RACA 109

“That’s just a management matter.”

President Kim swallowed his irritation, and emphasized each word.

“That’s what I’m saying. If it’s about management, shouldn’t Eunsol make the selection first and then report it afterward?”

Unlike him, Jaebeom remained calm and composed. When Jaebeom started playing with Eunsol’s hair even though Eunsol told him not to, Eunsol caught his hand. Of course, that didn’t mean Jaebeom would stay still.

“And what’s this? So, exactly how much is a reasonable penalty? Are you saying we’ll have to cover the entire investment cost and compensation?”

The question sounded threatening. President Kim, realizing his own disadvantage, glared at Jaebeom with a frustrated gaze.

“That’s just the company’s standard rate.”

“So, how much is that? The company can set the investment cost at will, right?”

Eunsol looked at the part Jaebeom was arguing about. Even he found the term “reasonable” somewhat ambiguous.

“What’s this calculation based on the expected earnings for the remaining contract period? Who the hell sets that?”

As expected from a bank CEO, Jaebeom pursued the financial issue. He only instructed President Kim to draft a contract for a rookie as best as possible, but President Kim, who didn’t know much about the specifics, was sweating profusely.

“All of that is just a basic requirement for the company. If CEO Pyo doesn’t want it, I’ll take it out. Let’s take it all out.”

President Kim waved his hand in resignation. Jaebeom really wasn’t backing down.

“Still, the company invests money in actors while they’re active, so they can’t just walk away empty-handed when they terminate their contracts.”

This wasn’t even a joke. President Kim couldn’t hide his irritation at Jaebeom’s bright smile.

“So what? What do you want me to do about it?”

If they go that way, there’s no need for courtesy here. Watching him speak in his usual sly tone, Eunsol began to feel uneasy, wondering if he could even sign the contract here.

“Hmm… Let’s just take 5% of the profits. How about that?”

President Kim clicked his tongue at the seemingly generous remark. It was a sign of his refusal to take responsibility if he didn’t make any money.

“Hey, I need you to rewrite the contract. Uh, the one I just drafted. Yes, that one. Change it so that the actor has priority over the contract, and set the penalty fee to just about 1%.”

President Kim, judging that he wouldn’t lose anything anyway, decided to go all out. He glared at him as he finished the call and said,

“As you can see, I’ve made concessions. So Mr. Pyo, you’ll make sure to tell Chairman Jang to keep the investment, right?”

“Of course. As long as Eunsol is working here, we’ll continue investing.”

That meant he’d mercilessly walk away if Eunsol said he was terminating the contract.

“Ha…”

President Kim, who had been furious for a moment, took a deep breath. He couldn’t damage his dignity by swearing in front of an actor he’d be working with from now on.

“Stop it. Jaebeom-ssi, you’re acting like a troublemaker.”

While Director Kim was trying to compose himself, Eunsol also rebuked Jaebeom. It felt like he was pushing too hard, to the point where it was embarrassing for him to even hear.

“We need to make this clear. Once a contract is signed, it can’t be changed. There’s a reason I always bring a lawyer when I write one.”

“Huh… Did you have a lawyer with you when signing contracts in the past?”

“Everything except the first time. I don’t know anything about this, so I have to be careful.”

In that case, Eunsol had nothing left to say. Jaebeom said it was advice from experience, so what could he say? Unlike him, who had only ever been cast in minor roles, Jaebeom, who had worked his way up from child actor to adult, knew the business inside out.

“Eunsol-ssi!”

President Kim, who had been listening to their conversation, suddenly beamed. Eunsol was puzzled by the sudden change, but then President Kim spoke as if he had made a grand decision.

“We’ll do our very best for you at our company. We’ll pay closer attention to your activities, and if there’s any project you want, we’ll make it happen whenever possible. So please trust us and stay with us.”

Seeing him speak with his hands clasped together, Eunsol felt more burdened than touched. He wondered why he was acting like this.

