What Do You Mean You Can't Be Sure of Success?
He looked like Count Asura. In an instant, the man had transformed into someone completely different. Cold. Just because a person spews venom doesn't mean they'll change. The Nemesis profile that Team Leader Park Jun-su had shown me was only worth a single glance. Not something I could bet on for sure success.
If I just gave them a little push, there were others who could really shine. But why would I bother with these ones?
"Why?"
Team Leader Park Jun-su voiced the question I was about to ask. His follow-up tone wasn't as icy. He'd realized his mistake and softened it with a spoonful of kindness. He knew damn well this wasn't the time to strut around.
Why? Because I couldn't take on Nemesis? Of course...
"I just can't understand it. If Composer Seo Hyun-woo took on our Nemesis, wouldn't the 'inevitable hitmaker' title be a done deal?"
My brows furrowed involuntarily. He'd stolen the emphasis and flair I'd planned to put on my words. This guy was irritating. Maybe, upon closer inspection, Park Jun-su's specialty was just snatching things away. How else could he keep devouring my lines like that?
I checked Nemesis's profiles.
I hadn't looked too closely. For a rookie group like this, the deciding factor wasn't their abysmal potential in vocals or dance. It was charm. Most were 1-2 stars. Like game characters you only use briefly in the tutorial stage—weak potential all around. Seo-jeong was straight-up blocked off. Low charm meant no matter what, she couldn't draw eyes. How could she make anyone fall for Nemesis's music? Even if we poured all our firepower into music shows, it'd be like reciting sutras to a cow's ear.
My hand moved on its own. Sang-hee, this one's decent. If the timing and luck align, she could spark a hit once. Of course, whether her personal success spreads to the group is anyone's guess. That's the entertainment biz for you. Once they taste the public's attention, they might throw a tantrum for a solo debut.
Speculation? No, prediction.
"Ah~! As expected of our composer. You've got the eye. No wonder you're leading the trends. That one there, Composer."
Team Leader Park Jun-su launched into full sales mode, rattling off Nemesis Sang-hee's profile. But that's it. End of story. Why was this guy hemming and hawing so much?
Park Jun-su kept pleading. Building her up starting from Sang-hee, swearing it'd bring me success as a composer. But mister, you think that'll fly?
"With G&X and our Falcon composer's brilliant tracks."
Park Jun-su raised his palms, dreaming of a new world.
"Nothing would be impossible, right? Billboard these days... it's not that tough a market."
Billboard isn't tough? Don't push your bullshit too far.
Idols' share of the Korean music market kept growing. They'd become mainstream, indispensable. Having devoured the market, the idol genre now spread worldwide. That was the problem. Idols pounding on the doors non-stop meant articles about high Billboard rankings popped up constantly. Charts updated daily—no, in real-time. Even mid-tier idols rushed out press releases after a single spin. Thanks to all those "multiple plays" articles piling up, getting on the charts felt routine.
Yeah, right. It's not that easy.
Top-tier idol composer. After reality observation shows started booming, producers gained fame and popularity too. I needed to give Park Jun-su a reality check.
"I get what you're trying to say, Team Leader. But... it's tough."
"Why?"
Why? Obviously.
"We're in the middle of filming right now."
"No. No."
Park Jun-su waved it off.
"No need to worry about that. We don't drag people in the middle of shoots, lock 'em up, and feed 'em army dumplings while they work."
Park Jun-su said.
"We're not that shameless. No matter what, we'll sync activities to your schedule. Don't worry too much."
"Worry?"
"Yeah. No need to worry. Go all in without holding back."
No worries, dive right in—but this was a waste of time. It was obvious no amount of effort would make it work. Why would I grab that hot potato?
I smirked. Did it look like a positive smile? Park Jun-su took it the wrong way, big time.
"You see it, right? Your pink future... way over there..."
He raised his hand over my shoulder, but I didn't need that hand—my pink future was in my own grasp.
"It's a waste."
"Pardon?"
"A waste of time."
Time to draw a clear line. And give him a proper reality check.
"Taking on Nemesis would be a waste of time."
I'd once stumbled on a weird line in a book I barely read: Better to make several allies than one enemy. Nah. Let me rephrase. Right now, in my life, making one proper enemy was key.
Right?
President Park.
***
"Unnie, I'm heading out then."
