| Episode 110. Video Conference
Spiritual Pillar Jeong Seongbin
[I’m really sorry, everyone, when you’re probably all on vacation.]
[Apparently Spark got an offer to appear on a survival program, and our manager asked me to quietly ask what everyone thinks.]
Then came an emoji of a cute character sprawled on the floor, sobbing.
Why is it that every company I work for contacts me on my days off?
Actually, is this the industry standard? Harsh world, our society.
Cutie Pretty Visual Lee Cheonghyeon
[What kind of program is it?]
Spiritual Pillar Jeong Seongbin
[It’s a new program launching this time!]
Super Cute Kang Giyeon
[Is it only for groups that have already debuted?]
Spiritual Pillar Jeong Seongbin
[I think so. I’ll organize what I was told and post it, one moment!]
In the meantime, the guys who had checked first were already exchanging a few messages. I respect nothing but your passion for work.
A few minutes later, a long message arrived from Jeong Seongbin.
Spiritual Pillar Jeong Seongbin
[★ Important ★
This is confidential, so absolutely do not share it outside!
Working title: Idol Dynasty Annals
Planning intent: A no-holds-barred survival project for K-idols carrying on the legacy of the K-pop market
Format: 6 boy groups compete through five rounds of performances, with the winner decided through the finals
Special note: Due to the filming schedule, they need a reply as soon as possible (opinions requested by this coming Wednesday)]
That was neatly organized. It was worth recommending The Leader’s Communication Method to him, a book I’d always wanted Department Head Nam to read at least once.
Now that I’d checked the announcement, I was drying the remaining water out of my hair with a towel when Lee Cheonghyeon let out a groan.
“What’s wrong?”
“They said we have to decide quickly, but I’m wondering if we’ll be able to gather that soon. Me, Kang Gyeon, and Seongbin hyung are going to Seoul tomorrow because of school, but Jeho hyung and Juu hyung aren’t.”
“Do we absolutely have to gather in person to talk about it?”
“Survival programs are the kind of thing people have a lot to say about. It’s a long-term project and a competitive system, so I heard there are plenty of cases where opinions don’t get coordinated internally.”
“Then we can all talk it over properly.”
Even after my answer, Lee Cheonghyeon’s expression didn’t look very relieved.
“Why? You don’t want to go on it?”
“No, it’s not that.”
He paused, then spoke with a serious expression.
“Hyung, everyone’s on vacation. Do you think quick decision-making by text is possible?”
“Completely impossible.”
“Just thinking about that is already making me feel suffocated……”
Lee Cheonghyeon thumped his chest.
I looked at him, then turned on the laptop I’d closed maybe only thirty minutes ago and said,
“Cheonghyeon, what century is it right now?”
“The 21st century.”
“Exactly. So do we really have to communicate by text just because of spatial limitations?”
I left a short announcement in the group chat.
Me
[Has everyone done a video meeting before?]
[I’ll tell you how, so first vote for when you’re free.
21:00–22:00
22:00–23:00]
Remote meeting prep is something I’m good at, you know.
* * *
What kind of program was “Idol Dynasty Annals”?
“Idol Dynasty Annals,” or Awangsil for short, was, simply put, a common survival program.
Awangsil, which came out during a period when survival programs were launching left and right, didn’t get much of a response at first.
Its title was packed with concept, but the inside wasn’t much different from an ordinary survival program, and most of the other programs were either swapping the cast’s gender from already successful previous works or coming in with new seasons, showing a gap from the initial ratings.
No one was interested in this common competition program except the so-called old-timers of the idol scene.
That is, until every other program that started airing around the same time flopped.
And the reasons they flopped were varied.
Because it was a competition program, but the broadcasting station got caught manipulating the rankings.
Because the cast caused controversy during the broadcast period and withdrew en masse.
Because a dating rumor broke out between the MC and a contestant, but one side acknowledged it while the other denied it…… and so on.
