Chapter 118
Chapter 118
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Again, Writer
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Still, people’s hearts are fickle. It would’ve been even better if ‘Promise’ had blown up back-to-back.”
“There’s a saying: overdoing it isn’t always better. You’ve got to hold back on the greed.”
“Oh, you know that one too?”
“Of course. I’ve got variety shows to handle solo too—basic common sense is a must. Pros prepare for every situation.”
Binnie’s eyes sparkled as she spoke.
The mention of basic common sense brought one person particularly to mind.
His encyclopedic knowledge had even left her, Binnie, in awe.
It was hard to believe he faced disdain in the pure literature scene.
“Right. Our Binnie’s all grown up. Not just in body, but brains too…”
“Cut it there, Oppa?”
“Ahem! Comp!”
The manager cleared his throat awkwardly.
He’d gotten so proud he’d let slip without a filter.
“Anyway, make sure this interview goes smoothly. If possible, steer the focus toward ‘The Start of Farewell.’”
“Got it. Don’t worry. I’ll keep questions about ‘Promise’ to a minimum.”
“Yeah.”
With it being a double title track, questions about ‘Promise’ were inevitable.
The album was already out—no edits possible.
So this would have to do.
‘Even at this level, it’s no walk in the park. I thought hitting mainstream status would let me call the shots.’
Binnie’s gaze turned vacant as she stared out the car window.
As a trainee, she’d thought debuting meant owning the world.
A rosy future ahead.
But debut was just another beginning.
Competition, and more competition.
Standing at a new starting line brought new goals.
Yet achieving them didn’t change much.
“Not tired? First time running music shows solo—you must’ve been stressed. It’s a ways off; catch a nap.”
“I’m good. Feeling great, actually. The fans’ cheers gave me a boost.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Ahem. Hey, Binnie.”
The manager glanced cautiously at his smartphone mounted on the car holder as he broached the topic.
Even mid-conversation, the chat room kept buzzing with messages.
“What? Something happen?”
“Nah, not that. Just one thing I wanna ask.”
“What?”
Binnie tensed up for a split second.
Guilty conscience kicking in.
But her face stayed cool.
“You know that lyricist who did ‘The Start of Farewell’? Mind getting their contact? Boss is interested.”
“The boss?”
“Yeah. If you don’t know, could you ask Elder? Or if it’s awkward, I’ll handle it. Got his number.”
“Probably won’t pan out.”
Binnie replied with a peculiar expression to the manager, who kept sneaking peeks via the rearview mirror.
He looked puzzled.
Lyricists should snatch up any gig that comes knocking.
Especially after back-to-back homers like this.
“Huh? Why? Strike while the iron’s hot. I checked—they’re a total newbie.”
“That’s why no one knows their face. Pseudonym, age, gender, address—all secrets.”
“Yeah, what’s the deal? Debuting means showing your face everywhere. If they wanna stick in this industry.”
The manager shook his head, utterly baffled.
This lyricist’s path strayed too far from the norm.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Huh? How?”
“Can’t say more. I was sworn to secrecy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The manager glanced back at Binnie in the rearview.
But she clamped her mouth shut, signaling no more.
Woo Ji-hyun had already whined about manuscript delays.
Her real motive was different.
‘Better if only Elder Oppa and I know.’
Just one song, but Binnie saw it instantly.
Woo Ji-hyun’s talent was the real deal.
She didn’t want him shuttling between this singer and that.
Better to collaborate steadily when she needed him.
‘Oppa said he wants to focus on writing for a bit anyway.’
Binnie stuck out her tongue cutely.
No one around to see it.
“Binnie. Won’t tell me?”
“Can’t say more. But they’re real. Friends with Elder Oppa too.”
“Then I’ll hit up Elder.”
“Won’t stop you, but good luck.”
Elder was a saint to friends, a blade to outsiders.
Especially with his buddy Woo Ji-hyun involved—no way the manager pries out that contact.
