Episode 114. Financial Crisis
Until we met to prepare for the first round of competition, the atmosphere hadn't been bad.
True to their senior status having debuted a few months earlier, Parte had released quite a few albums. Minis and singles.
That was different from Spark, whose entire discography consisted of one mini album and one single.
They would have more options than us, and they must have concepts they'd reviewed in advance for their Ahwangsil appearance.
The only thing to worry about was which of Parte's songs—armed with spectacular capital and the title of concept kings—to inject our youth into.
That was, until the Manager brought in the budget proposal.
"The available budget is around this much... you mean?"
"Yeah, that's how it is."
"Not just for one stage... but for the entire program combined?"
"...Yeah."
I read the numbers slowly once more.
I checked meticulously to see if a comma had been misplaced, or if a digit had been omitted and only the total came out wrong.
But nothing changed. There was little to no money available.
At the absurdly small amount, far below my expectations, I opened my mouth with difficulty.
"Manager, is the company perhaps preparing another idol group?"
"That's not it. Actually... the company is conducting an internal audit right now. Even other departments have become strict about approvals."
In short, signs of an embezzlement attempt between Yu Hansu and the head of the production team had been discovered, prompting UA to launch a large-scale review of expenditures.
But even considering those circumstances, this budget made no sense. It was an amount that wouldn't even cover Spark running back and forth between Ahwangsil and regional festivals.
No matter how much Spark had yet to break even, UA wasn't a company that refused to invest to this extent.
Something was off. My head couldn't readily comprehend it.
That was when the system that had popped up briefly a few days ago and done nothing but grate on my nerves appeared again.
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[SYSTEM] A work order from 'The Superior' has arrived.
▶ Deputy Kim, do you think the company pays your commute so you can run around doing useless shit? If you want to do whatever you want, go start your own business. Why the hell are you even working at a company?
[SYSTEM] A 'violation of internal regulations' is being announced to 'Party B'.
▷ 'Party B' has a 'duty of fairness' to justly use advantages derived from information asymmetry.
▷ If conduct excessively deviating from existing history is discovered, 'Party B' is deemed to have violated the duty of fairness.
▷ Sanctions utilizing the environment in which 'Party B' is placed are possible, proportionate to the degree that 'Party B's actions have altered history.
[SYSTEM] Sanctions pursuant to the 'violation of internal regulations' are being announced to 'Party B'.
▷ Content: Reduction of available funds disbursed by UA
▷ Reason: Appearance on 'Idol Royal Chronicles'
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Damn it, I'm doing this because you told me to take first place!
Is anyone going to die because Spark is appearing on Ahwangsil? Will the flow of heavenly providence change?
I can alter the album we're releasing anyway, but am I going to receive heavenly punishment for doing something I didn't do before?
I felt blood rushing to my head. My eyes burned.
What the hell am I supposed to do when they bind my hands and feet with vague, ambiguous standards?
I couldn't say I had understood the system up until now, but this was one aspect where I couldn't comprehend its intentions in the slightest.
"Iwol-ah, what's suddenly wrong?"
The Manager asked me as I glared at empty space in silence.
I made an excuse that I was just thinking for a moment, then looked over the budget proposal again.
If it's imposing sanctions by considering my environment, the system must have manipulated things to make this situation look natural, exploiting the fact that I had outed Yu Hansu.
I had been complacent.
Even though I knew the system could interfere not just with me but with the outside world, I had thought there wouldn't be any major problems as long as I kept my mouth shut and acted on my own.
If it could influence people's thoughts and materialize them this easily, how simple would it be to let Noona die or make me walk into Hanpyeong Industries of my own accord?
My vision went dark. For the first time since that difficult first day, a sense of helplessness washed over me.
Even feeling helpless, a worker ant had to work; I couldn't just lie there.
I needed countermeasures. A drastic change of plans, too.
* * *
There are times when I wish a day had forty-eight hours.
Now was one of them. No, I wished it were more like four hundred and eighty.
We had two weeks until the first round of competition.
The original plan had been to decide on the song and concept within a day or two, develop it by day three, do a mid-check at the one-week mark, and finally have all six members unite to tear up the stage... but...
Everything went to hell.
From the moment I saw the budget proposal, I hadn't slept a wink and had become one with my laptop. Thanks to that, Choi Jeho had baked the bread yesterday and today.
"Huu...."
"Hyung, are you okay...?"
As I was staring at the ceiling to clear my head, Park Juwoo entered the room.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Did the kids go to school?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Let's go practice too."
It was unpleasant enough that we had to go practice when we hadn't even decided what to practice, but my misfortune didn't end there.
I had barely set foot in UA for three minutes before I ran into Yu Hansu pacing around the hallway.
If the company atmosphere had gone to shit because of him, he should have had the sense to keep a low profile.
Anyway, he had a talent for pissing people off from start to finish.
After chanting that the Republic of Korea is a Confucian society like a mantra and politely greeting Yu Hansu, half my stamina was drained. I wanted to quit everything and go back to the dorm.
