| Episode 47. A Teammate’s Sick Leave (1)
Once the song was complete, UA immediately set out to recruit a lyricist to put words to the debut track.
Since they were a company that made records, I figured I didn’t need to worry from the lyricist recruitment stage onward.
UA asked if there were any specific points I wanted included in the lyrics, so I fleshed out the proposal I’d shared before, added some references, and handed it over anew.
Thankfully, the completion rate for “Advice for the Stage” went up again this time.
With that, the major project for our debut had more or less been wrapped up. At least as far as the parts I could touch were concerned.
That didn’t mean I thought for even a second that I’d be able to rest.
Anyone who’d ever worked a job knew the common truth that when you finished one task, a new one came along.
“They’re probably going to dump another mountain of weird stuff on me now……”
So instead of relaxing, I had to think about how to make the most of the brief bit of spare time I’d gotten.
Whether that meant sorting out the backed-up account records before a new task popped up, or drawing the love lines between the members that I hadn’t been able to get to for a while.
If you came to your senses, work had piled up like a mountain before you knew it. The blessings of labor were endless.
As long as I lived in the Republic of Korea, the nation of labor, I was certain there would never be a day I worried about having no work unless I died and got buried in the ground.
So when I quit being an idol, I hope companies post a lot of job openings. I will work with all my heart and soul.
“Hyung, are you using the vocal practice room today? I saw your name written on the board.”
“Yeah. I’m going to go attain enlightenment through singing.”
I gave a casual answer to Jeong Seongbin telling me not to overdo it.
Objectively speaking, I was in a position where I had to practice even if it meant overdoing it.
Even knowing that my skills stood out among the six of us like an especially jagged stone, he could still say that.
No matter how many times I saw it, his magnanimity was almost worthy of respect.
“When you say it like that, it makes me feel even guiltier……”
Now I understood why Jeong Seongbin’s fans had shouted so passionately, “Kindness is a sin.”
Back then, I’d thought being kind was simply a good thing. Now I sympathized. Kindness was indeed a sin.
No matter how powdered my conscience had become, there was still at least some dust left. After all, I was still wearing the skin of a human.
Since I was even receiving labor support I’d never gotten at Hanpyeong Industrial, it was only right that I burn my vocal cords to ash at the very least.
Dreaming of improving my vocal proficiency, I steeled myself and headed to the practice room.
But the result wasn’t particularly good.
Because the growing pains were far too severe compared to the meager growth.
Unable to manage a three-tier high note but trying to at least attempt a two-tier one, I ended up, as if by some lie, losing about half my voice.
I realized my voice had gone bad when I greeted Jeong Seongbin in the morning as he diligently walked out of his room.
“Did you sleep well, hyung?”
“Yeah. ……?”
I’d tried to ask, “Did you sleep well too?” but wasn’t there cement grinding in my throat?
It felt like the acrid air of a construction site had been transplanted directly into my throat. Only belatedly did I feel the scratchiness there.
“Hyung, what happened to your voice?!”
“It’s morning, ahem, so I guess that’s why.”
Unfortunately, my lie didn’t work.
My voice sounded to anyone like someone who had spent three hours at karaoke the day before. Or like someone who had screamed curses about his boss for about three hours at the summit of Bugaksan.
“Hyung, I think it’d be better if you didn’t force your voice.”
Seeing me struggle to clear my throat, Jeong Seongbin poured some warm water into a cup and handed it to me.
I appreciated the kindness, but my condition itself was deeply troubling.
How could my skills have improved by a fingernail’s worth while my vocal cords had been grated like they’d gone through a grater?
This was unfair. Even Hanpyeong Industrial paid minimum wage, but this damned idol power seemed to exist outside the boundaries of the law.
And to think I was in this state even while receiving labor support. I could only think the physical damage was excessive compared to the results.
“Got, it. Ow. I can’t, ahem, say anything.”
“I told you not to talk……!”
When Jeong Seongbin’s voice grew louder, Gang Giyeon opened his door and came out, asking what was going on.
“Iwol hyung’s voice is really damaged. I think he overdid it too much yesterday.”
“His voice?”
“Yeah. Hyung, we’ll take care of breakfast ourselves and go, so you should rest a bit and go to the hospital.”
“What does my voice have to do with toasting bread?”
With a throat condition that would probably register as “very bad” if you measured it for ultrafine dust concentration, I struggled to say, meaning, “Stop talking and sit down to wait for the bread,” and Gang Giyeon’s expression rapidly darkened.
“Uh……. I really think you should go to the hospital first.”
Everyone was overreacting just because a rookie trainee had roughed up his throat once.
It was frustrating that I couldn’t say I wasn’t going to sing for the rest of my life anyway. It wasn’t as if a slightly damaged voice was some disaster.
If I were sick somewhere and it interfered with practice, I would have chosen to go to the hospital without delay, but a voice wasn’t something that urgently needed treatment like that.
