Chapter 13: Resignation Interview (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 13: Resignation Interview (1)
The following demonstration of the basic choreography also ended without any major issues. Thanks to having memorized the entire routine, the worst-case scenario—my body freezing up in the middle—didn't happen.
The teachers, who had watched all the way through my demonstration, broke into applause.
"Iwol, you've improved so much!"
"Thank you."
"Your posture is excellent. That’s why your voice comes out so well. You must have been intimidated since it’s your first time, but you did a great job."
Objectively speaking, there was likely a severe gap in skill compared to the other members, but the evaluation was generally generous, perhaps because they took my overwhelmingly short training period into account.
What was surprising was that the System appeared at this moment.
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[SYSTEM] As the 'Quest' adjustment period concludes, a correction effect based on performance is applied.
▷ Excellence in 'Attendance Management' is recognized, resulting in a high evaluation.
▷ A positive effect is applied to the Monthly Evaluation.
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...That was the gist of it.
In other words, the scores in the performance evaluation section of my resume actually influenced reality.
My Attendance Management score was 18 out of 20.
If this was the only active item, I would have struggled to expect any correction effect unless the score was significantly high.
Well, I’m grateful for any extra points I can get.
Right now, when even a single line of positive feedback was precious, I couldn't afford to be picky.
"We can probably go a bit harder starting next class. Right?"
"I will... work hard."
"Hey, you weren't nervous at all until a second ago. Why are you getting tense now?"
The teachers laughed out loud at my solemn response.
I'm sorry, but just keeping up with this class was hard enough for me. It’ll be a problem if you misunderstand and think I’m joking.
Since I couldn't exactly start whining, I just laughed along with them. It was the very definition of the plight of the underdog.
"I have one last question. What was the most decisive reason you chose this song?"
the vocal teacher asked. My answer to this was clear.
"I thought it was the song that could best showcase what I've learned."
The teacher smiled, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
It’s important to have someone recognize that you’ve put effort into using your brain. This was a better result than expected.
The evaluation ended with individual feedback.
Only after the staff left and the practice room door clicked shut did we finally allow ourselves a sigh of relief.
"Hyung!"
As I was tidying up the desks and chairs set up for the evaluation, someone hopped onto my back.
I steadied my balance and looked in the mirror to see Lee Cheong-hyeon clinging to me.
"That was amazing! I’ve never seen someone get nothing but praise during their first evaluation! Hyung, are you a genius or something?"
Genius is a word reserved for people like the future you—someone with skin like porcelain who spits out raps like water and composes music like it’s nothing.
It would have been nice if you’d used those brilliant skills to take better selfies, though.
You punks will never know in a million years how much of a hassle it was for me to go to the post office to trade photocards for Department Head Nam’s daughter.
Worried he might fall, I grabbed his legs, and Lee Cheong-hyeon clung to my back like a cicada.
"I'm just glad they looked kindly on my effort. It’s largely thanks to you guys helping me out."
"And humble, too! I really need to learn from you."
"If you're going to keep saying weird things, get down."
"If I stop saying weird things, can I stay up here?"
"Suit yourself."
"You're generous in the strangest ways, Hyung."
Despite saying that, Lee Cheong-hyeon hopped off my back immediately.
Kang Gi-yeon, seemingly proud of me for finishing the evaluation well, started teaching me new moves.
I, too, threw myself into it with the mindset of, 'If sacrificing this body can soothe your troubled heart after today's stress...'
Unfortunately, Kang Gi-yeon’s face remained ashen throughout the practice. He had clearly forgotten my words about how some people are just born clumsy dancers.
After the Monthly Evaluation ended, the staff who had participated as judges gathered in a meeting room on the second floor of the building.
"The kids are continuing their practice, right?"
"Yes. They're all very diligent."
Min Ju-gyeong answered Representative Kim's question immediately.
The UA trainees were truly diligent. In all the years, no one at UA had ever seen a trainee slacking off.
Moreover, their personalities were generally easygoing. Compared to the rumors coming out of the big management companies famous for being 'idol powerhouses,' the UA trainees could be described as downright docile.
