Chapter 347: Mental Management
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 347: Mental Management
Articles related to Spark increased in proportion to our tightening schedule. Choi Je-ho’s streak of selling out Neydas promotional products, Lee Cheong-hyeon’s debut as a fashion magazine cover model, Spark’s carbonated drink CF, and even my own hidden passion for acting—which even I hadn't known about. If you clicked on the entertainment tab of any news site, Spark appeared roughly every other day.
To handle the overflowing schedule, physical stamina was a must. We spent three hours a day at the gym, sucking on caffeine-free red ginseng sticks provided by Kang Gi-yeon’s mother. It was a form of intensive training.
“Get up. Time to work out.”
“I’m really sorry, but could either Seong-bin Hyung or Ju-woo Hyung please just knock Kim I-wol unconscious?”
Lee Cheong-hyeon, whose face was flushed bright red as he struggled just to breathe, lamented. However, Jeong Seong-bin and Park Ju-woo, the only ones who could have granted the younger member's request, had long since been sprawled out like limp rags.
“You were like a thin sheet of paper not too long ago, Hyung. Why is your recovery resilience so good?”
“I wasn't paper; I was a pulp sponge. I soaked my organs in red ginseng, and I’ve come back to life.”
“At this rate, you’ll be the promotional ambassador for the Ginseng Corporation soon.”
Lee Cheong-hyeon covered his face with a towel as if he were fed up. When I pulled it off, fearing he’d break out if he left his sweaty face in that humid state, the kid snapped at me.
“Hyung, you really don't understand the heart of a sensitive adolescent!”
“If you’re going to be like that, do you want to go to Choi Je-ho? He might understand your heart even less than I do, but he’ll nag you less.”
I pointed toward Choi Je-ho, who was currently wringing the life out of Kang Gi-yeon on the other side of the gym. Kang Gi-yeon was doing leg presses with an expression that said he was only living because he couldn't die.
“Our team is emotionally barren. It’s horrific,” Lee Cheong-hyeon muttered.
Regardless of his grumbling, I peeled Park Ju-woo off the floor, where he was stuck like a cling-on, and resumed the workout routine.
“Why are you pushing yourself so hard?”
I ran into Choi Je-ho at the water dispenser. Since he had brought a water bottle, I stepped aside to let him fill up first and asked, “What? The workout?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m doing about the same as usual.”
“You’re overpacing.”
“No way.”
Choi Je-ho didn't even pretend to listen. He just drank his fill of water.
After emptying half the bottle in one go, he wiped his mouth and delivered a sharp remark.
“If you’re working out exactly like you did before you got sick, that is overpacing. If you could just skip the middle steps and put on muscle like before, why would rehab even exist?”
“How long are you going to keep bringing that up?”
A new year had started since I was rushed to the hospital. The seasons had changed twice and were on the verge of a third shift.
My physique had naturally recovered as much as time had passed. This meant Choi Je-ho’s current comment was nothing more than meddling.
However, Choi Je-ho was stubborn.
“It’s only been half a year.”
“…”
“Do you think the word ‘overload’ just exists for no reason?”
Choi Je-ho’s gaze fixed on me. His eyes were clearly reproachful, causing my head to turn away instinctively. I let out a sigh of surrender and explained.
“It’s because I’ve been having a lot of stray thoughts lately. If I use my body, I can think a bit less. I found a healthy way to deal with it in my own way.”
Choi Je-ho frowned when I added that it was better than taking medicine.
“Does your head still hurt these days?”
“It’s fine when I’m working out. So don't tell Seong-bin.”
Choi Je-ho spoke as he capped his water bottle.
“Before that, you better moderate yourself.”
It was a warning that sounded like he might report my exercise volume to Jeong Seong-bin at any moment. I told him I understood and chased him off to the other side of the gym.
Seriously, it’s a world where only the regressor gets the short end of the stick. He’s nagging me without even knowing that one of my stray thoughts is worrying about his back.
Finally, with Spark joining Season 2 thanks to the "support" of the viewers (?), the entire cast of ‘Awangsil’ was revealed. This was the result of UA biting back like a dog when the production team notified them that they would simultaneously announce Spark’s participation along with another team that had been hesitating until the last minute.
‘Aiming for a synergy effect is just a nice-sounding excuse. Anyone can see the attention will be divided.’
