Chapter 26: Debut Evaluation (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 26: Debut Evaluation (2)
“Hyung, it’s your turn for the interview.”
“Oh, really?”
Lee Cheong-hyeon, who had just pushed open the practice room door, called out to me.
It had been exactly thirty minutes since he was summoned.
Starting the day after the monthly evaluation ended, the company began conducting 1:1 interviews, beginning with Jeong Seong-bin.
Considering that last time the interviews were held at the beginning of the following month once the results were out, it really seemed like they were finalizing the debut team lineup.
Well… I’ve done everything I could.
Now, I had to think about how to handle the interview itself.
For instance, if they said, ‘Since there’s such a large skill gap between you and the current team, let’s aim for the next group,’ I needed to figure out exactly how I’d grab the Representative’s pant legs and beg.
Steeling my resolve to pay back my sister’s kindness with compound interest, I headed toward the meeting room.
When I knocked and entered, the Representative, the Manager, and Min Ju-gyeong were waiting inside.
The atmosphere in the room was quite different from what I had expected.
“I-wol, you’re here? Sit, sit.”
“What would you like to drink?”
To put it simply, they were incredibly hospitable.
Why? Usually, when trying to persuade someone with a lack of skill and an advanced age like me, they should come out swinging, ready to tear down my self-esteem.
‘Assistant Manager Kim, aren’t you afraid of your performance review after working like this? If I were you, I’d have been so fucking embarrassed I’d have resigned my position myself.’
‘You’re not thinking of jumping ship, are you? Get a grip on reality. Aren’t you almost thirty? You think you can compete with kids in their twenties?’
…Something like that.
Recalling those memories of Department Head Nam made my mood three times worse. Thanks to that, I had to put every ounce of effort into managing my facial expression.
The interview officially began once I took my seat.
However, the direction it took was rather unexpected.
“I-wol, how has it been living with the members?”
“I heard you all gathered in the practice room to talk recently. Was that kind of setting difficult for you?”
“In your opinion, who do you think is best suited to be the team leader?”
Every question flying my way was for a personality and character interview.
For a moment, I almost suspected someone had reported me, saying, ‘I think Kim I-wol’s personality is a bit trash.’
Of course, it wouldn’t have been strange if someone actually had said that.
While I tried to be as sociable as possible using the social skills I’d honed at Hanpyeong Industry, I never initiated small talk with the Spark kids first.
So, I emphasized how much I enjoyed this life with the members and expressed great satisfaction, noting that our bond had grown even deeper recently.
Additionally, I spoke as calmly as possible about how diligent and hardworking the trainees were, and how excellent their characters were.
As long as my KPI was to debut in a six-member boy group, I couldn’t afford to lose a single person.
Specifically, when asked who would be a suitable leader, I pointed to Jeong Seong-bin with a heart-wrenching sincerity. Without him, this team would dissipate into thin air.
After a long conversation, the Representative finally spoke.
“Actually, the company was thinking about making you the leader of the next group.”
It wasn’t an unexpected proposal. If I were them, I wouldn’t want to put a clumsy person into a perfectly set table either.
Though the title of 'leader' was outside my expected range.
If it’s come to this, I have no choice.
I’ll have to perform the secret 'desperate kneeling' technique I’ve polished for years to gain momentum when I eventually hand in my resignation…
“But your chemistry with the existing trainees is just so good.”
Excuse me?
This was a completely unforeseen development.
I almost wondered if the Representative misunderstood the meaning of the word 'chemistry.'
Usually, people don’t use the term 'good chemistry' when they see someone standing the youngest members in the middle of the practice room, possessed by the spirit of a judge, and working them to the bone for two hours or whipping them to write songs.
“Teamwork is vital for an idol group. The term 'relationship dynamics' doesn't exist for nothing.”
I knew that all too well. I’d seen enough of how much the Spark bastards of the past acted individually to be sick of it.
How much of a struggle was it to forcibly cut and paste scenes of members who, except for when self-produced content started, immediately scattered or maintained a safe distance from each other, just to create a ‘Spark Relationship Dynamics Compilation’ series?
I’d even thought it might be better for their future if the Stick Function had a compulsory setting to just force them together in pairs.
Whether I was confused or not, the Representative—who definitely seemed not to know the meaning of chemistry—continued.
“The kids aren't exactly the cuddly type, but they seemed to get close to you quickly. And your own skills are improving by the day.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“In the interviews, there wasn't a single kid who didn't mention you!”
I felt a bit uneasy.
It seemed these people hadn't seen the look on Kang Gi-yeon’s face when he watched me dance.
The Representative mentioned he was thinking of the all-rounder Jeong Seong-bin as the leader and said to me:
“So, what I’m saying is… I-wol, as the oldest, could you help Seong-bin out from time to time and help the members sync up?”
“…Pardon?”
I had never once lost my focus while talking to someone.
But right now, I could feel myself momentarily spacing out.
What does that mean?
While I was pondering, the Manager patted my back—not hard enough to hurt.
“It means you’re debuting with the kids! Congratulations!”
Ah.
Is that what that meant?
Compared to Department Head Nam’s blunt verbal abuse, the Representative’s words were practically classical poetry. His skill at talking in high-class circles was top-tier.
“You’ve always been so sharp, yet you didn't even think you’d make the debut team?”
Min Ju-gyeong said, looking at me proudly. Well, I was actually thinking about kneeling if I didn't make it.
