Chapter 18: Meeting the Representative (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 18: Meeting the Representative (2)
It had been about five minutes since I arrived at the Representative’s office with my manager.
Once Min Ju-gyeong arrived—looking like she had rushed over straight from work—all the attendees for this monumental first meeting were gathered.
“There’s no need to be nervous. I make it a point to meet and greet every UA artist at least once a month,” the Representative began.
True to his word, neither Manager Chan-yeong nor Min Ju-gyeong looked particularly tense.
‘Wasn’t the rating for UA on Occupation Planet around 3.2 stars?’
That was a surprisingly high score for a small agency in the notoriously cutthroat entertainment industry. It was probably twice as high as Hanpyeong Industry’s rating.
“I skipped last month because I figured you were still in your adjustment period, but you’re all settled in now, right? I know you’re busy practicing, so just think of this as a quick break and relax.”
While those were words an idol undergoing physical training should be grateful for, I felt the veins in my fists bulging.
Usually, if someone says they’re not feeling well, you tell them to take it easy; you don’t summon them to the Representative’s office.
Once I was served a cup of buckwheat tea brewed by the Representative himself, the conversation began in earnest. Most of the topics were typical of a new employee orientation: How are you settling in? Is there anything uncomfortable? and so on.
“Chan-yeong is always praising you, saying that even though you started late, you don’t let it get to you and stay late every day to practice.”
When I glanced at the manager, he gave me a wink. Thank you so much for framing my remedial lessons in such a positive light.
The Representative and Min Ju-gyeong laughed and chatted, peppering me with questions.
“I heard you’re sharing a room with Je-ho and Cheong-hyeon? Are you getting along well with the boys now?”
“What do you usually do during self-practice hours?”
“How is the preparation for the next evaluation going? Do you have a general idea in mind?”
To a green trainee in his early twenties just stepping into the industry, these would have seemed like incredibly thoughtful questions. However, for someone like me, who had learned HR management in the trenches, I was already looking at them through a thick pair of cynical lenses.
To me, their questions sounded like this:
→ Are you communicating effectively with your team members?
→ What are you doing for professional competency development?
→ Have you started drafting the business plan for the second half of the year? We’ll be doing a surprise inspection, so get a head start.
If that wasn’t their intention, I owed them an apology, but I answered with the most diligent attitude I could muster.
“My roommates are all very kind, so I’m living comfortably.”
...And so on.
What I really meant was: ‘Choi Je-ho’s personality is intense, and Lee Cheong-hyeon stays on his laptop until dawn, but since they don’t nag me, we’re maintaining the peace.’
After a few more exchanges like this, Min Ju-gyeong let out a bright laugh.
“Representative, doesn’t Iwol speak so earnestly?”
“I know, right? When I only heard about it from Ju-gyeong, I thought, ‘All our kids are hardworking, so is it really that special?’”
I realized the "earnestness" the Representative and Min Ju-gyeong were referring to was the "Yes! I’ll do my best!" variety, but I didn’t bother correcting them. This way of speaking was a habit I’d picked up while working under Department Head Nam.
Or perhaps the Attendance Management effect from my resume was applying here as well. Sure enough, in the corner of my vision, a small message glowed faintly: [Excellent Attendance Management recognized. Receiving a high evaluation.]
While the atmosphere was still full of goodwill, the manager spoke up with something unexpected.
“Iwol has a very sharp side to him. The other kids warmed up to him quickly, too.”
Them?
I don’t think so.
What kind of incredible charm could a guy just one or two years older have over kids he’d known for less than a month? Especially when that guy was a "clumsy person" like me.
However, it seemed the manager was determined to push a highly sociable image for me.
“He adjusts quickly and is very approachable. When they’re all together, Iwol subtly lightens the mood.”
By bringing a sense of looseness to the tense practice room, you mean. Thanks to that, I’m stuffed every day from eating so much humble pie.