Hye-soo dragged her carry-on. Cutting through the silence, Won Ji-min crawled out from the corner of the room.
"You... going on a trip?"
"Yeah, a trip. To Changwon."
Hye-soo fiddled endlessly with her muffler in front of the entryway mirror.
"Is this... better? Or like this? Hmm, no. Not that—just..."
She twisted the perfectly wrapped muffler into something weird. Won Ji-min, sweeping dust as she crawled, tilted her head.
"Anyone can see you're an idol showing off, right?"
"You felt it too, unnie. I thought the same. But it fits."
Hye-soo grabbed her suitcase and struck a pose.
"I am an idol. Euaaaah, I'm nervous. First time taking public transport."
"Hey, Jung Hye-soo. Get out here. You're gonna miss your train. What're you doing?"
Hye-soo reset her muffler. Won Ji-min lay there like a zombie, but her cute intentions were obvious. She wanted a bit of recognition now that her name was out there.
Knock knock.
"Hey, Jung Hye-soo. You'll miss the train at this rate. Traffic's already hell. Hurry up—what're you..."
The manager's urging came from beyond the door. Hye-soo struck a fighting pose, then waved at Won Ji-min, flattened on the floor.
"Unnie, I'm off then. See you in three days. Annyoong~."
Won Ji-min quietly raised her hand and waved. Ray had already headed home the moment they arrived, leaving her to claim the vast living room solo.
"Hmm..."
Who knew "solo" could feel this empty?
Won Ji-min lifted her head. The manager said he'd drop Hye-soo off and head home too.
"You've worked hard too, oppa."
Rest when you can. Won Ji-min, lying prone, lifted her head. Barely craning her neck brought her surroundings into view.
Vroooom.
The robot vacuum swept the floor, charging toward her before halting. Beep. Its round body spun. Recognizing her as an obstacle, it moved on to finish its job.
"Oh ignorant life. Even the robot vacuum abandons me."
Five days ahead. Like a private fresh off his first long leave, she counted her precious vacation days, but something felt off. She didn't want to be the soldier squandering it. She wanted this break over quick, back to bounding on stage.
Still fidgeting on the floor, Won Ji-min scratched her chin. Then smacked her lips.
"Gotta be careful. Say something like that on air and you'll get chewed out. Vacations are precious."
Her stomach was still glued to the living room floor.
"Ugh... hate it."
Didn't want to move. Too lazy. Nothing appealed. But she was hungry. It was already past 11 a.m.
If she were watching a reality show, popular idols would be blending fruit smoothies for "health management."
"All... luxuries."
Even crawling to bed was too much—how could she wash fruit, prep it, and run a blender?
"Don't wanna do anything."
She declared it firmly, but her stomach and back were seconds from fusing.
"Haa..."
Eat to survive. Skipping a day didn't sound bad, but today wasn't the only day off. Tomorrow too, and the day after. Even longer. No photoshoot dreams either. She had to live.
So Won Ji-min rolled. Rolled hard.
Vroooom.
The approaching robot vacuum couldn't react in time, stopping just before collision.
"Heehee."
Finally reaching out, she grabbed her phone. Stomach off the floor now—back took the relay.
Won Ji-min fiddled with her phone, staring at the ceiling.
"Hmm..."
Deep dilemma. Deeper still. Food was just survival fuel on a no-appetite morning. Few places open early, and delivery fees were ridiculous.
"A simple burger kids' set is fine for me. I don't eat much anyway."
Why force a 15,000-won minimum?
Phone in hand, Won Ji-min sprawled out starfish-style.
"Too lazy."
Even deciding meals by day of the week was too much. Better if she blinked and vacation ended, shoot day approaching.
"Don't even know how to rest properly. Ugh."
Won Ji-min mumbled, sitting up.
"Let's go."
Grab a convenience store lunchbox—delivery fee be damned. Fitting lunch for an unknown idol.
Won Ji-min, in her training set, mimicked Hye-soo's pose from earlier.
"Yeah... that'll do?"
She pulled up the hoodie, donned a mask. Her big doe eyes peeked out, but no one would recognize her. Just a day's worth of name exposure online. No way anyone would spot her. Yeah, she was sure.
That confidence shattered in under five minutes.
Ding-dong.
Door opened, and she bumped into a guy. The man slurping ramen glared at her.
"Hey, Won Ji-min. What're you doing here?"