Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader: Episode 4

"Haa... fine, whatever."

Get a grip. Sitting here like this won't change anything, and no one's going to notice anyway. Stop acting like some tragic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠loser.

It was the kind of quick surrender born from experience.

Hadn't he already gone through one of those resets where he’d done nothing, just lain there in a helpless daze, and then somehow ended up back at square one? His memories of that particular round were already fraying at the edges, but the feeling remained: the system did not reward stagnation.

Go Young-in irritably raked his fingers through his hair. Of course, he could only afford such a thing because he was alone in his room.

If anyone had been around, that insane status window would have shrieked at him for making a reckless move.

For the first time, he’d returned not to childhood, but to the adult Go Young-in he had been after growing up.

If this was really a benefit, then it seemed the system had cut the wasted time to the minimum possible. The problem was that it had sent him to the year when Zero One was celebrating its second anniversary.

Not before debut, not some easier period—this time, of all times. If the system had bothered returning him here, there had to be a reason.

...Was there?

He couldn’t shake the suspicion that it had simply picked the moment most likely to make him suffer.

And on top of that, a leader?

What the hell kind of ghost-eating nonsense was that? Then what happened to the member who had been the leader before?

Sure, he had personally scraped the others together in a hurry because he’d been desperate. But that didn’t mean he’d been the leader of the group.

He’d only stepped in because he’d had no choice, because he’d been terrified of going through another one of those goddamn resets.

He could barely keep himself together as it was—why would he ever want a position that forced him to be responsible for other people?

That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been the case, hadn’t it? And yet he was supposed to team up with these bastards again? As the leader, no less? What, did they expect him to take responsibility too?

For one thing, Zero One's history was flashy enough to make headlines all on its own.

School violence, drugs, double-dealing, assaulting ordinary people…

They’d all done things that could have landed them in the social pages, and that was before the endless ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠string of image-damaging scandals—personality controversies, plagiarism accusations, attitude issues, and more. There was no guarantee something like this wouldn’t happen again.

And the biggest problem of all was Go Young-in himself.

Even though he had clearly lived through it, there were huge gaps in his memory, scattered and incomplete.

The major incidents, the most intense moments—those he remembered. But the exact timing, the chain of events, how each thing unfolded… he couldn’t predict any of it.

All he really had in his head were the broad strokes of several incidents.

And even those weren’t arranged in any reliable order, because he couldn’t remember the exact timeline; everything was jumbled together at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠random.

On top of that, the members of Zero One were only bound together by a formal contract. They barely communicated at all.

So Go Young-in knew what kind of activities Zero One had done, and roughly what he himself had been doing around this time, but as for what the members had done in their private lives, he knew almost nothing.

God, Go Young-in, you fucking idiot. You should’ve kept a record, at least...

If he’d known he would come back after debut, would he have written something down, no matter how reluctantly? Forced himself into conversation with them, at least?

He didn’t know. No matter how hard he tried to look on the bright side, nothing good came to mind.

His head already hurt like hell, and now there was some new clause, some added condition. What exactly had been added?

Would it have killed them to explain it properly?

Then again, the status window had almost never been kind to him, so that complaint was probably pointless.

Kind my ass.

Just hearing the title made him not want to follow it.

If it had just said “kind idol,” maybe he wouldn’t have felt this way.

But the word leader was attached, and that made the whole thing impossible to grasp—while somewhere in the back of his mind, a miserable little thought kept surfacing: No way...

A kind idol leader... The fact that they added the word “leader” means this must apply only to the members of Zero One.

The moment the thought flashed through his head, Go Young-in felt a cold, convincing suspicion settle into place.

Maybe there were conditions attached to how he acted toward the members? The idea was so awful it almost made him laugh.

Forget being a kind leader—was there even such a thing as a clause that would turn him into a perfect system?

The explanation was unhelpfully vague, and without any proper guidance Go Young-in was left to stew in his own frustration.

What if I just quit and start over somewhere else? Or go solo?

That was the sort of extreme, impulsive thought that naturally followed.

Unfortunately, the status window flatly rejected that line of thinking.

The phrase that had always ended with “Challenge the pinnacle of idolhood!” now had leader of Zero One inserted in front of it.

The leader of Zero One... So it has to be this team, no matter what? And on top of that, the leader...

Fuck, what a rotten status window.

From the start, what exactly was supposed to change by making him the leader, and what was supposed to be good about it? There was no way everything would suddenly go smoothly just because of a title.

As long as I don’t say it out loud, that should be fine.

