Episode 26. Debut Evaluation (2)
“Hyung, it’s your turn for the interview.”
“Really?”
I Cheong-hyeon opened the practice room door and called out to me.
It had been only thirty minutes since the guy had been called away for his.
Starting the day after the month-end evaluation ended, the company had been conducting one-on-one interviews, beginning with Jeong Seong-bin.
Considering that last time, the interviews had been held at the beginning of the following month when the results came out, it really seemed like they were trying to solidify the debut team’s outline this time.
‘Well… I did everything I could.’
Now I had to think about what I needed to do in the interview.
For example, if I heard something like, “Rather than debuting with the current team when there’s such a big skill gap, let’s aim for the next batch,” I needed to figure out how I’d grab the CEO by the pant legs.
Steeled once more with the resolve to pay filial piety to my sister with compound interest, I headed toward the conference room.
I knocked and went inside, where three people were waiting: the CEO, the Manager, and Min Ju-gyeong.
The atmosphere in the conference room was quite different from what I’d expected.
“I-wol’s here? Sit, sit.”
“What can I get you to drink?”
How should I put it… it was remarkably favorable.
Why? Normally, to persuade someone like me who lacked skill and was older, they’d need to come out prepared to bash everything about me.
‘Aren’t you afraid of your performance review, Deputy Gim, working like this? If it were me, I’d have gotten my ass handed to me and handed in my resignation first.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking of switching jobs? Get a grip on reality. Deputy Gim, aren’t you almost thirty? You think you can compete with kids in their twenties?’
…That’s what they should be saying.
Remembering my memories with Manager Nam made my mood about three times filthier. Thanks to that, I had to do my utmost to manage my expression.
With me taking my seat, the interview began in earnest.
But something was a little unexpected.
“How did you get along with the members, I-wol?”
“I heard you all gathered in the practice room and talked recently? Wasn’t that kind of setting difficult for you?”
“I-wol, who do you think would be suitable as the team’s leader?”
Every question flying my way was the kind used in personality interviews.
For a moment, I almost suspected that someone had reported me, saying, “I think Gim I-wol’s personality is cracked.”
Of course, it wouldn’t have been strange if someone had said that.
I tried to be as sociable as possible, putting to use the social skills I’d honed at Hanpyeong Industries, but I had never been the one to start small talk with Spark first.
So I appealed to the point that living together with the members was very enjoyable, and that I felt our relationship had deepened recently, which I was very satisfied with.
I added, as calmly as possible, talk about how earnest and improving the trainees were, and how excellent their personalities were.
Since my KPI was to debut as a six-member boy group, not a single person could be left behind.
Especially to the question of who seemed suitable as the team leader, I named Jeong Seong-bin with a heart that felt like it was vomiting blood. Because without him, this team would disintegrate into thin air.
After talking like that for a while, the CEO opened his mouth.
“Actually, the company had been thinking about making you the leader of the next group.”
It wasn’t an unexpected offer. Even I wouldn’t want to put a dead weight on a well-set table.
Though the crown of leadership was outside my expectations.
Now that it had come to this, there was no helping it.
To gain momentum when handing in my resignation, I would have to display my secret ultimate kneeling technique, honed over several years…
“But you have such good chemistry with the existing trainees.”
Huh?
This was a completely unexpected development.
I almost wondered if the CEO was mistaken about the meaning of the word “chemistry.”
Usually, you wouldn’t look at someone making the maknaes stand in the middle of the practice room, possessed by the spirit of a judge, running them ragged for two hours or whipping them to write songs, and call that “good chemistry.”
“Teamwork is really important in an idol group. The word ‘relationships’ isn’t just thrown around for no reason.”
I knew that all too well. I’d seen to the point of disgust how much the Spark guys of the past had acted individually.
Except for when self-produced content started, how torturous it had been to forcefully cut and paste scenes of members instantly scattering in all directions or maintaining firing distance, creating a “Spark Relationship Compilation” series.
It had gotten to the point where I wondered if it wouldn’t be better for their future if the stick function had an element of compulsion to force them into pairs.
Whether I was confused or not, the CEO—who clearly didn’t know the meaning of chemistry—continued talking.
“The kids aren’t very easygoing, but they seemed to get close to you quickly. Your own skills are improving day by day, too.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“In the interviews, there wasn’t a single kid who didn’t talk about you, you know?”
I felt bitter.
They probably hadn’t seen the expression on Gang Gi-yeon’s face when he watched me dance.
The CEO brought up that he was thinking of Jeong Seong-bin, the all-rounder, as the leader, and said to me:
“That’s why I’m asking. I-wol, as the hyung, could you occasionally help Seong-bin out and help the members gel together?”
“…Excuse me?”
I had never once lost focus while talking to someone.
But right now, I felt like my mind had blanked out for a moment.
‘What does that mean?’
While I was worrying over it, the Manager slapped my back—not painfully.
“You’re debuting with the kids too! Congratulations!”
Ah.
Was that what he was talking about?
Compared to Manager Nam’s direct verbal abuse, the CEO’s words were practically classical poetry. His skill at speaking in elegant circles was top-tier.
“You always acted so sharp, yet you weren’t even thinking you’d make the debut team?”
Min Ju-gyeong said, sounding proud. Though I had been thinking I’d have to get on my knees if things didn’t work out.
Wondering if the staff were all conning me together, the air flickered and the system appeared.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Mission’ has been completed.
