The Ten Million Won Offer
In front of a quiet café tucked in an alley beside the Media Center building in Sangam-dong stood a weathered wooden sign crudely painted with a brush. Among broadcasting industry insiders, the place was known as a hidden gem for coffee.
Yoo In-gyu arrived first and pushed open the door. The rich aroma of coffee mingled with the scent of aged wood greeted him. Dark brown wooden furniture bearing the marks of time and warm interior lighting created a calming atmosphere. One wall was covered with movie and drama posters left by industry people, while an old turntable in the corner played soft jazz.
Yoo In-gyu ordered from the gray-haired barista.
“Today’s coffee, please.”
“Would you like it hot?”
“No, iced, please.”
Normally he would have enjoyed the signature drip coffee hot and relaxed, but today his throat felt parched, so he chose it cold.
Today was different. He was no longer the assistant director of Team B. He was the main director meeting an actor for his own project.
Soon, through the window, he spotted Kang Tae-san approaching. Yoo In-gyu unconsciously straightened his posture.
Tae-san wore a plain gray sweatshirt, ordinary jeans, and worn black canvas shoes—an outfit with no trace of effort. In truth, Tae-san had little interest in fashion and saw no point in spending money on clothes. Yet to Yoo In-gyu, still under the spell of Sung Tae-man’s hypothesis, the look appeared deliberate.
‘……He really has a distinct style.’
Yoo In-gyu admired inwardly. Without a single flashy brand logo, the clothes were faithful to their basics. Broad shoulders and long legs forged by hard labor gave even simple garments a perfect fit, making his clean appearance stand out all the more. He looked like a Hollywood actor caught in a paparazzi shot—effortlessly stylish.
Tae-san entered, greeted him politely, and took the seat across from him.
“You arrived first, Director. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“Not at all. I came too early. What would you like to drink?”
“What’s good here?”
“Most people order iced americano. This place also makes a solid iced vanilla latte and regular latte. Order whatever you like.”
Tae-san’s eyes widened slightly. He stared at the menu in confusion.
‘Iced americano? Iced vanilla latte? What kind of code is that?’
He rarely visited cafés. To him, the 300-won vending-machine mix coffee tasted best, and he had always thought spending money on coffee was better used on triangular kimbap. Even though low-priced cafés had become common lately, the menu offered no clues.
After a moment’s hesitation, he asked carefully.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything called iced americano or iced vanilla latte. Could you tell me what those are?”
The question made Yoo In-gyu recall his conversation with Sung Tae-man.
‘What if Kang Tae-san is an overseas actor?’
Could a young Korean really not know the common abbreviation “iced americano”? Only one possibility existed.
‘……Maybe he really did grow up abroad. If he lived overseas, Korean shorthand might feel unfamiliar.’
Yoo In-gyu hid his surprise and smiled gently.
“Ah, my apologies. I used abbreviations out of habit. Iced americano and iced vanilla latte.”
“Ah…… Then I’ll have an iced americano, please.”
A short while later, Yoo In-gyu placed the single-episode drama script he had prepared on the table. Its title was The Observer. It was a scenario he had poured years of sleepless nights into completing.
“You must have received the script already. Did you read it? I’d like to hear your honest thoughts.”
Yoo In-gyu waited nervously, like a job seeker facing an interviewer. Most rookies would offer the usual polite praise. But this was Kang Tae-san.
“Yes, I read it. It was an interesting story.”
Tae-san answered plainly. Then he pointed to a page and asked,
“Director, there’s one part I didn’t understand. Why does the protagonist, after returning to the past, approach a bystander who seems unrelated instead of confronting the direct perpetrator first? The script doesn’t clearly explain the reason.”
From Tae-san’s perspective, the one who threw the punches was obviously the worst. Why bother with someone who had done nothing? The question came from pure curiosity.
The moment he heard it, Yoo In-gyu felt as though he had been struck on the head.
‘……As expected!’
