The Conditions for Becoming a Gentle Idol Leader — 44

If that were all, it would’ve been a relief. Pyo Jae-ho and Lim Se-bin were a problem too. On broadcast, and they still acted like they had no intention of chasing airtime.

Still, comments like that always followed them around, whether they did well or badly. It was ridiculous to get swept up in a storm over such a tiny handful of reactions. But it was even more ridiculous to go looking for trouble and then complain when it bit back.

His body, sunk deep into the plush chair, sagged with exhaustion. Go Young-in lazily lifted one arm to pick up the coffee cup on the table, only for the System to stop him.

What a cheap trick. He could stand to drink a little more caffeine. Since the former manager incident, that notification kept popping up on a regular basis; his stamina really must have been running on fumes.

He pushed the table away with both arms and let it slide back along with the chair. The wheels rolled until they bumped into the drawer chest and came to a stop.

The sound was unnecessarily loud. He grabbed whatever supplement he could find in the drawer, shoved it into his mouth, and glared at the System with white-hot irritation. Only then did the noisy effect fade away.

That bastard of a status window. Like I’m in this shape because I wanted to be.

If this had been before, he would’ve left everything to the company—what concept they wanted, what kind of music to make—or else pushed ahead on his own without so much as a discussion. But that damned gentle leader clause wouldn’t let him do that, so the amount of work had doubled.

It wasn’t that he hated it. And having a busier schedule didn’t make it unbearably hard, either. It was just that getting the members to cooperate consumed more of his mental strength than anything else.

Looking at this, he still had a long way to go.

Their “meeting” wasn’t really a meeting. It was barely even that. More like a one-man show, a long monologue in which he tried to coax agreement out of them while actually working on the track. But those idiots had only ever clearly voiced what they disliked; not one of them had even opened their mouths to say what they approved of.

He was inwardly lamenting the utterly uncooperative members when—

"Hey, man—Young-in! We’re here!"

Baek Geon barged into the studio, hammering on Pyo Jae-ho’s shoulder as if he’d hauled him in from somewhere, though God knew where. “How far along are you? I dragged back this punk who’d run off.”

"Ah, we’re only missing the final touches. Where’d Jae-ho go off to?"

You suddenly disappeared, so I was the only one left doing all the hard work. I thought you’d gone to the bathroom, but you never came back, so I only realized it after a while. You weren’t answering your phone, either. This brat.

Pyo Jae-ho, as always, simply stood there no matter what was said beside him. Instead of answering for himself, Baek Geon did it.

"Looks like he wasn’t satisfied with the shared studio. He was in my room working on the song."

And why had he gone all the way there for that?

"Haha. I picked up a killer set of speakers recently. Guess he really can tell when something’s good. No wonder he couldn’t stop staring at them the other day."

Speakers could make a huge difference when you were working, but was that really the issue right now? There was only one speaker set in this room, so it wasn’t exactly a great environment for long sessions. Your ears adapted too quickly, the sound distinctions blurred, and you got tired before long.

Besides, since it was all shared equipment, most of it wasn’t great to begin with. The audio interface was cheap, too. In a setup like this, the sound really would come across completely differently, so he could understand why Jae-ho was dissatisfied.

So he’d just left because the studio didn’t suit him. No, he should’ve said something before going.

Or better yet, he should’ve worked in his own studio from the start. He kept his own room so private that he wouldn’t even let people peek inside unless he was recording, so what was he supposed to do with that?

More than Go Young-in had expected, Pyo Jae-ho seemed deadly serious about music and sound. Then why had he never once gotten involved with Zero One’s music until now?

Had he been too deep in thought? Lately, his concentration did seem a little off. By then, Baek Geon’s story had already shifted to the broadcast shoot.

"And also—what was it? You’ll handle it yourself, Young-in, but you know this kid, right? He goes feral whenever music’s involved. Don’t go talking so harshly during the midterm evaluation that you end up giving the president a heart attack, okay? Huh?"

