The Ad Doesn't Need a Bed
"Ha, seriously. How much is too much? This is getting ridiculous."
A man's grumbling voice filled the room.
"How much more do we have to throw at him? How many more times do we have to call before he finally comes over?"
"What can you do? Ask anyone right now who the hottest celebrity in the business is, and a hundred out of a hundred will say Lee Yeonjae."
"I know that, but... at this point, shouldn't he be biting?"
The man, whose face was worn ragged, heaved a sigh.
When did I even get home last night? I can't remember.
He worked at an advertising agency, and for days now he had practically been living at the office. It had all started because the client had thrown a tantrum, screaming that they had to land Lee Yeonjae no matter what it took.
Son of a— then just offer more money. That's how it works.
A company without money, and yet with an appetite that gross. Typical.
And how exactly am I supposed to secure Lee Yeonjae with that budget?!
Apparently the man had yet to learn that companies without money tend to be short on conscience as well.
Describing Lee Yeonjae in the current advertising world took exactly one sentence.
The one and only actor who won Best Actor at Cannes with his screen debut.
Not just that — the first Korean ever to do it, and the youngest Best Actor winner in the world. At this point, even estimating how high Lee Yeonjae's market price had climbed was nearly impossible.
Well, to be fair, he was pulling figures like that from his very first ad... so what must he command now?
You couldn't talk about Lee Yeonjae without mentioning 'Lukke' sneakers — his first commercial, and his only one. After word got out about the fee he'd received for it, the industry had been in an uproar for quite a while.
...Even for a rising star, isn't that way too much money?
Everyone had whispered behind their hands — and then immediately understood why that Team Leader Woo of theirs doted on and treasured the boy so fiercely.
So the question is, how much do we offer? That's the problem.
The man had reached out to Wooyeon Entertainment countless times, but his calls never even made it as far as Team Leader Woo's desk before being bounced straight back.
He was in the middle of a vivid daydream — grabbing the client by the collar and screaming, "If you want Lee Yeonjae so badly, then spend some actual money!!" — when another employee suddenly cursed.
"...Damn it. Hey. It's over."
"What?"
"Game's done. Choi Eun-seok already snagged Lee Yeonjae."
"What?? He's working with them again?"
The employee held up his phone with a hollow look on his face. The man scrambled over and read the message floating on the screen.
A long while later, the man collapsed into his chair and muttered:
"...What the hell am I supposed to tell the client?"
The employee beside him answered bitterly.
"Just tell them Myeong-u already snapped him up. They don't have the weight to go toe-to-toe with Myeong-u anyway — if they've got any sense, they'll hear it and give up."
"Ugh. Yeah. Honestly, that's a relief, in a way."
"Well, there is one piece of good news. We get to go home now."
Watching his coworker force a smile onto a face that held not a shred of joy, the man gave a hollow laugh of his own.
"Right. It's dead in the water anyway. Might as well go home."
"Man, I'm so jealous of Lee Yeonjae, though. He took home that kind of money from his first ad — imagine what he's getting for his second."
"No kidding. It'd blow us away, but for him it's probably just business as usual."
"Exactly. He must be used to it by now. Ahh~ so jealous. So, so jealous."
The two of them shuffled wearily out of the office, muttering something about grabbing a bottle of soju together, the way broke little salarymen do — utterly unaware that Lee Yeonjae, upon hearing the news of the fee being offered for him, had been so stunned he'd tossed and turned all night.
Today was the day of the preliminary meeting before signing my second advertising contract.
When I stepped into the room set aside for the meeting, a familiar face was waiting — one I hadn't seen in a long while.
"Hello, Team Leader Choi."
"It's good to see you again, Actor Lee."
His polite expression melted into a gentle smile.
"I did send you a message about it, but let me say it in person — congratulations on winning Best Actor. Truly."
"Thank you."
Just how much time would have to pass before I stopped hearing about that award? Burying the thought, I bowed deeply.
"I know the contract isn't signed yet... but I'm delighted that I get to plan one of your commercials twice now. Thank you for giving me this opportunity."
"Not at all. Please, have a seat."
The man before me was Team Leader Choi Eun-seok, an AE — head of ad planning — at the agency.
We'd first met over the 'Lukke' sports sneaker commercial, and now we were meeting again over the new bed advertisement for Myeong-u Group's latest launch.
Twice together already, huh.
"I heard you like lemon tea, so I placed the order in advance. If there's anything else you'd like, just say the word — anything is possible."
"...Thank you."
Team Leader Choi had become noticeably more deferential and formal than the last time we'd met.
Back then it felt a little more relaxed.
I knew it couldn't be helped, but the shift left me with a strange, slightly bitter feeling.
Then again, I suppose that's what years in the entertainment business do to a person.
Team Leader Choi's eyes, which had been sweeping over me quickly, suddenly curved into crescents.
"Actor Lee. Honestly... even if this contract falls through, it doesn't matter to me. I've already gotten what I wanted."
"Pardon?"
As if sharing a secret, Team Leader Choi smiled and leaned in.
"This might make me sound pathetic, but seeing your face today was worth the trip all on its own. I've watched Twins five times."
"...Five times?"
"Yes. And I'm going again tonight."
Seeing my stunned expression, Team Leader Choi laughed.
"When something hooks me, I usually just watch it over and over on repeat — but with Twins, I come away feeling something different every single time. The lingering feeling when the end credits roll is incredible too. I've lost count of how many times I've told my girlfriend she has to see it."
Team Leader Choi rambled on for quite a while, mixing stories about Twins with anecdotes from his personal life.
None of it was empty flattery — meaningless chatter thrown out to inflate my ego.
Those words, half of them genuine, accomplished exactly the 'goal' Team Leader Choi had intended.
