11. Say Something (1)
Poing was in a rather foul mood.
For the sake of a contractor who whined about not being kept company, it had gone out at the crack of dawn, finished its business, and returned—only to be ordered to spy the moment it got back.
If he had at least said it had worked hard, stroked its fur a little, and spoken to it nicely, its fatigue would have melted away and it would have felt motivated to try even harder.
Still, thinking of its sorrowful fate—that if this guy did well, Poing would survive too—it had silently gone off to spy. But the atmosphere here was truly a mess.
There were only three people sitting there, so how was the air this heavy?
“So, Ubin, I’m telling you, if we go with too heavy an atmosphere, it’ll be hard to plan the stage composition, and it’ll be difficult to draw people’s attention.”
“Hyung, but think about it. For both you and me, singing is the main thing. If we trust only Sebin and go with dance, the mood will overlap too much with the original song.”
“That’s why we need to rearrange it.”
“I’m saying, if we want to make that rearrangement easier and more impactful, wouldn’t it be better to go in a completely different direction from the original song?”
“…Haa.”
The two large humans kept arguing, and judging by how the smallest human’s under-eyes had already turned dark, this place had the kind of atmosphere that would fall apart on its own even if left alone.
The humans in the conference room where its contractor had been earlier were childish, but they had given off a bright scent that had put Poing in quite a decent mood. This place, however, was filled with nothing but the smell of desire, enough to make it painful to stay any longer.
And it was not the ripened desire that became an appropriate source of vitality, but an extreme sort of emotion, so strong it felt as if it would give Poing a headache it had never had before.
Displeased, Poing took careful note of the face that seemed to be the source of the problem. It had a feeling, in its own way, that that human would cause trouble sooner or later.
‘I’ll have to warn him properly not to get tangled up with him.’
Poing began to feel deeply worried about its slow-witted contractor, who could not do a single thing decisively.
Its new contractor was baselessly optimistic, and at times, he even looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Even though the human inside him was not especially young, sometimes he seemed like a ten-year-old child. It felt as if Poing had left a child by the water’s edge.
Was this why the senior fairies had said it was easier to grant the wishes of other intelligent beings instead?
There seemed to be no species as high-maintenance and full of things to worry about as humans, and a sigh escaped on its own.
Of course, because it was that difficult, the path to becoming an intermediate fairy depended on a human contractor.
It was a test that would determine Poing’s future according to how satisfactorily its human contractor could live out his life without violating the great premise of the fairy race.
While Poing was lost in thought, the meeting eventually ended without a conclusion.
They had kept repeating the same words over and over, and in the end, silence settled after the largest human suggested they cool their heads for a while. Leaving that conference room behind, Poing set off to find Jihwan as well.
That unpleasant human gave off such a thick, sticky smell that Poing did not want to go near him. Compared to him, Jihwan was better even if he was a bit childlike, Poing thought, trudging back toward Jihwan once more.
At least its contractor was good at one thing—petting. Poing desperately wanted to receive those strokes and take a deep nap.
* * *
“So, have you more or less decided on a direction?”
Team Leader Sohyeon’s eyes were filled with expectation and trust she could not hide. Seeing her try hard not to reveal those emotions to us felt a little new.
If you paid even a little attention, the eyes of the people around you could say so much. So why had the previous “me” failed to notice such things?
The more I thought about it, the more I felt sorry for the previous “me,” who had lived such a stifling life, and the angrier I became at how foolish he had been.
It had only been my second day living as this world’s Jihwan. If only he had tried a little harder to approach the people around him. If only he had set aside his personal greed a little and focused on the team.
If the previous “me” had merely maintained a good relationship with the members, he would not have been discussed as a candidate for exclusion from the moment the first evaluation began.
All I had done differently from the previous “me” was make an effort to blend into the team, yet in just one night, the way people looked at me had changed this much.
Whenever I sensed these facts little by little in people’s gazes and tones, it felt as if I had swallowed a handful of extremely bitter medicine, and it made me a little sad.
