The Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader

A week had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. It was already the day of the comeback showcase.

In other words, Zero One’s comeback was today. The press showcase and fan showcase would be held, and at the same time the music video and the track itself would be released.

Before meeting the fans, they were scheduled to greet the reporters first, answer questions onstage, and promote the comeback.

Could he really get through the interviews with these members without incident? He could barely remember how they had handled interviews in the past.

Honestly, as long as Pyo Jae-ho didn’t say anything bizarre, it would probably be fine. Cheon Sa-yoon was detestable, but at least in situations like this he was better than Young-in. Kyeon In-woo was reasonably safe, too. Lim Se-bin never talked for long, so… maybe he should add something there, too.

If they could just survive today, the comeback would be a success. He’d drag them through it somehow.

How exactly was he supposed to encourage them, anyway? Would these bastards ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even listen if he tried? They’d ignored him last time, too. At this point it was basically a matter of stubbornly waiting to see when they’d answer.

“Should we shout a cheer together before we go in?”

“Huh? Out of nowhere?”

“What the hell kind of thing is that for us to have?”

There was Kyeon In-woo’s dumbfounded expression and Cheon Sa-yoon’s mood-killing reply, but at least they hadn’t ignored him this time. Come to think of it, they didn’t even have a proper cheer. They had an intro greeting, sure, but nobody used that to psych themselves up for anything.

“Right. And Jae-ho, for this interview, if possible….”

“Hey.”

Lim Se-bin, who had been silent until now, glared at Young-in. Even his tone was absurdly sharp.

“Why are you being like this lately? Tone it down.”

“Pardon?”

“Stop doing things that get on my nerves.”

Lim Se-bin was criticizing Young-in’s behavior. Did even this light conversation count as irritating? Just how sensitive was he? His tone made it sound incomprehensible, but it wasn’t like he was doing this because he wanted to be a nuisance.

And if we don’t do even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this, we’re really screwed. There is a future… but this timeline’s future is ending right here.

“I said it before, but I think we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠need changes, even if they’re small.”

The group, and the members themselves, all of it.

For once, Young-in really wanted to bring everything to an end. To do that, the group had to change somehow. Even if that made him selfish, there was nothing he could do about it. If they had to live through this miserable situation themselves, they’d think differently.

“Didn’t I already tell you? Just do things the way we always have. Don’t start acting up now and trying to clean up this mess.”

There had to be a reason Lim Se-bin was acting like this. Young-in understood that much without being told, and in moments like these, he wished the other man would just read the room and stay quiet.

“...Sorry, but I really can’t let this go anymore.”

“What?”

“It’s fine if it’s not something huge. I just mean I want us to live normally.”

Normally…? Was that really normal? Well, people usually talked to each other, so maybe it was.

Lim Se-bin’s face darkened again, clearly displeased. His lips moved with visible irritation.

“I don’t like it.”

When Lim Se-bin was in a bad mood, his voice dropped so low it became almost ominous.

Young-in had never imagined that the quietest member would turn out to be the hardest wall to get through.

Did I say something ridiculous?

Somehow, every time he tried to talk to them, they all seemed to end up in a worse mood. If even this much conversation was unbearable, what was he supposed to do here? This was insane.

“I said I don’t like it.”

When there was no response, Lim Se-bin repeated himself carefully, as though making sure he was heard. So touching. Young-in was almost moved to tears.

“Stop meddling and just put in the contract years and call it done.”

“…….”

“It’s already too late.”

Why did everything have to sound like that?

“Zero One! Let’s go in!”

The shout cut off the pointless argument. Manager Do Sa-jin called out in a panic. The moment they heard another person’s voice, everyone instantly acted as if nothing had happened. What a farce.

Damn it…. I should’ve just said we’d talk later and let it go. I didn’t think it would turn out like this.

It was a mistake. And to make it worse, the leader had gone and fought with a member right before the showcase started. Self-reflection was urgently needed.

Even though the group’s eldest member and their leader were acting like this, the others didn’t seem bothered at all, as if they were not people who would ever be shaken by this kind of thing. Their mental strength was ridiculously good. At a time like this, maybe that was a blessing.

