| Episode 16. Keyword (2)
The members of Spark, excluding Lee Cheonghyeon, were generally men of few words.
On top of that, their decibel levels weren’t high either. Naturally, on broadcasts, all of the members’ personalities came across as more or less the same.
There was a limit to how much Lee Cheonghyeon could lift the sunken atmosphere on his own.
Thanks to that, the shows Spark appeared on were, to put it kindly, like documentaries about Mother Nature.
I won’t bother saying what they were like if you put it unkindly.
‘No wonder it’s hard to open the door for people to become fans.’
At this rate, even trying to sell them with “there’s bound to be at least one who’s your type” wouldn’t be enough.
If you put kids who looked like they’d been stamped out of the same bungeoppang mold in front of people and said, “Look! There are this many identical ones, so they must be several times tastier, right?” who would come to watch?
You could only promote something if there was something to promote.
In order to make it possible for fans to dig up the members’ A to Z with an excavator, it seemed better to at least carve a few grooves into the bare ground first.
‘At the very least, we need to make it so they can reveal some degree of individuality.’
That way, if nothing else, we could add even one more prop to the debut album that suited them perfectly.
After letting out a deep sigh, I deleted all my search history and returned the phone to the manager.
Then, during every break in group practice, I kept a close eye on the members.
And I recalled that in the email I’d received from Department Head Nam’s daughter, it said that perfect character interpretation came from affection and obsession.
When it came to defining something, there was nothing more convenient than using refined language.
So, borrowing keywords I’d seen in web novels, I began putting these guys’ personalities into words.
For instance, for Park Juu, who sat blankly in a corner during every break, I set the image of “aloof puppy-dog” as his default.
As for Choi Jeho, the one who had monopolized the daughter’s love and would become Spark’s shining center…
“So, basically… you’re a cool-type, aloof, oblivious genius character.”
…I made his a little more elaborate.
However, Choi Jeho replied with utter indifference.
“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“Your aloof attribute overlaps with Juu’s. What do you think about changing your personality a bit?”
Even at my reasonable suggestion, the distortion on Choi Jeho’s face didn’t ease.
It wasn’t desirable for more than half the team to achieve the triple crown of aloof, taciturn, and unruffled. What a shame.
“Hyung! What about me?!”
Maybe he thought I was saying something fun, because Lee Cheonghyeon abandoned Kang Giyeon in front of the mirror and came running over.
“I think there was something like sunshine whatever. Do that.”
“Wait, why am I a compromise?!”
“I’m leaving room to change it if a better expression comes up.”
Just as I was attaching the third attribute to each member, the practice room door opened.
It was Min Jugyeong.
“Sorry for interrupting practice!”
Min Jugyeong came in with a smile, holding a piece of paper.
Min Jugyeong stuck the paper she’d brought onto the whiteboard installed on one wall of the practice room.
Then she looked at me and said,
“We post the evaluation results like this. There aren’t any special notes, so everyone check when you have time!”
There was no way she didn’t know that human psychology made you look at your report card the moment you received it.
She was probably speaking as lightly as possible out of consideration for the trainees.
When I told people around me, “The personnel evaluation results have been entered, so you should be able to check them,” I probably wore that same face.
More importantly, since she said there weren’t any special notes, it seemed I hadn’t been cut.
Good job, Kim Iwol. You somehow survived even under these terrible conditions.
Having achieved my minimum goal, I headed straight for the whiteboard.
Since I’d avoided being cut, I could gladly accept whatever the rest of the results were.
February Monthly Evaluation (by ranking)
Park Juu
Choi Jeho
Lee Cheonghyeon
Jeong Seongbin
Kang Giyeon
Kim Iwol
※ Detailed feedback will be given during class!
Once I actually placed sixth out of six, even though it was only natural, my feelings did become complicated.
Maybe it was because I’d never come in last in my life. I guess this is why people need to experience everything at least once.
+
[SYSTEM] “Work” has been completed.