Impressive. Truly impressive.
I was floored. How had he picked up in one glance that I was uncomfortable — and how had he found the perfect way to fix it in the same breath?
I swallowed my awkward laugh and nodded to show I was fine now.
Whether his instincts were simply that razor-sharp, Team Leader Choi took my nod as his cue and promptly cut the small talk short.
So that's the kind of social finesse it takes to survive in this industry.
By the time all the prepared teacups had been served out and it was time to get down to business, the strange awkwardness had vanished completely.
"Let me walk you through the concept first. This is a proposal already approved by Myeong-u Group — you'd begin with the second scene."
I'd noticed it last time as well, but he was remarkably skilled at sliding back and forth across the line between professional and personable. He'd been so familiar just moments ago, inside the line — and now here he was outside it again, politely unfolding the documents, and I couldn't help but smile.
Nice guy.
Exactly the type of person I liked.
So I settled into the meeting feeling considerably more at ease.
And ten minutes later, my face had gone completely stiff.
"Actor Lee? Is something the matter?"
"......."
I hesitated at his careful question, then said it.
"I'm sorry, but I don't want to do this one."
"I— pardon?"
The color drained from Team Leader Choi's face in an instant.
"Wh-why...? If it's the terms you're unhappy with—"
"No. The terms are something you can work out with my company. I'm not concerned about those."
Team Leader Woo and CEO Jang would handle that just fine on their own. Was there really any need for me to worry about people as competent as them?
Truthfully, the figure Myeong-u had proposed was, by my standards, an unthinkable sum.
But that's that, and this is this.
I already had Team Leader Woo's blessing. With offers piling up from brands as famous as Myeong-u, I was told I could afford to turn down any proposal that didn't sit right with me.
Looking at Team Leader Choi's frozen face, I spoke calmly.
"The product in this ad is a bed, isn't it? And the story is about me — a kid in ragged clothes, sleeping on the street — being taken in by someone, getting new clothes, eating his fill, and then sleeping in that bed."
I looked down at the proposal.
A boy shivering on a cold, dark night, wandering the streets, finally collapsing. Where he falls is the front steps of someone's house. The people inside open the door without a moment's hesitation. Light spilling from the house illuminates the boy's face. He eats the food these strangers offer, changes into clean clothes, and lies down in a bed. Close-up on the boy's eyes as he lies there. On his face, one reads the unspoken thought: Am I allowed to have luck like this? Cut to black. Then the copy appears in white:
End every day with good fortune. From Myeong-u.
A cliché ad. In other words, a classic.
But that wasn't why I was turning it down.
This one was simply — unacceptable.
"Myeong-u is famous as a generous company that does a lot of charitable giving. Morin Orphanage, where I grew up, was sponsored by them, so I know firsthand."
Tail: Tracing the Traces, the drama I'd first appeared in as an extra, had also been an opportunity that came through a visit from a Myeong-u executive. In a way, Myeong-u's help was what made me a celebrity at all — so weaving that backstory into the narrative would probably play pretty well.
"I understand the intent behind it. It's indirectly telling the story of a kid from an orphanage who got a new life through sponsorship — with the bed as nothing more than a supporting prop, and Myeong-u's brand image as the real goal... am I right?"
"......Yes. That's correct."
His gaze darted busily. He was watching to see whether I was offended.
But I wasn't offended at all. He'd simply said what was true.
It wasn't as if I was ashamed of having grown up in an orphanage. But still...
"Team Leader. The important thing here isn't me — it's the ad."
"Pardon?"
"Are there really people out there who'll connect with this? I'm doing quite well for myself these days, you know."
Orphanage upbringing or not, the fact remained that the 'Lee Yeonjae' of today was one of the most successful actors in the industry. That title meant nothing to me — but it would mean something very different to everyone else watching.
"No matter how hard the past was, I'm a kid who now wears expensive clothes, lives in an expensive house, and travels wherever I please. If someone like me films a spot like this, it won't read as sincere. If anything, some people will find it uncomfortable."
Worst case, they'd measure it against their own reality and end up feeling miserable.
And it could be my fans — the Biyeon — who felt that way.
My head went cold in an instant.
"I'm sorry, but I don't want to shoot this proposal. I think you should look for someone else."
So I said it, plainly and firmly.
Truthfully, I did feel a little guilty. A kid who knew nothing about advertising, lecturing pompously about this and that.
Worse, I'd flat-out panned the work right in front of the person who'd planned it — so he was surely feeling just as lousy as I did.
I lifted my head with those thoughts in mind, and then...
"......."
Why did that man look like that?
Team Leader Choi gritted his teeth and fought to contain the shiver running through his body.
Holy hell. He's talented.
If a kid like this worked under me...
God, it's such a waste.
He was confident he could fast-track anyone to assistant manager within three years. Why, of all things, did he have to be an actor?
So overwhelming was his delight that Team Leader Choi failed to notice the real point — that Lee Yeonjae being fifteen mattered far more than Lee Yeonjae being an actor.
"Everything you've said is absolutely right."
Team Leader Choi nodded readily. The concept he'd originally planned had been different entirely; it was the client's demands, forcing revision after revision, that had produced this mess.
He'd figured that with a heartwarming OST slapped on, no one would dare call it trash...
Getting feedback like this from an actor. Unbelievable.
The boy was the real deal. He was half out of his mind wanting to poach him onto his team right now.
He crushed down that greed and asked the important question first.
"Do you... happen to have a concept of your own in mind, Actor Lee?"
He'd meant to keep his expectations in check, but the excitement bled right through his voice.
Despite the weight of the question, Lee Yeonjae simply smiled, bright and easy.
"Does a bed have to be in a bedroom?"
"...?"