The Representative, listening to the manager’s polished narrative, remarked, “People like that are truly precious. Not just in a group, but in any organization.”
“...Pardon?”
I was taken aback. In all the meetings I’d had throughout my corporate life, I had never heard anything like that. The Representative even encouraged me, saying, “Let’s keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
In an atmosphere so full of praise it made me suspicious of its sincerity, I could only smile mechanically, not knowing what else to do. It was a foreign sensation.
*
After receiving Experience Points as a reward for finishing the meeting, I returned to the practice room to find only Lee Cheong-hyeon there.
“Why are you alone?”
At my question, Lee Cheong-hyeon answered cheerfully.
“Je-ho Hyung went to the convenience store, and Ju-woo Hyung is in the vocal practice room!”
“What about Seong-bin and Gi-yeon... are they finishing school late today?”
“It’s their ID photo shoot day, so they’re coming after that. We didn’t have after-school classes today, so we finished early!”
“Ah, the photos are important.”
Those photos would likely haunt the internet for the rest of their lives, after all.
Hearing Cheong-hyeon’s words reminded me of my own days of after-school classes and mandatory self-study. I also recalled my older sister clutching the back of her neck while ranting about how "back in my day," self-study was compulsory. Every time these forgotten memories resurfaced, I felt a strange sense of nostalgia.
“What are you doing today?”
“I need to finish the rap lyrics I was writing, but I’ll do that tonight... I was thinking of trying to write a song since I was told to give it a shot, but I have so many concerns that I think I’ll just focus on dancing today.”
UA, with a Representative who was a former singer-songwriter, was the best environment for learning composition. Lee Cheong-hyeon, who had majored in classical music as a child, had only begun seriously learning pop music composition after joining UA.
As a member of Spark—a group of exceptional raw talents—Cheong-hyeon’s growth rate accelerated significantly after their debut. He went from a rookie composer with one track on their debut album to a powerhouse capable of producing an entire album in just a few years.
There was only one thing that version of Lee Cheong-hyeon had regretted.
‘Question from user 1103! Cheong-hyeon, if you could change the past just once, what would it be?’
‘That’s a tough one... but if I had to pick just one, it would be starting composition late.’
‘Didn’t you produce the title track for this album too, Cheong-hyeon? Do you still feel regret?’
‘I didn’t start composing that early. I feel like if I had learned more diligently back then, I could be doing even better now.’
If only he had started composing a bit earlier.
At the time, he hadn’t realized he had a talent for pop music, so he focused on his strength—rapping. But once he actually tried his hand at composing, it seemed he developed a thirst for it.
‘There were so many kids around me who started dancing or singing early, too.’
I mentally reviewed the songs Lee Cheong-hyeon had written. The tracks that, as the years went by, fit Spark’s group identity more and more perfectly.
Creativity isn’t something you can suddenly do just by moving up a date like a debut schedule, but...
If he was going to regret starting late, he needed to try a different path this time. Especially considering Cheong-hyeon’s potential.
‘To debut stably even after moving the schedule up by a year, it’s advantageous to have songs ready early.’
As they say, the earlier you start a challenge or upload a job posting, the better. The problem was whether composition was something one could simply "commit" to just because they were told to start early.
‘I don’t know anything about the creative realm.’
I was someone who had received twelve years of rote education before studying only business administration in college. The only chance I ever had to exercise creativity at Hanpyeong Industry was when I tried to push Department Head Nam’s Friday night dinner plans to a Monday lunch the following week.
“What are you thinking about so deeply?”
“Thinking about how to turn you into a composing genius.”
“Me?” Cheong-hyeon asked back.
I chose my words carefully to ensure the System wouldn’t flag my speech as talking about the future.
“Yeah. I’m planning to train you well and hire you as the team’s composing machine.”
“Your wishes are very specific and ambitious, Hyung!”
“Is it wrong to have expectations for a young and smart talent? Ah, if it feels like too much pressure, just say so. I’ll back off.”