"Iwol has already started to look the part. Did Ju-gyeong bring him in?"
"Yes. I was surprised too; he did better than I expected."
As the trainee she had scouted was mentioned, Min Ju-gyeong added her own comment.
I thought he looked promising, but to think he was actually a budding genius...
When the story behind the casting of the new trainee, Kim I-wol, was brought up, the trainers opening their evaluation sheets showed interest and began asking questions.
"You brought him in, Ju-gyeong? From where?"
"Hongdae. I saw him watching a busking performance and snatched him up right then and there!"
"The location already has a vibe."
"Iwol does have an aura that stands out in a crowd."
After Min Ju-gyeong answered, the Representative and the dance trainer each added a word.
Min Ju-gyeong recalled the first time she encountered Kim I-wol.
He definitely stood out.
The moment she saw Kim I-wol’s pale, shadowed face on the streets of Hongdae, Min Ju-gyeong thought:
'His face will look incredible next to our boys...!'
Kim I-wol’s exceptionally upright posture also played a part in catching her eye.
He was tall, and with such straight posture, his unique stiffness stood out even more in the crowd.
"Anyway, Ju-gyeong, you really are a bulldozer. How did you even think to bring in someone who hasn't even studied the field?"
"Actually, I asked him about that before. He said he had a good ear for music."
"Really?"
"Yes. You know how noisy Hongdae is. He noticed immediately when one of the instruments was out of tune."
Everyone looked surprised at Min Ju-gyeong’s words. It was understandable.
The image Kim I-wol usually projected was that of someone doggedly focused on his own practice, not someone who sensitively caught every single note.
However, that day, Min Ju-gyeong had seen it clearly.
Standing still a short distance from the stage, Kim I-wol’s expression had shifted, his brow furrowing slightly when a specific part of the melody repeated.
Kim I-wol hadn't stayed near the busking stage for long.
While Min Ju-gyeong was wondering if he just wasn't that interested in the music, the vocalist grabbed the mic and started talking.
At that moment, a guitarist caught Min Ju-gyeong’s eye—he was re-tuning his instrument by himself.
After that, there was nothing to hesitate about.
Min Ju-gyeong had actively explained to the young student, who was wary of her sudden approach, that she wasn't a suspicious person.
And as she watched the student politely accept her business card with both hands, she thought: Please, let this kid come to us.
It’s true that at first, I was going to cast him based on his face alone, but...
Min Ju-gyeong cleared her throat. All's well that ends well, right?
Just then, the vocal trainer, Oh Eun, who had been quietly listening to the three of them, spoke up.
"I think he does have a sense for it. And he works hard, too."
The eyes of everyone in the meeting room focused on Oh Eun.
She was a former main vocal of a girl group that had debuted through a small agency but disbanded after three years without leaving much of an impression.
Having been an idol herself, Oh Eun was the person among the UA staff who evaluated the trainees most objectively.
It wasn't easy to hear the words "works hard" from someone like her.
It might be expected for Jeong Seong-bin or Kang Gi-yeon, who had been trainees for a long time, but for Kim I-wol, who had been there for less than a month, to have his efforts recognized was undoubtedly a remarkable achievement.
How would Kim I-wol be evaluated in his first Monthly Evaluation? Min Ju-gyeong couldn't help but feel a secret sense of anticipation.
In high school, you could go home after mock exams were over.
But for a trainee, even after an evaluation, it was practice, practice, and more practice.
After finishing the extra practice with the feeling of writing a correction note for a test, it was finally time to head back to the dorm.
The members in charge of turning off the lights today were me and Jeong Seong-bin.
On the way out of the building, Jeong Seong-bin asked, "Have you gotten used to living here now?"
It wasn't easy for anyone to always look after others when they had so much of their own work to do.
Yet, Jeong Seong-bin was always consistent. To the point where I thought, This is the kind of kid who becomes a leader.
"Yeah. Except for being completely drained after an hour of private tutoring from Gi-yeon."
"An hour? You got off easy."
"So you do know how to joke?"
Jeong Seong-bin laughed, looking half-embarrassed. I couldn't laugh, though, having been rolled around like a roasted chestnut by Kang Gi-yeon.
