Chapter 32: Slave Hunters (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 32: Slave Hunters (2)
I waited another thirty minutes, but Lee Cheong-hyeon never showed up.
By this point, it was clear that something was weighing on the kid’s mind.
‘How is it that not a single one of them can just get through the day without an issue?’
I felt a newfound sense of respect for teachers who managed to graduate dozens of these types of puberty-stricken high schoolers every year.
“What on earth could have happened…?”
Jeong Seong-bin spoke in a worried voice.
It seemed no one could guess why Lee Cheong-hyeon had suddenly skipped practice. Even in my memories, I had never heard a rumor about Lee Cheong-hyeon running away during his trainee days.
While the friction between Choi Je-ho and Kang Gi-yeon or Jeong Seong-bin’s internal conflict were things that were bound to happen eventually—just moved up in the timeline—this was the first time an entirely new incident had occurred.
‘If this is a deviation from the original timeline and Lee Cheong-hyeon is involved, the only thing that’s changed is the debut song.’
Like the other trainees, Lee Cheong-hyeon wouldn't have a phone. There was zero chance he had heard anything about the debut song on his way home from school.
But no matter how much I thought about it, there was nothing else that could be a problem except for his self-composed song.
‘Wait, did this kid… catch on?’
On the surface, he seemed like a bit of a space cadet, but Lee Cheong-hyeon actually had a decent head on his shoulders. In the past, whenever Choi Je-ho or Kang Gi-yeon made the atmosphere awkward on a broadcast, he was the one who would put his heart and soul into smoothing things over.
In other words, given the circumstances, he might have already deduced that the song he wrote could be used as the debut title track.
A kid who didn't mind his song being a B-side was now mentally affected by it being chosen as the title? Even after he’d written an even more incredible song than before?
If that was the case, the reason he bolted was obvious.
‘He doesn’t want to stand out.’
To be precise, he didn't want to be at the forefront.
The way he had been so proactive after their debut—to the point of being called the "camera specialist" of Spark—must have been part of his fan service. It was likely a persona he developed over the years after being assigned the role of the group’s variety show representative.
You see people like that sometimes. People who do their jobs well but don't want any of the credit.
There were plenty of those hidden contributors at Hanpyeong Industry, too.
The reasons for staying under the radar varied. Some were shy; some grew up being told that modesty was the greatest virtue. Others were simply so focused on the work itself that they didn't have the mental energy to claim their achievements.
And then, people like Department Head Nam would swoop in, snatch up their results, and get promoted. Those bastards.
Anyway. Right now, Lee Cheong-hyeon was just a high schooler. He was at an age where it wouldn't be strange to feel burdened by the fact that the first song he ever made was becoming a title track.
‘So that’s why the new task was phrased like that.’
"Securing the debut song" essentially meant I had to persuade the runaway Lee Cheong-hyeon.
I didn't want to force him into something he hated, but it was a crying shame to leave his song as a mere B-side like before. Between this and Jeong Seong-bin’s emotional wandering, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were getting tangled on purpose.
It felt like a fuse connected to gunpowder had been lit, and I was chasing after it just to sweep up the ash.
‘For now… I guess I have to go catch him.’
I picked up my tracksuit jacket, which I had folded on the practice room sofa. I had a bad feeling that this was going to be a long day.
“Hey, you don’t even know where he went. You’re just going to head out?”
“Yeah. I think I might be able to find him if I’m lucky.”
A few years ago, I had spent hours scouring bars for a necktie that Department Head Nam had lost during a dinner with the executives. My only clues were the corporate card transaction history from the accounting team and a vague description of the atmosphere where he had been sitting.
To make a long story short, I found it. Under a chair in one of the countless bars in Gangnam.
I stopped myself from remembering the details of the process, fearing I might actually tear up.
‘If I could find a plain black necktie, why wouldn't I be able to find a person?’
As a high schooler, the range Lee Cheong-hyeon could travel was limited to wherever public transportation could take him. All the trainees, except for me, were living on allowances from their parents.
I started searching on the smartphone I’d received from the manager. I looked up every bus stop near Cheong-hyeon’s school and every bus that stopped there.
Next, I carefully retraced the criteria I used when I was looking for real estate back when I wanted to quit my job.
‘The most important thing is how far you can get from the place you want to escape.’
I remembered how much I’d empathized with a colleague who once vented that after resigning, they wouldn't even park their car in the direction of Hanpyeong Industry.
I narrowed it down to five locations where the bus routes ended furthest from Cheong-hyeon’s high school and the UA practice room. Then, I excluded busy downtown areas or so-called "hot places."
I remembered reading a response Lee Cheong-hyeon had written on a Post-it during a fan sign event in the past.
[If Cheong-hyeon were given a free day off:]
[Roaming around crowded places comfortably ( ) vs. Resting quietly in a secluded place (○)]
I even remembered how he had written in neat handwriting below the options: “Please recommend some healing travel spots later!”