For now, he pushed the stray thoughts aside and decided to think only about the showcase. Go Young-in quietly repeated the script he was holding over and over in his head.

* * *

Young-in rubbed his hand once over his knee, wiping it clean. It wasn’t really nerves about the interview so much as the memory of the last press showcase before he died.

As the years passed, they really had dealt with every kind of question imaginable. The reporters who always camped out in front of his building alone were enough to make leaving the house a chore.

And the final showcase held under those conditions had been truly…

Now that he thought about it, back then he’d even wished some kind of bad omen would appear. Just let no one care, he’d thought. But there was no way that would happen. It had been the first time in his life he’d ever been bombarded with such a wild range of questions.

And he hadn’t known that would soon become his daily life, either. Ha….

He remembered Pyo Jae-ho throwing a massive verbal bomb during that last showcase. What had it been? Whatever it was, there was no guarantee the Pyo Jae-ho of then wouldn’t do the same thing now.

Proper advice, my ass. Could they please at least pretend to listen? Besides, what was there even to advise them on? Just “don’t open your mouth recklessly”?

He couldn’t even joke about it. Zero One’s album this time included the first song in the group’s discography that had been directly composed by a member. Questions about Pyo Jae-ho were guaranteed to come up.

The image of a producer who could compose his own songs did give an idol the good impression of being competent at his actual job. But that also made it a double-edged sword.

Pyo Jae-ho, especially, was a huge gamble in itself. The reason was simple: in the future, that bastard would end up carrying the title of plagiarism idol. Young-in couldn’t be certain because he didn’t know exactly how it happened, but publicly, that was how things had gone.

That said, they had already chosen it as the title track, so he couldn’t exactly turn around now and say they should switch songs just because it was Pyo Jae-ho’s. And the plagiarism allegations hadn’t happened yet, either. Maybe, because the future had changed, they wouldn’t happen at all.

But then again, what if they let it slide now and ended up making a minor problem into a disaster?

He had all kinds of thoughts, but the conclusion was this situation. If it was going to happen whether they used the song or not, then it would happen; if not, then it wouldn’t. If it was going to happen anyway, then of course they should use the better song.

So, in that sense, his first order of business was to ask them to fix that mouth of his, please.

“Jae-ho, there’ll probably be a question about this title track. When that happens, if you could answer….”

“I’ll handle it myself.”

Pyo Jae-ho replied dryly. As always, his quiet voice carried no rise or fall.

“Mm, okay.”

“I’m not lecturing you. I’m just worried.”

I’m worried about my own mental health.

“Yes. So you don’t have to worry about it.”

Right… he’d probably do fine on his own… Young-in muttered under his breath. Damn it, how many times had his words been brushed aside already today? One day he was absolutely going to curse them out to their faces.

* * *

The press showcase went smoothly. Was that only natural since nothing had happened yet? The stage greeting and performance were both carried out without a single mistake.

Even during the Q&A, maybe because the agency had worked some magic, there were almost no rude questions from the reporters. The MC had also done a good job keeping things orderly.

That didn’t mean there were no difficult questions at all.

“This is reporter Jeong Sun-hye from Perfect Daily. I’d like to ask Pyo Jae-ho a question. With this SUMMER BLUE album, you’ve officially acquired the nickname of a composing idol. In that sense, how do you feel about being credited as a co-composer on the title track?”

It was a very strange question. They had gone out of their way to mention the word co-composer. Of course, team work was extremely common.

Pyo Jae-ho could clearly compose, arrange, and make beats on his own. But not everyone knew that. It was only being shown to the public now, so that much was natural.

To put it a little dramatically, the fact that they had deliberately reminded everyone of the co-composer credit could almost be taken as a roundabout probe: So did you just slap your name on it, or did you actually participate?

To be honest, in this day and age, who would clearly and obviously slap their name on something and expect not to get caught? Co-composing was common now. Even among idols, the number of people capable of composing alone was growing, so the intent behind that question was obvious.

In any case, even if the reporter hadn’t meant it that way, it was the kind of wording that could produce endless trouble depending on how he answered.

