The “Theme Studio Campus” in Paju. This place, boasting an enormous site, was the filming location for Produce That 100! In other words, it was where the production staff would be stationed until the broadcast ended. However, they hadn’t rented out the entire Theme Studio Campus.
They had only rented a large hall, a few studios and training centers, and accommodations.
In any case, Kang Rojun arrived at the entrance where the production staff of Geubaekpeu (Produce That 100!) were gathered.
—Srrk.
A man had arrived before him. In other words, two contestants were standing side by side in line. Sensing something, Rojun took the third spot. Soon, the two contestants who had arrived earlier glanced at Kang Rojun.
‘He seems kind of tall, but judging by just his eyes, I bet his looks are nothing special?’
‘His face probably isn’t bad—and he’s shorter than me.’
They couldn’t make any definitive assessment. All three of them, Rojun included, were wearing white masks. Of course, Kang Rojun also quickly scanned the two men standing in front of him.
‘Whoa—his hair’s yellow. If he does that too often, he’s gonna lose a ton of hair. Isn’t he scared??’
Additionally, the man standing second didn’t quite look Korean if you only looked above his nose. Should he say he had the facial structure of a foreigner? The area between his eyes was deeply set.
‘Well, they did say they didn’t only pick contestants from Korea, so there might be foreigners.’
For reference, the reason these people, including Kang Rojun, were wearing white masks was because the Geubaekpeu production staff had requested it. Apparently, their faces were to remain undisclosed until the full-scale judging. Anyway, around the time Rojun was looking around at the other contestants—
“Okay, roll camera!”
One of the staff members by the entrance gave a signal. It was a face Kang Rojun recognized.
‘It’s the person I saw on the insert shoot day.’
At the signal from the staff member on the directing team, the cameras that had been on standby, filming the scenery and entrance of the place in advance, began to move. One camera aimed toward the entrance, one toward Kang Rojun, another from a different angle, and so on. Around then, a female staff member relayed instructions to the contestants in line.
“Today is the filming for Group 1! Filming has started, but just pretend there are no cameras and move as instructed! First contestant, please enter!”
Kang Rojun grew nervous as he looked at the camera filming him from two steps away.
‘How am I supposed to pretend there’s no camera when there is one?? This is insanely hard from the start.’
On the other hand, the contestant in first place stepped forward and passed through the large entrance quite calmly. A camera filmed his back. A few minutes later came the signal for the second contestant to depart. Then, around the time a few more contestants had arrived behind Rojun—
“Next! Go in!”
It was Kang Rojun’s turn. He walked awkwardly. It was a relief that he was wearing a mask. If he hadn’t been, his stiff expression would have been vividly captured on camera right now. After passing through the entrance and walking about ten steps, the vast interior of the campus came into Rojun’s view.
‘Wow—what is this place? There was somewhere like this in Korea?’
European-style buildings and parks could be seen here and there, and there was even a bus stop inside. It felt less like a campus and more like a city. Of course, staff and cameras were set up all over the roads.
For a moment, Rojun recalled the school trip he had gone on in middle school.
‘It feels similar.’
The sense of anticipation and trembling before the start was roughly the same as well. Just how much would it cost to rent out a place this huge? Around the time Kang Rojun was thinking such pointless thoughts, he saw the contestants who had gone ahead boarding a waiting bus. Soon, a staff member standing in front of the bus spotted Kang Rojun and gave a brief explanation.
“Please get on. You can sit wherever you’d like.”
Rojun answered and boarded the bus. The contestants who had boarded before him were sitting one behind the other by the windows in the back. Kang Rojun quickly scanned the inside of the bus.
‘That thing up there—is that a camera??’
At least six small cameras had been installed on the ceiling of the bus. It was the production staff’s determination not to miss even a second, not even a minute. His nerves rising for no reason, Rojun sat down at a suitable window seat in the middle. He was immediately startled.
‘Whoa—damn, here too??!’
Because there was a camera directly in front of his face as well. With this many of them, how was he supposed to pretend there were no cameras? Rojun awkwardly rolled his eyes around before finally turning his gaze out the window.
The bus departed when roughly twenty contestants had filled it.
“……”
“……”
It was quiet. No one opened their mouths. At most, a few contestants who seemed unable to bear the silence spoke to the person next to them.
“Where did you come from?”
“Seoul.”
“Ah—I’m from Yongin.”
Me too! I came from Yongin too! Kang Rojun shouted such replies in his heart. But he held back. The bus soon stopped in front of a building. Once he got off and looked around, the building’s size and everything else seemed anything but ordinary, and there were many staff members. Cameras quickly attached themselves to them, and from behind them came instructions.
“Please enter the lobby one by one!”
A line formed again. Rojun was fifth. Meanwhile, a camera swept across the contestants standing in line. Just as Kang Rojun was busy looking around at the surroundings and the building ahead—
“Next, please go in!”
Rojun’s turn came. As he went up the gray stairs, a fairly spacious lobby came into view. Around five or six staff members were waiting. To the side was a black rectangular box placed on a table. As Rojun approached, a familiar face suddenly appeared.
“Please come this way!”