He hadn’t imagined Tae-san would grasp the script’s hidden intent so precisely. The true tragedy of school violence wasn’t only the perpetrator’s actions, but the countless bystanders who nurtured the monster through silence and indifference.
“It wasn’t the central theme, but I wanted to briefly highlight that point through the scene. I’m impressed you caught it.”
“Hmm, I see.”
Tae-san responded politely, though he hadn’t fully grasped the explanation. Yet Yoo In-gyu’s mind was already racing again.
‘He’s still not enough. Far from enough.’
An actor with this level of insight could never be an ordinary rookie. Within the tight 250-million-won budget, he had to find more money somehow.
‘Let’s scrap the final ending scene instead of using sloppy CG. With Kang Tae-san’s acting, facial expressions alone might suffice. That saves five million won. I’ll beg my senior from the broadcasting department for the school location and turn it into a sponsorship. I have to cut the rental fee somehow.’
After running the numbers, he reached a resolute decision.
‘If it’s still short…… I’ll take it out of my own directing fee.’
He refused to lose the best actor over a few pennies on his debut project.
Seeing Yoo In-gyu fall silent, Tae-san seized the moment to ask the question he had been holding back.
“Director, I don’t think I’ve asked yet—how much is the appearance fee?”
“……Tae-san. I’ve thought long and hard about this…… I’m sorry, but—”
Tae-san braced himself for a lower offer, but Yoo In-gyu continued.
“The appearance fee we can offer for the lead role is…… ten million won. That’s our absolute limit. I’m truly sorry.”
“…….”
Silence fell. Kang Tae-san’s mind went completely blank.
‘Ten…… million won?’
That sum matched his entire savings plus his most recent appearance fee—the money he had scraped together working meat restaurants, convenience stores, and construction sites without a single day off. And now this director was offering ten million won for a single one-hour drama that would take only a few days to film.
‘Did I mishear? Was it one million?’
Without even trying to mask his expression, Tae-san simply blinked in shock. Yoo In-gyu interpreted the reaction in his own way.
‘Damn…… Was it still not enough? What if he thinks I undervalued him?’
His heart sank. He leaned forward desperately.
“Of course, I know this amount is far below your worth. I feel ashamed myself. Honestly, the Korean drama production environment—especially for single-episode dramas like ours—is extremely difficult. It can’t compare to overseas sets. Even ten million won is something I barely managed by squeezing every other production cost. Please understand this is my sincere offer……”
Yoo In-gyu kept emphasizing the gap between Korea and abroad, determined to secure Tae-san at any cost. Tae-san, however, had no knowledge of industry rates in either place. He was simply bewildered.
‘They’re offering me ten million won even in such poor conditions? To me? Why?’
After a long silence, Tae-san finally spoke.
“Ah…… I see. I understand.”
To Yoo In-gyu’s ears, it sounded like reluctant acceptance tinged with disappointment. He clasped Tae-san’s hand across the table.
“Tae-san, money aside, I believe only you can play this protagonist. I’m begging you—please appear in the drama.”
“Yes, Director. I’m grateful for the opportunity. I’ll do my best.”
“Really?!”
Yoo In-gyu shot to his feet, gripping Tae-san’s hand tightly.
“Thank you! Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I’ll make it the best work possible!”
Relieved and overjoyed at finally casting his genius actor, he excitedly laid out the schedule.
“We’re planning about eight shooting days. I’ll adjust everything to fit your schedule! The broadcast is likely slated for SBC’s year-end single-episode drama festival in prime time. We’ll need to schedule a script reading and fitting soon. Just let me know what times work for you……”
While listening, Tae-san did the math in his head.
‘Eight days for ten million won…… That’s 1.25 million won a day.’
At the meat restaurant, twelve hours of work earned barely over 100,000 won. Now he would earn more than ten times that in a single day. He still didn’t fully understand why the compensation always felt so generous to him, but one thought was clear.
‘I have to deliver work worth every won.’
Thus, Kang Tae-san’s casting as the lead of the single-episode drama was confirmed.