| Episode 133. Company-Wide Workshop (2)
Seoyunseop’s booking on drug charges was famous enough that even people who weren’t idol fans knew about it.
Not because Seoyunseop was particularly well-known.
It was because the bastard hadn’t done it alone, but together with other people. Even with his fellow group members.
It wasn’t just one member of an idol group who turned out to be a drug user—there were several of them. One of them had even been found to be handling distribution.
Naturally, the idol scene was thrown into chaos. Seoyunseop’s phone became evidence as-is, and every idol in his contacts suffered as a result.
Lee Cheonghyeon’s name was on that list, too.
There had never been much of an obvious connection between Lee Cheonghyeon and Seoyunseop. At most, their promotion periods had overlapped, so they had appeared on the same broadcasts a few times.
So Lee Cheonghyeon was merely among those under suspicion, and I had assumed he would clear his name right away, like the other idols, but…
≫ L’s guy—don’t tell me it’s Lee Cheonghyeon?
└ Please tell me it isn’t…… I’m really tired of this now
≫ Fuck, I woke up and what the hell happened to the trending searches?
≫ Lee Cheonghyeon becomes the Cat President due to drug addiction
└ Delete this…… There are some things you shouldn’t joke about with the trending searches
It turned out that Lee Cheonghyeon really had been addicted to drugs. They just hadn’t been narcotics.
Since he hadn’t abused any illegal substances, there was no legal punishment or anything of the sort.
But while his fellow singers were being arrested one after another, the public didn’t look kindly on the fact that he, too, had been stuffing himself with drugs.
‘What kind of drug was it?’
Even when I tried to think about it, I couldn’t remember.
Had going back in time somehow turned my brain into a sponge? My head was full of holes.
On top of that, it was a mystery why Lee Cheonghyeon had been exchanging messages with Seoyunseop in the first place.
There hadn’t been much common ground between them, much less any reason for them to cultivate a friendship.
Before, I hadn’t been interested in things like this at all. I had simply made videos such as “Compiling Sparks Mentioned by Other Idols.” But things were different now.
If this bastard Seoyunseop had tried to pressure Lee Cheonghyeon into doing something, even if it had nothing to do with drugs…
‘We’re screwed.’
I had no idea how much Lee Cheonghyeon’s genius had stoked the fire in Seoyunseop’s heart, but it seemed we would have to put Lee Cheonghyeon under twenty-four-hour security during this workshop.
* * *
The bus loaded with surveillance, wariness, and an iron wall soon pulled up in front of a spacious pension in Gapyeong.
Gapyeong. It felt like only yesterday that I’d been hiding treasure-hunt notes in a pension yard around here and getting eaten alive by bugs.
That dizzying memory mixed with the muggy summer air and clung to my entire body.
But I had to come to my senses.
No article had been written over hiding one Hanpyeong Industries note in the wrong place, but if I failed to protect Lee Cheonghyeon properly, Spark would end up plastered across the front page of the entertainment news.
I wedged myself between Lee Cheonghyeon and Gang Giyeon as they dragged their suitcases toward the pension.
Then I draped an arm around each of their shoulders and said,
“You two youngest ones.”
“Yes?”
“What?”
“Don’t get distracted just because there are so many people. Stick close to your hyungs, okay?”
From behind me, Choi Jeho scolded me to worry about carrying my own luggage. When I turned around, Jeong Seongbin was even pulling my suitcase.
The workshop hadn’t even begun, and already my head was throbbing.
“The first mission is ‘Make and Eat Dinner’!”
“Gasp. Do we have to make everything ourselves?”
When someone took the mission sheet and read it aloud, the cast began to buzz.
It was understandable. There were more than forty mouths here, after all. Even boiling ramen would be no simple task.
“Wow, there are so many people that I don’t even know where to start.”
Someone from Allover scratched his head as he spoke.
