Chapter 31: Slave Hunters (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 31: Slave Hunters (1)
Min Ju-gyeong, who had summoned me, asked if I had any experience giving presentations back when I was a student.
“Presentations?”
“Yeah. Have you ever done one?”
Of course I had—to the point of nausea.
I could spend four hours straight smiling through a simple progress report presentation.
However, the current me wasn't supposed to be capable of that.
On the surface, I was merely a green twenty-year-old who had never stepped foot in a company like Hanpyeong Industry, let alone conducted a PT or even presented in a college classroom.
I hesitated, feigning awkwardness, before answering.
“Nothing in particular, no.”
“I figured. I showed the proposal you gave me earlier to the Representative since he happened to be stopping by the Management Headquarters.”
The speed at which she submitted that draft was faster than a KTX bullet train.
At UA, even the CEO reviewed documents this quickly. What on earth was Department Head Nam so busy with that he couldn't even approve a single vacation request? A surge of irritation rose within me.
But Min Ju-gyeong was innocent. Swallowing my resentment, I forced a diligent smile.
Unaware of my inner turmoil, Min Ju-gyeong continued.
“The Representative said he’d like to hear you explain the details yourself.”
“Me? Personally?”
“Yes. What do you think? It might turn out to be a surprisingly good experience.”
I had done PTs hundreds of times, but not once had it ever been a 'good experience.'
To me, a PT was nothing more than a collaboration between stress and nausea.
Still, if an opportunity was given, I had to take it.
Worrying was a luxury I couldn't afford right now.
“Yes, I’ll do it. Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. You just need to explain what you’ve envisioned, so there’s no need to finalize every tiny detail. As for a PPT… it’s good to have one, but it doesn't matter if you don't. I’m thinking of scheduling the meeting for sometime next week. Does that work?”
“That works for me.”
I had already gathered references while brainstorming the concept.
Now that the content was organized, creating the visual aids was no problem at all.
Once I received the email address to send the files to and my NS Program account, our business was concluded.
One week remained until the PT. I had to settle this within that timeframe.
And my specialty, after all, was pulling all-nighters.
I began to rack my brain, calculating how to best grind away my time to create the ultimate presentation materials.
‘No matter what, I will avoid the Frozen Lawn Fairy Grave.’
I hardened my resolve. My shoulders felt heavy.
My ‘Avoid the Grass Fairy’ project began that very night.
Watching me, Lee Cheong-hyeon asked a question.
“This is all well and good, but shouldn't you sleep while you work?”
He could have afforded to rest for a few days since he’d finished composing, yet Lee Cheong-hyeon was constantly pacing the living room.
“When you’re twenty, you’re at an age where you can pull all-nighters and digest stones.”
“What is this Hyung even talking about? You’re not sleeping at all!”
If you were on the verge of becoming a collective of frozen grass ghosts, would you be able to sleep?
I might die of a stroke from pure rage, but I certainly didn't want to freeze to death and ascend to the afterlife.
“Where did you learn to make stuff like this?”
Lee Cheong-hyeon threw out a random question.
This was coming from the guy who could whip things up in a composition program that made my head spin just by looking at it.
Since I was short on time, I couldn't take my eyes off the monitor, but I did my best to give him a kind answer.
“You just pick things up as you live.”
“Whoa, amazing.”
To be precise, you just have to be the 'bus driver' carrying the team for four years of group projects… but the kids didn't need to know that.
A few days later, the day of the battle dawned.
In a UA meeting room, I found myself conducting what was likely the 450th PT of my life.
Since no one here expected much from me, the pressure was low.
Though there was the slight catch that people from every single department had shown up, contrary to what I’d been told.
Still, since it was a presentation intended for sharing ideas, the superficial PT ended in just twenty minutes.
After the presentation, I habitually prepared myself to deflect sarcasm.
However, no one said, ‘Did you think we made time just to listen to this crap?’
Instead, the Representative made a counter-proposal.
“Iwol.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll give you the official proposal template. Do you want to try writing it properly?”
Pardon?
For a moment, I wondered if these listeners had actually paid attention to the presentation.
Assuming they had, the lack of questions regarding the content meant there were no particular issues.
This meant that, in their eyes, my idea was realistic enough to be commercialized.
“Yes, I understand.”
Decision-making without a single profanity.
A meeting room where voices weren't being raised!
To someone like me, tempered by Hanpyeong Industry, this flow of events felt suspicious.
Still, it seemed I had succeeded in giving the impression that this was 'worth a shot.'
It was a pretty good result.
“Can everyone stay behind for a moment?”
As soon as Kim I-wol left the room, the Representative called back the staff who had attended the meeting.
The Representative’s tone was excited. The atmosphere in the meeting room was the same.
‘It’s understandable.’
Min Ju-gyeong had expected this to some extent from the moment she first saw Kim I-wol.
She knew he was quite unusual compared to others his age.
‘I just didn't expect him to have a talent for presentations as well.’
She had ended up attending the planning meeting simply because she was the one who handed over Kim I-wol’s proposal, and it had been a startling experience.
“What did you think? I thought it was quite good.”
The Representative asked about Kim I-wol’s PT.
