It’s neither a drama nor a film.
At best, it’s just a very short commercial.
And yet—
‘The director… really is someone impressive.’
Rowoon finally felt he properly understood why an overseas famous brand had specifically singled out Lee Jinmyeong by name.
Why people were willing to endure a three-year wait just to work with him.
He wasn’t called world-class for nothing.
On that big screen, the version of himself in motion looked almost like someone else.
‘I did feel it while monitoring on set, but…’
After passing through the magic of editing, the footage was, frankly, otherworldly.
How to put it…
‘Is that… me?’
The thought came to him unbidden, embarrassingly so.
“Wow…”
The manager, too, seemed full of admiration, letting out a low exclamation.
And no wonder. The commercial, despite being an ad, felt like watching a decent movie.
To be precise, like a 90-second trailer.
Rowoon on the monitor became many different people in that brief span.
From a perfect office worker to a worn-out one.
From a homey man who enjoys cooking to a happy person savoring his meal again.
And in the end, a fresh-faced youth with a beaming, guileless expression entirely different from the first impression.
The images flipping past made even the long-for-an-ad 90 seconds feel short.
“I thought that guy was just a funny fellow…”
The manager sounded dazed as he muttered this, apparently feeling the same.
Then:
“Rowoon. This will hit. This can’t help but hit.”
He turned to Rowoon and said it in a grave tone.
“With a commercial this well made, the response is going to be no joke.”
For the person who had filmed it, the praise felt a little embarrassing.
“And to slam a whole ninety seconds into prime time, no less. Taewoon’s basically gritting its teeth and declaring war.”
Ordinarily, TV ads run thirty seconds.
Of course, there are other variations like forty-five or sixty seconds.
But the most widely used is thirty, for a simple reason.
It’s the cheapest.
And the most efficient.
If it’s a sixty-second ad, you could run two thirty-second spots in that slot, so the unit price goes up.
‘And if the ad goes over a minute, viewers might find it boring. Then it backfires.’
Yet Taewoon put a ninety-second commercial in prime time.
Even with the same ad, there’s a huge price difference between slots with lots of viewers and those without.
The unit price also changes depending on which program it’s placed before or after.
That’s how much the exposure increases.
‘And that’s how many companies want those slots.’
The law of supply and demand applies here, too.
Lots of buyers, limited spots—naturally, the price rises.
The thirty-second unit price alone must be astronomical; Taewoon took three times that.
A gambit you can’t throw unless you’re confident.
It was hard even to guess how much money had been spent.
‘Thanks to that, the quality really did put movie trailers to shame, but…’
Rowoon felt a bit sheepish.
All he’d done was complete the commission as best he could.
Yet the returns seemed to be coming back twofold and more.
“Rowoon, you really don’t want to work with that director? Seeing this makes me feel even more reluctant to pass on it……”
“…For now, no. There’s also PD Han’s project.”
“Ah, right. True. Still, I didn’t realize he was that much of a talent.”
In the manager’s mind, Lee Jinmyeong seemed to have solidified as a “goof who can’t even get his words out.”
But the results were undeniable.
Since Gwiro, Rowoon’s karma score, which had been decreasing little by little, now dropped by a lot.
Watching the manager carefully finish recording the broadcast and even filming the screen, then uploading it here and there, Rowoon thought:
‘What the manager says is true, and it’d be a shame to miss PD Han or Director Lee Jinmyeong, for that matter.’
With just a single ad, the score had fallen by several hundred.
If he worked with him more, how much more could change?
The problem was, nothing could happen until Cheonghwa returned.
Building a career mattered, but not more than staying alive.
‘When will he be back…?’
Rowoon only hoped Cheonghwa wouldn’t be too late.
Maybe that earnest wish got through.
The next morning.
“…?”
Rowoon received a piece of news.
It wasn’t the news he’d hoped for.
But it was the kind that jolted him wide awake.
Because there were a bunch of messages from an unfamiliar number.
And they were labeled:
[Debt Collector]
“…Don’t tell me… I’m in debt?”
‘No—say it right. Even if there’s debt, it’s not my debt, it’s the original’s. …Though I’m the one who’ll have to pay it back.’
A bomb first thing after waking up.
Honestly, every day felt so new it was maddening.
‘The original’s karma… just how far does it go?’
Rowoon didn’t even dare to check the pile of messages.
Not when the very last one visible on screen read:
[It’s a mistake if you think you can keep dodging forever.]
‘No way… he didn’t borrow from loan sharks, did he…?’
It brought back what he’d thought when he’d first opened his eyes in the original’s body.
Back then, with no plausible filmography to speak of, he’d genuinely wondered how he had money to splurge on luxury goods.
Looking at a bank balance as skinny as in his previous life, he’d reached the quite convincing conclusion:
‘Ah, so he wasn’t the saving type… he was the splurging type?’