As if to prove the staff weren't all pulling a collective prank on me, the air flickered, and the System appeared.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Quest’ completed.
▷ Reward: Experience Points (20)
▷ Cumulative Experience Points: 55
▷ Cumulative Points: 0
+
It was a moving sentence. It was so bright it made my eyes sting.
Noona, cheer for me.
They say I’m in the idol debut team now.
A few days later, we celebrated the debut team confirmation with a small whole cake. Everyone only had a taste because of the upcoming weight check, though.
There were exactly two good things about the debut team being finalized.
The monthly evaluations were gone, and the practice room hours were extended until 2 AM.
And as for the bad things…
The company began managing our weight in earnest, the enforcement of the one-hour-a-day phone rule became stricter, each trainee had to develop a specialty, and foreign language studies were added… just to name a few.
In the midst of this, the System brought a new task.
+
[SYSTEM] A work order from the ‘Person in Charge’ has arrived.
▶ Assistant Manager Kim, why don't you try planning the Unity Contest event this time? With a youthful touch. Oh, and since the management will be attending the contest, don't make it too radical. Keep it, you know, moderately retro yet fresh!
[SYSTEM] A ‘New Task’ has been assigned.
▷ Decide the debut album concept
▷ Reward: Experience Points (10)
+
Bring it on. I’ve been waiting.
The album concept was a task I happened to be preparing in advance.
It was my first time planning an idol album, but since I had the documents, I wasn't at a loss.
If there’s a template, I can figure out the components, so filling in the content was no trouble at all.
The problem was that I couldn't use these documents the System gave me as they were.
If they ask where I got the proposal template, what am I supposed to say?
I considered saying I downloaded it from an all-purpose form site, but upon checking, that platform didn't have the same template.
I couldn't exactly frame some innocent person for leaking internal company documents either.
In other words, I had the documents, but I had to act like I didn't.
At a time when I should be brainstorming concepts, I had to worry about how to conceal Schrödinger’s documents.
And how to disguise myself as a trainee with an exceptionally good intuition.
Being a K-idol trainee is really not easy.
Come to think of it, I haven't even opened those documents yet.
I pulled up the three-piece planning set that had been floating somewhere in the virtual world because I’d just received them and left them alone.
And the moment I saw the template, I had a hunch.
This template would be discarded once the debut album planning was over.
That’s what happens when a document has no foundation. If even a non-expert in planning thinks, ‘This isn't it,’ then this thing should be considered beyond saving.
I scanned the outline list with glazed eyes.
The overall concept and message are one set, then costumes, then the music video—three areas in total.
It hadn't been long since I resolved to fix my dark circles, but I already felt them getting twice as dark.
Office workers at least get paid for working…
I had a momentary materialistic thought before remembering that Hanpyeong Industry didn't pay overtime either, and immediately returned to the life of a trainee. Once I achieve the KPI, I’m definitely getting a job at a company that doesn't use a comprehensive wage system.
After crossing the great mountain that was the evaluation, a relatively peaceful daily life followed.
Days spent doing the scheduled practice and wrestling with the proposal.
I thought this schedule would continue for a while. Unfortunately, the peace didn't last long.
It was because of a single sentence Jeong Seong-bin had left this morning while preparing for school, hidden from the others…
‘Could you spare some time this afternoon?’
I can make time. Is there something you want to talk about?
‘Yes. And… Je-ho hyung too.’
Choi Je-ho?
The lineup alone was ominous as hell.
Naturally. The moment Choi Je-ho was involved, the probability of the conversation flowing smoothly converged to zero.
The reaction when I relayed Jeong Seong-bin’s request to Choi Je-ho himself wasn't much different.
‘Me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘I don't know either.’
And back to the present. The only two adult members among the trainees were trembling.
I wanted to ask Park Ju-woo, Jeong Seong-bin’s roommate, if he’d sensed any strange vibes, but since Seong-bin didn't seem to want others to know yet, I couldn't even ask that.
“I’m really asking because I have no clue, but did you do something wrong to Seong-bin?”
I nudged Choi Je-ho while we waited in the lobby for Seong-bin to return.
Choi Je-ho answered seriously.
“I’m already trying to think if I did.”
“Right…”
At least he’s thinking about it now. It was a monumental improvement compared to last month when he was fighting Kang Gi-yeon with physiognomy.
After waiting for about thirty minutes, Jeong Seong-bin returned through the front door in his school uniform.
Perhaps Seong-bin had already spoken to him, as Kang Gi-yeon just greeted us and went down to the basement practice room without saying much.
Upon seeing us, Jeong Seong-bin took off his bag and bowed deeply.
“Thank you for making time.”
“It’s fine. Was everything okay at school?”
I waved it off and asked how he was. Seong-bin nodded a couple of times.
“Yes. Was everything okay with you, hyungs?”
“Nothing much happened, except for Choi Je-ho almost swearing at me.”
I lightly observed Seong-bin’s expression while making small talk.
His complexion wasn't bad, but he looked a little anxious.
A kid who usually behaved perfectly and had recently pulled himself together—what could be the reason he had a reason that was awkward to tell others?
And the people he called out were Choi Je-ho, who belonged to a group that looked like they could bring frost in midsummer just by their appearance, and the worn-out me.
Considering various factors, no matter how much I racked my brain, only one answer came to mind.
I asked cautiously, hoping with all my heart that Seong-bin would say no.
“Is… that favor about wanting us to help you bury someone?”