Contrary to Jiheon’s expectations, the CEO was being quite cautious about the whole thing.
“You know something, Mr. Jung? There are no freebies. A deal this good always comes with some strings attached.”
Jiheon wasn’t surprised by Taejin’s suspicion. This wasn’t just some overnight lottery win. This was like waking up one morning fluent in every language, filthy rich, and immortal.
He would have been suspicious too, if he hadn’t overheard the phone call in the hotel lobby. The conditions were just too good, especially for ProEdge. Honestly, it almost felt like the agency was the only one benefiting from it.
“Well, it’s a fact that the contract with Kavva has fallen apart. And Mr. Gwon probably didn’t want to bother to go looking for another agency now. He seems to want to arrive at a contract quickly with us, if only to stop Kavva from pestering him. And it would mean trouble for him if he shackled himself to an unwanted agency in his hurry.”
“You have a point. There are just too many people in this industry who lack a conscience. They call themselves agencies, but they might as well be frauds.”
Taejin was starting to get agitated. Jiheon gave him a quiet nod.
“He seemed to know that Kavva is the only agency capable of offering a signing bonus like that anyway,” Jiheon said.
“There are plenty of agencies out there willing to offer him a sizeable amount, even if they can’t exactly match Kavva’s offer.”
“True. But they’ll be forced to revise the terms once they find out Mr. Gwon won’t be participating in next year’s Olympics. He knows that and doesn’t want to waste time on meaningless negotiations.”
“So he doesn’t want to waste his time, and he’s sick of all the hassle. Since he met us yesterday, he’ll just pick us? Is that it? I’m not sure if I should call him bold or stupid.”
Taejin laughed, nonplussed. He’s not bold. He just can’t be bothered to look further, Jiheon wanted to say, but he held back. He had to convince Taejin to see this contract through. Otherwise, this agency might not survive the next few years.
“So why doesn’t he want to go to the Olympics? I mean, I was an athlete myself. I’d get it if he didn’t want to show the world that he’s slowly slipping. But he’s in peak form right now. I don’t think he’ll be any different next year. In fact, retiring with two Olympic medals would be even more meaningful. I just don’t get it.”
Taejin shook his head, clearly baffled. Jiheon felt the same way. It did feel like a loss for the entire nation. Maybe even more so for him, since he’d been a swimmer once himself.
“But this is a good thing for us,” Jiheon said. “It allows us to get him on board with the current conditions.”
“Mr. Jung, you can be quite cold. Real logic-oriented.”
“It’s just that you are more emotionally intelligent than I am.”
Which is why the agency is in its current sorry state, Jiheon added silently.
“But you’re right, Mr. Jung. This is great for our agency.”
Now that it was staring him in the face, Taejin seemed to recognize the opportunity for what it truly was. At that point, it was impossible not to do the math.
If Jaekyung signed with the agency, they wouldn’t just profit through ad commissions. The real value of the contract would lie in the boost to the agency’s reputation. Having a big name like him under their wing would completely shift how the industry viewed them. Once it became public that Jaekyung had chosen ProEdge, other athletes would rush to follow.
If ProEdge was really paying no more than the customary signing bonus, then they had nothing to lose, even if Jaekyung refused to shoot a single ad. But he would be shooting ads. As many as they asked of him.
“The contract lasts two years, right?” Taejin said, sounding like he had made up his mind.
“He requested the industry-standard signing bonus, so I assume he will be expecting the usual in terms of the contract and support. I’ll check with him again before we finalize the terms.”
“Yes. That would be best,” Taejin nodded, then added, as if something was still on his mind.
“Are you sure you’d be all right with this?”
Jiheon didn’t even feel like laughing anymore. The deal was too good to miss, even if he hated the idea.
It’s probably because he’s like this that the employees are still here, despite their tiny salaries. He knew that already. Still, he couldn’t help letting out a sigh.
“Of course I am. That’s why I told you about it.”
“But when you first joined the agency and were asked where you wanted to work, you said anywhere but the Management Team.”
Taejin probably wasn’t getting at that directly, but he was beating around the bush, trying to sound Jiheon out.