It had also played a part that the owner of this big, palatial home turned out to be the original.
—Not something the agency rented? It’s owned?
No matter how Buddha-like an agency, they wouldn’t provide such a palatial place to a middling actor.
But the government-certified registry had the owner’s name emblazoned on it, so there was no choice but to believe it.
—So, does the family have money?
So at the time, he’d thought he was the sort who basked in the family’s halo.
‘But if word of the amnesia got around and still no one contacted him… The manager also said the original hated talking about family.’
If you listened to the manager’s testimony, that’s how it was.
‘Even after the movie, there wasn’t any particular contact.’
There weren’t even exchanged messages to speak of.
There weren’t any family contacts saved in the phone either.
So Rowoon thought:
Ah. This person must have no luck with family, too.
In many ways the original and Rowoon were different, but when it came to having no family luck, they were similar.
In any case, after that initial shock on waking, money hadn’t been an issue, so he’d forgotten about it…
“Don’t tell me all this was debt…”
And where, how much, had he borrowed to be getting contacts that smelled not like first-tier banks but like third-tier lenders?
He felt a trauma stirring.
Memories rose up of every bit of income pouring straight into paying off debt like water into a bottomless jar.
It had been thanks to a father who racked up debts and then irresponsibly ran away and hid.
Even after Rowoon somehow paid it all off, he still had to keep pouring money into the household.
Beep-beep!
Rowoon’s anguish continued right up until the manager opened the door and came in.
“Jeez, Rowoon! The response is amazing. The folks at the company are going nuts. They’re asking when you’re coming by! Kah-hahat! I put in a stock buy order in advance before coming here, you know. I think this hits. This totally hits. I gotta buy shares before the second and third waves come.”
The manager came in beaming, practically chugging kimchi juice as he chirped along.
He was so excited he was chattering away before even taking off his shoes—then fell speechless the moment he saw Rowoon’s face.
Thud!
He dropped the bags he’d been holding in both hands.
“Hyung, that’s our lunch……”
Before Rowoon could say anything, the manager rushed over and fired words like a machine gun.
“What on earth, Rowoon! Why’s your face like this! Didn’t you sleep? I told you not to read the reactions! I said I’d handle it and monitor everything! D-Don’t worry too much! The positive buzz is clearly dominant. That’s not just me—the folks at the company said so, too. Some jerks keep dredging up the past, but the company’s going to respond soon, so don’t worry about—!”
“…?”
Strange.
He’d definitely told him not to worry.
So why did it make him worry more?
“Is someone flaming me again?”
“Uh… uh?”
The manager’s pupils shook violently.
“Ah, you didn’t already know…?”
“No…?”
“Th-th-then why does your face look like that?”
“Hyung……”
It was true he still cared that the original was being bashed.
But something else was more important right now.
In a voice that couldn’t hide his disquiet, Rowoon asked the manager:
“Hyung. Do I have debt?”
“Debt? What debt? Ah, comb? Oh man. I thought you were talking about a comb. Don’t make that face and scare me. Hang on, I’ll grab one from the dressing room.”
Rowoon grabbed the manager’s thick forearm, stopping his attempt at escapism.
“No, hyung. Not that kind of comb. I… did I maybe borrow from loan sharks?”
The reaction was explosive.
“What? Loan sharks! You borrowed from loan sharks? When? How much?”
“No, hyung, that’s not it.”
“If you need money, tell the company. They’ll advance you! Why would you use loan sharks in the first place? With Gwiro doing well, you must have gotten a lot in running guarantees!”
“Ah, right. Gwiro.”
Now that he mentioned it, yes.
‘Right. I do have money, don’t I…?’
When he’d first checked the original’s pitiful finances, he’d been like, what the heck.
But these days, as the manager said, things were flush. It was completely different.
He hardly had places to spend money besides food, so chances were what came in had just stayed put.
Some people start spending big when big money comes in. Rowoon didn’t.
‘There aren’t many places to spend anyway. The things I used to cover with my own money, the company handles most of them now.’
Especially clothing and accessories.
The original had amassed a lot on his own, and the manager did a great job scrounging things up here and there.
He traveled with the manager.
Ate with him.
He already had a house, so that was a pass.
So there was simply nowhere for the money to go.
“Seriously, Rowoon. You’re amazing at jerking people around. My liver almost fell out. So what is it? What’s with ‘loan sharks’ all of a sudden, when you’ve got plenty of money?”
“It’s just, hyung……”
Rowoon held out his phone.
He hadn’t dared to check, so the only thing visible was still the last message.
[Debt Collector]
Maybe it was the combination of that striking name and the content.
The manager’s face went pale in an instant.
T/N: debt vs. brush – It’s a little Korean homophone gag.
- 빚 (bij) = debt
- 빗 (bit) = comb
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