Despite his appearance, it seemed he was the type to sink into deep thought when he had worries.
Furthermore, he was a trainee on the verge of debut. I trusted he wasn't stupid enough to get caught up in a scandal by loitering in the wrong places.
Finally, I searched for "walking trails on the outskirts of Seoul" on a portal site to see which place had the most recommendations. Since he was a kid who hadn't even made many PPTs, I didn't think he’d be an expert at searching. He probably only had a short time to search on a friend’s phone at school, so he wouldn't have had much time to deliberate.
I checked the location of the place with the most influencer recommendations. It was a spot that required a long bus ride.
When I catch this kid, I’m definitely going to hold him accountable for leaving his workplace without permission.
With that firm resolve, I sent a text to the manager saying I would bring Lee Cheong-hyeon back.
Of course, I didn't forget to stop by the convenience store in front of me to buy a transit card. I desperately wanted to ask if I could charge the expenses incurred while finding Lee Cheong-hyeon to UA.
Lee Cheong-hyeon sat on the bench, swinging his legs back and forth from the knees. Every time his feet brushed the ground, a small cloud of dust rose.
The view below was so far away that it felt like a completely different world.
Raised by a mother and father who had lived diligently their entire lives, Lee Cheong-hyeon had received an impeccable upbringing. He had never even skipped a private academy session.
So, this was only the second time in his life he had ever acted out.
The first time was just going to a neighborhood playground with Kang Gi-yeon instead of the practice room, and he hadn't even been scolded for that. But now that he was part of the debut team, he knew he would have no excuse even if he were severely reprimanded.
‘Is this how Kang Gi-yeon feels when he goes for walks on evaluation days?’
The day he found out his same-aged friend had a habit of getting nervous at critical moments, Cheong-hyeon had dragged Gi-yeon out of a bathroom stall where he’d been nursing his anger. They had wandered outside for a long time until his friend’s head cooled down.
He hadn't fully understood Gi-yeon’s anxiety. Cheong-hyeon wasn't the type to get very nervous. He had simply taken his friend out because he looked so suffocated that it was painful to watch.
At the end of that long outing, Cheong-hyeon never imagined that he would one day be the one running away.
Unlike the times he was always with Kang Gi-yeon, today Cheong-hyeon was alone. And he couldn't clear his heavy, congested heart with a simple walk.
He looked down at his wristwatch; it was already an hour past the time he was supposed to be at the practice room.
But he didn't want to go back.
Perhaps it was more accurate to say he couldn't go back.
He felt as though some uncomfortable news was waiting for him there. He even found himself hoping that he was just getting ahead of himself.
Cheong-hyeon had enough shamelessness to play it off by acting embarrassed and saying, "This whole thing was a total cringe-fest, so nobody talk about it, okay?"
Unfortunately, however, Cheong-hyeon knew he was more perceptive than the average person.
He had sensed that his song might be used as the group’s debut title track ever since his roommate hyung started writing something called a "proposal" with bloodshot eyes. It wasn't so much that he believed in his colleague’s passion, but rather that the results his colleague produced forced him to think that way.
Once those persuasive documents were out, he couldn't ignore the surrounding circumstances.
The agency, which was still undergoing trial and error by adding and removing classes even after the debut team was set, wouldn't throw away such a well-developed concept. In an era overflowing with talented idols, the chance to use the "self-produced group" label was too valuable for the company to pass up.
Cheong-hyeon understood all of this and accepted it.
But…
‘What if it flops?’
In Cheong-hyeon’s common sense, using a song made by a high schooler as a title track was incomprehensible. Taking responsibility for every part of a song was a completely different matter from just being responsible for a few lines of rap.
Moreover, the people who would debut with that song were the members he had watched from the side all this time. He knew better than anyone how hard they had worked toward their debut. Because of that, Cheong-hyeon wanted his colleagues to debut with an even better song.
Of course, all these worries could be solved if he simply declared he wouldn't use his song.
But that wasn't easy either.
Pathetically, Cheong-hyeon found it extremely difficult to refuse the requests of adults. The only time he had ever gone against his parents' wishes was when he declared he would become an idol.
For someone like him, it was unthinkable to rebel against the agency—a collective of adults more distant and difficult than family, who held the position of "Party A" and could actively influence his career.
He had even learned that Jeong Seong-bin, who had been at the agency much longer and was the leader of the trainees, was being bullied by a senior singer from the same company.
It was perhaps natural for Cheong-hyeon to be anxious, unable to stand up to the world of adults.
‘I want to run away.’
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a long shadow fell over him.
At the same time, a cold voice drifted down from above.
“I knew you’d be here.”
Cheong-hyeon looked up at the familiar voice.
Perhaps because of the backlight, his colleague and roommate stood there with an expressionless face, looking more ominous than usual.