It was writer Kim Sehui, bursting with energy. As if she recognized the masked Kang Rojun at once, she winked with one eye. Don’t do that. It’s weirdly funny. As Rojun somehow held back his laughter, writer Kim Sehui explained.
“Please keep your mask on—and draw one ball from this box!”
She pointed to the black rectangular box right beside her. Kang Rojun first put his hand into the box. It felt full of ping-pong balls. After stirring them around for a bit, Rojun pulled out one ball. A number was written on it.
‘1?’
Kang Rojun had drawn number 1. For some reason, writer Kim Sehui looked slightly surprised.
“Ah—ah, number 1??”
Wondering what was going on, Kang Rojun asked back.
“Yes, why? Is there a problem?”
“……Pardon? Ahhh, no. There’s no problem. Anyway, from now on, contestant, you will be called number 1!”
Not his name or anything, just number 1? The other contestants were probably the same. In other words, from now on this number was the contestant’s name. To Rojun, whose name had disappeared in an instant, writer Kim Sehui held something out. A name tag with the number “1” written on it.
“Please put it on your chest!”
After attaching the number tag to his chest, Rojun gave writer Kim Sehui a small bow.
—Srrk.
Then he walked along the signs.
The “Waiting Room 1” located around the middle of the hallway was where Kang Rojun had to enter. Inside, several contestants who had arrived earlier were seated. Over twenty chairs had been set up with spaces between them, and at the front was a large monitor. Along with several staff members, cameras were, as expected, positioned on the ceiling and around the room.
“……”
Reading the atmosphere, Kang Rojun walked to the very first chair in the front. Sure enough, the number “1” was attached in large print to the chair. Since he was number 1, this was probably his seat. Sitting down on the chair and looking at the front monitor, he saw a logo displayed.
—Produce That 100!
The trembling that had loosened a little rang once more in Rojun’s chest. Around then, outside, writer Kim Sehui thought of Kang Rojun and radioed PD Woo Hanseok.
“PD-nim! Rojun drew number 1!”
PD Woo Hanseok answered as if startled.
“Number 1??! Of all the numbers he could’ve drawn, it had to be 1—”
Roughly an hour later, at the terrestrial SBC drama department.
It was a conference room with ㄷ-shaped desks set up. The time was around 10 a.m. Quite a number of PDs were seated in the conference room, and piles of papers were stacked in front of all of them. Among them, one male PD let out a huge yawn and opened the discussion.
“Everyone’s busy, so let’s get this over with quickly.”
They immediately entered the meeting. The topic of the meeting came from the mouth of the male PD who had opened it.
“The short drama contest is such a pain every year. Whew—start by saying the title of the short drama you picked.”
It was the meeting to choose the winning works for the “33rd SBC One-Act Drama Script Contest.” However, roughness and carelessness were rampant in the PDs’ eyes.
“I picked this. Night Without Memory.”
“Oh—that one? I picked it too. The thriller technique wasn’t bad, right?”
“Yeah. Didn’t seem like a rookie?”
Even though it was bothersome, once the meeting began in earnest, the PDs quickly focused. This work was good, this one was ambiguous, it wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either, I didn’t like any of them, and so on. In an instant, several one-act works were eliminated. Among them, a female PD with dry brown hair tied back joined in.
“Wasn’t this year a total poor harvest? Still, I did find one. Rental Lover. I thought this was fun.”
The other PDs reacted.
“Oh, PD Jeong Suryeong—I thought you wouldn’t have read any, but looks like you did?”
“Shut up. Who else thought Rental Lover was okay?”
“Me. It was a bit rough, but readable. But the writer’s name being Kang Cheolsu is probably just a pen name, right?”
“Probably. It could be his real name too. Anyway, while reading Rental Lover, I thought it was pretty extraordinary. The idea was good too.”
“That’s high praise, unlike you, PD Jeong.”
After that, the PDs’ rather profound opinions mixed together. Even though they seemed to be doing it casually, the veteran side of them was clearly visible. The meeting that had been underway only wrapped up after about thirty minutes.
“Okay—then Night Without Memory, Fake Family, and Rental Lover. We’ll decide on these three works as the candidates. I’ll send the report up.”
“That’d be great.”
“Tell the kids to contact the writers, meet the writers, and then let’s choose the final winning works.”
For reference, in the annual “SBC One-Act Drama Script Contest,” the first-place grand prize and second-place excellence award winners are confirmed for production. Third place, unfortunately, only receives prize money. Then, one of the PDs tidying up his seat called out to the female PD called Jeong Suryeong, who had pushed for Rental Lover.
“You’re the one who pushed it, so PD Jeong, you handle the meeting with Kang Cheolsu? The writer of Rental Lover.”
Scratching her dry hair, she answered without much feeling.
“Sure.”
And inwardly, she guessed.
‘Judging by the rough writing style, some middle-aged guy will probably show up?’
Back at Paju’s Theme Studio Campus.
The campus where filming for Group 1 of Geubaekpeu had begun in earnest. Meanwhile, Kang Rojun, sitting in Waiting Room 1, was full of boredom, nerves be damned.
