Chapter 14: Resignation Interview (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 14: Resignation Interview (2)
What did Jeong Seong-bin mean to Spark?
When asked that question in the past, the four members of Spark had answered with a single word.
"The leader."
Setting aside how much those tight-lipped punks used to drive me crazy, Jeong Seong-bin was well-respected in his own way within that desolate group.
Even the fans, who gave the other members all sorts of chaotic nicknames, went as far as calling him "Jeong Seong-bin, the Mental Pillar."
So, what would happen if a person like that ran away?
What else? It would be the end of everything—debut included.
It was no different from being a passenger on a bus full of furious people, only to watch the driver dive out the window with your own two eyes.
What should I do? Should I take him to a Star Café and shove a 6,800-won drink down his throat?
I looked up, trying to remember if there was a Star Café nearby.
Only then did I realize that everything around us was pitch black.
Right. We came out at midnight.
Fuck.
I frantically searched through the dusty archives of my mind.
However, no matter how much I retraced my memories, I couldn't find a single scene where Jeong Seong-bin had said something like, "I once wondered if this path was right for me during my trainee days."
In fact, Seong-bin returned to his usual self almost immediately. It seemed he hadn't even recognized the deep, sincere darkness within himself yet.
I couldn't let my guard down. People like him were the most dangerous.
They were the type to work overtime until yesterday, then show up the next morning with a bright, sunny smile and say, "Phew, I can't do this anymore!" as they hand in their resignation.
And they’d say it in a tone as casual as asking to grab a cup of coffee.
Looking at him now, it was certain that within a month at most, Seong-bin would start feeling skeptical about his life and begin contemplating the meaning of existence.
And two months later, he would leave us.
At that point, it would be useless to cry out, "What are you talking about all of a sudden! We were doing so well...!"
Because by then, he would have already run through about three hundred resignation simulations in his head.
If I didn't stop this disaster now, UA would be left wearing the look of a raccoon that just watched its cotton candy dissolve in water, standing before the only viable leader candidate who suddenly decided to quit being an idol.
I have to crush those doubts before he can even finish the thought.
There was no way I was letting him escape and leave me alone with those four problem children. I absolutely could not allow that.
"Seong-bin, do you want to talk for a bit before we go in?"
I caught him in front of the convenience store. I intended to act so pathetic and clingy that he’d feel like he’d regret quitting for the rest of his life.
A few minutes later.
We were sitting side by side on the swings of a playground, each holding a warm bottle of red ginseng honey tea. For the record, Seong-bin was the one who picked the drinks.
A biting wind dug under my coat.
"Sorry, it's cold out here."
"It's okay."
Despite my forceful request for an interview, Seong-bin smiled and said it was fine. Ha... I must protect this leader at all costs.
"You're worried about something, aren't you? Lately."
When I cautiously broached the subject, Seong-bin looked at me.
His face clearly asked how I knew. Sorry, kid, but you were making it way too obvious.
Seong-bin toyed with the swing, fidgeting with his legs a few times before speaking.
"It's just... I feel a bit uneasy thinking that the evaluation results will be out soon."
He gave a bitter smile.
Objectively speaking, UA's evaluation method wasn't cruel.
However, considering that trainees were ranked every single time alongside their feedback, there was a high probability that Seong-bin's worry lay in those rankings.
His next words didn't stray far from my expectations.
"There aren't even that many trainees in the company, but at some point, the rankings stopped changing."
This evaluation had proceeded in the order of Park Ju-woo, Choi Je-ho, Lee Cheong-hyeon, Jeong Seong-bin, and Kang Gi-yeon.
And this order was the exact same as the rankings from the previous evaluation.
Considering that Kang Gi-yeon always got bad grades because he couldn't show his true skills, it meant that in terms of pure talent, Seong-bin's rank was the lowest.
Even lower than Lee Cheong-hyeon, whose trainee period was much shorter than his.
Of course he'd feel anxious.
It was something that could easily happen when you were surrounded by people who were too brilliant.