With the promising contenders dropping out, all that remained was Awangsil, left alone in a vast empty field.
The production company, which had been agonizing over Awangsil’s sluggish buzz, did not miss that stroke of good fortune.
≫ Anyone see the benefits for the final winning group of Awangsil?
Prize money of 100 million won
Comeback showcase support << this was what was first announced
Prize money raised to 300 million won
Production of a pure-gold royal seal engraved with the members’ names
Confirmed appearance in Season 2 and benefits provided
This got added
+ Starting from Round 3, they’re also giving performance production budgets according to ranking
└ They must have staked their lives on Awangsil
They had declared they would do a Season 2 before the program had even ended.
As one comment put it, with even the third-quarter budget being poured into Awangsil, the entire universe prayed(?) for Awangsil’s success.
As a result, Awangsil was able to establish itself for about two years as the representative boy group survival program. In fact, the groups that appeared on it became the most recognized among teams that debuted around the same year.
This was why Spark had to go on Awangsil.
As long as we appeared on Awangsil, we could properly enter the competitive structure among groups of the same generation.
“If not this, there’s no telling when we’ll be able to achieve the KPI.”
The reason we moved Spark’s debut up, filmed nonstop self-produced content, and went on variety shows others avoided was all to receive this offer to appear on Awangsil.
As the price of pulling the debut schedule forward, I’d prepared several possible scenarios in case the schedules of programs including Awangsil changed too, but thankfully, the margin of error was within the range I’d assumed. If I hadn’t predicted it in advance, I’d have been stomping my feet over the cast lineup being pushed up by half a year.
And they want to coordinate opinions with me, when I’m this serious about Awangsil?
Not a chance. I’ll make sure all of us appear, big as life.
* * *
As the appointed time drew near, I saw them connect one by one to the Zoomin video conference room I had prepared in advance.
How admirable. I’d only sent a few lines explaining it by message, yet they all managed to connect on their own.
At this level, even if they went to a company with remote work, they wouldn’t be completely lost on the first day.
“Choi Jeho, what’s with your background?”
While waiting for everyone to gather, I asked the guy who was off in Hawaii by himself.
『My sister told me to turn this on because her room’s messy.』
“You should’ve cleaned your room while you were home.”
『This is my sister’s room, though?』
“What happens to a room is up to the room’s owner, of course.”
From far away, I heard someone thoroughly scolding Choi Jeho. Choi Jeho didn’t back down either, but I told him that if he was imposing on his sister’s room, he should know when to keep his head down.
After the guys gathered neatly on time and I got their agreement to turn on the meeting recording, the discussion about appearing on Awangsil began in earnest.
The vote on whether they wanted to appear was 4:2. Park Juu expressed dislike, and Lee Cheonghyeon said he wasn’t sure.
It was actually surprising that Kang Giyeon wanted to appear.
I’d thought it wouldn’t be strange if he felt burdened since it wasn’t a one-off program, but he said rather calmly, “We can’t only do the things we want to do.”
Eighteen-year-old Kang Giyeon seemed a hundred times more mature than twenty-nine-year-old Kim Iwol, who had shed tears in his heart because he didn’t want to work.
“You know, I want to respect all of your opinions.”
At my words, all of their gazes turned toward their cameras.
“But this opportunity is too much of a shame to just let pass.”
As I said that, I opened the PowerPoint I had hurriedly made before the meeting time and switched the camera to screen-sharing mode.
And after I spent about forty minutes presenting fifty-eight thousand reasons why we absolutely had to appear on Awangsil.
“How can we oppose it when you come at us like this?! Sigh, I’ll agree.”
『……Me too.』
Lee Cheonghyeon and Park Juu obediently changed their opinions. I expressed my deep gratitude to them.
『Then what should we prepare now?』
In the midst of this heartwarming atmosphere, Kang Giyeon asked a very good question.
“I actually had something I wanted to say while taking this opportunity.”
