Episode 9. Establishing KPIs (2)
For the past few days, I had been eagerly watching for a chance to go outside.
All to get to a PC bang.
Unaware of my impure intentions, Gang Giyeon kindly left me with some small encouragement.
“Don’t overdo it.”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
After confirming Gang Giyeon was going up the stairs, I immediately turned around.
Then I ran out to the main road and hailed the first taxi that came.
I hate deviating from the norm. I’m someone who finds it easiest to simply do as I’m told.
I had said in my personal interview that private orders unrelated to work were uncomfortable, and after being scolded for four hours standing up, anyone would turn out this way.
But now I had no choice. There was something I absolutely had to check.
The taxi arrived shortly at the entrance of the apartment complex where I had lived with my family before becoming independent.
Instead of going into the apartment, I walked a few minutes toward the commercial area, and a familiar PC bang appeared.
As soon as I opened the door, the part-timer waved his hand telling me to leave, asking if I didn’t know minors couldn’t come to PC bangs after 10 p.m.
If he had seen my dark circles in a bright place, he wouldn’t have misunderstood like that.
I had no choice but to show my ID proving I had just turned twenty before I could finally enter.
Relieved that if I had gone back to when I was just one year younger, I wouldn’t have been able to come to a PC bang or a noraebang.
I sat down, and the first things I checked were the certified copy of the register for my apartment and my certified copy of resident registration.
There was a lot of personal information to enter, and since I didn’t know if search records might be left behind, these were documents I couldn’t look up on I Cheonghyeon’s laptop.
And I found out something surprising, if not very interesting.
Around the same time my residence was moved to Spark’s dorm, the apartment’s ownership had been transferred from my father to someone else.
I remembered that before, I had been the one to cut off contact first.
Strangely enough, it seemed the setting now was that I had been cut off first by both parents.
It didn’t really matter. It was just that the timing of putting distance between myself and my family had moved up compared to before.
It was a bit pitiful that I had been abandoned in front of an entertainment agency at age twenty.
Next, I started organizing an asset portfolio on Google Sheets based on my entire fortune of 15 million won.
First, I set aside emergency funds for unexpected situations, calculated the minimum living expenses, then double-checked the basic funds needed for a housing subscription and deducted them from the balance.
*Since my house has evaporated, the housing subscription is essential. As for the remaining money…… I’ll have to put it in stocks.*
The past me had no interest in stocks whatsoever.
Whether I should call it a blessing or not, all I knew were stocks that were already famous or stocks that would become famous in the future.
The kind of stocks that rose about 300%, making it impossible for the entire nation not to know.
When I checked, I could clearly see several large-cap stocks lingering at low prices.
I hadn’t even gone to university and was about to blow precious money, so I intended to grow at least this much money and pay back my sister.
I exited the stock discussion board after seeing a post titled *Sentimental Electronics. Someday. It will rise.* with a comment saying, “Wash your feet and go to sleep, old man.”
If I had known about stocks that would be delisted too, I would have written a post telling everyone to run.
There wasn’t much I knew; all I could do was pray that everyone’s investments would succeed.
Hoping I had made the right choice, I left the PC bang thoroughly exhausted.
And to keep my word about going to a noraebang to practice, I sang for about two hours at a noraebang and returned obediently to the dorm.
It was a long day.
* * *
If there was one thing I realized every morning, it was that the stamina of a twenty-year-old was incomparably better than it would be nine years later.
No matter how much I danced the day before or cut sleep, I woke up with the energy to move.
*So this is why I could do part-time logistics work every vacation—the secret was youth.*
Every time I viscerally felt my youth returning like this, it only brought complicated feelings.
There were changes in the daily routine, too.
“Did your practice have any effect?”
Gang Giyeon, who would only give a slight bow when we passed each other in the morning, offered his own morning greeting for the first time.
“It was time spent realizing I’m not enough of a genius to master a song in one day.”
“Hyung, did you practice separately again yesterday? Omg, your dark circles are no joke!”
I Cheonghyeon, who had definitely been following behind me, poked his head around to check my face and made a fuss.
For some reason, even the manager who had come to the dorm that morning added a word from behind.
“Juu would sing a song right away as soon as he got it.”
“Isn’t that proof that Juu is a genius?”
I immediately appealed to the manager about the member’s greatness.
