Chapter 294: K-Potluck Party (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 294: K-Potluck Party (2)
The initial concept for Berion’s potluck party was supposedly a "Happy New Year" standing party, the kind you’d see in an American TV show.
But then someone chimed in, saying, "If it’s just us, is it even a party? It’s just a fancy lunch" (I’m 98% sure it was Yeo Seong-chan).
Then, someone else argued that they couldn't make guests eat standing up, so they brought in chairs. Then they worried the food looked too meager for invited guests, so they kept adding more, and the result was…
"I look over, and Iwol-hyung is already speaking casually with the Berion hyungs. I was honestly so dumbfounded."
"Well, Cheong-hyeon-ssi started speaking casually with us right away too!"
…Rather than a party, it turned into a family dinner where relatives had gathered after a long time. Even without alcohol, the atmosphere was buzzing, and there was no sign of it cooling down.
"Oh, right. What’s Spark’s ancestral seat?"
For instance, topics like this would pop up.
An ancestral seat—the bon-gwan—on an idol’s self-produced content? Fans might be curious, but isn't that a topic that rarely comes up in everyday conversation?
"Ancestral seat?"
"It’s not exactly the same concept, but it’s like your clan name. In Hee-rang’s case, it’s Oogami."
"Ah."
While one side explained surnames and ancestral seats to the foreign members, the other side began introducing their own.
"I think I’m from the Gyeongju Choi clan."
Choi Je-ho gave a casual answer. Among fans, there had been speculation posts suggesting he belonged to the Gwangajeong-gong faction of the Gyeongju Choi clan, using his hometown as a hint.
I remembered Je-ho mentioning in a past live stream that his name didn't follow a generation character. He said his mother had named him herself.
I also recalled how his expression had soured—likely because of his father—and how the screencap from that live stream had haunted him for a long time. It was a bitter memory.
"I’m from the Gimhae Kim clan. Does everyone else know theirs?"
I hurriedly jumped into the conversation, worried Je-ho might start thinking about his father again.
"I’m from the Jeonju Lee clan, Ik-an Prince faction! I think I’m the 24th generation descendant."
"I’m Miryang Park…"
"Jinju Gang clan for me."
As everyone listed their ancestral seats, Jeong Seong-bin looked flustered.
"Uh… I’m the only one who doesn't know…!"
"Hey, it’s okay! Not knowing your ancestral seat doesn't stop you from living your life!"
Cha Se-han comforted Seong-bin.
Still, it felt like the fans would be disappointed if Seong-bin’s information was missing.
Just as I was debating how to slip the information in, Yeo Seong-chan stepped up again.
"How about Iwol-ssi tries to guess? I just looked it up, and apparently, there are five major ancestral seats for the Jeong surname. Don't you think it’s one of these?"
Yeo Seong-chan shouted, holding up his phone. Using a phone during a Jacon shoot… Berion really is free-spirited!
"Me?"
"Hyung, you’re the Fortune-telling Octopus. I want to see the miracle of the Asian Games once more!"
Hey, at this rate, my symbolic animal is actually going to change to an octopus.
Still, as someone who serves his boss—and as an HR employee, no less—it wouldn't make sense if I didn't know my boss’s basic personal details.
"I am strictly human, but Seong-bin-ssi is likely from the Dongrae Jeong clan."
"Is that just a guess because the Dongrae Jeong clan has the largest population?"
"Borrowing my divine powers, I shall venture to guess that he is a 37th-generation descendant of the Jib-ui-gong faction."
Since this was an existing fact, there was no penalty. I threw it out there confidently, wanting the fans to have the correct information.
For the record, unlike Choi Je-ho’s faction, this was accurate information. The generation character for the 37th generation of the Jib-ui-gong faction is '成' (Seong). Both Jeong Seong-bin and Jeong Seong-jun use that same character in their names, and after obsessively digging up the hometowns of Seong-bin’s father and grandfather, I had uncovered this prime TMI. I was also the first person to figure this out in the Spark fandom back in the day. Dammit.
Whether I was drowning in painful memories or not, the others had already moved on to the next step, telling Seong-bin to call his father. Seong-bin dialed the number with a look that said, Is this really okay?
"Dad? Do you have a second to talk?"
— Sure. Why?
"What’s our… ancestral seat?"
— Yours? Dongrae Jeong clan, Jib-ui-gong faction.
Everyone’s jaws dropped. Yeo Seong-chan mouthed "Ask him what generation!" on mute.
"Uh, do you happen to know what generation descendant I am?"
— I’m the 36th, so you and Jun-i are the 37th. But why the sudden interest in the ancestral seat?
"Oh, I just needed it for something!"
— Do kids these days have a use for that? Even for me, it feels like ancient history.
Seong-bin hung up after making some excuse. Immediately, gasps of near-horror erupted from all sides.
"What the heck, seriously? How did you get that right?"
"Do not doubt my abilities ever again."
I only revealed it because it was information I had found in the past; if it were something someone else was bound to find anyway, I wouldn't have gone this far.
To the fans who love Seong-bin, I did it. Please give Seong-bin lots of love. Though I have no idea what kind of 'stan point' you find in a person’s clan name.
"I noticed that the Spark members' surnames are the top six most common surnames in Korea. Isn't that cool?"
Yeo Seong-chan said, unable to take his eyes off the list of surnames. I thought it was only natural since they were common names, but I guess he saw it as a coincidence.
"Aren't your hyungs' surnames more interesting? Like Moon and Cha. Even Seong-chan-hyung is a Yeo."
Lee Cheong-hyeon chimed in.