“President Kim.”

Eunsol’s eyelids fluttered in embarrassment as he called out to President Kim. Even though that was all he had to say, Kim gave him a fervent look, demanding he tell him anything.

“I’m happy to play any role I can. Of course, it might feel like a burden knowing Jaebeom-ssi invested in the company, but I’ll definitely do my part, so leave it to me.”

“Of course. Eunsol-ssi, let’s work together for a long time!”

Just then, an employee arrived with a new contract. President Kim quickly presented it to Eunsol, and handed him a pen. The contents had been revised, omitting all the points Jaebeom had pointed out, and offering more favorable terms.

President Kim beamed as Eunsol signed.

“Please take care of me.”

The omega in front of him was a blessing.

Someone who could keep Pyo Jaebeom in check, whether he was active or not.

That’s why President Kim wholeheartedly welcomed him. It was a premature joy, born from not anticipating what was about to unfold.

“Now that your contract is complete, we’ll assign you a manager. It’s no exaggeration to say that an actor’s first impression is determined by their manager.”

President Kim, who has run a club for many years, paid just as much attention to the manager as he did to a new celebrity.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Eunsol agreed. When he was on set, he saw how the manager’s skills can influence how people treat actors.

Especially for rookies, a friendly and witty manager often helps them adapt better on set and is well-received by the staff.

Of course, after gaining a certain amount of experience, the actor’s own performance becomes more important.

“We have many good managers at our company, but unfortunately, we’re still a relatively new agency, so we lack experienced managers. But since we have high expectations for Eunsol-ssi, I’d like to recommend a few capable people.”

President Kim, who had begun his speech at length, pushed a tablet in front of Eunsol. It meticulously listed each manager’s career, the celebrity they were currently in charge of, and how long they had been managing them.

“They have considerable experience and primarily focus on nurturing new actors. However, as you can see, there are some celebrities they manage, so they might decline.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Typically, a single manager could manage up to five people. That was only possible because they usually drove minor actors, supporting actors, or auditioning newcomers around all day in the same car.

Eunsol wasn’t particularly dissatisfied with that. He wasn’t going to get a role right away anyway, and for now, auditions or even a lucky extra role would suffice.

“Please don’t misunderstand, Eunsol-ssi. I’m just saying that’s a possibility. So please choose while keeping that in mind, and I’ll contact the person you pick to discuss it.”

Eunsol nodded quietly and carefully examined the list of managers on the tablet.

“So it sounds like you’re planning to fill a vacant position with one of those managers who already manage several people?”

“Oh, no. Mr. Pyo, that’s not what I meant!”

“Then why would you give him the list and start making excuses right after?”

As Jaebeom started to tease President Kim again, Eunsol quickly grabbed his hand. Jaebeom, who was about to speak, lowered his gaze.

He smiled, turned his palms over and interlocked his fingers. They were so tightly intertwined that Eunsol couldn’t even take them off, but he decided it was okay and turned his gaze back to his tablet.

“It seems the company’s situation isn’t very good.”

It seemed he won’t be able to relax yet.

“I’ll assign Eunsol-ssi’s manager myself.”

“Yes?”

“Jaebeom-ssi.”

As Jaebeom finished speaking, President Kim and Eunsol each responded differently. President Kim looked dumbfounded, and Eunsol’s eyes were filled with reprimands, asking why he was doing that.

But Jaebeom ignored him and continued.

“What if we don’t have enough people to focus on Eunsol’s activities? We need to find someone with proven experience. He’s an omega, so he can’t just work with anyone.”

Eunsol was so embarrassed that he couldn’t bear to look at President Kim. Instead, he wiggled his finger at Jaebeom, signaling him to stop.

He really was overprotective. He had already been suspicious when Jaebeom insisted on coming with him to the agency, but from the contract to now the manager, it was endless.

He wondered if Jaebeom saw him more like one of their twin babies than a spouse.