Thinking that being compared to the main vocalist first thing in the morning was too harsh an environment.
It was definitely a noisy morning compared to when I lived alone. Still, mornings greeted with multiple people felt a bit familiar now.
Human adaptability is scary.
After that, Gang Giyeon occasionally talked to me as he came and went.
Jeong Seongbin, who was in the habit of looking after everyone; I Cheonghyeon, who had good social skills; and Bak Juu, who would quietly arrive without me knowing when and check my posture or vocals.
These Spark guys used pieces of their own break time to watch my practice.
All the while, I had to force strength into my fingers to restrain myself from habitually trying to color-correct their face tones in midair and pressing shortcut keys.
Regardless of how hard I was learning, these guys needed to know how harmful to another person’s heart it was to suddenly butt in from the side.
Even Choe Jeho, who rarely approached others, said something like this.
“You got friendly with the guys really fast.”
Choe Jeho must have seen me being passed around by the members like a subway loop line.
Still, calling that “getting friendly” was crossing a line. I was grateful for the consideration and kindness, though.
“Me? With the guys?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t it because they’re all nice?”
“Not sure.”
Choe Jeho answered with an ambiguous reaction. Anyone could see he didn’t look comfortable.
As if anyone would think this situation is comfortable.
They give me advice, give me feedback at night, see me off after practice.
Considering the goodwill the Spark guys show me, UA’s biggest outcast, I should acknowledge their character; I’m simply grateful.
I had absolutely no desire to build closeness with them. You guys should get close with each other.
“With Giyeons, it feels closer to a strict teacher and a hopeless disciple, though….”
“So you weren’t hopeless.”
“You’re viewing it in past tense?”
At my words, Choe Jeho smiled slightly.
This smile, the fans…….
*Please don’t misunderstand. Our Jeho is bursting into laughter right now. He doesn’t bite.*
……was the smile they would explain like that.
If I hadn’t known, it would have been impossible to distinguish Choe Jeho’s smiles.
Of course, there were parts that bothered me.
The members being kind and me being a freeloader were different issues.
If I was going to cling to the bus window with ulterior motives, I needed more than just effort. That is, if I had a conscience.
Having the skills ready right away would be best, but it was realistically impossible.
With even the experience I trusted being adjusted, raising my ability stats in an instant seemed difficult.
All that remained was to match and support the guys who had staked their futures on this work as much as possible.
Whatever part I could do.
Since we were on the topic, I decided to check with Choe Jeho first.
“There’s something I want to ask.”
“What.”
“Stopping midway during group practice to help me—I’m grateful, but I think it’s too disruptive for you guys.”
“So?”
“What should I improve on first so that I’m at least less of a hindrance to you guys?”
Then I felt four minors looking at me from not far away.
I thought I had grown sufficiently accustomed to humbling my incompetent self under Manager Nam.
But there was something I had overlooked.
It was the first time I had openly declared, *Yes, I am the burden of this area.*
It was more embarrassing than I thought. An experience that filled me with motivation to grit my teeth and practice.
I’ll remember this well and have self-reflection time kicking my blankets about it later.
As I steeled my resolve, Choe Jeho asked back.
“What’s your intention in asking that?”
Oh, he’s coming out milder than I expected.
I had expected someone like Choe Jeho to say things like, “If I tell you, can you even fix it?”
Because I knew well his raw, unfiltered remarks.
In the idol world where one word could create an army of ten million antis, Choe Jeho’s rough quotable quotes were perfect for making issues.
Perhaps he knew that too—as his years increased, the frequency with which Choe Jeho opened his mouth on broadcasts noticeably decreased.
Unfortunately, that met the common vicious cycle ending of leading to attitude controversies in their own right.
He did his own part well enough and was the eldest. There might not have been anyone in the team to call him out.
In that sense, *What’s your intention in asking that?* was on the fairly good side.
However, Gang Giyeon and I Cheonghyeon, who were now openly watching, didn’t look pleased. They seemed to think Choe Jeho’s question could sound like a quarrel to me.
*Seems they understood it roughly as: Did you just come in late, see the atmosphere, and turn it around to pick a fight?*
Words are truly mysterious. Depending on context and non-verbal expressions, the same words can be heard in thousands of ways.