The dedicated team’s phones never stopped ringing. Thanks to that, Spark ended up entering last with a very grand fanfare, after letting the seniors go first.
As if he had been waiting for this moment, Lee Cheong-hyeon was burning with zeal. His eyes looked a little crazed.
“Let’s ask for the budget we couldn't get last time because the company was too noisy. If they don't give it to us, I’ll make the company noisy myself.”
“Why are you so hung up on money?”
“Leave him be. It seems he’s still bothered by the fact that you handed out envelopes of cash during the position battle, Hyung.”
While Lee Cheong-hyeon was the one showing madness with veins popping in his eyes, Kang Gi-yeon was the one explaining. He said if we left him alone, he’d cool his head and come back, so we decided to give him some alone time.
On the other side, a heated debate had already broken out over the positions for the competition, which we didn't even know would happen this time.
“I’m going to go out as the vocal representative…”
“We don't know if the competition format will be the same this time, Ju-woo.”
“It could be the same…”
“Your throat might get tired.”
“I took a leave of absence, so it’s fine…!”
Park Ju-woo had essentially gone into a sit-in protest. It felt like we’d have to invent a competition for him if there wasn't one. More importantly, I don't know when he realized that a leave of absence was a cure-all. It’s a truth far too profound for a freshman to grasp.
“We’re the youngest again this time. Are we going with the bratty concept like last time?”
“We weren't exactly that bratty last time, Cheong-hyeon.”
Jeong Seong-bin kindly corrected Lee Cheong-hyeon’s words. Right, we didn't have a bratty concept. We just built a wall because there were so many people around us we wanted to avoid.
Anyway, it’s a headache that we’re still the youngest. I heard that as many as 100 idol groups debut in a single year. I don't know why ‘Awangsil’ won't recruit any new blood.
‘Is the only thing that’s changed the fact that Yu Han-su isn't here?’
That alone was something to celebrate, but since we were appearing on a long-term program, I wanted to gain something from it. This appearance was traded for our second-half comeback plans, so any normal person would feel the same.
I looked back and forth between Park Ju-woo, who was still fighting his lonely battle, and Lee Cheong-hyeon, who was highly excited.
“It’s not like we didn't do it in Season 1, but this time, let’s do everything we want to do.”
“Huh?”
A thread of reason returned to Lee Cheong-hyeon’s pupils.
“Let’s ask for a big budget. Let’s have Ju-woo do a vocal powerhouse stunt, and let’s show everyone Gi-yeon’s dancing.”
“Why am I suddenly being brought into this?”
“If we’re going to occupy a channel for several months, we should at least do this much. Seong-bin, what do you want to do? Since it’s the Annals of the Dynasty, do you want to carry the Royal Seal? Should we give you a palanquin ride? Me and Choi Je-ho will carry you.”
Choi Je-ho let out a hollow laugh as if he found it absurd. What an ungrateful brat, not knowing how to be thankful even when offered a job in this era of youth unemployment. If he keeps living like that, he’ll never be anything more than the Center Emperor for a thousand years.
After that, meetings and appointments happened one after another as soon as I opened my eyes. Some days, I’d have a video meeting while on my way to a script reading, and other days, we’d have to stop practicing choreography to go up to the meeting room for a single album planning session.
“If the hyungs hadn't taken a leave of absence, I wouldn't have survived.”
Lee Cheong-hyeon muttered while being flanked and supported by Jeong Seong-bin and Park Ju-woo. He had said he wanted to take the wheel for this ‘Awangsil,’ and I had readily handed it over, but it seemed that cleaning up the mess after starting so many things wasn't easy.
Fortunately, the middle line—who had gone through years of research, gathering opinions, and group projects—actively supported Lee Cheong-hyeon, helping the future planner make his debut. I stepped in for checks and feedback from time to time, like today.
“I told you to ask the dedicated team for the planning. You’re contributing enough just by composing.”
“Don't block the promising Cheong-hyeon’s challenge. If it doesn't work out, I’ll send an SOS before we hit the deadline.”
“Actually, is it that you don't trust me?”
“No, not at all, so please don't suddenly change direction~.”
Looking at Lee Cheong-hyeon, who had his bangs pinned back with a clip and was staring only at his laptop, I was suddenly reminded of the past.