So it knew how to insult him perfectly, huh? What a fucking joke.

If it was going to hand out rewards, it should do it properly. Instead it gave him crap and called it a reward.

From the beginning, Zero One had been exactly the kind of relationship that suited the word business.

They’d barely done anything that resembled closeness—no private conversations, no sharing daily life, none of the things that usually came from genuine intimacy with the other members.

If someone asked whether they got along badly, Go Young-in would probably have to answer that he didn’t even know.

In the end, this meant he had to work with the others somehow...

Could he actually stop the incidents that might become a problem?

He didn’t even know how to stop them, and to be honest, he couldn’t say with any confidence that he could change anything at all.

So basically, “even if you can’t do it, make it happen.” If that’s what they meant, why not just say straight out that it’s impossible? Stop dancing around it. Besides, the things these guys did were all...

While Go Young-in was sighing in helpless frustration, there came a soft knock.

At almost the same instant, the door that had been closed slid open.

The knock itself had been so perfunctory it barely even sounded like someone asking permission to enter.

"What?"

Go Young-in’s gaze naturally drifted to the door. A moment later, it met the eyes of the uninvited guest who had just walked in.

Light sand-colored hair. A gentle face. Long legs and neat clothes. Altogether, he looked like a man with a rather harmless, almost delicate impression.

The man was staring at Go Young-in, who had just woken up, without bothering with any greeting at all.

Speak of the devil, and he appears. It was a face Go Young-in hadn’t seen in person for a long time.

Cheon Sa-yoon?

"Hmm."

The uninvited guest who was lightly touching the corner of his mouth and letting out a low murmur was Cheon Sa-yoon, another member of the idol group Zero One—and, at one time, the one who had originally held the position of leader.

If that was the case, then he must have had some sort of potential as a leader. Come to think of it, the Cheon Sa-yoon Go Young-in remembered had always seemed fairly adept at social life, the kind of person who could glide through things with practiced ease.

Wasn’t the leader position originally chosen with active recommendation from the company staff?

"Did you really just wake up now?"

Cheon Sa-yoon asked in a soft, careful voice, his face full of concern.

Go Young-in narrowed his eyes and looked at him closely.

That polished face was definitely Cheon Sa-yoon’s. But the expression, and the fact that he had no memory of ever collapsing around this time, made it feel more like he was making fun of him for sleeping late.

Was I wrong?

"At least you didn’t die."

He sounded genuinely worried at first glance, but the hint of amusement hidden in Cheon Sa-yoon’s voice was impossible to miss.

No, not a mistake. I remember him being anything but weak just because he was friendly.

At the very least, Go Young-in didn’t remember any scandals involving his character. If anything, he’d been the type people described as having an angelic face and an angelic personality, just like his name.

"So how long are you planning to sit there? Did we suddenly have all the time in the world?"

Did I get it wrong...? Why is he being such a pain? He doesn’t seem friendly—he seems rotten.

Since he really was in a hurry, Go Young-in picked up the phone lying on the bedside table, pretending to check the time as naturally as possible.

The room, the phone model—everything was the same as it had been back then, so this really was the past.

After unlocking the phone, Go Young-in quickly scanned the calendar memo in the banner at the top of the screen.

Not a late wake-up, then... If this was that time, then surely it would be... the second-anniversary live broadcast, vocal and choreography practice...

What else had there been?

A pile of minor SNS notifications and messages had also built up, and among them were several missed calls from a contact saved as “Manager.”

Great. He quickly sent a text apologizing for the delay.

Haa... the managers changed so often that I don’t even know who this “Manager” is anymore.

For now, he should send Cheon Sa-yoon away. Then maybe he’d be able to sort out his thoughts at least a little.

Fuck, with that long, shiny bastard standing there like a sentry and staring at him, he couldn’t even focus properly.

Go Young-in swallowed the curse that had risen to his lips, keeping his expression as calm as he could.

"...Anyway, thanks for telling me."

"Ohhh."

Cheon Sa-yoon gave a small response and smiled softly at his words.

His slightly drooping eyes curved into long crescents, and that peculiar smile made his already gentle face seem even softer and brighter.

"Not anyway. Today’s the day of our comeback concept meeting. Why are you suddenly acting like you don’t know?"

What the hell, fuck. Had he noticed that Go Young-in was trying to brush things off?

Just as Go Young-in was about to speak again—

"Are you an idiot?"

Cheon Sa-yoon tilted his head as though he were asking a genuinely curious question.

His tone was so soft, his voice so mild, that at first glance you might not even realize he’d just insulted him.