▷ Reward: EXP (20)
▷ Accumulated EXP: 55
▷ Accumulated Points: 0
+
It was a moving message. My eyes were so dazzled they stung.
Noona, cheer for me.
I’m an idol debut team member now.
* * *
A few days later, we received confirmation congratulations for the debut team along with a small whole cake. Because of the upcoming weight check, everyone only tasted it, though.
There were precisely two good things about the debut team being completely set.
The month-end evaluations were gone, and practice room usage hours had been extended until 2 a.m.
And as for the downsides…
The company had announced they would start managing weight in earnest, the crackdown on phone usage of one hour a day had gotten a bit stricter, trainees had to develop individual specialties, and foreign language studies had been added… that was about it.
In the midst of this, the system brought a new mission as well.
+
[SYSTEM] A ‘Mission Directive’ has arrived from your ‘Supervisor’.
▶ Deputy Gim, try planning the unity tournament event this time. With a young sensibility. Ah, since the executives will be attending the tournament, don’t go too innovative. Moderately… what is it, retro yet fresh, please!
[SYSTEM] A ‘New Mission’ has been assigned.
▷ Decide the Debut Album Concept
▷ Reward: EXP (10)
+
Come. I had been waiting.
The album concept was a mission I had been preparing for in advance.
It was my first time planning an idol album, but since I had documents, it wasn’t daunting.
If there was a format, I could figure out the components, so filling in the content was no big deal.
The problem was that I couldn’t use the documents the system had given me as they were.
‘If they ask where I got the proposal format, what am I going to answer?’
I had considered saying I downloaded it from an all-purpose form site, but upon checking, there was no such format on that platform.
And I couldn’t exactly pin the blame for leaking internal documents on an innocent person.
In other words, I had the documents but had to pretend I didn’t.
At a time when I didn’t have enough time to even think of a concept, I had to worry about how to hide Schrodinger’s documents.
I also had to worry about how to disguise myself as a trainee who just happened to have an unusually good sense.
K-pop idol trainees really aren’t easy.
‘Come to think of it, I hadn’t even opened those documents.’
I took out the trio of planning proposals that had been left abandoned after I received them, likely wandering somewhere in the virtual world.
And the moment I saw the format, I had a gut feeling.
That this format would be discarded once the debut album planning was finished.
If a document lacks fundamentals, this is what happens. If even a non-expert in planning could tell this was no good, then this thing was beyond salvation.
I skimmed the outline list with unfocused eyes.
‘So the overall concept and message are one set, and outfits and the music video make three areas total?’
It hadn’t been long since I’d resolved to fix my dark circles, yet I already felt them growing twice as dark.
‘At least office workers get paid for their labor…’
I entertained a rather mercenary thought for a brief moment, but then remembered that Hanpyeong Industries hadn’t paid overtime either, and immediately returned to my trainee life. Once I achieved my KPI, I would definitely get a job at a company that didn’t use a comprehensive wage system.
* * *
After crossing the great mountain known as the evaluation, a fairly peaceful daily life continued.
Days of doing the set practice every day and wrestling with the proposal.
I had thought this schedule would continue for the time being. Unfortunately, the peace didn’t last long.
This morning, Jeong Seong-bin, while preparing to go to school, had secretly left behind…
‘Could you spare some time this afternoon?’
…this single line.
‘I can make time. Is there something you want to talk about?’
‘Yes. And… Je-ho hyung too.’
‘Choe Je-ho?’
The selection of people was ominous from the start.
Of course. The moment Choe Je-ho got involved, the probability of the conversation flowing smoothly converged to zero.
Choe Je-ho’s reaction when I delivered Jeong Seong-bin’s request wasn’t much different.
‘Me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘How should I know?’
And now, back to the present. The only two adult members among the trainees were trembling.
I wanted to ask Bak Ju-u, Jeong Seong-bin’s roommate, if he hadn’t noticed any strange vibes, but it seemed Jeong Seong-bin didn’t want others to know yet, so I couldn’t even ask that.
“I really have no idea, but did you do something wrong to Seong-bin?”
While waiting for Jeong Seong-bin to return in the lobby, I subtly probed Choe Je-ho.
Then Choe Je-ho answered seriously.
“I was already thinking about that.”
“I see…”
At least he was thinking about it now. Compared to last month when he’d fought against Gang Gi-yeon with physiognomy, this was tremendous progress.
After waiting about thirty minutes like that, Jeong Seong-bin returned through the main gate in his school uniform.
Whether Jeong Seong-bin had told him beforehand or not, Gang Gi-yeon only greeted us and went down to the basement practice room without a word.
Jeong Seong-bin looked at us, took off his bag, and bowed deeply.
“Thank you for making time.”
“It’s nothing. Was school okay?”
I waved my hand and asked after his well-being. Jeong Seong-bin nodded a couple of times.
“Yes. Did you hyungs have any trouble?”
“Other than Choe Je-ho almost cursing me out, nothing much.”
While making light conversation, I subtly observed Jeong Seong-bin’s expression.
His complexion wasn’t bad, but his face looked slightly anxious.
A guy whose usual behavior was exemplary and who had recently gotten a good grip on himself—a reason too awkward to announce openly to others.
Such a guy had called out Choi Je-ho, who belonged to a group terrifying enough to bring frost in mid-summer just by existing, and old me.
Thinking through these various factors, no matter how hard I racked my brain, there was only one answer that came to mind.
Carefully, and hoping with all my heart that Jeong Seong-bin would say no, I asked:
“So… is this request about asking us to bury someone?”