The Price of a Rising Star
Team Leader Woo answered with a perfectly unbothered face.
"Yeah. I figured it was about time we shot something. And the terms aren't bad."
The implication was that we could have been filming commercials all along—she'd simply chosen not to.
When I made a face at the sheer audacity of it, Team Leader Woo gave a bland little smile. The face of a perfectly respectable-looking man went loose and easy.
"I told you before, remember? The ad offers keep rolling in."
"I thought you were joking."
"Why would I waste time joking about something with nothing in it for me?"
For all the chill in her words, the smile resting on her lips was light. It had only been fairly recently that I'd learned to recognize that particular brand of humor as Team Leader Woo's signature style.
"So what's the ad for?"
"Sneakers. A sports brand launching this season—the parent company's a major foreign corporation. They've just opened a new Korean branch, and it sounds like they're planning a pretty large-scale project as part of their branding push."
Sometimes Team Leader Woo seemed to forget I was a middle schooler. What was the point of using words like that if I couldn't follow? Though, of course, I could.
I looked over the documents she handed me at a leisurely pace, then asked, "What other ad offers have come in so far?"
"Hmm, even my memory has its limits. Want me to print them out for you? It'd run at least ten pages of A4."
I looked up, wondering if she was joking again, but to my surprise, her face was dead serious. When I hesitated, it was Team Leader Woo's turn to look exasperated.
"I think you're forgetting something—you're a bona fide rising star. And not just any rising star, but the rare kind who makes headlines with every project you take on. Of course the ad offers pile up."
"Then why haven't you mentioned any of this until now?"
"Ads come in heaviest for rising stars. It's most profitable to lock someone in when their price is at its cheapest. You're far too valuable an actor to be treated that way—which is exactly why I couldn't bring myself to tell you. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it."
I swallowed a hollow laugh at her thoroughly trusting smile.
"So this ad passed that standard of yours?"
"No corporate scandals, decent contract terms, a solid overall concept. There's no reason not to do it—that's my read, anyway. But if you hate the idea, we don't have to."
"......."
I quietly watched her add that consideration so thoughtfully.
Should I let it slide, or say something? The silence stretched on while I debated. A pause like that should have made anyone flinch, but the face across from me wore nothing but an easy smile.
Thinking over the time left on my contract, I made my decision.
"Team Leader. I'd rather you just be honest with me."
"Hm?"
"You don't need to sweet-talk me like that. I might understand if I were the rebellious type, but we both know I'm not."
The corners of her mouth slowly came down.
I could feel Manager Ahn Jinbae's eyes on me from the side.
"What I mean is—I'd prefer it if you just told me straight that this ad is a good opportunity for the company and for me, so I should take it. At least, that's how I'd rather hear it."
"......."
"If you tell me so gently that I don't have to do it if I don't want to—after everything you said before that—how am I supposed to refuse?"
I have no idea what kind of life Team Leader Woo has lived. I don't know how much success that subtly pressuring way with words has brought her career, either.
Saying "we're not stupid enough not to know how to raise an actor's price" is one thing—but "you're too valuable an actor to be treated that way" does sound nicer.
And I know there's nothing socially wrong with it. I know, too, that blunt honesty isn't always the answer. But still.
"If I had no idea what you were doing, that'd be one thing, but I can feel the intent behind your words—that's why I'm bringing it up. If I have to hear that same approach a few more times, I think it might start to feel unpleasant."
"......"
Team Leader Woo didn't look flustered in the slightest. She simply looked at me quietly, and I met her gaze just as evenly. The only one sweating bullets was Manager Ahn Jinbae beside us—I could practically feel it.
"Understood. That's a fair point. Anything else you'd like to say?"
"Yes. If there's something I should know about—an ad offer or anything else—please tell me in advance. And if there's something among them I do want to do, and the company asks me not to, then I won't do it. You already know I'm that kind of person, Team Leader."
"......I do."
The answer came late.
Team Leader Woo hesitated for a long moment, then let out a sigh.
"Let me apologize first. It's not because you're young. This is just how I handle the celebrities under me. I consider it my job to cut off every possible source of trouble before it happens. Even if you're well-behaved now, no one knows how you might change later. Not even you."
"......."
"I know exactly how arrogant celebrities can become. I've watched it happen with my own eyes, more times than I care to count."
There was something bleak in that voice—something unfamiliar.
"I used to think that admitting 'I can't handle this anymore' at that point was incompetence. That's why I do it this way... but that's my issue, not yours, and you had every right to feel put off. Thank you for telling me. I'll be more careful going forward."
"No—I'm sorry for putting you on the spot."
When I said it with a glance toward Manager Ahn Jinbae, Team Leader Woo gave a wry chuckle and shook her head.
Well, of course she'd be embarrassed, hearing all this with her subordinate sitting right there. Still, I couldn't exactly send Manager Ahn Jinbae out of the room out of consideration for her. For one simple reason: he's my manager.
"Anyway, back to business. Let's do this ad unless something comes up. I think it'll benefit you."
"Yes. Please let me know when the meeting gets scheduled."
When I answered agreeably, Team Leader Woo smiled and leaned back in her chair. The shoulders that were always ramrod straight finally slackened.
"Yeonjae, one favor."
"Yes?"
"I hope you never change."
"......."
I looked at her quietly.
I am a product of the company she works for. That product had asked to be treated like a person, and she had agreed. So it was only right that I do my part as well.
"Nobody stays the same forever, Team Leader."
"......I suppose not."
