Appearance Fee (1)
Bank balance: 10,882,820 won.
Kang Tae-san checked the number displayed on his smartphone banking app over and over again.
It was all thanks to his appearance fee coming in.
His heart pounded wildly at the sight of a sum of money he had never touched before in his life.
With this money, he could cover a year’s rent without worry and even send his younger sister So-yeon a more generous allowance.
The arrival of the funds made everything feel fresh and new.
‘No wonder everyone wants to be an actor.’
Ever since experiencing Song Yoo-na’s life, he had begun to feel a strange sense of fulfillment from the very act of acting.
The days of scrubbing meat restaurant grills and hauling bricks at construction sites already felt like a distant past.
Perhaps it was the sense of achievement combined with a touch of newfound leisure that brought a small change to Tae-san’s daily routine.
‘Who knew cooking could be this fun.’
The cooking skills he had gained from experiencing the life of Park Sun-hee, an ordinary housewife, proved far more useful than he had expected.
He had discovered the simple joy of coming home and preparing a warm homemade meal for himself.
However, there was a slight problem with the refrigerator in his studio apartment when it came to making home-cooked meals.
“Hmm, maybe it’s time to replace the fridge?”
The small refrigerator, which required bending down to check its contents, was covered in frost, and the freezer was so cramped that a couple of ice creams would fill it completely.
“At this rate, it’ll be hard to store ingredients properly.”
After stuffing fresh vegetables and meat he had just bought from the supermarket into the fridge, Tae-san finally made up his mind.
He immediately turned on his smartphone and began searching for refrigerators.
The screen was filled with large, double-door models that looked refreshing just to look at.
‘Wow…… so this is what modern refrigerators look like.’
But his admiration was short-lived. When he saw the price tags, his mouth fell open.
‘1.27 million won?’
It was more than two months’ rent.
No matter how much money he had suddenly come into, the frugal habits ingrained deep in Tae-san’s bones would not allow such luxury.
He quickly turned his attention to the secondhand trading app. There was a used double-door refrigerator in decent condition listed for 600,000 won.
‘600,000 won is still a lot of money, but……’
Just as he was about to contact the seller, having made the big decision for the sake of improving his meals and quality of life going forward, a call came in from an unfamiliar regional number.
“Hello?”
— Oppa! It’s me, So-yeon!
So-yeon’s excited voice came through the receiver. The noisy background suggested she was using a public phone.
“So-yeon! What’s going on? You even called.”
— I made it into the top ten! I’m ranked 10th this week!
“Really? Wow, my little sister is amazing! I told you, didn’t I? I said you’d definitely make it!”
Tae-san completely forgot about the refrigerator and felt genuinely happy. His sister’s voice sounded even brighter than usual.
— So, the thing is, I have to stay at the dorm for at least another month. No leaving allowed for now…… I called because I won’t be able to see you for a while. Are you doing okay?
“Of course! Don’t worry about me and just focus on yourself. Eat well and get plenty of sleep.”
— Okay! Filming must be tough for you too, right? I really want to see you act, Oppa.
“It’s nothing. Compared to what you’re doing, it’s a piece of cake. Hang in there, Kang So-yeon!”
— You too! Actor Kang Tae-san, fighting!
After exchanging brief words of encouragement, the call ended.
Tae-san held onto his phone for a while, smiling to himself.
He had been debating whether to buy even the 600,000-won used refrigerator, but he decided to stick with his current one, which was old but still worked fine.
‘If I want to properly support So-yeon from now on, I’ll need some extra savings anyway.’
A sudden thought occurred to him.
Idols were incredibly popular in this world, just like actors.
If So-yeon really made it into the final six and debuted as an idol, how would their lives change?
After the call with his sister ended, Tae-san’s mind grew complicated.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to do something he rarely did.
He opened an internet search and began looking up the lives of celebrities.
There were countless glittering success stories.
Articles poured out about idols who paid off all their trainee debts within three years of debut and bought their parents a house, and groups that received hundreds of millions of won in their first settlement payment.