▷ Reward: Experience Points (30) awarded
▷ Accumulated Experience Points: 40
▷ Accumulated Points: 0
+
Right on time, the experience points for earning a passing score on the monthly evaluation arrived as well.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
+
[SYSTEM] “Additional Experience Points” have been awarded.
▷ Reason: Earned a high evaluation from a “close organizational member”
▷ Reward: Experience Points (10) awarded
▷ Accumulated Experience Points: 50
▷ Accumulated Points: 0
+
Whoever it was, they must have thought very highly of me, because another 10 experience points dropped.
Thank you. May your family be blessed for three generations.
I resolved that, at the very least, I would grow into “sixth place who lost but fought hard” by the time we debuted, then turned around.
At that moment, my eyes met Jeong Seongbin’s as he calmly checked the paper and turned away.
At the same time, I remembered what Jeong Seongbin had said a few days ago.
‘It’s not like the company has that many trainees, but at some point, the rankings basically stopped changing.’
The current Jeong Seongbin… didn’t look perfectly relieved, but his expression seemed better than before.
A face that still held bitterness, but no darkness.
The moment I saw that face, for some reason, I felt as though I’d been repaid, if only slightly, for the shame I’d felt that day.
* * *
The advantage of being a beginner was that even taking one step forward made it look like you’d made tremendous progress.
Though from a beginner’s perspective, that one step really was an enormous leap.
Perhaps because the initial groundwork had been laid well, the classes that followed didn’t feel impossibly hopeless.
In addition, UA was a company that didn’t hold back praise in these areas.
“Iwol, you’ve really improved a lot.”
“Really?”
The vocal teacher nodded. It was a very good environment for a beginner to grow in.
As for the dance classes, where I was working so hard my legs felt like they might burst, I still had a long way to go, but there were results there too.
The biggest help was that, at the very least, once I learned a move, I no longer forgot it. I didn’t want to be the one who made us stop the music during group practice.
With an earnest heart, I faithfully invested the benefit points I’d gained after the small amounts of experience I’d collected so far surpassed 100 into proficiency.
As a result, my current proficiencies looked like this.
+
Performance Evaluation (100)
― Vocal Proficiency: 5(▲)/20
― Dance Proficiency: 4(▲)/20
― Self-PR: 12/20
― Attendance Management: 18/20
― Adaptability Within the Organization: 10/20
Accumulated Experience Points: 0
+
Vocal proficiency had gone up on its own even though I’d never invested points into it. What a commendable guy.
Through this case, I also learned that proficiency didn’t necessarily rise only through gaining experience points.
It still hurt that the total sum of my proficiencies was only in the single digits, but expecting results after practicing for only a month was absurd, so I decided to attach meaning to the fact that the score had gone up.
A new task had appeared as well.
+
[SYSTEM] “New Work” has been assigned.
▷ Raise Dance Proficiency to 5 before the March monthly evaluation
▷ Reward: Trial voucher to view other members’ resumes, three-piece set of standard proposal templates for planning the debut album
+
The next monthly evaluation was probably the one that would finalize the debut lineup.
After all, I had moved the debut schedule up by one year. It was about time the group was confirmed.
More importantly, they said they’d seriously form the debut lineup based on the February evaluation, but they were dragging it out until March?
This was exactly why, in the past, the debut got delayed by two years, the group failed, society failed, and…
Aside from the task itself, the reward was really underwhelming.
I was interested in viewing the resumes, but the fact that it was a trial voucher felt petty and offended me, and as for the debut album proposal… I had a strong hunch at first glance that it would only increase my workload.
Things like that always ended up being used someday. And by me, at that.
That was why I wanted the three-piece proposal set even less.
But since my position was fixed as the producing member, I decided it would probably be better for my peace of mind to receive them in advance, so I quietly accepted the situation.
If push came to shove, I could just receive the templates and, three months later, go with the “Oh right, I had something like that!” route.
“Should we tear off the calendar now?”
