."
"I see. Hello, everyone."
Yeon-woo took the seat Team Leader Jeong indicated. An operations staffer brought up a screen and began.
"The CF deals we've been tracking continuously were mainly the automotive and banking-app campaigns. But a new proposal came in yesterday, and we're reviewing it as top priority."
"Alright."
Yeon-woo nodded, watching the screen. The staffer advanced to the next slide.
IHAN TECHNOLOGY
"I'm sure you're familiar with the Ihan Group, of course, but Ihan Technology itself may be less well-known."
"A defense contractor."
At Yeon-woo's words, Team Leader Jeong's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"You know them? When the proposal came in I could tell it was an Ihan Group affiliate, but I had no idea what the company actually did."
"Ah—well. It's a major corporation."
A defense contractor: a company that develops and manufactures the equipment a nation needs for its defense, or that builds the related facilities. In plain terms, a high-tech arms manufacturer.
Most ordinary people never had reason to encounter such a firm. But in his previous life, during his domestic-operations days, Yeon-woo had spent a great deal of time connected to the defense industry—monitoring industrial espionage around new weapons development and the like. He had used Ihan Technology's own equipment in the field. There was no way he wouldn't know the name.
"Yesterday we received an advertising offer from Ihan Technology. The fee is extremely large."
Yeon-woo tilted his head at Team Leader Jeong's words.
"Do defense contractors even run ads? It's common enough in the States, but I don't think I've ever seen one here…"
In the United States, where lobbyists thrived, corporate image mattered when competing for contracts, and defense firms often ran other businesses on the side—building commercial airliners alongside fighter jets, for example. In Korea, however, contracts were typically awarded under government direction, and the winning firm operated as a monopoly in its sector specifically to prevent information leaks. Advertising was simply unnecessary.
"Well, that's the unusual part. We haven't been able to figure out why the offer came in all of a sudden either. The storyboard isn't bad, though."
At Team Leader Jeong's cue, the staffer clicked forward. The screen filled with a man in uniform dedicating himself to the defense of the nation, rendered across multiple versions—army, navy, and air force concepts, plus a research scientist and what looked like a white-hat hacker.
"Looking at how they've planned a series of short image ads across all these concepts, it seems like a straightforward brand-image campaign. But there are two more unusual points."
"Unusual points?"
Team Leader Jeong cleared his throat, held up two fingers, and folded them one at a time as he spoke.
"First—the fee is enormous. Roughly ten times what Yeon-woo-ssi received for the telecom ad last time."
"…Excuse me?"
Yeon-woo stared at the unexpected figure. His previous guarantee had been around two hundred million won a year. Even with his rising market value, he had expected maybe two or three times that—not ten.
"The other offers that have come in are generally around five hundred million. This one is four times larger than those, which is actually making us a little nervous. We went through the contract proposal carefully and found no poison-pill clauses. Of course, a company this size has no reason to play games with a contract in the first place."
Yeon-woo rubbed his chin, listening.
Ihan Tech has money rotting in piles, sure. But why me? In this life I'm not even a veteran.
He hadn't played special agents or soldiers in any of his dramas. He was hot right now, yes—but given the nature of the company, you'd think they'd prioritize trustworthiness over popularity when choosing a face.
Team Leader Jeong had said there were two unusual points.
"And the other one?"
Team Leader Jeong folded the remaining finger and continued.
"Chairman Seo Tae-gwang of the Ihan Group wants to have a meal with you. So we're also wondering whether the guarantee was set this high simply because the chairman is a fan."
Yeon-woo sank deeper into thought. Even in his previous life, when he had handled Ihan Technology for domestic operations, a rank-and-file agent like him never met the group chairman—or even the executive board.
Is he really just a fan?
Looking back at his own filmography, which had mostly targeted younger audiences, it seemed odd. He couldn't picture Chairman Seo Tae-gwang of the Ihan Group—a man in his seventies—sitting down to watch a youthful romantic comedy.
"Alright. Book the schedule for now. Having a meal isn't exactly difficult."
"Yes, sir. We'll contact you as soon as it's set."
They discussed the other CF offers as well, and then Yeon-woo headed home.
"Automotive and a banking app…"
And Ihan Technology.
He was resting at home, sorting through his thoughts, when the phone rang.
"Did Team Leader Jeong lock in a schedule already?"
He picked up the smartphone from the table and checked the screen. Not Team Leader Jeong—Director Park Chan-hong.
"Yes, Director."
"Yeon-woo. We've roughly locked down the shooting schedule and locations. Casting is finished, and we've brought on a music director as well."
Because this indie film was a music picture with original score woven throughout, the music director was critical.
"You've worked hard, Director. Who's the music director?"
"She should be arriving in the country in two days. Chrissy Monroe—Norwegian-American. Cost a fair bit to bring her on."
"She's that important."
"And you? The guitar and violin."
Yeon-woo scratched his head, glancing at the guitar and violin propped in the corner of the room. Min-su had tracked them down in no time while Yeon-woo was still in the meeting.
"Yes—I think I'll be fine."
"Well, we can cover a certain amount in the edit. Still, get the basics down."
In his previous life he had cultivated instruments as part of the artistic polish needed to move naturally through European high society—but it had been a long time since he'd last touched one. Still, more than a decade of practice meant that even after four years away, a little work should bring the feel back.
Director Park's voice came through the receiver again.
"Ah, and the female lead. Why don't you look around for an actress you think you'd click with? I've been going through the candidates and none of them are really grabbing me."
"You mean the Lee Na-ri role."
"And think about the manager role as well. If you don't have anyone suitable, just say so—we do have candidates either way."
Ordinarily a casting director would handle this. Even on an indie film, Park Chan-hong's circle would never be without one. But since the two of them had agreed to build this project together as director and persona, Park was asking whether Yeon-woo himself might find an actress he felt he could work well with.
Actors he had already built chemistry with floated up in his mind.
"I'll look into it."
"Good. The moment the roles are locked, we start shooting. I've set this up with a skeleton crew. Our whole camera team won't even hit ten people."
There was an unmistakable lift in Director Park's voice on the other end of the line.
"You sound like you're in a good mood, Director."
"Heh. I suppose I am. Feels like I'm a first-time director making my debut all over again."
A titan of Korean commercial cinema who had twice drawn ten million viewers. Master Plan itself was already aiming for the ten-million mark. And opposite him, the lead of that film—Chungmuro's current blue-chip star, fresh off hits in both drama and film. The two of them suddenly teaming up not for a blockbuster but for an independent picture. If word of that got out, the entertainment industry would lose its mind all over again.
Whether they knew that or not, the two men were simply enjoying themselves with pure creative fire. Artists had always found their fun in doing slightly mad things, hadn't they?
Yeon-woo ended the call with Director Park and sank into thought.
"An actress I'd be comfortable working with…"
The first names that came to mind were, naturally, the three he had already shared a set with. He dialed Jeong Su-yeon, the friend among them.
The call connected almost at once.
"Huh? Yeon-woo—how did you know to call? I was just about to call you."
"…Huh?"