Through those articles, Tae-san vaguely grasped the concept of the “settlement system.”
Companies counted the lesson fees, dorm fees, and meal costs they had invested in trainees as “debt,” then deducted that debt from all revenue generated after debut before splitting the remaining amount.
It was cruel, but from the agency’s perspective, it seemed like a reasonable system since they couldn’t afford to invest blindly, and it only applied if the trainee successfully debuted.
But as he continued searching, negative cases began to appear as well.
Especially on anonymous communities where idol fans gathered, there were several shocking posts.
The fates of idols who either failed or never debuted were devastating.
Instead of any reward for years of effort, they were thrust back into society burdened with massive debt.
The term “slave contract” appeared all too often.
Tae-san’s heart grew heavy. The mere thought of So-yeon going through something like that was horrifying.
‘I need to prepare for the worst-case scenario.’
It was a habit he had developed from living as someone born with nothing.
There was no guarantee that the best outcome would happen in reality, so Tae-san had learned through his life that preparing for the worst in advance was the only way to lessen the shock.
Once his thoughts reached that point, even the 600,000-won used refrigerator he had been considering moments ago suddenly felt like an extravagance.
Tae-san closed the secondhand trading app and instead searched for “savings account interest rate comparison.”
He planned to find the highest-interest product from a major bank and pour his entire appearance fee into it.
Just as he was about to head out the door with his wallet and bankbook to visit the nearest bank branch, his smartphone rang.
Beep—
The screen displayed the name “Director Yoo In-kyu,” whose contact he had exchanged earlier.
“Yes, Director. This is Kang Tae-san.”
— Ah, Tae-san. Hello. Do you have time right now?
“Yes, I do.”
— I wanted to discuss the details of the short drama appearance offer I mentioned last time. Would you be available for a quick meeting?
Tae-san’s steps toward the bank came to an abrupt halt.
A bright smile immediately bloomed on his lips, the success formula acting = money firmly lodged in his mind.
“Of course. Where should I go, Director?”
***
SBC Broadcasting Station, 7th floor, Editing Room B-7.
Two men in drab hoodies sat in front of a monitor lit by the glow of raw footage inside the already dim editing room.
On the screen, Kang Tae-san, dressed in prison garb, was pressuring Eun Chae-won with a look of madness in his eyes.
“……Okay, that’s good enough for now.”
“Whew, I thought I was going to die.”
Director Sung Tae-man, who had just finished reviewing the edited footage, muttered with a satisfied expression.
Next to him sat Team B director Yoo In-kyu, his face etched with exhaustion.
Although all-nighters in the editing room were routine, this particular footage had taken an unusually long time to work through.
The delay was because he had agonized over how to edit Tae-san’s performance to make it feel more alive to viewers.
“In-kyu, how much production budget did you get for your short drama?”
Director Sung Tae-man, who had been smiling warmly at his junior slumped like melted slime, casually poked him.
“We’ve been approved for a total of 250 million won.”
“That’s going to be tight.”
In the broadcasting world, short dramas served as a gateway for new writers and directors, and they tended to prioritize artistic merit over commercial appeal.
That meant the budget was inevitably limited.
The maximum investment for a one-hour drama episode was around 200 million won.
Receiving 250 million was an exceptionally large amount, but when you considered that every expense—location scouting, staff wages, post-production costs, and actor appearance fees—had to be covered within that budget, it was still tight.
If any special makeup or CG work was required, the budget would be so strained that the production PD would have nightmares every night.
But Yoo In-kyu, who had spent years as an assistant director under Sung Tae-man, had already finished all the calculations in his head.
“It’s tight, but I’ve squeezed every last bit following what I learned from you, Senior. When it comes to wringing out a production budget like squeezing juice from dried squid, you’re the best.”
“Good mindset. But squeezing the lead actor’s casting fee won’t be easy. How much are you thinking for Kang Tae-san’s fee?”