“Jihwan had a lot of ideas. Himchan gave us a lot of opinions from angles I hadn’t thought of, so that helped a lot. Now I’m planning to put my hopes in Gyeonghwan’s editing skills.”
“Goodness, I suppose you really can’t help being a leader. Hajun, you’re the leader of Team A too, aren’t you?”
“It just sort of happened that way.”
“We implicitly decided that as soon as the teams were set, though. I guess Hajun hyung was the only one who didn’t know.”
Seeing Hajun say nothing at all about what he himself had done and instead go on at length about how the team members had offered good opinions, Team Leader Sohyeon clicked her tongue.
And with perfect timing, Gyeonghwan added his comment, keeping the warm atmosphere going nicely.
“All right, tell me what you need. I’ll help with what I can, but you’ll have to handle the rest yourselves. Make a proposal you can report with directly and bring it to me. I’m going to give this to the director in person, so pay attention to it.”
“Yes!”
As we were about to leave after receiving a laptop so we could look over various performances of the original song, Team Leader Sohyeon asked us,
“Guys, are you having fun?”
“Pardon?”
“You look really excited for once. Do your best.”
We had spent every day anxious and pressed as if we were being chased. And yet, it seemed we had been smiling the whole time we talked to the team leader, to the point that we had not even realized it ourselves.
The moment I heard those words from the team leader, I gained the confidence that we could make a stage far cooler than the performance I had seen on “Idol Creation.”
We did not show it in front of the team leader, but after leaving the office, we kept glancing at one another and smiling as we walked down the hallway.
“Ahem, then I’ll go to the A&R team first with Gyeonghwan. Chan and Jihwan, the team leader said earlier that we could use the conference room, so go there or to an empty practice room and work on choreography while watching the videos.”
“Jun hyung, are you excited? Your face is absolutely blooming with smiles.”
“Seriously. He always just scolds us, but apparently he knows how to smile like that too.”
“I’m starting to doubt whether I’m really with Hajun hyung right now. What if he’s someone else?”
“Hey, seriously, you guys, stop….”
As the saying goes, a leader is best when he is cornered.
Having already discovered the taste of teasing the leader in the conference room, Himchan and Gyeonghwan were pouring oil by the bucketful, as if they would burn Hajun to ashes if I only lit the smallest spark. As a bonus, the back of Hajun’s neck turned red as though it had caught fire.
It was extremely satisfying to see Hajun, who usually only showed a gentle smile in front of the cameras, smiling comfortably in front of the members as well.
His obsession with having to take care of the members was so obvious that Hajun had always caused fans to worry, even during Unravel’s promotions.
I still vividly remembered the self-deprecating thing Yeongbin had said during a drinking broadcast that had been held the year Sebin became an adult, under the excuse of celebrating the youngest’s escape from minor status.
He had said that he believed enduring things without speaking of them because he did not want the younger members to worry was something he and Hajun had to handle, but Hajun himself had so many things he tried to handle alone without even telling him that, at times, it made him feel hurt.
The expressions Hajun and Yeongbin had made then became a tear button for countless Cotton Balls, and though it was a little embarrassing, I had cried too.
So, in order to create an atmosphere where Hajun and all the members could lean on one another, comfort one another, and help one another, I firmly resolved to do some behind-the-scenes work.
On the way back to the conference room with the laptop, Himchan stepped away for a moment to go to the bathroom, and I sat down in the conference room first, loosening my stiff shoulders.
The first competition that was about to begin, and the second competition that would follow right after it.
And the fact that there was not all that much time left until the final vote kept making me tense.
‘Hey, I’m back.’
‘Wow, our capable fairy has arrived. You worked hard.’
The camera was still rolling, and I did not know who might come in or when, so I could not stroke Poing after it climbed onto my lap. I only patted it lightly.
I had no idea where it had gone or what it had done while away from me, but it had looked exhausted for two days straight.
‘The other team seems doomed. It’s a total mess over there.’
‘How bad is it?’
‘The two big humans keep fighting without reaching any conclusion, and the small human is sitting there with a face like he’s given up on everything.’
‘What are they fighting about?’
‘The human lump of desire pushed for a ballad centered on vocals, and the human with the somewhat cold impression was against it.’