"That’s true. President Moon, what’s your ancestral seat?"
"Me? Nampyeong. You?"
"Hamyang Yeo clan. But I don't know what generation I am."
Listening to this stream-of-consciousness talk about surnames, someone suddenly came to mind. It was Supervisor Song.
Supervisor Song, who had been quite the idol fan, nevertheless knew the candid, behind-the-scenes reality of idols all too well. Her saying, "Oppa, don't do everything you want to do," was an extension of that.
'Supervisor Song, how do you know so much about idols? You’re well-versed in the whole industry.'
I had asked her once while we were doing some "deputy stanning." I was just too curious.
The answer I got was…
'If you like a few groups, you end up like this.'
…That was it. I could still see Supervisor Song’s sad expression vividly.
And if my memory served me right, after that, she said…
'I also have an idol among my distant relatives. He’s about my age, but that oppa is pretty successful, so I hear a lot of stories through the relatives.'
If it’s a boy group member who is quite successful, around Supervisor Song’s age but slightly older, and active during the same era as Spark…
'Wait… is it Song Min-il?'
Back then, I didn't know anything about idols other than Spark, so I didn't realize it, but thinking about it now, there was only one candidate. It was a fact I really didn't want to know.
I prayed that there were at least 230 male idols with the surname Song in the current generation of K-pop.
Forgetting their duties as idols, Spark and Berion polished off enough party food for forty people. Yeo Seong-chan claimed everyone must have eaten about 2.5 servings each, but I had my doubts. For starters, didn't Choi Je-ho eat five servings by himself? All those egg-chicks Kang Gi-yeon made went straight into his mouth.
After the meal, they were so fired up for a long chat that they abandoned the perfectly good chairs and tables and moved to the floor, claiming that if they sat in a row, they wouldn't be able to see the people at the ends.
The concept of using formal language for the broadcast vanished halfway through, leaving only a lawless mix of casual and formal speech. I’ll have to tell them to upload it to the Spark MeTube channel in two parts: a polite Part 1 and a "gathering of friends" Part 2.
Sitting in a circle, we played all sorts of games. The absolute highlight was undoubtedly the scene where Mafia Park Ju-woo killed off every single innocent citizen to snatch the victory.
Having been the first to die simply because I "looked like a Mafia," I had the luxury of watching the murdered citizens' reactions in real-time as they realized the Mafia’s identity.
"You guys are all so naive…"
The sight of Park Ju-woo smiling pityingly was so shocking it could have been used as the thumbnail for one of his "stan attractor" videos.
"Who was the doctor?"
"Me."
Kang Gi-yeon raised his hand.
"You should have saved Iwol-hyung early on! Then he would have pointed out the killer for us!"
Lee Cheong-hyeon vented his frustration. Sorry, but even a Fortune-telling Octopus can't guess who the Mafia is.
"Gi-yeon, who did you save first?"
Moon Yeon-gyu asked. Surprisingly, the person Kang Gi-yeon tried to save was Choi Je-ho.
"Je-ho-hyung? Why?"
"It looked like he didn't understand the rules… so I wanted him to survive at least one turn…"
Wow, that’s a statement that really treats Choi Je-ho like an idiot. It was a wise choice, though. Even if I died. This innocent citizen will remember this.
We also played a game where we wore aristocratic outfits and had to speak without using any loanwords. The foreign members were given three "revival" chances.
Jeong Seong-bin and Moon Yeon-gyu stood out in this game. Perhaps because their habits as leaders had taken root, they continued the conversation easily without using memes or English-mixed neologisms.
Even Choi Je-ho, who didn't have many words in his mental dictionary to begin with, did surprisingly well.
Kang Gi-yeon survived by using a peculiar way of speaking. It was the so-called "Noblewoman Speech" I’d seen while scrolling through social media. It earned a lot of laughs, which was great.
On the other hand, Lee Cheong-hyeon and I had to do push-ups incessantly for our frequent use of loanwords.
"I don't think they've decided who’s going to follow up on that yet."
"Really? What MIDI controller does your team use?"
The price for our Western-leaning tongues was harsh. Because we had to do twenty push-ups every time we got caught, the shoulders of my "High Priest of the Great Temple" style jacket almost burst.
The Cute Pretty Crown Prince of the Visually Imperial Family loosened his silk tie, upholding the dignity of the imperial household.
Finally, we all sat on the floor, eating dessert and having a good time. I started to get confused about whether this was a party or a company retreat, but I decided to think of it as just one of many types of parties.
The filming only ended after we recorded a heartwarming closing comment. We handed out the apple crumble pies we had prepared in advance to the staff, said our goodbyes to Berion, and left the Green Line building.
On the way in, I didn't forget to buy a box of fatigue recovery drinks for the dedicated team’s desks, along with a note asking them to do a great job on the video editing.
Back at the dorm, the members scattered to do their own things. My roommate, Jeong Seong-bin, headed to the living room with his diary, saying he needed to review today’s shoot.
Left alone in the room, I poked my head out the door to check on the Spark rascals. The youngest ones were chatting in their room, Park Ju-woo was showering, and Choi Je-ho was working out in the living room.
After confirming that no one was likely to come looking for me suddenly, I sat on my bed and pulled out my diary. I flipped to a memo page and uncapped my pen.
The concert was scheduled for December. To achieve the KPI, I absolutely had to prevent any discord or issues that might arise before then.
'It’s time to use my brain.'
Swallowing my tears inwardly, I wrote "20XX Predicted Issues" at the top of the page.
Countless controversies that Spark had faced in the past flashed through my mind.