The Reading (2)
“Kang Tae-san?”
Kang Tae-san was just about to step out of the reading room with Director Yoo In-gyu when SBC Drama Center Director Kim Hak-yeon called out to him.
“In-gyu. Let’s talk for a minute before you go.”
“Ah, yes, sunbae-nim. Of course. Shall we include Tae-san as well?”
“Sure. I have a few questions for him.”
“Understood.”
Kim Hak-yeon led them into a small conference room beside the main hall. A question mark formed on Tae-san’s face as he followed.
Though unfamiliar with broadcasting station hierarchies, Tae-san could tell from the way people treated the man and the weighty title “Center Director” that he was someone important.
Years of part-time jobs had taught him a simple truth: when a high-ranking person sought you out, there were usually two possibilities.
One was that you had done excellent work and were about to receive praise.
The other was that you had caused such a massive problem that damage control was impossible.
He had never personally experienced the latter, but the former had happened often enough for Tae-san to feel certain.
This is definitely the latter!
Quick-witted and perceptive, Tae-san had always been praised for his sharp instincts. He recalled the center director’s indifferent expression during their handshake before the reading and the intense gaze he had felt throughout the session.
Clearly, the man did not like him.
“Have a seat. Would you like some tea?”
“I’ll go get it. Would you like coffee, Tae-san?”
“……Yes.”
Yoo In-gyu hurried off to the café on the first floor. Watching him leave, Tae-san’s suspicion solidified.
Damn. The middleman is gone. This is one hundred percent the bad case.
Tae-san deliberately kept his expression calm as he sat across from Kim Hak-yeon. The director’s stare was anything but casual, so Tae-san lowered his head slightly.
Whatever criticism came, he planned to accept it quietly. In any industry, clashing with those above you was a sure way to get buried. His goal was to appear as round and inoffensive as possible.
He must know exactly what kind of performance I gave.
Kim Hak-yeon studied the quietly bowed head of Kang Tae-san. Most newcomers would be nervous or try too hard to stand out in this situation, yet Tae-san showed none of that. If anything, he seemed calmer than the director himself, as though this meeting were perfectly ordinary.
“I enjoyed the reading today. I’ve heard a lot about you from the juniors.”
“Thank you.”
Tae-san kept his answers short, worried that saying too much might give the man ammunition.
“I heard this is your first time acting. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“That explains it. You have no rough edges at all. You absorbed the role completely.”
“……”
Tae-san glanced at Kim Hak-yeon, unsure what “rough edges” meant in this context.
Is he saying my acting was bad because I had no rough edges? Fine… better to just smile and stay quiet.
Instead of answering, Tae-san simply smiled. After all, people rarely spit on a smiling face.
Unfortunately, his smile only fueled Kim Hak-yeon’s imagination.
What’s with that composure?
“Ahem. If you don’t have an agency yet, you’ll be getting calls from all over. Choose carefully. If you need help, feel free to reach out. Since you made your debut with SBC, we should at least offer some support.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
Kim Hak-yeon found himself at a loss for words in the face of Tae-san’s clean, concise responses. The young actor showed neither anxiety nor curiosity, only quiet confidence in his own performance.
Normally, such praise would prompt questions about future opportunities or at least some flattery. Tae-san simply sat in silence, as if he had merely done what any actor should do.
“I brought the coffee. Here you go. Drink it on the way out. You two are the leads—you shouldn’t be late to the after-party.”
The three of them headed for the elevator, iced Americanos in hand. Once Tae-san was a few steps ahead, Kim Hak-yeon spoke quietly to Yoo In-gyu.
“That kid’s going to be huge.”
“His acting was good, right?”
“Good? His skill and his attitude are both extraordinary. This is the first time a reading has moved me this much.”
“Hearing you say that puts me at ease.”
“Ease? You think you can relax? You need to do your best. Meeting talent like him only happens once in a drama career, if you’re lucky.”
Kim Hak-yeon launched into an enthusiastic speech, apparently having forgotten his earlier concerns about Tae-san.
“Give it everything you’ve got. The actor is already ready.”
“Yes. I was actually talking with Sunbae Seong about Tae-san. We’re wondering if he might have studied abroad.”
“Abroad?”
“Yes. He doesn’t feel like someone who’s never acted before. You know, like James Jin……”
While the two men continued their whispered conversation, Tae-san sipped his iced coffee and thought.
He hadn’t realized how much of a problem it would be to have no agency. To the higher-ups, a complete rookie acting without representation seemed unacceptable. Without a proper channel for communication, any dissatisfaction would naturally build up.
Still, they’re not saying anything directly.
The fact that they spoke in such roundabout ways made the broadcasting station people feel surprisingly gentle. In his part-time job days, any mistake would have earned him a direct scolding or even immediate dismissal.
Yet even during filming, and now with the highest-ranking person in the drama department, everything was phrased indirectly, wrapped in layers of courtesy.
The horror stories he had only heard as rumors seemed not to exist in reality.
Well, they did cap filming hours at fifty-two per week recently. The culture must be changing little by little.
He recalled what Assistant Director Choi Song-ah had told him. Still, the lack of specific feedback left him somewhat frustrated.
But staying silent was better than stirring up trouble. Since the director had spoken to Yoo In-gyu, Tae-san figured he would have to coordinate more closely with the director during actual filming to address any shortcomings.