But I guess it wasn't time to die just yet; with advice from the planning team, I somehow managed to lock down an item. Through a 'good-natured competition'.
The title track of Parte's third single that we chose, 『Desire』, was a song themed around desire that coveted a divine relic.
In its music video, all the members wore military uniforms complete with epaulets and capes, made a knight's vow before a massive statue, and advanced while swinging swords—a visually staggering impression. However...
For one, we were in no position to even attach bamboo skewers to epaulets, so we excluded the approach of overwhelming them with more splendid costumes and focused on reinterpreting what target would be worthy of Spark's desire.
What is valuable in competition?
If the value a gamer racing toward first place ought to pursue is victory. We made this the main keyword.
Next, we worried about the means.
How would we show victory?
Something everyone is familiar with that can show a sweat-drenched struggling feeling—nothing beats sports when it comes to competing without darkness. So we settled on an overall sports concept.
So what did we want to say with this stage?
The answer to this could be defined in one sentence.
Fight fair and square, and win to gain honor.
This message earned a passing score from all five members. Up to here, it was good.
"We're short on money."
We had even set the grand goal of founding the Flame High School volleyball club with a full roster, but the problem was money.
Unless we found a vendor on the Hongdangmu app selling six identical outfits, ways to cut costs were slim.
It wasn't as if we had to wear expensive clothes on stage, but that only applies when clothes actually look like clothes.
If we sent them out wearing nothing but neon green t-shirts just because it's a volleyball club, even a corporate volleyball hobby team would get better dressed than you, and we'd get showered with insults.
We couldn't exactly send them up there wearing just plain uniforms when it's supposed to be a competition program.
A sigh escaped me.
It wasn't that there were no solutions at all.
I just had to use... my own money.
Not that I couldn't—it's just that I damn well hated using it.
I had sworn never to pay out of pocket again after prepaying for Department Head Nam's package tour, yet here I was.
And this was money I truly had no guarantee of ever getting back!
I was the one who dragged them into this program, and the budget got cut because of me—I didn't have the confidence to say, "Let's just do our best with what we have!"
Before the stock market closed, I went straight to the Manager, took back my phone, and sold several shares of stock that had been doing well.
Once the deposit withdrawal was available, it seemed I could obtain about half of the items on the purchase list.
Department Head Nam's daughter ought to see me like this. What a shame she can't.
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[SYSTEM] A work order from 'The Superior' has arrived.
▶ Deputy Kim, are you perhaps a gold spoon? You seem to have a lot of money. What do your parents do again?
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Before my eyes could even grow moist, the system mocked me. I wanted to smash that window to pieces, but I didn't even have the energy for that, so I let it go.
* * *
Watching a colleague grow is a pleasant thing.
Because a colleague's growth means reduced workload for our team.
But not all growth seems to be beneficial.
"I kept talking it over with Jeho-hyung, but I think you'll have to come to the center a lot this time."
Today, that bastard Kang Giyeon, whom I had trusted, committed the atrocity of taking my cozy corner position from me.
"For what reason?"
I asked, hiding my bewilderment and displeasure.
These punks must know the budget got cut because of me and are getting their revenge.
They intend to use me as a shield in an all-out war with Parte and saddle me with the disgrace of a fight I can't win. I was almost impressed by the meticulousness of the plan.
Unaware of the tempest swirling inside me, Kang Giyeon remained nonchalant.
"There's that part in the choreography where we applied volleyball moves. I kept watching, and aside from you, hyung, the other members can't capture that feeling."
"Really?"
I thought everyone danced well, but in Kang Giyeon's eyes, a more realistic approach seemed better.
"If you move to the side, it's a bit... how should I put it, like a teacher stuck at the edge of a kindergarten talent show?"
"Just swear at me instead, Giyeon-ah."
But I understood what Kang Giyeon meant.
As it happened, almost no one in Spark had played volleyball, so the only one with volleyball experience was me, having been dragged here and there in college and the military.
I had already been in the awkward position of demonstrating clumsy motions between the dance line to explain; I never thought I'd end up in an even worse situation.
Since it was to raise the stage quality, it was something I couldn't refuse, but I felt uneasy.
It might have been much better if all five of us handled the planning, arrangement, lyrics, and choreography together; instead, not only was I awkwardly stuck in the middle of it all, but it looked like I was expanding my territory.
"The members are all quick to learn the movements... Let's practice together a bit more for now. If it still seems better for me to move to center then, I'll switch for sure."
I gave a vague answer and sent Kang Giyeon back to Choi Jeho. And if there was a god—specifically, a god of volleyball—I earnestly prayed that they would possess one of the members over the next few days.
Perhaps because my sinister intent was seen through, the god of volleyball did not descend even by the deadline Kang Giyeon and I had set.
And so, on a day when I practiced endlessly feeling forsaken by the world.
The Ahwangsil broadcast began.