Jeong Seong-bin looked at me and asked, "You always stay until the very end to practice. Isn't it exhausting?"
"The teachers are kind enough to teach me, and everyone else helps out, so it would be rude not to work hard. Luckily, my stamina is holding up."
"Your stamina is truly admirable, Hyung..."
Jeong Seong-bin, who had approached me to teach me a move earlier only to collapse like a piece of boiled bean sprout, trailed off.
It’s because this company only feeds growing teenagers salads.
A company that doesn't know the importance of the growth period. Will they only wake up once Kang Gi-yeon fails to break 175cm?
"It's not like you only work hard during the extra practice. You're always moving around, even during breaks."
In the practice room, Jeong Seong-bin was someone who moved as if he didn't know the meaning of rest. That remained true even after his debut.
Hearing my words, Jeong Seong-bin paused for a moment. It was so brief that I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been looking closely.
He soon relaxed his expression and said with a smile, "I'm just average."
They were humble words, but I wasn't so sure.
Could a life of repeating nothing but dancing and singing from dawn until late at night for years be called 'average'?
In a world where even paid overtime is capped at 12 hours a week.
'Returning to trainee life vs. going back to the military...?'
Jeong Seong-bin, who was solidifying his reputation as one of the '5 Great Bodhisattvas of Idols,' couldn't answer that question for a long time during his discharge commemorative live broadcast. That says it all.
If he was that diligent, he should at least take pride in the time he invested. But Jeong Seong-bin had a strange tendency to take his own efforts for granted.
If there was an employee in my department who was punctual, never hesitated to help others, and worked every day to improve their job competency?
I would have carried that person to work on my back starting the next day. It’s all because modern society is so stingy with praise.
Should I just give him a little praise?
It doesn't cost money to compliment someone.
Besides, out of the five members of Spark, Jeong Seong-bin was the one I had the least resentment toward.
He organized the order of speaking so voices wouldn't overlap on broadcasts, and he called the members' names regularly so it was easier for people to memorize them.
To me, a novice 'fake Sparkler' who had been forced into the world of Spark, Jeong Seong-bin’s consideration was like a ray of light.
I could easily offer a word of praise to such a benefactor.
Though, if Jeong Seong-bin had managed to prevent the group's disbandment, I might have avoided the disaster of fainting and waking up nine years younger.
I walked a few more steps with Jeong Seong-bin before speaking up at the right moment.
"Most people don't put in the kind of daily effort you do, even if there's something they want to achieve."
"Pardon?"
"It's even more so when you're young. There are so many fun things in the world. Not everyone can hold back when they know those fun things are out there."
For some reason, it felt like I was having a performance review with a junior colleague for the first time in a while.
I don't particularly enjoy this kind of atmosphere, but I couldn't exactly ditch him and run to the dorm in the middle of a conversation, so I struggled to keep it going.
"And it's not like you're only good at one or two things. You're good at singing and dancing. Look at me. I can't sing, and I can't dance."
"Hyung?"
I was clearly trying to comfort him, but for some reason, my own heart ached.
In the meantime, perhaps I had rambled too much, as Jeong Seong-bin’s expression had turned peculiar.
They say you’ve become a 'boomer' when you only talk about what you want to say in front of others, and that was exactly what I was doing.
"...Of course, considering the countless fans you'll have in the future, it's a good thing to build up your skills now."
Since you never know what might happen, I didn't forget to add a bit of gentle pressure.
Jeong Seong-bin wasn't the type to slack off, but if I said the wrong thing and lost a leader who would last seven years, I wouldn't be able to show my face, even if the group was Spark.
"Fans... you say..."
Jeong Seong-bin smiled bitterly.
Huh?
For a moment, a chill ran down the back of my neck, as if a biting wind had swept past.
I knew this ominous feeling all too well.
A person whose self-esteem has hit rock bottom. The uncertainty about oneself etched on their face. A tone of voice that expects nothing from the future—one of complete resignation.
'Assistant Manager, I'm planning to resign at the end of this month.'
This was, unmistakably, a signal of resignation.