“Well then, enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll see you again soon, Actor Kang Tae-san. I’m rooting for you.”
“Thank you.”
Thus, Tae-san gained yet another powerful supporter through his extraordinary acting, though he remained completely unaware of it as the reading session concluded successfully.
At the same time, in a small private café near Gangnam-gu Office Station.
The man wearing a cap pulled low over his face was actor Park Min-jung, who had recently been gaining recognition through supporting roles in various dramas. He had also appeared on a popular variety show as a penny-pincher and boosted his popularity.
Thanks to the sudden flood of offers from agencies, he had been weighing his options when he finally connected with Kidari Entertainment—the place he had hoped for—and arrived with high expectations.
Park Min-jung, who had nurtured his acting dream through a university theater club, had debuted in films more easily than expected and quickly became known for his attractive looks and distinctive speech.
Although he had never received formal acting training, that very freedom was exactly the kind of actor Kidari Entertainment sought.
“Hello. Sorry I’m a little late. I’m Moon Jeong-gi from Kidari Entertainment.”
“Hello. I’m Park Min-jung.”
When Park Min-jung introduced himself, the part-timer at the counter glanced over.
Ha. I should’ve worn a mask too.
More and more people were recognizing him lately, which was exhausting. He pressed his cap down a little further.
“It must be tiring now that so many people recognize you.”
“Haha. Not at all. It’s part of the job if you want to be an actor.”
“We received your proposal. We at Kidari also wanted to build a good relationship with you, so we sent the offer. Have you had a chance to review the terms?”
In truth, Park Min-jung had been the one to contact them first. After receiving multiple offers, he had decided to reach out directly to the agencies he was interested in.
The problem was the reply he received. While polite, the contract terms were shockingly poor. Of course, as a newcomer he had no way of knowing the industry standards, but the offered signing bonus was only half of what other agencies had proposed.
It wasn’t as though the other agencies were small or unknown. They were major companies with famous actors under contract—one of the top three agencies in Korea that every newcomer dreamed of joining.
While Manager Moon Jeong-gi praised the works Park Min-jung had appeared in, the actor’s mind was entirely occupied with questions about the contract.
“Um…… would it be possible to adjust the terms? The signing bonus you offered is lower than I expected.”
Once the conversation reached a natural pause, Park Min-jung decided to cut straight to the point instead of beating around the bush.
“Is that so? What kind of figure were you thinking of?”
“It’s a bit awkward to say this myself, but other places mentioned roughly twice that amount.”
“Ah. I see.”
Manager Moon took a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee, looking unsurprised.
The anxious one was Park Min-jung.
Ah. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. But accepting at this amount would be overkill.
“Of course, Kidari is the place I want to join. I’m not saying this because of the money. Still, after hearing those numbers elsewhere, it’s hard to just accept……”
“That makes sense.”
“Haha. You understand, right?”
“Yes.”
“……”
Yet the Kidari manager remained completely unmoved. At this point, he should have at least offered to meet somewhere in the middle or suggested adjustments.
Park Min-jung’s right leg began to bounce nervously.
“So…… would it be possible to change the contract terms a little?”
“Ah. The contract terms?”
“Yes. I’m not asking you to match everything exactly. I’m just wondering if negotiation is possible.”
“That would be difficult.”
“……Ah.”
“For new actors, our signing bonus is fixed. We made the offer because your acting ability is outstanding and your future value is high.”
“Still, there must be exceptions.”
“Exceptions exist, but they don’t apply in this situation.”
Manager Moon answered politely but firmly. Park Min-jung felt a flash of irritation. So exceptions existed, just not for him? He wasn’t a complete rookie—he had three films and two dramas under his belt. He was a rising star.
“Ah. I see.”
He had heard that Kidari’s CEO, Choi Hyung-tak, had an excellent eye for talent. Being evaluated at a newcomer level instead of being actively recruited left a bitter taste.
Fine. It’s not like Kidari is the only agency in Korea.
With nothing left to say, the two stood up in an awkward atmosphere.
“Um, excuse me—are you Park Min-jung?”
The part-timer who had been glancing at him earlier approached with a pen and paper.
“Ah, yes. Thank you for recognizing me.”
“Oh my! I became a huge fan after watching your recent drama. Could I get your autograph?”
“Of course.”
Park Min-jung signed and even took a photo, his shoulders squared with pride.
This is how famous I am. You’ll regret not signing me……
“Huh? Where did he go?”
But Manager Moon had already left the café.
“This damn……”
Outside, Manager Moon was already on the phone.
“Yes, CEO. I just finished the meeting with Park Min-jung.”
Getting into his car in the parking lot, he reported to CEO Choi Hyung-tak.
“I thought he was a good kid, but just like you said, he tried to raise his conditions. Yes. I turned him down.”
He had followed his superior’s instructions exactly: reject any counteroffer.
Personally, he had wanted to secure Park Min-jung even with slightly better terms, believing the actor had real potential. But his boss had been firm.
—We’re not in a position to throw money at actors to bring them in, are we?
CEO Choi Hyung-tak had only one person he truly wanted to recruit.
Kang Tae-san.
Manager Moon knew this as well. But what could he do? The person they wanted hadn’t said a single word or made a single call.
—Let’s wait. If there’s a connection, we’ll meet eventually.