“To be honest… I liked it.”
“Me too. I was worried it might be cliché, but hearing it in person, it’s better than I expected.”
The employees replied while flipping through the proposal.
The concept Kim I-wol suggested was the most standard: ‘Youth.’
In the music video he envisioned, Spark would start in a scene where their rebellious vibe and appearance would easily lead people to mistake them for delinquents.
It was a radical concept compared to the innocent 'Winter Boy' image the company had been preparing.
Furthermore, school uniforms and youth.
These elements, which anyone could easily think of, ran the risk of feeling ‘cliché.’
Especially since a major rookie group with a mythology-based universe had just been unveiled last week.
Considering recent market trends, one couldn't ignore the need for a strong, impactful concept.
However, Kim I-wol’s choice was the most ‘Spark-like.’
At the same time, it had an original side to it—thanks to a very small twist added at the end.
There was no way the company would pass up a choice that could best showcase the team.
Everyone agreed that this was an item that considered not just visuals, but also personalities and public image.
“The proposal alone was good, but the presentation was top-tier. Is he really only twenty?”
“Did he just graduate high school this year? That’s insane.”
“It’s rare to find a kid that age with that much grit and such a sharp mind. Which is why…”
The Representative said as he closed Kim I-wol’s proposal.
“What do you think about grooming him for the producing side?”
From this point on, the Artist Management Team had no choice but to get involved.
Having grasped the situation, Min Ju-gyeong hurriedly sent a message to her team leader and opened her diary with an excited expression.
After the proposal presentation, I was back in the practice room training when the system popped up.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Hidden Quest’ completed.
▷ Content: Be recognized as a producing member
▷ Reward: Experience Points (5)
▷ Cumulative Experience: 70
▷ Cumulative Points: 0
+
So that’s why they told everyone else to stay behind.
They must have had a very jolly meeting without me.
With this, Spark had satisfied all the conditions necessary to be crowned 'self-produced idols.'
A perfect structure had been formed: I was on the producing side, Lee Cheong-hyeon was composing, and Choi Je-ho and Kang Gi-yeon were handling the choreography.
With a lineup like this, the company couldn't possibly pass up the chance to market them as self-produced.
‘It’s becoming even more impossible to switch jobs to a manager.’
At this rate, I felt like I needed to start thinking about my post-retirement plan for when I eventually leave the group after debuting.
My career, which had already turned into water, was now thinning out like mist.
Maybe I should think about what certifications to get.
If I’m going to study, it might as well be something productive. Like coding, or coding, or perhaps coding.
‘Then will Lee Cheong-hyeon’s song take the title track spot?’
To begin with, the concept had only been a vague image of 'Winter Boys' with no specific items attached.
UA hadn't even reached the stage of discussing which songs to commission for Spark.
So, unless the Representative or someone on the planning team was struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, it was highly likely that Lee Cheong-hyeon’s song—to which I had attached a concept—would be chosen.
‘Besides, the song actually turned out quite well.’
In that case, even just to market their self-producing capabilities, Cheong-hyeon’s song would become the title track.
Sure enough, the manager soon came by and…
“I heard you guys might even debut with Cheong-hyeon’s song?”
…delivered the news.
It wasn't a definitive confirmation, but those words alone seemed to ignite a fire under the four Spark brats.
Wait.
Four?
One head was missing.
I immediately turned my head to check the surroundings. One small head was nowhere to be seen.
“Is Lee Cheong-hyeon not here yet?”
“No.”
“Why? He’s usually right on time.”
“I don't know. He didn't say anything about finishing late today.”
Kang Gi-yeon answered. Since Lee Cheong-hyeon didn't have a cell phone either, there was no proper way to contact him.
I felt a chill.
As a 'connoisseur of bad vibes' who grew up eating the bread of bitterness at Hanpyeong Industry, I could guarantee my gut feeling wasn't good.
“He’s not the type to skip practice. He’ll be here soon.”
“I’d like to think so, too, but…”
Choi Je-ho spoke with his usual indifference.
The problem was, I felt like I’d seen a bit too much of the deep darkness inside you guys lately.
When something happens, I can't help but feel anxious.
Still, I decided to trust the old stories that Lee Cheong-hyeon was usually the mood maker during their trainee days.
Maybe he just made a ridiculous mistake like leaving his bag in the classroom.
I desperately spun the wheels of optimism.
If you wish for it earnestly, it will come tr—
+
[SYSTEM] ‘New Task’ assigned.
▷ Content: Secure debut song
▷ Reward: Experience Points (10)
+
What the hell is that?
Secure the debut song? If things keep going like this, the debut song will be decided automatically.
‘Does it mean I should buy the copyrights from Lee Cheong-hyeon in advance? You greedy system.’
I hadn't fully grasped all the issues regarding song rights yet, but…
My anxiety continued to grow. I felt as if two 'hardship flags' had been planted firmly in my back.
“Um… Hyung.”
I’m sorry, Ju-woo. Could you please not call me right now?
It’s because I’m surrounded by nothing but ominous premonitions.
“Lately, Cheong-hyeon seemed to have a lot on his mind. I wonder if something happened…”
“…”
Dammit.
Where did that little brat run off to?