But I already knew. Lee Cheong-hyeon wasn’t the type to feel pressured by words like these. Sure enough, while he looked at me strangely, he didn’t seem burdened.
“It would be great if the young and smart Cheong-hyeon became a composing machine. But maybe because school started, I just don’t have the motivation, Hyung.”
“What does motivation matter when it comes to work? What matters are deadlines and pressure.”
“Pardon?”
“I believe that as long as there’s a sense of compulsion, a person can do anything.”
I placed both hands on Cheong-hyeon’s shoulders.
“Cheong-hyeon.”
“...Yes.”
“Put all those worries into it and let’s start by making a beat.”
I understood that creativity couldn’t be forced. However, one could build the foundation to capture inspiration when it finally struck. I couldn’t share the pain of creation with him, but I personally created and gifted Cheong-hyeon a deadline as a token of my support.
For about a week after that, Cheong-hyeon shared his progress with me every single day without fail. Even today, he was wrestling with the composition program as midnight approached.
After staring at the monitor for a long time, Cheong-hyeon asked me in a raspy voice, “Hyung. Why do you tell Kang Gyeon to go to sleep if it’s late, but you never tell me to?”
“It’s because you have the face of someone who’ll grow tall even with less sleep.”
“That’s really mean.”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
“Now my pride won’t let me stop.”
Of course, I wasn’t such a scoundrel that I’d keep a kid awake late while I tucked myself into bed. Instead, while Cheong-hyeon worked on his music, I planned the next day’s schedule by anticipating the tasks the System might assign me. If I just waited for the System to pop up randomly, it felt like it would take ten years to fill my Experience Points.
It was the "sweep the yard before being told to pick up the broom" method.
Based on the tasks that had appeared so far, I tried a few things—like when I anticipated the vocal feedback—and they turned out to be right with a fairly high probability. Thanks to that, my cumulative Experience Points had reached 90.
‘If only 10 would just fall from the sky.’
As I was idly drawing lines over a useless algorithm, an alarm went off on Cheong-hyeon’s phone. It was the notification that 25 minutes were up. This was the result of introducing the Pomodoro Technique—focusing intensely for a short time and then resting. Cheong-hyeon was also adjusting to this method of working when it was time to work and resting when it was time to rest, rather than staring blankly into space whenever he got stuck.
“Good job. Is it time to sleep now?”
“I guess so... What about you, Hyung?”
“I’ll stay up a bit longer.”
“Is this Hyung an elephant or something? How do you sleep so little?”
I’m more surprised that you know elephants are animals that sleep very little.
It was then. A message appeared—one so familiar it was almost welcoming.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Hidden Quest’ completed.
▷ Content: Gain recognition for persistence from a member
▷ Reward: Experience Points (10)
▷ Cumulative Experience Points: 100
▷ Cumulative Points: 1
+
“Cheong-hyeon.”
“What?”
“You’re a truly commendable fellow.”
“What are you talking about? Just go to sleep!”
Whether Lee Cheong-hyeon was disgusted or not, I quickly exchanged the newly earned Welfare Point for Proficiency.
+
Performance Evaluation (100)
— Vocal Proficiency: 6 (▲) / 20
— Dance Proficiency: 5 (▲) / 20
— Self PR: 12 / 20
— Attendance Management: 18 / 20
— Organizational Adaptability: 10 / 20
Cumulative Experience Points: 0
+
In the meantime, my Vocal Proficiency had gone up on its own again. I didn’t know why the "vocal" part of me was doing so well while the "dance" part required so much hand-holding, but since it had shown remarkable growth from 1 to 5, I decided to let it slide just this once.
By raising my Dance Proficiency to 5, the task of increasing it before the March monthly evaluation was also marked as complete.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Quest’ completed.
▷ Reward: Member Resume Viewing Ticket, Standard Template 3-Piece Set for Debut Album Planning
+
Finally, I could see the resumes of the other members, not just my own pathetic one.