“Then should we split up into the members who’ll go grocery shopping and the members who’ll prepare the meal?”
At least Mun Yeonggyu offered an opinion.
“Having twenty people focus only on preparing the meal seems a little inefficient. I think just a few people would be enough!”
Song Minil jumped in at that.
That bastard was clearly saying he didn’t want to do it, no matter how he phrased it. I’d seen you kicking a foot volleyball before you even entered the pension.
Suppressing a sigh, I joined the conversation.
“Then how about we divide into a grocery-shopping team, a cooking team, and a dishwashing team? We’ll have to clean up afterward, too, so it might be good to divide up the roles from start to finish. It’ll help fill the broadcast time as well!”
Not that the people who didn’t want to work would work even then. If you’re going to play around, at least fill the airtime.
* * *
“We’ll be back!”
With a lively farewell, the grocery-shopping team set off. One of the members of Log took the wheel.
And I was being dragged along because I was the greatest intellect in Awangsil.
‘Writer, how much are we allowed to spend?’
‘What’s the card limit?!’
The writers had watched the idols run wild and begged me to please go with that team.
I followed along while thinking cynically that my presence probably wouldn’t change much anyway, but…
“How much ssamjang and gochujang should we buy? Two tubs of each?”
“I saw some gochujang in the cupboard earlier. Let’s just get ssamjang.”
“Should we get ten bags of these greens for wraps?”
“Since we’re buying in bulk, it’ll be cheaper to buy individual vegetables instead of packs with several kinds mixed together. Just get lettuce and perilla leaves separately, please.”
As I watched them indiscriminately pile things into three shopping carts, I naturally understood why the writers had sent me along.
But did I really have to keep track of the broadcasting company’s corporate-card limit? It wasn’t even a UA Card.
“Oh my god, they sell yukhoe here, too! Should we go with beef brisket soybean-paste stew and yukhoe bibimbap?”
“That’s insane. Buy it right now.”
……
“Hyung, how about some beer?”
“Ah, if it weren’t for the younger kids, I’d put it in the cart right away. What a shame.”
“Can’t only the adult members drink? The kids can have soda.”
……
“Didn’t we buy way too many snacks? We’re definitely going to have leftovers.”
“Eh, someone will eat them if there are leftovers.”
What the hell, did these bastards never learn how to consider other people in ethics class?
What if someone couldn’t eat raw food? Why were they trying to mix the entire meal with yukhoe?
And more than half the people here were minors, yet they wanted to buy alcohol? Did they all want to get their heads chopped off in a controversy over underage drinking?
Who was the idiot who said someone would eat it? Were other people supposed to clean up snacks left behind by celebrities? What a fucking thing to say.
My insides were burning black with frustration. I hadn’t felt this stifled even when talking to Spark, but now it felt like my organs were twisting themselves into knots.
With no other choice, I went through all three carts with the thoroughness of a rat catcher.
Then, demonstrating the skill I had once used to remove a mechanical keyboard that the owner’s son had secretly slipped into the shopping basket, I saved us two hundred thousand won.
I’d let it slide this once since he had helped cover the stage-production costs. Next time, I was going to pretend I hadn’t noticed.
* * *
Was there anything in this world more meaningless than dividing up roles?
I had once been in charge of personnel, too. Back then, my main duties had been registering new hires, managing employees’ monthly and annual leave, uploading job postings and scheduling interviews, searching for personnel, purchasing supplies, registering resignations, overseeing the cleanliness of the building, keeping management happy, and issuing all kinds of documents.
But the duties of Hanpyeong Industries’ personnel manager had been somewhat more extensive.
For example, being an idol fan on behalf of the company, putting up the building sign, picking locks, manually cracking the password of a PC left behind by a departing employee who hadn’t unlocked it, running out for ramen, reading management’s autobiography aloud… Fuck.
Anyway, the point was that dividing up roles was meaningless in actual practice.