Since they inevitably took similar classes and invested similar amounts of time every day, and since he was diligent to a fault, the blow likely hit him even harder.
Personally, I believed that the grit to grind your teeth and persevere next to geniuses was a talent in itself.
But saying that out loud was a completely different matter.
So, instead of opening my mouth hastily, I decided to give Seong-bin a little time.
In all my years, I’d never seen an interview end well when the employer started barking first at the person who requested the meeting.
"Drink your tea. It'll get cold."
"...Okay."
With a slightly gloomy expression, Seong-bin peeled off the plastic wrap covering the bottle cap.
Fiddling with my own bottle of red ginseng honey tea, I thought about what I could do right now.
There were roughly three usable methods.
1. Trap him in Praise Hell.
This involved using the cringey lines I’d written for the coffee truck banners to shower Seong-bin with love and support.
However, even if I, the greatest clumsy person UA had ever produced, tried it, I didn't think it would be very effective.
Just like how I hadn't been happy at all when Department Head Nam praised me in the past for being "very good at tidying up the pantry."
2. Present a positive outlook based on clear evidence.
Using the vast amount of raw data I’d gathered while organizing the baits, I could explain from an objective perspective exactly which skills were improving and what his future growth potential looked like.
However, if Seong-bin replied with, "Hyung, how do you know I sang that song?" it would be an immediate bad ending.
There was a high chance he’d look at me with the same contempt one reserves for a creepy stalker. I’d be creeped out too if I were him.
3. Just start bullshitting.
This involved telling him that I had the ability to see the future, that he would definitely succeed, gain wealth and fame, and continue singing here and there until at least the age of twenty-eight.
In this case, there was a fatal side effect: if I slipped up, he might cautiously recommend I seek psychiatric treatment.
Why is there not a single usable option?
I thought my career at Hanpyeong Industry had become a "ghost career" since I started rewriting my life, but looking at it now, that seemed like a fair assessment. I was once again realizing how incompetent I was outside of a corporate setting.
None of the three cases showed a bright future, but I decided to steel myself.
For this kid, it was a matter of his life; for me, it was a matter of my sister's life and my own future.
"Seong-bin. If you're not too cold right now, can I say... about five things?"
"Yes, Hyung."
I spoke as calmly as possible to avoid sounding like I was exaggerating my encouragement.
"I hope you don't feel too discouraged just because the gap between you and the others isn't narrowing right now."
Seong-bin, who was about to drink his tea, reacted slightly. Sorry for bothering you while you're eating.
"If you just keep doing what you've been doing, the day will come when you're recognized. I mean it."
"You sound very certain, Hyung."
"Of course I am."
I could see Seong-bin, who had been smiling faintly like a deflated balloon, looking flustered by my confident attitude.
Kim I-wol, you can do this.
Your image is nothing compared to being a "God-tier Character" of the idol scene, the "Ember" of Spark, or a "Drama OST Killer."
For the sake of this young friend overcoming his growing pains—no, for the sake of my future where I’d be free from Hanpyeong Industry—let's just close my eyes and go for it.
With great difficulty, I opened my mouth, which even the red ginseng honey tea couldn't moisten.
"I... know... the future."
It was a shocking true story that wouldn't be out of place as a headline: 『Kim I-wol, 29, makes "I know the future" statement... Controversy.』
A cold wind sliced through the space between Seong-bin and me.
"...Pardon?"
Dammit.
This was the most embarrassed I’d been since the day I was born. Was this what they called "second-hand embarrassment"? Except I wasn't the one watching; I was the one doing it.
Suppressing my burning face, I forced myself to continue.
"I saw it for a moment—no, it was shown to me."
Since saying "I saw it" implied my own will, I quickly changed the phrasing.
"Even though right now feels so long and difficult for you... in the not-too-distant future, you'll come to think that you were able to be happy because of this time."
After hearing my words, Seong-bin let a long silence pass.
He was probably weighing whether I was a crazy person or just had a screw loose.
Taking advantage of the gap, I tried to salvage the conversation by acting nonchalant.
"If you don't believe me, then don't."