It was true, of course, that Jiheon had refused to work on the Management Team when he first joined the agency. The Management Team—especially for field work—meant directly managing the athletes. Jiheon had always believed that it required someone determined and deeply responsible. And that simply wasn’t him.
But this job would be a short stint, and Jiheon wasn’t going to overthink. Once Jaekyung had grown used to the ProEdge staff and gotten along with them reasonably well, Jiheon planned to step away. By then, the Pan Pacific Swimming Championships would be over, and Jaekyung would be retired. There would be nothing left to keep Jiheon there.
Jiheon gave the kind of answer that sounded just dependable enough.
“I guess I was young. Inexperienced. And I wasn’t really confident in my abilities back then, since I was new to the agency and all. I learned a lot doing field support during last year’s Asian Games. I followed the Management Team around and worked with them, and it got me thinking, I could probably manage the job.”
“That’s right. Field work isn’t as hard as it seems,” Taejin said, nodding emphatically.
He seemed a bit relieved, but not fully convinced. Fidgeting with his hands, as if pretending to think about something else, he finally got to the point.
“You don’t think it’ll be uncomfortable, working with Gwon Jaekyung? If you’re on his personal management team, you won’t be leaving his side.”
“Not at all,” Jiheon said with a shrug.
“As I told you earlier, yesterday’s little incident was a misunderstanding. On both sides.”
Jiheon had actually brought this up as soon as they met, knowing it was what Taejin would be most concerned about. He repeated what he had said earlier, explaining that while Jaekyung wasn’t exactly the friendliest person, he wasn’t the type to insult someone on purpose. The misunderstanding had been cleared up, and during the conversation that followed, the contract came up. Taejin’s expression finally relaxed all the way.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. But why did he have to talk like that? He could have been a bit nicer about it.”
He doesn’t know how. He’s blunt to a fault. Jiheon swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue and went with something more diplomatic instead.
“Well, he’s never been particularly gifted with words. It’s caused him a lot of misunderstandings over the years,” Jiheon said.
“Huh. Well, now.”
Taejin sighed and slapped the armrest of the sofa, then continued.
“All right. We’re good, Mr. Jung, if you say you are. We have no reason to refuse the deal.”
It was the kind of conclusion a middle schooler could have reached in three seconds, but he made it sound like the decision of the century. Then he got to his feet.
“Have Mr. Jin and Ms. Lee come to the meeting room immediately. I need Mr. Oh and everyone from Legal who’s currently in the building as well.”
Moments later, the employees summoned by the CEO were gathered in one place. Their reactions were identical when Taejin explained that Gwon Jaekyung would be signing with ProEdge.
“Gwon Jaekyung? Which Gwon Jaekyung?”
They seemed to think there was another Gwon Jaekyung out there—someone they hadn’t heard of. Obviously, none of them imagined for a second that this Jaekyung was the same one they all knew.
“What do you mean by that? I mean Gwon Jaekyung, the swimmer!”
Taejin snapped, slapping the desk. The listeners went wide-eyed, their mouths falling open in disbelief.
“What? Seriously?”
“But I thought he was signing with Kavva? Wasn’t there already a contract?”
“Mr. Kang, did you actually speak to him yourself?”
“Wait, excuse me, Mr. Kang, did you even meet him in person? This wasn’t over video call or anything, right?”
“Are you sure this isn’t some kind of high-level scam?”
Jiheon began to worry. The employees didn’t seem happy at all about landing the biggest fish in the market. Instead, they looked suspicious—and maybe even afraid. It drove home just how much of a minor player ProEdge was.
Can our agency really handle him? We’ve neither money nor clout. What if Jaekyung decides after three days that we’re not good enough? We’ll need to consider the contract terms very carefully.
Jiheon stood off to the side, lost in thought. Taejin, unaware of what was going through his head, patted him on the shoulder with a proud smile.
“We have Mr. Jung here to thank for this. Gwon Jaekyung might not seem like it, but it turns out he’s quite loyal. He said he didn’t care about getting the best terms. He actually brought up the contract with us himself, completely unprompted, all because of Mr. Jung.”
He didn’t actually say that.
Jiheon quickly waved his hand, flustered.
“I think it was mostly because he thought you were a good person, Mr. Kang,” Jiheon said.