"If something’s wrong, I’m going to say it’s wrong. If he doesn’t want to hear it, then he should do it properly."

"That’s not the point, you brat. You really think you’ve grown up, huh?"

Yeah, that was true enough. He’d have to clamp Pyo Jae-ho’s mouth shut during the midterm evaluation too…

The number of things he had to do had increased again. Still, since Pyo Jae-ho had come back, there was no reason for Go Young-in to stay here any longer. Jae-ho was obviously going to remain in the studio all night.

He asked anyway, just in case, whether he wanted to go back together, but of course the answer was no.

When he saw the shoes lined up at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the dorm entrance, it seemed everyone was in except for Cheon Sa-yoon and Pyo Jae-ho.

Feeling relieved, he went to Kyeon In-woo’s room and knocked on the door. But there was no answer, only a faint sense of someone moving around inside.

What was wrong with him now? Had he not heard ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠because he was gaming? Still, it didn’t feel right to just open someone else’s door, so he knocked once more.

"In-woo, let’s talk for a minute."

Had something happened? Things had been fine during the shoot, and even this morning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there hadn’t been any major issues. Had something gone down in the practice room? Well, with Lim Se-bin there too—and Cheon Sa-yoon on top of that—nothing would’ve been strange, really.

He was trying, for once, to start a conversation on his own, but the timing refused to cooperate. He’d have to come back later, or maybe talk tomorrow. Just as Go Young-in was about to step back and return to his room—

Click.

He heard the door open behind him. Why? He should’ve opened it sooner. Turning around, he saw Kyeon In-woo leaning one shoulder against the frame, arms crossed, standing there in a crooked, defiant pose.

"Talk? What talk? Go Young, since when did you know how to say stuff like that?"

His tone was as crooked as his posture. He looked like he had a complaint and Go Young-in couldn’t help but hesitate for a beat.

"What, you deaf?"

Kyeon In-woo pressed him for an answer.

"Well. I figured I’d ask you at least once."

Yeah. Since things had come to this, he should probably at least find out what kind of guy this Jeong Hae was. And why Kyeon In-woo kept hanging around him when he’d made such a bizarre face the first time they met.

"Go on."

"About Jeong Hae."

"…Hah."

For some reason, Kyeon In-woo’s reaction wasn’t great. Why? Noticing his hesitation, Kyeon In-woo spoke again. The reluctance in his voice was impossible to miss.

"…Uh, that guy. What about him?"

He’d been at a loss for where to start, but he asked the things he was most curious about. Why Jeong Hae was like that. And whether they’d been close.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask point-blank because it would sound too hopeless, but he hedged around it as best he could, saying he’d forgotten how things had been back then since it had been a while.

Kyeon In-woo was frowning, but he was listening. As Go Young-in kept asking questions, the fingers of the hand resting on the doorframe began tapping more and more irritably.

"That it? You’re asking what Jeong Hae does?"

"For now."

"Ah, that guy… Well, whatever. You know we went to the same middle school."

Middle school… He really didn’t remember that at all. This was insane. Then Jeong Hae might actually have been telling the truth about them being close. Honestly, he’d thought it was fifty percent bullshit.

He shouldn’t say he couldn’t remember anything here, right? Kyeon In-woo’s expression had hardened much more than expected, and it was impossible to predict how he’d react now.

"…Right? It’s been so long I guess it didn’t come to mind. Sorry, I guess."

"Is that so?"

Heh. Kyeon In-woo laughed aloud, then abruptly wiped the smile from his face and went dead serious.

W-what?

"Right. Of course you wouldn’t remember. It was high school, not middle school."

Kyeon In-woo tilted his head and let out a short snort before slowly meeting Go Young-in’s eyes. His gaze, fixed on him, was cold with anger.

"Hey, Go Young-in."

"Why…?"

Why was he suddenly making the mood so heavy? This was ominous. Kyeon In-woo’s reaction was strange in a way it never normally was.

Did I say something wrong?

He couldn’t figure out what the problem was, because this wasn’t the sort of thing anyone should be getting angry over.