‘Kim Ubin really is consistent, no matter which team he ends up on….’
‘Don’t get involved with that human lump of desire. He smells bad.’
‘Smells?’
According to Poing’s explanation, fairies could sense a unique scent depending on a human’s emotions or state.
And it added that enduring and growing used to those scents was quite difficult.
Just as it was about to explain in more detail, Himchan entered the conference room.
“Jihwan, did you look up the videos?”
“Ah, no. While you were in the bathroom, I kind of zoned out too. I thought so hard earlier that my head was begging for a break.”
“I’m not surprised. First, let’s watch the seniors’ performances with a focus on choreography.”
Talking to Himchan while conversing with Poing at the same time was impossible for me, since I was bad at multitasking. I soothed Poing, telling it that we would talk more in a little while and that it should rest.
‘I have to work on this first, so let’s talk about the details later. Poing, get some rest. You look really tired.’
‘How admirable that you’ve finally noticed, you human bastard.’
Leaving behind words that sounded like an insult but somehow did not, Poing went limp on my lap as if all strength had left its body, and I awkwardly stroked its back, still feeling strange about the fact that I could not sense any weight.
Since Himchan was blocking the camera, I did not think it would be captured strangely.
“I think we’ll have to simplify all the choreography for the group dance scenes.”
After the two of us diligently watched the representative stages, from the official music video to broadcast performances and event stages, we came to the conclusion that it would be difficult to preserve all the group choreography.
Limitless had a total of seven members. Naturally, there were many choreographic sections that required a certain number of people, such as having quite a few members form sharp, symmetrical shapes or cross past one another while changing positions.
But we were four people. If we brought over that choreography as it was, the stage was obviously going to look terribly empty.
“Or maybe we could change the choreography a little so that four people can handle it instead?”
“In what direction?”
“For example, here. This part.”
The scene I showed Himchan was one where the seven members formed a large V-shaped formation, then the person at the point came forward while the others crossed around him.
“Since there are four of us, we could put in choreography where we split into pairs and face each other like mirror images.”
“Ah, so you mean we should completely overhaul the group dance for four people?”
“I think it’ll look less empty that way.”
I knew nothing about dancing, but fortunately, after becoming a fan of Unravel, I had watched quite a few idol performances through videos. In particular, it was fairly common for rookie groups to reinterpret and perform stages by established senior groups at year-end awards shows. Different dances and productions, reimagined in each group’s own style. Maybe it was because I’d watched them diligently and built up some experience, but I had become somewhat accustomed to watching stages.
“That does seem better than having it look empty, but if we do that, there’ll be too many parts we need to fix… Should we check them first?”
“Let’s prioritize and organize only the parts that require formations or a lot of people, then write down a few ideas about the look and feel we’re going for and ask Teacher Jehyeong for his opinion.”
From the start, what the company wanted to focus on in the first competition wasn’t each member’s individual skill, but the harmony between the members, communication with the company departments, and actively presenting our opinions.
No matter how talented we were, we were still trainees, and even if we debuted in the future, we would ultimately need help from many departments within the company.
Unfortunately, however, in the Idol Creation I had seen, the members had not been able to act proactively.
They either handed off the entire arrangement or, unable to seek proper advice, simply tried to do everything among themselves.
Because of that, I wanted us to receive advice and help, but have the team speak up about the direction, with the members actively exchanging opinions as we created the stage.
That way, based on these experiences, it felt like we could bring forward the day when the members would make songs and choreography themselves and write lyrics.
In the future, more and more of the public would demand professionalism from idols. If the public’s standards kept rising while idols remained unable to break out of the framework their company had made for them, they would inevitably fall behind.
Back when I was actively stanning, idols who wrote lyrics and composed music themselves received more goodwill from the public. As a result, there was a growing trend of idols releasing mixtapes containing their own sensibilities and color on free music sites.
Before more idols like that appeared, while there was still even a little rarity left, it was obvious that taking the lead first would be advantageous.
While I was lost in various thoughts, Himchan, who had checked all the choreography that needed to be changed, had already gone pale.