I opened the bread bag and said,
“Guys.”
“Hyung…….”
“My throat hurts, so don’t make me say things twice.”
Only then did they finally shut their mouths.
For guys who were going to make a living as idols, they were awfully slow on the uptake. I could clearly see the hardships ahead of them.
Even though I’d said over and over that it was nothing, Jeong Seongbin stubbornly woke Choi Jeho up, left him with the words, “Please make sure Iwol hyung goes to the hospital!” and went to school.
“How bad is your throat?”
“It’s just whatever.”
“You sound metallic.”
Choi Jeho looked horrified. No, seriously, is it that bad?
It wasn’t as if my vocal cords being overworked was anything new.
During interview season, or on days when there was an inspection or construction in the company building, it had been my daily life to talk like a parrot for eight straight hours.
So I hadn’t felt that it was particularly strange, but apparently it sounded fairly bizarre to hear.
“Hyung.”
Just as I was about to tell Choi Jeho that I could go to the hospital on my own, someone called me from behind.
The only younger member who would be at the dorm at this hour was Park Juu.
When I turned around, Park Juu was standing there holding a mug. Hot steam was rising from inside it.
“What?”
“……Please drink this. It’s honey water.”
Park Juu set the mug down beside my plate of toast.
He must have put in quite a bit of honey, because the color of the water was fairly yellow. The fact that I still couldn’t smell the honey meant my nose seemed to be blocked too.
The thanks I’d been about to say dissolved into thin air when Park Juu stopped me.
The honey water I received without a word was incredibly sweet and hot.
“Juu.”
“Why, hyung?”
“How much honey did you…… ahem, put in this?”
“This much.”
Park Juu pointed to a spot about a quarter of the way up the cup.
It seemed our main vocal wanted to get rid of me not with some cold, but through excessive sugar intake.
It was atrociously sweet honey water, but out of respect for his sincerity, I was about to take another sip when Park Juu asked,
“……Should I add more water for you?”
The moment I heard those words, something from long ago came to mind, back when I’d been fifteen times sicker than now and about two million five hundred thousand times more exhausted.
“Assistant Manager Kim, what’s wrong with you that you take medicine so often?”
“It’s nothing serious. I’ve been having some headaches lately.”
Was it about two years after I joined Hanpyeong Industrial?
Around then, I started suffering from chronic headaches. I went to the hospital whenever I could find the time, but they only told me they couldn’t identify the cause.
In the end, all I could do was take painkillers whenever it got bad.
Every time that happened, Manager Nam would always make sure to say something to me in passing.
“A young person like you is relying too much on medicine, aren’t you? That’s a lack of willpower.”
I could never forget Manager Nam’s famous saying that if you had enough willpower, headaches would go away and your blood circulation would improve too.
Meanwhile, Manager Nam himself started going up to the rooftop for an hour to smoke after every meal, saying that now that he was older, his digestion wasn’t so good.
When he was the reason I’d developed headaches in the first place.
Manager Nam had once taken the medicine from my hand when my head felt like it was about to split open and thrown it into the trash.
“Anyway, stop taking medicine all the time. Take better care of your health normally.”
“Yes, understood.”
“It’s not like you’re staging a protest about being sick……. If someone saw you, they’d think you were doing it on purpose to show everyone you didn’t want to work. You know what I mean, right?”
The problem was that I understood what he meant even though I wished I didn’t.
Rain or snow, healthy or sick, Manager Nam’s unchanging heart as he consistently pecked at me was truly impressive.
After that, every time Manager Nam saw me, he would make some remark asking how my body was doing. If employees who had no idea what was going on asked, “Is Iwol sick or something?” he would make a huge fuss and talk about me like I was someone who might die tomorrow.
“Everyone, get some proper rest over the weekend. Especially you, Assistant Manager Kim! Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t move a muscle over the weekend! Just rest!”
By that point, people who didn’t know the situation well thought of me as someone who did nothing but stupid things every day. Thanks to that, even the executives scolded me, saying health management was a skill too.
Compared to back then, the treatment I was getting now was at an undeservedly gracious level. It was something I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry about.
Still, receiving worry without malice wasn’t bad. It was just a little embarrassing.
I forced myself to gather up my awkward feelings and said to Park Juu, who looked self-conscious,
“No, it’s good. Thanks.”
Then Park Juu smiled far more faintly than my honey water.
Seeing that, I couldn’t bring myself to leave any honey water behind, so I had no choice but to drink all of the honey water, which was sweet enough that I would have believed it was a honeycomb itself.
Up until then, there had still been a careless part of me.
Since the fatigue accumulating in me had lessened while I received the labor support service, I mistakenly thought that if I supported the members, they would be able to endure the grueling schedule without trouble too.
Forgetting that, whether it was mental strength or stamina, these guys were still kids who hadn’t finished growing yet.