The two men in suits, one tall and one short, were both very friendly. They sat down face-to-face with Ryan Chandler, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then one of them handed him a contract, politely saying, “Chandler Sensei, here is your contract. Please have a look.”

Ryan Chandler took it and began to read it carefully, discovering that the salary terms Ian Murphy had negotiated for him were better than expected.

The signing bonus was 300,000 yen, with a four-month temporary employment period, starting today and ending in early April next year. He would receive a fixed monthly salary of 225,000 yen—which was quite good, considering that fresh university graduates in Tokyo currently earned about 180,000 yen per month.

In addition, it was stipulated that during this period, all copyrights and derivative rights to his works would belong to Tokyo Broadcasting TEB, but he would enjoy 2% of the copyright revenue.

This was also a characteristic of the Japanese production bureau system.

To use TV drama production as an example, Japanese dramas are generally funded and produced by TV stations, with little outside investment. Naturally, the TV station takes the lion’s share of the copyright revenue, usually 70–90%, while the remaining 10–30% is distributed among the creative team, including the producer, director, assistant director, lead scriptwriter, episode scriptwriters, lead actors, key supporting actors, composer, special effects artist, editor, and other post-production staff.

Each person’s share varies depending on their experience and contribution, and it differs from project to project. This serves as an incentive for everyone to work hard and strive to create a hit show, similar to a bonus system.

As for ordinary staff, such as assistant directors, script assistants, script supervisors, cameramen (those of master level might join the creative team), sound engineers, prop masters, costume designers, and general assistants, these are considered the working group. They receive a fixed salary from the production budget and are not involved in copyright revenue sharing.

2% may not seem like much, but it’s not insignificant either. For example, after the show is produced, if Tokyo Broadcasting TEB airs it themselves, there’s no extra payment. But if it’s sold to local stations within the network or to overseas stations, they do collect fees—usually 50,000 to 100,000 yen per episode. Ryan Chandler would get 2% of that. If it’s 50,000 yen per episode, he’d earn 1,000 yen each time an episode airs. For a full season, that’s 12,000 yen. If thirty or forty local stations all broadcast it, that’s 400,000 to 500,000 yen in income.

If the initial ratings are especially good, selling for 200,000 or 300,000 yen per episode is normal, and then this 2% copyright revenue would multiply several times over.

Of course, a drama is only hot during its original run; after that, reruns become much less frequent. Still, it’s a steady trickle of income—protected by copyright law for up to twenty-five years.

Additionally, DVDs and videotapes can be released, whether for rental or sale, and he would get 2% of the copyright revenue from those as well. Over time, this can add up nicely, like grains of sand forming a tower.

If the show becomes a huge hit, there could even be all kinds of merchandise, and as long as it involves copyright, he’d still get his 2%. But such cases are very rare.

After a quick review, Ryan Chandler felt fairly satisfied. He was completely unknown at the moment, so getting a contract like this as a newcomer was already quite good. It was probably because of the addition of new satellite channels and a shortage of scriptwriters, and since he seemed somewhat capable, the script committee, at Ian Murphy’s strong recommendation, decided to give this outsider a try.

As for exclusive copyright, that was just a dream. If the TV station doesn’t invest money or provide a broadcast channel, even the best script is just waste paper, worthless.

But the only downside to this contract was that it wasn’t signed with Tokyo Broadcasting TEB, but with a production company called “Enomaru.” In other words, he was temporarily employed by “Enomaru Production Company,” then dispatched to Tokyo Broadcasting TEB headquarters to work as a lead scriptwriter for “The World’s Bizarre Stories.”

Basically, he was a temp worker. After all that, he still couldn’t avoid the production company...

But that was fine. He couldn’t expect too much at the start. Ryan Chandler looked it over and didn’t find any major issues. Just as he was about to sign, Ian Murphy asked, “This is a standard contract. Any questions, Chandler-san?”

She had noticed Ryan Chandler looking at the name “Enomaru” and was reminding him that all temporary contracts were like this, not just his. This was already the best deal she could get for Ryan Chandler. As a major TV station, Tokyo Broadcasting TEB wasn’t afraid of disputes or lawsuits—after all, their partner law firms and legal department staff weren’t just sitting around—but it was still best to avoid having their name in court. This was standard practice; all temp contracts were like this.

Ryan Chandler, though young, understood all this. After all, he was a “connoisseur of obscure internet knowledge” who had returned from 2019. He smiled and said, “No problem, I’ll sign right away.”

With that, under the guidance of the suited man, he filled in his name, age, address, bank account, and other personal information on the documents, then signed and stamped them. In effect, he had temporarily sold himself to Enomaru, who then rented him out to Tokyo Broadcasting TEB to work.

The contract was signed smoothly. The two men in suits shook his hand warmly, left him a copy of the contract, and then packed up and left.

Ian Murphy was a bit worried that Ryan Chandler might not be satisfied. As she led him out, she comforted him, “As long as you prove your talent, Chandler-san, a long-term or even lifetime contract will definitely be possible. But for now, this is the best we can do, so please don’t mind.”