“Yeah, please!”
Once Jeong Seongbin gave permission, Lee Cheonghyeon tore off the page of the wall calendar hanging on the practice room wall.
It was the start of March.
* * *
A working adult’s sense of time differed a little from that of someone who wasn’t a working adult.
For example, when I was a college student, my sense of time was like this.
March–June / September–November: During the semester + period of doing small part-time jobs
July–August / December–February: Period of working part-time like a dog
Then, after I joined Hanpyeong Industrial, the way I perceived time changed as follows.
March–November: Busy months
December: The month when I could barely breathe
January: The month when I couldn’t even breathe
February: The month when I couldn’t go home
Because of that, I’d briefly forgotten.
That March was the month when a semester began.
That the high school students in our dorm would also be going to school for the new semester.
I realized that fact when Lee Cheonghyeon’s alarm went off earlier than usual.
I woke up thinking his alarm seemed to have gone off earlier than usual for some reason, but Choi Jeho across from me was still sleeping without budging.
Just as I was wondering what had gotten into a guy who usually woke up as soon as an alarm rang, Lee Cheonghyeon climbed down from his bed looking like death.
“Are you sick? Why does your face look like that?”
“Because I’m tired… Hyung, set your alarm and sleep more. It’s seven right now.”
“Seven?”
When I checked the time, it really was seven. It was a whole hour earlier than our usual wake-up time.
“I should’ve gone to bed early yesterday… I think I stayed up late for no reason.”
Then Lee Cheonghyeon opened the wardrobe and took out a familiar grayish uniform.
It was the uniform I’d seen when I gathered up old photos of Lee Cheonghyeon to make a subway birthday ad.
‘Right. He’s seventeen now.’
In other words, Lee Cheonghyeon was only just entering high school.
It had already become hazy to me how many years ago I’d entered college.
I once again became worried whether it was morally right for me to debut in the same team as these kids.
“Is today the start of classes?”
“Hyung, it’s not the start of college classes, it’s the start of school! And for me, it’s not school starting, it’s my entrance ceremony!”
The moment I made one slip of the tongue, Lee Cheonghyeon bit into it. Seeing how energetic he became three minutes after waking up, I figured I didn’t need to worry about his stamina.
I followed Lee Cheonghyeon out of the room as he seemed to be heading off to wash up.
In the living room, Jeong Seongbin and Kang Giyeon were wandering around in their uniforms.
Maybe because they were uniforms for an arts high school, the color and design of theirs were quite different from Lee Cheonghyeon’s.
≫ Blueberry Yogurt-era school photos of the alumni line are precious, so precious… Fuck, why the hell didn’t our boys take selfies with those faces? Not taking 100 selfies a day with faces like that is dereliction of duty. I’m so fucking pissed.
└ This isn’t even gradual anger, it’s just anger right out the gate.
Looking at the pale purple uniforms, I remembered an SNS post I’d seen in passing somewhere.
When I had time, I should sit those three on the dorm sofa and tell them to take some selfies.
“Do you guys eat breakfast before you leave?”
“Seongbin-hyung said he’d toast bread for us.”
Come to think of it, there were three slices of bread on the frying pan.
It looked like he was simply heating the bread over fire, without jam or eggs. The world of idols was this dry, both in the mouth and the heart.
“If you’re just toasting it, I’ll do it. You guys get ready to leave.”
“What? You don’t have to…”
“I can’t sleep more anyway. Once I wake up, I can’t fall back asleep.”
I wasn’t particularly good at cooking, but I could toast bread at least.
When I took the spatula from him, Jeong Seongbin hovered anxiously around me for a while before backing away.
“I think there were eggs in the fridge. Want me to fry some for you?”
“No, hyung! It’s really okay!”
“I’m fine too…”
“Please put an egg on mine!”
Before Kang Giyeon could even finish speaking, Lee Cheonghyeon shouted from the bathroom. Just what kind of hearing did he have?