『What is it?』
“What do you all think about dropping formal speech?”
The matter of dismantling Spark’s honorific speech had been my long-cherished project since last year.
Because there was a setting that I had already dropped formalities with the younger members, I’d ended up speaking casually without any proper process, and I had not had a single day of peace since.
Even if I couldn’t bow my head to the teachers who were dragging along this stiff, awkward body of mine, how arrogant was it to say “thanks” from the position of someone learning?
The best option would be for us to all use polite speech with one another, but that was a story that mainly worked in companies.
Considering the younger ones’ tendency to be exceedingly proper toward older people, if Choi Jeho or I used polite speech, it was obvious the other side would feel even more uncomfortable.
In that case, the conclusion I reached was that it would be better if everyone dropped formalities equally.
I had already asked Choi Jeho indirectly about it……
‘What do you think it’d be like if the kids dropped formalities?’
‘Yeah. You’ve been with them for years.’
‘I don’t really care.’
……That was what he said.
“Once we enter the program, we’ll have to handle everything from stage planning to practice in a short period of time. We’ll have far less time and mental leeway than when preparing for a comeback, and I don’t think an atmosphere where it’s hard to offer good opinions because people are being overly polite or watching the older members’ moods will help the team.”
Of course, I could make this suggestion because they weren’t the kind of guys who would forget even the minimum respect for others just because I told them to speak casually.
Perhaps because it was a completely unexpected topic, the faces floating on my monitor were all colored with bewilderment.
“Hyung, aren’t you going to regret it when the younger ones get too cheeky?”
“True. I’m not too worried about the other younger ones, but you, Cheonghyeon, are a bit concerning.”
At my words, Lee Cheonghyeon burst into laughter.
“I’m not forcing you. Those who feel comfortable dropping formalities can do so, and those who need more time can keep speaking as usual. Just know that when you’re making suggestions or giving feedback, you don’t need to be excessively careful.”
“Got it, Iwol!”
“See how Cheonghyeon dropped it right away? Everyone, just be half as comfortable as him.”
Thus, as a result of approving the liberalization of casual speech, Park Juu and Lee Cheonghyeon chose to drop formalities, while Jeong Seongbin and Kang Giyeon chose to maintain polite speech. Seriously, the Rigid Brothers.
For a moment, I imagined Jeong Seongbin or Kang Giyeon saying, “Hyung, aren’t you going to dance properly?” An involuntary laugh escaped me.
Now that I think about it, this isn’t really the time to laugh. I should brace myself in advance.
* * *
The next day, Lee Cheonghyeon and I returned to Seoul after our short trip.
Kang Giyeon had arrived at the dorm first.
‘Why did you come so early? Because you have to go to school tomorrow?’
‘That too.’
I thought he had come to the dorm in advance because he had school on Monday.
‘We decided to practice a few cover dances in preparation for Idol Dynasty Annals.’
‘We did.’
‘I talked separately with Jeho hyung, and we thought it would take you some time just to learn covers. Until Jeho hyung gets here, I’ll look after your choreography.’
‘Right, because a guy who can’t keep up with the team isn’t needed.’
As it turned out, he had come to take charge of the reckless Kim Iwol. The dance line uniting because of me—what a beautiful, tear-jerking sight.
I did my best in Kang Giyeon’s one-on-one lessons so that Choi Jeho wouldn’t have to rush up from Gwangju in a panic.
‘Hyung, didn’t you say a guy who can’t keep up isn’t needed?’
‘Leave me behind.’
However, I did not become a dancing machine.
The world really is harsh. To think it would remind me once again, in this way, that I am not a proper member of Spark.
Even after that, my dancing was a disaster, but I didn’t completely let go of everything else just because I was dancing.
I honed a personal talent—something every idol ought to have at least one of—and while shaving or burning off fat to raise my idol power.
“If you’re all ready, shall we begin Spark’s interview?”
Earlier than early summer, Awangsil’s first meeting approached.