Chapter 8: Establishing KPIs (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 8: Establishing KPIs (1)
The company was beginning to form the debut team.
This meant that if I slipped up here, I would fail the task of debuting with Spark.
Since I barely knew how to do anything, I was in a position to plead with a racing heart, “Heaven, please give me just a little more time…”
Yet, for some reason, even the members of Spark—those once-in-a-century talents—wore dark expressions.
Min Ju-gyeong looked at their faces and gave a sympathetic smile.
“Everyone, relax. Okay? You’ve all worked so hard up until now, so think of this as the day you finally get rewarded and give it your best.”
After Min Ju-gyeong dropped that bombshell and left, a brief silence hung over the practice room.
It was only after Park Ju-woo headed into the vocal room and Choi Je-ho grabbed an empty water bottle to head out that the rest of them creaked back to their positions.
This might be news to me, but these guys must have known the evaluation period was approaching.
Seeing them so depressed made me wonder, ‘Just how harsh is this evaluation…?’
Failing the evaluation and getting cut was a major problem.
But even if I managed to scrape by and pass, whether the Spark members would accept me—someone with such a vast gap in skill—was another significant issue. Regardless of how uncomfortable I felt around them.
Then again, no one had even said they’d let me scrape by yet. Was I getting ahead of myself? Man, I really need to stop overthinking.
I rubbed my dry face a couple of times. I could feel that grittiness and fatigue that usually hits right around clock-out time.
When confidence drops like this, I need a mantra to boost my spirits.
‘I worked like a dog for that measly salary; there’s nothing I can’t do now…’
Besides, the reward now was something that couldn't be converted into money.
They said it could bring a dead person back to life; I should be more than grateful. Plus, wasn't this a chance to erase that hellish Hanpyeong Industry from my career?
Some people would kill for an opportunity like this. Worrying was just the talk of someone with a full stomach.
I firmly donned an iron mask disguised as a sense of responsibility.
Let’s just be shameless and go for it.
Jeong Seong-bin, who had been asked by Min Ju-gyeong to help the newcomer, explained the evaluation process to me with kindness from start to finish.
Starting with the date of the evaluation, Seong-bin went through what a new trainee usually prepares and the general guidelines.
“…If you do it like that, you’ll be mostly done with the preparations.”
“There’s quite a lot to prepare.”
“Well, they release rankings every time, after all.”
With a serene face, Jeong Seong-bin sounded just like Deputy Head An from the marketing team.
Deputy Head An… he was always haggard from having to report metrics every morning.
Seong-bin’s face held that same look of carrying all the world’s worries.
I offered a simple thanks to Seong-bin, who finished his explanation with a few reassuring words.
“Thanks.”
“Pardon?”
“You must have a lot to prepare yourself, but you keep helping me.”
Seong-bin’s eyes widened at my words. He looked like someone who hadn't heard that kind of thing very often.
To be fair, it was likely a rare sentiment within Spark. Most of them were the type to handle their own business solo.
In fact, except for Lee Cheong-hyeon, all the Spark members were the type to keep their feelings to themselves.
There’s no harm in being generous with greetings and gratitude. Once I successfully wedge myself into the debut team, I might have to make them practice saying things like “I see” or “I understand” once a day.
Since I’m the one hitching a ride, I should contribute something to make the math work out, shouldn't I?
But Seong-bin’s response was so heartwarming it made my calculating thoughts feel shameful.
“It’s not just me. Gi-yeon said next time you mix up your left and right, he’s going to tie you up in front of the mirror and teach you.”
“I’m so touched I’m practically tearing up.”
From a distance, Kang Gi-yeon shouted, “I said what?”
“Oh, that you’re the best teacher.”
Kang Gi-yeon gave me a look that asked what on earth I was talking about.
He seemed to want an explanation, but I didn't add anything more.
Just sincerely praising them had exhausted my daily quota of positive energy for Spark.
Up until then, the distance between Kang Gi-yeon and me was the entire length of the practice room…
But when I snapped out of it, only Gi-yeon and I were left in the room.
UA’s practice schedule operated on a 9-to-10 system. It was the kind of schedule that would get them reported to the Ministry of Employment and Labor in a heartbeat.
And since I had to deal with the fire under my own feet, I stayed for extra practice every day.
However, Kang Gi-yeon, whose level was leagues above mine, didn't seem to have any intention of going home today either.
If he’s hurting, he should just go home and rest. He was clearly trying to make up for the practice he’d missed.
For my part, I felt more comfortable being alone in the practice room. It’s the same principle as night self-study—you can’t focus if the student dean is standing right behind you.
Besides, having to spend every waking moment with Spark was already a form of torture.
Every time I saw their faces, I felt the pressure to start clipping them out of their backgrounds for social media edits.
Fortune favors the bold.
To secure my precious two hours of solitude, I cautiously spoke to Kang Gi-yeon.
“Gi-yeon, aren't you going?”
“What about you, Hyung?”
“The teacher told me I need to practice a lot.”
“You practice through half of your break time too, Hyung.”
“You guys were kind enough to help me, so I should at least do the basics.”
Kang Gi-yeon thought for a moment before answering.
“Then remember the parts you’re struggling with and tell me tomorrow. I have more to practice today too.”
No, just go home. I’m saying I want to be alone!
It also bothered me to have an injured person hovering around.
I could still vividly see Manager Han from the accounting team collapsing from a herniated disc.
In my eyes, Kang Gi-yeon’s ankle was a walking hazard. I didn't want to see someone collapse again.
“You hurt your ankle. Shouldn't you rest more?”
“They said it’s fine as long as it’s not a high-impact movement.”
The fact that he had an answer ready meant he’d asked plenty of questions at the hospital. Thorough kid.