As if there are questions that don’t.

As expected, it was a question aimed squarely at Pyo Jae-ho. Young-in hesitated to step in for him. Surely Pyo Jae-ho wouldn’t go and do something crazy in front of the reporters, would he? He watched with a nervous heart.

He had said he’d handle it himself, but honestly, Young-in couldn’t trust that at all. Let him do something trustworthy for once. Then maybe today’s anxiety would’ve already been spent.

“It says you also participated in the arrangement.”

Pyo Jae-ho corrected the basic facts first, with his usual indifference. He stayed calm all by himself, untouched by the atmosphere.

There was no point asking what the problem was; it was too obvious to even say. Damn it, trust what?

And since Pyo Jae-ho was simply stating facts, the implication buried inside his answer was that he had taken part in both composing and arranging, which meant he had no problem handling a song project on his own. Somehow, he managed to humble them without even trying.

“Then did you participate in both the composing and arranging? How much of an important role do you think you played in the song? If you gave yourself a score for this album work, what would it be?”

“It was a project based on a song I made from the beginning. It was just more efficient to do it as a team. We outsourced part of the finishing process because we lacked time, not because I couldn’t do it myself.”

Judging by the reporter’s expression, it looked like tomorrow’s headline would be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠something about arrogance, but Young-in wished that was just his imagination.

“This is reporter Jeong Sun-hye from StarBorn News. You’re taking on a new concept you haven’t tried before. Were you perhaps conscious of DTD, who debuted around the same time? You’re practically the first group that comes to mind when people think of freshness and youth.”

This was absolutely not a question Pyo Jae-ho was allowed to answer. They’d be screwed for real. Young-in checked the notes he had prepared, then casually reached over and took the microphone from Pyo Jae-ho’s hand.

“Hello, reporter Jeong Sun-hye. First of all, thank you for your question. Regarding what you mentioned….”

…….

That sort of thing did happen, but it wasn’t serious enough to become a major problem. If they had been rookies fresh out of debut, they’d probably have been torn apart for arrogance.

Still worried, Young-in checked the articles roughly as they were uploaded, and most of them were written kindly enough. Maybe a lot of them came from media outlets friendly with the agency.

[ [Photo] Zero One, “Cool visuals returning with summer” ]

[ “I did all the composing and arranging myself”… Zero One’s Jae-ho’s confident shout that music has no limits ]

[ Zero One’s Young-in: “We wanted to show growth through a new attempt” — the original spirit is still there ]

[ Zero One Takes on Freshness for the First Time Since Debut — A Stage Bursting with Youthful Energy [KM Photo] ]

The problematic remark had been packaged as well as possible. It was a relief that it hadn’t been written up as a boastful outburst, but the nuance had somehow been changed into “he handled it all himself.”

Still, by now the music should’ve been out, and the MV uploaded for a while.

Why was he trembling? Because things had changed from the past, the result was impossible to predict. What had their previous numbers been? This time, they needed to do better than before.

After the chart overhaul, it had become even harder for boy groups whose digital performance was relatively weak to enter the HOT Chart.

That was probably because they lacked public appeal. Not only entry, but maintaining rank was just as difficult. It was safe to say that even the so-called all-track chart sweep of old had become hard to pull off now.

They were on the way to the waiting room anyway, so he could just check there. Still, he was curious for no reason. He casually asked manager Do Sa-jin, who was walking beside him.

“Manager-nim, how much time has passed since our release?”

“Huh? Since what?”

‘Since what?’ Seriously?

If not for the status window, Young-in’s expression would have been atrocious. Was this guy really a manager? For some reason, he couldn’t remember seeing this man do his job properly since coming back.

He had a new memo to add about the manager.

- Doesn’t seem very good at his job. Is that why they changed managers?

“I was asking whether it’s been an hour since the digital release. For the chart ranking….”

“Ah… I see. Let’s see… it’s already past 7:30.”

Do Sa-jin hurriedly checked the time on his phone. Why was it getting worse and worse…? Young-in decided to stop thinking before he ended up having a rude thought.

The fan showcase was at 8, so they only had to look for a little while and then go straight in.