"I'll change too, eventually. But I'll try to change for the better. Since you'll be trying too, I assume."
Then I added that if I ever turned rude down the line anyway, she had my permission to just slug me one, hard.
Team Leader Woo was silent for a moment, then murmured back in a very small voice, "And what if you sue me for it?"
It was absurd, but not entirely without logic, so I answered in all seriousness that she needn't worry—I wouldn't sue.
Team Leader Woo, who had been wearing the strangest expression this whole time, collapsed onto her desk the instant I hooked my pinky finger in a solemn pinky promise not to press charges. And then she began to sob.
It took me far too long to realize that the strange expression had been her holding back laughter.
My fists clenched.
"......Team Leader. Haven't you laughed enough by now?"
"Sorry, ah... ha, I can't breathe. Haha—!"
Promises be damned, that insufferable laughter showed no intention of stopping—so insufferable I wanted to sue her on the spot. It even got to the point where a member of Team One knocked to ask if something was wrong.
When told it was just Team Leader Woo laughing, she answered with a face of pure horror that that couldn't possibly be true.
After laughing herself to tears, Team Leader Woo walked us all the way down to the first-floor lobby. The face saying take care looked, for once, at ease.
In the car home, Manager Ahn Jinbae murmured quietly that I'd worked hard.
***
"So you're shooting a commercial?"
Halt—
My hand froze mid-page-turn on the script. Denying it would've been pointless; that reaction alone told me he'd already heard.
I swallowed a sigh and looked at singer Kang Sehyun.
"How did you know? It's supposed to be confidential."
"This industry's tiny, come on. First commercial shoot, huh? You must be so excited. I shot my first solo one just a few months ago myself."
"You've been debuted for ages—why only now?"
"It was all group ads until then. Solo ones only became possible when I renewed my contract."
Interesting. I wonder if Noh Bihyeok knows yet.
I was nodding along quietly when Kang Sehyun latched onto me with a delighted look on his face.
"What kind of ad? Clothes? Food?"
"Hyung. Did you finish running your lines for today?"
"Finished, you brat. You scare me so much I practice twice as much as I used to."
He grumbled about how unfair it was, all while dragging out the chair beside me and plopping down—and I had to fight back a laugh.
A commercial, huh.
Me, shooting a commercial. I really was becoming a proper celebrity.
I hadn't watched much TV back at the orphanage, but these days I made a point of keeping up with it even if only for reference, so commercials weren't exactly unfamiliar territory. It was appearing in one myself that was a different matter entirely.
"Good work today. See you at the next shoot."
"Get home safe."
After filming wrapped, I gave a deep bow to singer Kang Sehyun, who was waving as he left.
The moment I got in the car, Manager Ahn Jinbae turned around.
"Seatbelt on?"
"Yes."
"Then we're off. It should take about thirty minutes to the meeting."
He told me I could nap on the way, but I said I was fine. Then I pulled out my phone and rewatched all the sneaker commercials I'd looked up yesterday.
The day I'd heard about it from Team Leader Woo, I'd gone straight home and hunted down every sneaker ad I could find. It went without saying, but even among ads for the same product, the results varied wildly depending on who was in them and how they were shot. The sneaker design, the actor's face, the song laid over the track—each one changed the whole feel completely.
But I didn't need to agonize over which of the countless ads to use as reference. I didn't know the details yet, but the keywords in the proposal were clear enough.
Freshness. Coolness. Vitality. And youth.
"They watched 'Goodbye, My Summer' and it left an impression on them. This season's whole target demographic is teenagers anyway, so I think they'll want to tie it to the Kim Hoyun character."
I mulled over Team Leader Woo's words as the ads played. On the screen, models were sprinting around energetically against a backdrop of colors so crisp they cooled you just looking at them.
So I just have to play the energetic Kim Hoyun, then?
Kim Hoyun was the type to spend every spare moment running around the schoolyard, so slipping into him wasn't much of a challenge at all. I was idly sketching out a few scenarios I could imagine them filming when, before I knew it, we'd arrived at the meeting.
We got there a leisurely thirty minutes early, but the other side was already waiting. A neatly suited man rose first and introduced himself with impeccable courtesy.
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Choi Eunseok, the AE in charge of advertising planning for the Lukke brand."
I'd naturally assumed he'd be an employee of the sports brand itself, but he turned out to be from an advertising agency. Apparently, when major corporations produce commercials, they outsource the whole planning stage to specialized firms. It was news to me—and honestly, rather fascinating.
"So choosing me as the model was your decision as well, Team Leader Choi?"
"No. The final decision always belongs to the advertiser. We only make the proposals. Of the model candidates we put forward, actor Lee Yeonjae seemed the closest match to the image Lukke is going for, which is why we reached out. Though I will say we recommended you quite enthusiastically."
"I see. Then—"
This really wasn't the occasion for interrogating him about one thing and another, but curiosity kept pulling questions out of me. I only came to my senses after firing off a flurry of them, and belatedly apologized—and for some reason, everyone burst out laughing.
I felt a little sheepish.
"It's quite all right. If anything else comes to mind, feel free to ask whenever you like."
"No, thank you for explaining everything so clearly."
"It was hardly anything. This may sound presumptuous, but actor-nim—I think you'd have no trouble adapting to office life at all, if you ever took the corporate route."
Even his joking offer—"may I recruit you later?"—was impeccably polite.
And so the meeting began on an easy, comfortable note, and proceeded quite peacefully.
Right up until I asked to make sure I'd heard correctly.
"......You're telling me I have to dance?"