HANEUL picked up a copy of the contract and scanned it. It contained the usual clauses typical for this type of agreement.
The contract outlined several key sections. It specified the general duration of the program but noted that contestants would be eliminated through public voting until the final winners were determined. Haneul's responsibilities as a contestant were clearly defined, including attending all scheduled training sessions, participating in performances, and adhering to the program's rules and regulations.
A strict confidentiality clause prohibited the contestants from disclosing any sensitive information about the program, emphasizing the importance of maintaining the show's integrity and protecting proprietary information. The contract also detailed the benefits provided, such as housing, meals, and medical care.
Additionally, the contestants were required to grant the program the rights to use their image, name, and likeness for promotional purposes, covering the use of their performances and any recordings made during the show. The contract emphasized the importance of maintaining a positive public image and adhering to a code of conduct both on and off the camera, with any violations potentially leading to instant elimination.
Some unusual clauses were also included. Contestants were not allowed to have cellphones for the duration of the program. They would be isolated in a specific place and could only leave during activities they were required to participate in for the show. Any breach of the contract could lead to instant elimination from the competition.
Haneul's attention zeroed in on the clauses about not having a cellphone and the enforced isolation. Despite having expected these conditions after watching Boys Odyssey in his original world, seeing them in writing still surprised him.
From what he remembered, the contestants of Boys Odyssey were isolated on a ship without phones. The ship cruised around the Korean peninsula, making pit stops at various locations for missions and live performances. However, this didn't mean the contestants were completely cut off from their families; each contestant was allowed one phone call per day. This arrangement didn't offer much, but at least they had the opportunity to contact someone.
One might say that these clauses were too severe. And they were right. It felt like the program was directly saying, "Hey, we're going to imprison you for about three months. That's okay, right?"
Since most of the contestants were desperate to debut, they were willing to accept these harsh conditions without much hesitation. The chance to achieve their dreams outweighed any discomfort they might feel. The production staff knew this all too well, so they didn't hesitate to impose such stringent conditions.
Heck, just look at Haneul, for example. Despite knowing beforehand about these harsh conditions, he still chose to audition just to be part of this program.
"Wait- what do you mean by not allowing cellphones? And isolation? What is this? You want my Omega son to be isolated in a place possibly pack full of Alphas?"
His mother's words snapped Haneul out of his thoughts.
"Haneul-ssi's mother, I understand your worries, but I assure you the place where the contestants will be staying is not only safe but also well-equipped to take care of their needs. We have a dedicated team of professionals on hand 24/7 to ensure their well-being. The facilities include comfortable living quarters, nutritious meals, and comprehensive medical care. We take every measure to make sure the contestants are healthy, safe, and able to focus on their training and performances without any unnecessary stress. Your son will be in good hands throughout the duration of the program."
Even after PD Song's explanation, the frown on Haneul's mother's face remained unchanged.
Haneul had a feeling that if he didn't speak now, his mother might just stop him from signing this contract. He reached for her hand and gently squeezed it.
"Mom, it really doesn't sound so bad. The no-cellphone rule is likely just to keep us focused and prevent us from constantly checking social media. And I doubt we'll be completely isolated. According to the contract, we get to make one phone call each day. I promise I'll call you every single day. I'll be okay. Please don't worry."
Eunji turned to her son. Seeing the determined look in his eyes, she felt conflicted. She wanted to protect him from any potential hardships, but she also saw how much this meant to him. The resolve in his expression tugged at her heart. She sighed, torn between her worry and her desire to support his dreams.
At the end, she could only reluctantly nod.
Haneul's face lit up with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mom. Really, thank you."
And with that, the contract signing proceeded.