‘The other route’s through player Lee Woo-hyung, but no one’d guess that. He’s overseas anyway.’
Binnie organized her thoughts on Woo Ji-hyun, then shifted to the upcoming interview.
She’d memorized the script, but reporters could throw curveballs.
Prep was key.
* * *
After a brief detour, Woo Ji-hyun returned to his main gig.
Diving back into writing.
Then Jo Jin-gu called about something to discuss, so he headed to Frontier Management’s office.
“You’ve been coming by a lot lately.”
“Sorry to drag you out, Writer. Especially with your new work in the works.”
“No biggie. Outline’s done ages ago—just tweaking the storyline and episodes. And this is overseas expansion—not something to phone in.”
“Still, Incheon to here ain’t close.”
Jo Jin-gu looked apologetic.
He’d half-stepped from writer management, but Woo Ji-hyun still needed his care.
Woo Ji-hyun was Frontier Management’s founding hero.
Topping sales even now.
“Actually, thinking of moving to Seoul. Lease is ending soon.”
“Seoul’s great. Especially for me.”
“Huh? Moving?”
Min A-rang’s eyes widened as she entered with tea, barely seated.
News to her as handler.
“Lease ending soon. Mulling it over.”
“Seoul makes sense for work. Funds no issue. Buying this time?”
“Dunno. Apartment like mine now? Funds short. Sticking to jeonse for now.”
Sports car meant hefty fixed costs.
Earnings outpaced it, but not enough for a new Seoul place cash.
“I could help there. Just advancing what’s yours anyway. Our firm’s solid, as you know. Haha.”
“True, that’s an option.”
“Taiwan sales are huge too. Paperback’s doing well in stores. More than our old rental shop days at 10,000 spots.”
Jo Jin-gu pitched advancing settlement, weighing options.
Woo Ji-hyun wasn’t thrilled.
“You know I hate debt, President.”
“Debt? It’s advance settlement. Need a big sum?”
“Yeah, not just tens of millions.”
“Two hundred million’s doable.”
“Haha. Appreciate the thought.”
Woo Ji-hyun chuckled, shaking his head.
Monthly settlements were fat, but two hundred million? Takes time.
Still, gratifying.
Meant his value hit that mark easy.
“Good call, Oppa. Avoid debt if you can.”
“You’re not Frontier staff?”
“Staff or not, gotta speak up. Company policy too. Strings attached to two hundred million advance?”
“Ahem.”
Min A-rang shot Jo Jin-gu a knowing smile.
He coughed awkwardly.
“Knew that, obviously. Think I’m clueless?”
“Sure. Decade vet now? Age creeping up…”
“Enough?”
“Hehe. Later.”
Min A-rang grinned, exiting with presence asserted.
Jo Jin-gu recomposed.
“Joking tone aside, I’m serious. Need an advance? Anytime.”
“Got it. I’ll remember.”
“To business?”
Woo Ji-hyun nodded.
Not just Taiwan calling him here.
“Partnering with Manbai Publishing in Taiwan sparked a plan. A mindset shift, you could say.”
“What plan?”
“Publishing your book. Paperback.”
“Huh? Genre publishers will push back.”
Woo Ji-hyun tilted his head.
Management firms couldn’t do paperbacks for reasons.
Big ones: rental market collapse, and publisher backlash.
Genre houses clung to turf despite rentals tanking.
Minimize losses, eke profits.
So managements couldn’t publish.
“Aiming at rentals? Yeah. But I target individual readers. Know doujinshi?”
“Yeah, vaguely. Like subculture fan books?”
“Right. Specialized there, but others do it too. I’ll add a twist: print on applicant demand. Fans wanna collect—hit break-even with enough orders. Premium strategy boosts profit.”
“Hmm.”
Woo Ji-hyun stroked his chin.
Seemed solid on reflection.
Manuscript ready—no extra work.
God of Martial Arts, Return even had illustrations done.