Episode 50. Unproven Talent
The idol market changed so rapidly that it rendered meaningless the trainees who needed to debut while still young, and the data they had barely scraped together.
These two things meant that time was gold.
But UA could not rush. The reason was simple.
They had no one to do the work.
UA, which had attempted to launch a new business with only existing employees and not a single person dedicated to an idol team, had only recently realized how arrogant they had been.
“We need a manager to take full charge of everything related to Spark!”
It was a realization that came too late, even for a belated realization. It was the final fate of a company that lacked manpower, experience, work sense... and absolutely everything else.
Still, UA had at least a conscience.
Seeing their youngest trainee, Gim Iwol, practicing during the day and somehow working at night, growing as haggard as the staff, the company made a decision. And they recruited a new expert as quickly as possible.
They brought in an experienced, team-leader-level veteran who had launched idol groups before and had worked in the entertainment industry for a long time.
UA believed this was the best support they could provide for the trainees.
They had no idea that their very own trainee, Gim Iwol, would be overcome by the urge to resign exactly three days later, all thanks to the new face.
* * *
‘So... new personnel are being brought in.’
The news delivered through the manager wasn’t all that surprising.
I had expected that UA would feel the need for manpower by now.
Even if it was the same entertainment business, the idol industry was a field UA was challenging for the first time. There was no way they could run it with just existing staff.
What mattered was what kind of person this new arrival would be.
I hadn’t learned much about UA’s internal affairs while proxy-stanning.
Fans’ discussions about the agency mostly centered on operational policies or activity plans anyway.
≫ You bastards, how does it make sense for the photocards to be such dogshit quality, fuck fuck
└ First time experiencing this while stanning idols... This is a new chapter in album sales history
≫ Last time first-week sales hit 500k, so what’s with preparing only 300k first-print copies? The kids are working their asses off to get good results, but the company is grabbing both ankles
≫ I thought it was because UA was making idols for the first time during the debut days
But now it just seems like they’re doing a dogshit job, confident fans will spend money anyway, and have completely let go
First time in my life I’m quitting a fandom because of the agency
└ Can’t you leave quietly? Why are there so many kids broadcasting their departure everywhere? Nobody gives a fuck
Most of the criticism was this kind of rage-filled stuff.
So, regrettably, I was in the dark about the incoming person.
What good was knowing the future seven years from now? I didn’t even know the future seven days from now. What a cruel twist.
“You’ll probably be under his producing full-time. Iwol, you’ll be able to learn a lot too.”
“Then, will we have an idol team now?”
Jeong Seongbin asked.
He must have been quite anxious that the company had no team responsible for idols.
Having been a trainee for a long time, he had probably seen and heard plenty, which only made it worse.
The manager answered Jeong Seongbin’s question.
“That’ll probably happen soon? He graduated from a good university and has worked at idol agencies several times. You’ll be able to rely on him a lot.”
Sorry, but I don’t believe in people’s academic backgrounds and careers. Manager Nam also graduated from a good school.
I listened to the manager’s explanation, then casually asked.
“Could I perhaps know his name in advance?”
“Look at my memory. I didn’t even tell you the PD’s name? It’s PD Yu Hansu.”
The manager said.
It was not an unfamiliar name.
A figure my body remembered instinctively; the only person at UA—where the whole company could be cursed at, but no individual would ever get singled out and beaten—to be surrounded from all directions and stoned.
≫ Please, I’m begging you
Send that fucker Yu Hansu out
Then I’ll forget all the albums that were released like complete shit until now
The lifelong wish of early Sparklers: “Getting rid of UA’s PD.”
The very PD who was the subject of that wish was Yu Hansu.
Two days and nights would not be enough to recite all of Yu Hansu’s achievements.
The gem-like masterpieces, including the “Cyborg Warrior” that kept appearing in my dreams to torment me, had all been born through Yu Hansu’s hands.
And that wasn’t all.
Yu Hansu committed the atrocity of making Park Juu perform silent meditation at a fan meeting in the 21st century, claiming he wanted to strengthen each member’s identity.
The community reaction back then...
It was hard to even recall. Even as a twenty-nine-year-old adult, it had been terrifying.
He got cursed at so much that even UA—whose entire staff seemed like they would live long, disease-free lives fueled by those curses alone—could not withstand the fandom’s fierce onslaught and posted an apology.
An apology full of nonsense, stating they had wanted to give fans a new experience, that it had been part of concept strengthening but the message seemed not to have gotten across.
Nevertheless, UA was a company that cherished its employees once hired, so they did not easily cast Yu Hansu aside.
And so Yu Hansu spectacularly ruined the albums during Spark’s three-year golden time.
Thinking about it, it was truly strange. Because Yu Hansu’s previous works had not been that bad.
Rather, many idols had hit moderate success or gained new attention specifically because Yu Hansu had personally produced them.
‘But why did his devil talent bloom in full precisely after coming to UA, damn it.’
If his producing for Spark had boarded an express train straight to hellfire, the cause could be roughly narrowed down to two possibilities.
Either Yu Hansu had suddenly gone senile, or the company had suddenly collaborated something strange with Yu Hansu’s proposals.