Yoo In-kyu answered as if he had been waiting for the question.
“I’m thinking around 3 million won. I heard you set it at that amount for Record of a Criminal as well.”
That was the highest rate currently offered in the industry to a “top-tier rookie.”
Yoo In-kyu thought it was a reasonable amount.
But as soon as he heard it, Sung Tae-man let out a hollow laugh.
“Hey, 3 million? You were going to settle for just that?”
“Isn’t that too low?”
“It’s not just low.”
Sung Tae-man turned his chair to face Yoo In-kyu directly.
“Listen carefully, In-kyu. The 3 million we offered in Record of a Criminal was the price before the actor named Kang Tae-san became known to the world. We were lucky enough to find a raw diamond on the street and bought it at a fire-sale price.”
He pointed at Kang Tae-san on the screen with his finger.
“You saw the first episode you edited, right? Once it airs, that guy’s value will jump at least tenfold. You’re trying to buy a luxury bag that’s about to sell out at its pre-release price.”
Yoo In-kyu couldn’t easily accept it.
“Still, he’s a rookie with no filmography to speak of. No matter how good his acting is, wouldn’t 3 million be enough to satisfy him?”
At that naive reply, Sung Tae-man raised one corner of his mouth and countered.
“In-kyu. Does the Kang Tae-san you saw really look like some clueless rookie who knows nothing about the industry?”
Yoo In-kyu couldn’t immediately answer “Yes!” to Sung Tae-man’s meaningful question.
“Then…… how much should I offer an actor with no track record? I’ve never seen a case like this before, so I’m not sure.”
“That’s the trap, In-kyu.”
“What trap?”
“Having no track record doesn’t necessarily mean he has no acting experience at all.”
Sung Tae-man’s eyes gleamed with confidence.
While filming Record of a Criminal, he had spent a long time thinking about the man named Kang Tae-san.
He had already formed a perfect hypothesis in his mind.
“Think about it logically. Do you really believe that level of interpretation and emotional control could come from self-study? That’s ridiculous. My guess is that this guy either formally studied acting overseas or honed his skills grinding away in some unknown theater troupe. Then he quietly returned to Korea and was waiting for his chance.”
It was an absurd theory, but Sung Tae-man’s voice was full of conviction.
He even added a plausible example.
“James Jin was the same. When he first appeared in Korea, everyone thought he was some random rookie who had dropped out of nowhere. Later we found out he was a monster who had performed on Off-Broadway stages in New York for nearly ten years. Kang Tae-san could be the same type. He’s just not the kind of person who goes around bragging about his experience.”
What his senior said didn’t seem entirely wrong.
Tae-san’s acting was far too seasoned to belong to a true rookie.
“But doesn’t he seem too much like a native Korean for that? There wasn’t any trace of a Korean-American accent or vibe.”
“Hey, there are plenty of language geniuses among actors. Accent correction? If you put your mind to it, that can be done in a few years. The fact that he erased every trace of it so perfectly is actually more proof of his incredible acting ability, don’t you think?”
Sung Tae-man concluded with self-admiration for his flawless logic.
Convinced by the plausible reasoning, Yoo In-kyu could no longer find words to refute it.
‘Could he really be from overseas? Is that why he was so confident? Maybe he was indifferent to the lead role offer for the short drama because he’s already experienced bigger stages……?’
Yoo In-kyu’s mind grew complicated.
His gaze returned to Kang Tae-san’s face on the monitor.
Perhaps because of what his senior had said, he now felt as if an aura of a skilled overseas actor was emanating from Tae-san’s face.
“Agh, damn it. If Senior is right, I’ll have to redo the entire production budget plan.”
“Keh keh keh. Suffer for it, you punk.”
Director Sung Tae-man stretched grandly, already thinking about escaping the editing room, but Yoo In-kyu remained seated, scratching his head furiously.
‘That guy’s going to make a great director. He’ll be just like me soon.’
Looking at his junior’s increasingly sparse hair, Sung Tae-man smiled contentedly.