The inner thoughts of Lee Cheong-hyeon that I had discovered while going around collecting other people’s TMI—that he had ‘decided to learn composing after debuting.’
And the image of Lee Cheong-hyeon, who ‘had no choice but to be desperate,’ which I hadn't known until I saw the past data.
“Cheong-hyeon.”
“What? Unless you’re going to throw me a flash of inspiration, a list of the top 50 public-pick musical numbers, or a cheerful melody, please don't disturb Cheong-hyeon for a moment.”
Despite his firm declaration, Lee Cheong-hyeon took his hands off the keypad after only a few minutes. He then leaned back against the chair as if asking what I had to say.
“Is writing songs fun?”
“Huh?”
It must have been an unexpected question, as Lee Cheong-hyeon made a strange face.
“I’m asking if it’s fun. I was worried you might be forcing yourself because you feel pressured.”
At my words, Lee Cheong-hyeon crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side.
“Hmm.”
“…”
“Does it look that way?”
He habitually crossed his legs, though he uncrossed them immediately upon meeting my gaze.
“The pressure wasn't non-existent. Until recently. To be precise, rather than pressure… I was anxious. You saw it during 『OUR』. How much I cared about the results.”
Lee Cheong-hyeon curled one side of his mouth into a smile. It was the smile he very rarely showed when he was displeased.
“I thought that if I didn't produce results, I couldn't prove myself. That I could do it. Looking back, that’s how it was.”
“And now?”
Lee Cheong-hyeon looked at me and burst into laughter. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but one that looked comfortable.
“I’m doing it because I want to. This kind of drive can't be shown unless it comes from the heart.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, I’m not sure if I have immense self-confidence.”
Lee Cheong-hyeon shrugged.
“At least I don't feel impatient. The obsession with having to show results has decreased a lot, too. Maybe it’s because I let go of the thought that I had to be recognized by my mom and dad.”
Saying that, Lee Cheong-hyeon looked much more mature than usual.
Perhaps he really is more mature than me. I still become unstable just thinking about my sister, but Lee Cheong-hyeon has succeeded in firmly fortifying the part of him that was his weakness in a different sense.
“…That’s a relief.”
“In the first place, if I were doing something stupid, would you or Kang Gyeon just leave me alone? You’d come straight for a mental education session with a ‘body pillow of love.’ Cheong-hyeon is too scared to live like that.”
This time, a hollow laugh came from my side. The kid has become quite slick over the years. Maybe "sly" is a better word for it.
“Think of about 80% of my complaining as an exaggeration. If I really think I can't do it, I’ll immediately grab onto the hyungs’ pant legs and hang on. I have four hyungs; if I don't use them at times like this, when would I?”
“You’re right. So please, use us. Especially Choi Je-ho. Leaving that physique alone is a waste, a total waste.”
I don't know what was so funny about what I said, but Lee Cheong-hyeon laughed until he was out of breath. Something about the pot calling the kettle black. Anyway, he looked happy, so I left him to it.
Even during the precious break time tucked into the middle of practice, Spark’s conversation was entirely about work, work, and more work.
“I heard there was another article about us today. Did everyone hear?”
“What article?”
“A music critic reviewed our album. Should I share the link?”
“Unless it’s a 5-out-of-5 stars, please send it via private message. During composing season, please only deliver unconditional praise to Cheong-hyeon.”
“It’s not a star rating system. Besides, when we did the blind test for the B-sides, the one you criticized the most was your own song.”
“Wouldn't it be weird if I heard my own song and said, ‘Oh my, where did this god of music come from…!’?”
They seemed happy among themselves, so I didn't really interfere, but everyone was a bit… fanatical. Being a workaholic isn't good for mental health.
Just as the conversation had opened up and we were exchanging trivial jokes, the practice room door opened. Instead of the trainer who was supposed to come, Manager Chan-yeong appeared and looked for me.
My mind went cold the moment I saw him intentionally call only me out into the hallway. The atmosphere around me changed in an instant, as if I had been dropped out of my daily life.
“I-wol.”
And because I had been trained for years to the point where my intuition for these things couldn't help but become sharp…
“Your family… they contacted the company saying they want to see you.”
…I confirmed that my hunch was right. As it always was.