If I were in a sleep-deprived state with twisted insides and heard that, I might have lit twin candles in my eyes, thinking, *I bowed my head because I’m sorry, and you’re still not satisfied?*
Perhaps because he wasn’t the leader yet, Jeong Seongbin also visibly held his tongue.
This tiresome seniority system—I ought to smash it to pieces soon.
But since I was going to be active as an idol, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful with my language.
So I decided to rephrase Choe Jeho’s question in the way he *probably* wanted to say it.
“You mean you’re asking if there’s a reason I’ve started thinking I’m a stumbling block?”
“……? Yeah.”
As expected. This guy just has a bad mouth; he doesn’t seem like a bad person.
After a brief silence, Choe Jeho lifted his head to look at me. He seemed to have finally noticed the strange atmosphere around him.
“It’s not so much that there’s a reason…… After hearing about the month-end evaluation, I thought about it alone.”
“…….”
“You all prepared longer than me and must want to do well, but practice keeps getting interrupted because you teach me. I thought that might be a nuisance to you.”
“It’s natural to mess up every day. How long has it been since you became a trainee?”
“But it’s still disruptive.”
“If your form crumbles just because practice got interrupted a few times, that’s the crumbling person’s problem.”
It was truly cold and yet needlessly tender feedback.
As the situation flowed this way, the other members couldn’t speak even if they had complaints.
It can’t be helped.
I decided to neatly repackage the words of genius Choe Jeho, who acted as if his own condition management wouldn’t be hindered in the slightest whether others fell or broke their noses.
“I understand your opinion. Thanks for being honest.”
Then Choe Jeho flinched.
He had an “oops” expression. Fortunately, he does have some sense.
Choe Jeho slightly furrowed his brow, pondered, and opened his mouth with difficulty.
“……For now, that’s what I think.”
The word *my* was subtly emphasized. It meant he had no intention of dismissing others’ opinions or pointing fingers at someone.
When I subtly turned my head, I Cheonghyeon was moving only his mouth silently in admiration.
Unlike Choe Jeho, I Cheonghyeon was a guy with amazingly good sense.
Hoping against hope, I sent a signal to tactfully take the baton, and I Cheonghyeon approached with a sly smile.
“There’s no way Jeho said it with bad intentions! I didn’t feel that at all!”
He really took it. For this moment alone, I’m grateful for your tact.
“We’re overwhelmingly grateful just that you share a room with Jeho. If you hadn’t, I would have been the only one soaking my pillow every night in that Siberian-like room.”
“Isn’t that an insult to me?”
“Come on. You know if I really had something pent up, I wouldn’t be able to talk like this, right, Jeho?”
Then I Cheonghyeon sent Choe Jeho a hand heart. It was a gesture with nothing lacking to be an idol.
I Cheonghyeon continued speaking, putting his arm around Gang Giyeon’s shoulder.
“If something was bothering us, this guy would have said it first, right? Our Giyeon’s totally the discipline monitor. Right?”
“Get your arm off.”
“Isn’t Seongbin the monitor? He’s always checking during breaks.”
“Seongbin is more of a baby angel monitor than a discipline monitor.”
That was true. Jeong Seongbin was indeed kind.
“Still, um, everyone is so good, and I suddenly joined, so I couldn’t help but worry.”
“How many people become trainees through street casting? If I worried about each one, I couldn’t practice at all.”
“Cheonghyeon is somewhat right, hyung. You don’t have to worry too much.”
“I’m glad if it’s not uncomfortable.”
Now the only one weighing on my mind was Bak Juu, who hadn’t participated in the conversation once.
I cautiously asked for the opinion of the future main vocalist who would dedicate his voice to the team for life.
“Juu?”
“……Yes?”
“Aren’t you uncomfortable because of me?”
Sorry, Bak Juu.
I know you don’t like talking to strangers much, but for your comfortable practice life and smooth debut, please cooperate…….
“Never.”
“R-really?”
“Yes. And everyone knows you’re working hard…….”
“Ah…… Thanks for saying that.”
A society so generous to others. So unfamiliar.
*As long as I don’t ruin the practice atmosphere, they don’t intend to make a big deal of it.*
That went for the agency’s management policy too, where self-practice was the main focus.
Overall, the people here seemed to have no intention of serving silent pressure as long as discipline didn’t slip and people didn’t become lazy.
Do I just have to bust my ass?
That’s rather welcome.