Before I could ask if a minor like him shouldn't be heading home, Kang Gi-yeon had already moved to the opposite corner of the practice room.
Seeing that reminded me of a magazine interview Spark had done.
『Q: There’s a story that you were the ones in charge of turning off the practice room lights?
Seong-bin: It wasn't just me; all the members were like that. I think there was always at least one person staying late for extra practice. Everyone was diligent, and we all had a strong desire to do well. More than anything, we really wanted to debut. (Laughs)』
I also remembered a review of Hanpyeong Industry on Occupation Planet that I’d seen before returning to the past.
To summarize it in one line…
‘They said it was a company like a lighthouse, where the lights never go out.’
At least with Hanpyeong Industry, you could tell from the outside that the lights were on.
But this practice room was buried underground, so whether young trainees were singing or dancing all night, nothing was visible from the outside.
Even after practicing like this and debuting, Spark failed to reach number one for over three years. It was hard to believe, but that was the reality.
The idol world Spark debuted into was a path of thorns so brutal that comparing it to a surprise company dinner on a Monday evening would be an insult.
If they worked that hard to debut, they should have been more aggressive with their promotions.
From my perspective, having to monitor them, I was actually grateful Spark wasn't overly active.
But for the fans, it probably wasn't a good look.
I mean, what kind of group only does one live broadcast during their entire promotion period?
‘Well… now isn't the time to be worrying about others.’
I immediately stood up. I had a long way to go.
How much time had passed?
“Are you staying longer?”
I was wrestling with my reflection in the mirror when Kang Gi-yeon turned off the music and asked.
“It’s 11:00 PM now.”
“11:00?”
The clock indeed pointed to 11:00 PM.
It had been a while since I felt this kind of pressure, not since Department Head Nam asked me to rearrange the office desks by the next morning.
In this situation, going home would only lead to consequences later.
Having grown into an adult who could see at least one step ahead, I decided to stay a bit longer for the sake of my future self and asked Gi-yeon.
“What about you? Aren't you going?”
“I’m going to do a little more.”
“Go home early. You won't grow if you don't sleep.”
The look on the face of the kid who had worked his bone to the marrow only to be nagged by a newcomer was not great.
But deal with it. I’m saying this because I know you won't break 180cm in the future.
His future self was incredibly stressed about that.
Even though fans called him a "173cm giant puppy" and "King Cute Gi-yeon-i," it clearly bothered him because there were so many tall kids in the group.
As a side note, I also suffered quite a bit because he was the only one who dipped down in height.
140 characters wouldn't be enough to describe how tedious it was to edit SNS headers because of him. I almost wanted to ban uploading vertical photos entirely.
Still, I couldn't let a kid who just graduated middle school walk home alone in the middle of the night. Especially one with a bad ankle.
Pushing aside my lingering unease, I packed up my things.
Outside the building, which I was leaving for the first time in 14 hours, a biting wind was blowing.
The weather showed no signs of warming up, and white mist escaped with every breath.
“How’s your ankle?”
“Hyung, you ask that really often.”
“Your bodies are your assets.”
Kang Gi-yeon pursed his lips as if to say something, then stopped.
No sense of danger regarding injuries. These kids don't know how scary hospital bills are.
It seems urgent to implement occupational safety and health training for all trainees. If I made them watch 20 hours of lectures, they’d start taking care of themselves whether they liked it or not.
But I felt a bit bad for nagging Gi-yeon about not growing if he stayed up late.
Doesn't every working professional find every word from their boss annoying?
Even though my existence was more like a mousetrap than a boss, fair was fair.
I pointed to a convenience store that happened to have its lights on and asked Gi-yeon.
“Want to stop by the convenience store?”
Then, without waiting for his answer, I pushed him inside. Very gently, of course, considering his ankle.
Perhaps his stamina was at its limit, because Gi-yeon was pushed into the store quite feebly.
“Pick whatever you want to eat.”
“Why?”
“I nagged you earlier. It’s a peace offering.”
They say a sincere apology should come with financial compensation.
Gi-yeon, whose nose was red from the wind, looked at me with a dubious expression.
“When did you… Ah, telling me to go home early?”
“Yeah.”
I herded the hesitating Gi-yeon toward the refrigerator.
After a moment of thought, he picked out an ionic drink.
I was going to tell him to get something expensive, but then I remembered he was an extreme "self-managed idol" who didn't even put dressing on his salads, so I just quietly paid for it.
Even though my entire net worth was just this precious 15 million won.
I figured my sister would understand me buying a drink for a student who had performed manual labor until 11:00 PM. It’s not like I was going to be able to pay for university with that money anyway.
When I handed him the drink after paying, Gi-yeon gave a polite bow.
“Thank you.”
“It’s just a 1,200 won drink. I’m the one who should be thanking you for helping me with practice.”
“It’s not helping; it’s more like a rescue.”
“True.”
After that brief exchange, we walked toward the dorm in silence. It was a suffocating commute, just like being with a coworker.
Once we passed through the alleyway that was as dark as my future, we arrived at the entrance of the villa where the dorm was located.
At the entrance, I gestured for Gi-yeon to go inside.
“What about you, Hyung?”
“I’m going to a noraebang. I already got permission from the manager.”
“Why a noraebang?”
“To practice.”
Kang Gi-yeon wore a thoughtful expression.
Right. You’re probably disappointed the practice room isn't open 24 hours.
I knew that feeling well, as I was the type who preferred pulling an all-nighter to finish work rather than letting it pile up.
‘Well, the noraebang isn't the only place I’m going.’
Hiding my ulterior motives, I gestured for Kang Gi-yeon to hurry up and get inside.