Just look at me now. I’d only just come back from grocery shopping, and I was already wearing work gloves and spreading charcoal inside a steel drum.
Perhaps because there were so many people, it didn’t stand out when one or two of them loafed around. More than half of them merely said, “What should I do?” and then proceeded to do absolutely nothing.
The one consolation was that Choi Jeho, who had learned how to light charcoal from me during the last piece of self-produced content, was handling the torch himself.
He skillfully set fire to some newspaper and transferred the flames to the charcoal. At last, there was one person living up to his group’s name.
“Hyung, should I do it?”
“Kids shouldn’t play with fire. Giyeon, go wash the vegetables.”
Even amid all this chaos, Spark was diligently looking for work to do. He was on an entirely different level from the Spark of the past, who used to freeze up whenever he appeared on group variety shows.
It was admirable, but you’re not making Spark do all the work, are you? If so, I swear to God, I won’t let it go.
I was huffing like a demon when Yeo Seongchan came looking for me with Mun Yeonggyu.
“Hyung, stop and come inside! Gyu and I will grill the meat.”
“You two won’t be enough. Do you know how many mouths there are?”
“Then we’ll tell the others to come help. Oh, the Allover hyungs said they wanted to try grilling meat.”
“No, I’ll do it. I’m really good at grilling meat.”
At the mention of Allover, I hurriedly snatched the plate and tongs from Yeo Seongchan’s hands. I had no desire to eat drug-laced pork belly.
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to go inside and eat comfortably, though?”
“I have pride when it comes to grilling meat outdoors. Please let me do it.”
After begging Mun Yeonggyu, I finally managed to claim one of the steel drums.
I was busy grilling meat while inhaling acrid smoke when Mun Yeonggyu spoke to me.
“Hyung, is it true that Juwu scolded you after our performance?”
“Who said that?”
“Seongbin. We rode here together on the bus earlier. I heard it then.”
Apparently, the leaders had gathered over here. Now that they’d created such a good opportunity, they should’ve been having some constructive discussions.
“Don’t even ask. He was hard to appease.”
“Still, Spark seems really close. Even from talking to them for a little while, they all seemed like good kids.”
“All the members are good.”
They occasionally caused some completely absurd incidents, but I admitted that they were good kids.
“Isn’t Berion close, too?”
“We’re all around the same age.”
What, did he think there was a big age gap between us?
…Or was there? Was there a big gap between me and them?
While I was pondering that, someone held out a plate piled high with meat beside me. It was Jeong Seongbin.
“Hyung, eat while you grill.”
“What about you? Have you eaten?”
“There’s lots of meat over there. Don’t worry and eat. You too, Yeonggyu hyung!”
Jeong Seongbin smiled warmly.
That was Jeong Seongbin for you. A true leader of this era who wouldn’t let a single member be left out in front of the charcoal grill.
I was enjoying even the wraps speckled with drifting ash when some completely unexpected guests arrived.
The members of Log had come wearing work gloves.
“All right, Iwol and Yeonggyu, go eat some meat now!”
Log pushed Mun Yeonggyu and me toward the tables. Then they each picked up a pair of tongs, filled the empty plates they had brought with the meat we had grilled, and handed the plates to us.
“Senior, I can finish grilling—”
“Ah, no, it’s fine. We’ve eaten enough!”
“The younger ones were worried that Iwol hyung wasn’t getting to eat. Go on and eat. Are you watching this, our youngest?”
“Ah, hyung can take care of eating on his own!”
Once Log joined in, the scene quickly grew boisterous.
When I turned my gaze toward the tables, Park Juwu and three others were indeed staring intently at me—Choi Jeho was too busy eating only his own food to look up.
It had been so long since I’d had pork belly. They should’ve been eating plenty themselves.
I trudged over, took off my work gloves, and ate the meat I had just finished grilling.
Perhaps it was because it had been so long since I’d had greasy meat, but it was delicious.