Either way, it was a headache. I already felt like I was draped in the pickled-radish-on-a-keyboard look.
Still, I found it hard to believe things had gotten that bad because of Yu Hansu’s individual problem alone.
Things going wrong was never one person’s responsibility from the start. Isn’t that how company work always goes?
Yu Hansu might have tried his best, but perhaps UA had been too small a vessel to contain him.
So instead of immediately going on high alert, as soon as night fell, I logged into Job Planet and Work.com from the dorm.
I searched for companies where Yu Hansu had worked or collaborated, matched the job category, and cross-referenced the dates. Then I could see reviews mentioning a person presumed to be him.
The reviews were mostly despairing.
≫ A company where everyone is great, but exactly one person muddies all the water
If they don’t send that person out, there’s no hope. Work like that for life. I’m leaving.
≫ An extreme job where if your superior makes trash without sincerity, you have to applaud it
I can feel the heart of Hong Gildong, unable to call trash trash
And in the end, that person takes all the rewards... If you want your career stolen, come here
≫ The company is like trash and the superior is even more like trash
Pros: There is exactly one problematic person
Cons: That bastard doesn’t leave
Having scanned every company review page through legal yet insidious means, I thought.
‘I think I’m fucked.’
First, his personality seemed shot. Seeing the term “achievement thief” repeated, his abilities didn’t seem that outstanding either.
Yet he got good evaluations from the company and monopolized all the rewards?
This was 100% the mark of office politics. And severe politics at that.
Maybe UA had really wanted to give impudent me a severe scolding.
Unless they wanted me to taste the bitter harshness of society and realize how difficult debut was, UA could not have done this to me.
“Ha...”
A sigh escaped me. I really did not want to work.
* * *
Unfortunately, Yu Hansu entered UA only a few days later.
At the same time, a modest face-to-face meeting was held with us, the group Yu Hansu would be in charge of.
It should have been enough to exchange greetings in a meeting room. But UA, a company that boasted a harmonious atmosphere, went so far as to reserve a restaurant during lunch so we could eat together.
Thanks to that, we had our first meeting at a sotbap restaurant.
After everyone finished introducing themselves, Yu Hansu opened his mouth.
“Was it Choe Jeho? I had high expectations after watching Jang Junhu’s music video, but you look good in person too. CEO, you must have had a hard time gathering trainees.”
He evaluates faces the moment he sees them? Already off to a rough start.
Not that I could look gloomy, so I was smiling with just my eyes like I had done at Hanpyeong Industries, when Yu Hansu looked my way.
“You’re Gim Iwol?”
“Yes.”
I equipped the social smile I had honed at Hanpyeong Industries once more.
And he was wearing the exact same smile. Fuck. I am really fucked.
“I heard a lot from the CEO and the planning team. They say you’re very interested in planning?”
“I am, though I’m lacking.”
Can’t we talk about this separately? I just want to eat at the restaurant.
But Yu Hansu didn’t stop talking, like a fool who knew nothing but work.
“The ideas weren’t bad. There’s a lot to refine, though. Having enthusiasm is a good thing.”
His tone didn’t seem approving of a single thing, but I expressed my gratitude as gently as possible.
Yu Hansu’s “evaluation of an enthusiastic trainee” continued.
“Still, it would be best to focus on practice for the time being. You haven’t been at this idol thing long, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Being motivated is good, but there are plenty of kids who try to do everything at once and end up ruining both. I’ve seen a lot of them.”
While Yu Hansu was rambling, the only thing I could do was desperately pray for the sotbap to arrive quickly.
He had essentially told me to shut up and focus for now; what could I even say to that?
I glanced sideways; the other guys’ expressions were not looking great.
It was good that they had gotten quicker at reading the room, but it was regrettable that they were still slow learners despite all my lectures on the importance of expression management.
Perhaps trying to be considerate because we were kids, the CEO spoke.
“From PD Hansu’s perspective, there must still be areas lacking. Still, Iwol has sense, so please lead him well and raise him up properly.”
It sounded like he was acknowledging Yu Hansu, but there was a barb in his words.
Don’t completely cut me off from planning, that was the gist. It was better treatment than being cast aside like a kite with its string cut.
Yu Hansu wasn’t completely tactless either, nodding repeatedly with “Of course.”
After thinking about a hundred times that I wished we could just eat quickly and disband, the long-awaited food finally arrived.
I bowed deeply to thank the CEO for telling us to eat plenty, and after confirming that the CEO and Yu Hansu had taken their first spoonfuls, I opened the lid of my sotbap. That was when Yu Hansu spoke.
“CEO, since planning came up, there’s something I’d like to say.”
“Yes, what is it?”
Whether those two chatted or not.
Like a child trying not to interject into adults’ conversation, I fixed my gaze on the rice.
And so, in the fleeting moment while counting how many chestnuts were in my portion of rice, Yu Hansu made a statement that made me doubt my ears.
“The kids’ debut album. I think we need to scrap the planning and redo it, even if it’s just the music video.”
Steam rose in puffs from the pot.
My vision blurred hazily.
Just like my future.