"No. It's actually quite reassuring."
"Let's lower our corners of our mouths before we lie."
Fortunately, Seong-bin's face looked much more relaxed than before. It seemed less like he was comforted and more like his mood had shifted because it was funny.
Still, a change of pace was better than nothing. I barely held back the ten million sighs of relief that wanted to escape.
Steam was practically billowing off my body; I wondered if there had ever been such a hot winter in the history of the world.
The atmosphere on the way back to the dorm from the playground wasn't as heavy as it had been tens of minutes ago.
"What was the future version of me doing in what you saw, Hyung?"
It was because Seong-bin had gotten all excited and started asking all sorts of things.
A moment ago, his lies had been half-hearted because he was forcing himself to act okay, but now, playfulness was hidden in every word.
If I said...
‘Yeah. You become the leader of a talented boy group, silently leading the team through the harsh entertainment industry, and eventually see the light. Although you do disband.’
...If I said that and Seong-bin ended up slacking off because he over-relied on folk beliefs, it would be a disaster.
I racked my brain once more.
Minimize information, use synonyms, but choose words that still convey a sense of responsibility...
"The... the Chieftain?"
...Why do I even carry this head around on my shoulders?
I felt a serious need for self-reflection if my brain was going to fail me this badly.
"I, pfft... what if the group falls apart immediately because I became the Chieftain?"
"No, it won't. It'll fail without you."
I don't know what part of that triggered him, but Seong-bin ended up laughing joyfully, even as he tried to muffle the sound with his hand.
Noona, are you watching?
Your brother is living such a desperate life.
Seong-bin's questions didn't stop until we reached the dorm.
To someone like Seong-bin, who was the personification of diligence, such an absurd story seemed quite refreshing.
Thanks to that, our conversation remained at this level the whole way back.
"You can't see the future whenever you want, right?"
"Right. I have to live my own life, too."
"If you think about something you want to see, does it appear before your eyes?"
"I guess it's like being a shaman. It's not often, but I see things occasionally."
Suddenly, I found myself having to offer a deep, heartfelt apology to all the shamans across the country.
And I vowed that once I saw this kind and good friend debut, I would go into the mountains of Jirisan to atone for my sins.
Whether the laughter therapy worked or not, Seong-bin looked quite relieved by the time we returned to our room.
Or perhaps he had been pushed so far into a corner that he couldn't even afford to have those kinds of idle thoughts.
Still, the fact that Seong-bin's face had changed to one that said, "I'm going to endure today too...!" was a remarkable achievement.
As I was about to lie down in bed, thinking idly that things had worked out somehow, a faint light flickered before my eyes.
It was the System. I wasn't even surprised anymore.
But something was strange. It was a different type of message than before.
+
[SYSTEM] A 'Personnel Disadvantage Clause' is being notified to 'Party B'.
▷ Internal Regulation Violation
▷ Violation of Confidentiality Agreement
▷ [Locked]
.
.
.
+
I saw words that looked ominous at a glance.
With an uneasy feeling, I selected the 'Violation of Confidentiality Agreement' item, which was flickering particularly intensely. A long text appeared.
+
[SYSTEM] A 'Violation of Confidentiality Agreement' is being notified to 'Party B'.
▷ All matters that could affect areas outside of Spark's successful activities and direct information related to the future are considered confidential and require security.
▷ 'Party B' has the responsibility to maintain confidentiality regarding the aforementioned matters.
▷ The severity of the punishment is determined by considering various factors such as the importance of the leaked secret and its topicality, and punishment up to 'Death' is possible.
+
Surely it wasn't warning me just because I gave a "Seong-bin will be the Chieftain" style of encouragement, right? Especially when the maximum penalty was death.
If I’d known my life was on the line, I wouldn't have gone around leaking heavenly secrets and embarrassing myself like that.
Unwilling to believe reality, I carefully re-read the note that had a knack for pissing people off even at 3 AM.
But re-reading it didn't change anything.
Everything except calling my father "Father" was now forbidden to be mentioned.
It was a story that was hard to accept without losing one's mind.