‘I’m bored to death. Does it make sense to be on standby for almost two hours??’
Because after entering the waiting room, he had done nothing but sit there for nearly two hours. Filming was originally a series of waiting and standing by, but since he had never experienced anything like this even once in his life, it was only natural that he was struggling.
‘Looks like almost all the contestants are seated too. How long are we waiting?’
Just as he thought, all twenty-five chairs in Waiting Room 1 were filled with contestants wearing white masks. There were no empty seats. Well, they had said Group 1 filming involved fifty people, so there was probably another waiting room next door, but still, this was taking too long. Perhaps exhausted like Rojun, some contestants with numbers on their chests began humming songs, and more of them started focusing on choreography practice in one corner of the waiting room.
At that moment—
—Bzzzz.
Rojun felt a vibration. His phone in his pocket and the smartwatch on his wrist. Phones weren’t prohibited, but they had been told to refrain from using them, so Rojun cautiously checked his smartwatch. His eyes quickly widened a little.
Because he saw a notification from the “AI Simulation” app.
—[The title “Side Hustle Rich” has met the conditions and will now be applied!]
Out of nowhere? But the notifications were not over.
—[As the title “Side Hustle Rich” has been applied, 1 bonus coin will be added to mission-acquired coins.]
—[(Each title can be enhanced up to +5, and bonus coins for each title can also go up to 5.)]
—[(The maximum number of mission-acquired coins is 50.)]
Looking at the notifications that had appeared, Rojun blinked. He had already received 30 coins as a gift from the title mission. There had been no mention of the title “Side Hustle Rich,” but he had let it pass without thinking much.
‘This is really out of the blue.’
All of a sudden, it was saying the “Side Hustle Rich” title would be applied. Next, what Kang Rojun focused on was the mission coins.
‘If a title is attached, it gives bonus coins? And titles can be enhanced too??’
After checking his surroundings, Rojun accessed the “AI Simulation” app through his smartwatch. Though not as detailed as on his phone, a simplified screen appeared. The first change he saw was—
—[User: Kang Rojun / Age: 24 / Height: 182.8 / Desired Occupation: Idol / Side Job: [1] Screenwriter +1 / Coins Held: 250]
His coins held had increased by 1, and he had gained a side job. It was completely arbitrary. Soon, he tapped the “Mission” button. Everything was the same, but one line had been added.
—[Available Mission Count 5/5]
—[Title Bonus Coins +1]
After thinking for a moment, Rojun roughly reached a conclusion.
‘So—the title really is a bonus concept. Originally, if I don’t do missions for 5 coins, 10 coins, and so on, the basic amount is 5 coins a day. But if a title is attached, it adds 1 bonus coin, giving a total of 6.’
If he enhanced a title, the bonus coins per title would increase up to 5. In other words, if he had a +5 title, he would get up to 10 coins a day including bonus coins.
‘The basic acquired coins are separate, and if I have five +5 titles, that’s 25 coins just from bonuses.’
In other words, as expected, there wasn’t only one title, and if he used them well, it meant the maximum number of coins Kang Rojun could acquire in a day might increase all the way to 50.
‘This is sweet. But how do I enhance titles? Well, I’ll probably figure it out as I use it.’
He didn’t know why it had suddenly been applied, but since something as measly as that trash writing had produced this kind of effect, it was a jackpot. Naturally, the corners of Rojun’s mouth curved beneath his mask.
Just then—
—Srrk.
At the front of the waiting room, where the large monitor was installed, one male staff member stood. The filming team also became busier. Then all twenty-five contestants who had been scattered around sat down in their chairs, and the male staff member standing at the front looked at the tablet in his hand and put strength into his voice.
“You have all received number tags, correct? From now on, you will be called by the numbers you received.”
Perhaps because it would also be used in the broadcast, his pronunciation was clear and his voice sounded good.
“During the filming of Produce That 100!, please think of the number you received as your name. It will not change.”
After operating the tablet, he continued the briefing. His tone was a little more solemn than before.
“And that number is also your audition order.”
The waiting room suddenly began to buzz.
“Of course, once editing is done, the broadcast will probably mix things up out of order, but for the recording, auditions will proceed according to the numbers you received.”
Soon, the gazes of the briefing staff member, several cameras, and the contestants inside the waiting room all fixed on one person.
“……”
It was “Number 1,” sitting quietly. No, it was Kang Rojun. Before long, the eyes of the contestants looking at Rojun were mixed with pity, sympathy, and condolences.
‘Whew—thank god. I was praying I wouldn’t be first. What’s that guy gonna do?’
‘The pressure must be insane. First place—talk about unlucky.’
‘Ugh—going first is seriously nauseating. If you don’t leave an impact, the farther the audition goes, the less they’ll remember you. Poor guy.’
‘If he’s mediocre, he’ll get buried.’
Naturally, “Number 1” Kang Rojun was roughly flustered inside.
‘I’m going first??’
Meanwhile, in front of an enormous stage a little away from the waiting room, PD Woo Hanseok, surrounded by staff members, was also thinking of Kang Rojun. Then he murmured quietly.
“Kang Rojun is first? Whew—the kids after him are screwed.”