"If that’s the kind of thing you have to say, then you shouldn’t be saying anything at all."

"…What do you mean?"

Kyeon In-woo, who’d been leaning against the frame, gave a scoff and straightened up. He was still angry, and he made no attempt to hide it. Go Young-in couldn’t understand why. Why was he looking at him like that?

"You."

"…."

Kyeon In-woo pressed a finger hard into Go Young-in’s forehead.

"Who did you think wouldn’t notice that something’s wrong with your damn head?"

Every word was ground out slowly, as if he wanted to make sure Go Young-in heard it properly, and it drove itself straight into his brain.

"…What?"

"You think I wouldn’t notice your memory going back and forth when we’ve known each other for years?"

How…?

Even if he’d hidden it as much as he could, was it still obvious? Or did Kyeon In-woo think his condition was abnormal? Was it really that serious?

Go Young-in felt strangely dazed, whether because what came out of Kyeon In-woo’s mouth was so unexpected or because he was being told, flat-out, that something was wrong with him.

"Ah—years, my ass. You don’t remember a fucking thing, do you? And even then, you’ve got the nerve to say there’s nothing to talk about?"

"…."

"What, you thought I was some complete idiot all this time, just quietly pretending not to know, like you?"

That only made him more flustered. …Was it really that bad? He still didn’t know why Kyeon In-woo had brought this up now, and the confusion only kept growing. If this had been an attempt to shake him, then it had succeeded.

"Of course I’d know. Just think about the shit you pulled on me in middle and high school."

"…."

"I’m sure you can’t remember, so should I explain? In middle school, you kept avoiding people like you’d seen a fucking ghost, turning paper-white every time, then suddenly started acting like we were close one day."

Kyeon In-woo bared his teeth in a crooked grin. “Back then I just figured you wanted to get close but were insanely shy.” He kept going.

"But then high school comes around, and you start pulling the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same exact bullshit again?"

It was the first time he’d heard any of this…

Me? I did that? I… I thought I had no connection to Kyeon In-woo at all… was there something else I’d forgotten?

Nothing came to him. It hadn’t been on purpose. It couldn’t have been. Could it? He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

"When you got hurt and were hospitalized back then, what did you tell me? You said, please, let’s talk about it later. You said that. You did."

Kyeon In-woo kept scolding him, and the feeling of being pinned beneath that downward stare was suffocating. Hospitalized? His head seemed to ache more and more. Maybe because he was taking in too much information all at once.

"After that, you pulled away again and acted like a stranger. Right? Even when I talked to you, you acted like someone who couldn’t understand a word. And when I asked Jeong Hae, he said he didn’t know either. Something clearly happened, but no matter how many times I asked, nobody gave me an answer."

He didn’t even seem to expect a response. Even if Go Young-in said nothing, Kyeon In-woo just kept talking.

It seemed there had been a lot bottled up for a while, because his tone grew more and more heated.

"So I figured you were having a hard time, and, fuck, you probably had your reasons, so I held back and didn’t pry. But now you’re doing this again? You think I’m easy to play, or what, huh?"

"You said you wanted to talk. The only conversation you and I need to have right now is this one."

"…."

"Tell me why you won’t speak, or why you keep acting like this, you bastard. This isn’t the first time. How many years has it been now?"

"That’s…"

Go Young-in started to come up with an excuse, then froze.

What the hell am I supposed to say?Can I even tell him it’s because of the System? Even if I did, how the hell am I supposed to make him believe something this ridiculous?

Wouldn’t I just sound insane? At this rate, Kyeon In-woo probably already thinks I’m insane anyway.

The headache that had been pulsing dully in the back of his skull suddenly began pounding like mad.

Fuck… The damn migraine. Again. What the hell. Go Young-in did his best to look unaffected as he pressed a hand to his head. That wasn’t the important part right now—he needed to say something, anything, to Kyeon In-woo…

Then, all at once, someone’s voice flooded his mind.

Before the headache had even settled, a strange scene began to replay like a panorama, completely without his will.