The Conditions for Becoming a Gentle Idol Leader - Episode 47

[Clause 10 │ If you are a gentle idol leader, you must help keep your members from going off the rails.]

Going off the rails? If this wasn’t already going off the rails, then how much more was he supposed to put up with? What even counted as going off the rails? What the hell did they want from him?

Part of him wanted to be the one to walk out, but the status window had already rejected that idea long ago. Ah... screw it. Maybe it’d be easier if he just made Kyeon In-woo leave the team on his own……

“...Didn’t I say it wasn’t just once or twice?”

The low murmur of his own voice, quietly repeating words Kyeon In-woo had once spoken, sounded weak and parched.

Faint afterimages of memory flickered over Kyeon In-woo’s face, blurring his vision. He couldn’t clearly make out what expression the Kyeon In-woo in front of him was wearing, or what he was thinking.

No, even trying to read whatever might have been showing on that face was exhausting now.

“You’re the one who’s done this broadcasting thing more than once or twice.”

Even while he knew how utterly useless this emotional drain was, once his mouth opened, it wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t even tell if the words had passed through any real thought first. No—did he have to be so careful? Screw that. Couldn’t he just blurt it out first and think later?

The moment the impulsive thought began to crawl up again, a visceral sense of rejection surged ahead of the status window’s reprimand, making his stomach turn.

If you really had a brain in that head of yours.

“It’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not like you’re some amateur.”

...Fuck. Go Young-in squeezed his eyes shut, fighting not to flinch, and let every muscle in his body slacken as much as possible. He needed to drain the noise from his head, even if only for a moment.

With nothing in sight, he actually felt a little better. Slowly, Go Young-in opened his eyes. The emotions that had surged up in a tangle of conflicting impulses had already burned away, leaving only embers in a heap of ash.

There was nothing strange about that. It was just normal.

Whenever Go Young-in showed any meaningful reaction, any clear flicker of emotion, it was only when it had to do with this idol job.

It was one of the things Kyeon In-woo found most infuriating whenever he looked at Go Young-in.

“Look at you now. You don’t give a shit about anything except work, not yourself, not anything else. If I hadn’t pulled this bullshit, do you think you’d even be having this kind of thought? Why does it matter that much?”

To Kyeon In-woo, this might have been no more than a trivial scandal that would blow over someday. Idol controversies—whether from a slip of the tongue or something else—were, if anything, more often ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠absent than present. Maybe to him it was just something you got cursed at for a little while and moved on from.

But for Go Young-in, this was no different ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from a matter of life and death.

Getting cursed at didn’t bother him at all. It was simply the price attached to an action.

“Maybe it is for you, but for me, ...ah.”

“This is more important.”

So right now, this was more important to Go Young-in than talking to Kyeon In-woo.

He was sick of himself, too—of having become so used to the fact that, even in situations like this, he had to sift and strain every word that might come out of his mouth.

“Hey, you’re really...”

Kyeon In-woo laughed bitterly.

“Important?”

It was pointless anyway, even if he said it.

“If it’s that important, then at least pretend to persuade me in a way that makes me want to cooperate. What’s the use of being the leader, then?”

You’ll regret hearing that.

What? Whether I regret it or not is my call.

I’m saying it because it’s absurd. You’d definitely say I’m crazy,

Hey.

“This is the first time you’re even saying something as simple as this?”

Static-laced words hammered at his ears again. Forgotten memories drifted around him like they were mocking him, then vanished and reappeared at will, tearing through his head.

“What exactly do you expect me to believe and go along with?”

You don’t trust me?

No, I do........

Before he could even place whose voice was uneasy and whose carried certainty, another doubtful voice swallowed it whole. At the same time, a face he felt sure he had seen before began to overlap with Kyeon In-woo’s. Those were the eyes of someone looking at a madman. Fuck.

You’ve lost your damn mind. You’re acting seriously weird right now.

He barely held on to his ragged breathing and forced every muscle in his body to relax. Calm down. Calm down.

He shut his eyes again until the sounds ringing at his ears began to fade.

Through the layered haze of the status window, it seemed as if Kyeon In-woo was saying something, but the words only came through warped and mushy, like someone speaking underwater.

“Go Young-in!”

Only when Kyeon In-woo, frustrated by Go Young-in’s frozen, unresponsive state, shook his shoulder did the confusion finally begin to settle.

The crimson windows vanished as suddenly as if they had never existed at all.

...It wasn’t real. Right. If he thought about it for even a second, there was no way warning windows would appear for something he hadn’t actually done. He should have realized that sooner.

The foggy blur in his head slowly cleared, and the memory that had come without warning began fading again, beyond his control. Only then did Go Young-in gradually realize what he’d been doing all this time.

What had he been thinking?

The vivid red that had just been so sharp sank quickly into the abyss of memory.

* * *

In the end, his conversation with Kyeon In-woo went nowhere.

Go Young-in couldn’t properly hold the kind of conversation Kyeon In-woo wanted, and Kyeon In-woo didn’t seem interested in understanding him for now, either.

He’d worried for a while about how he was supposed to face him, but the next day, thanks to receiving a verse line from DTD leader Park Ha-un, the whole thing resolved itself naturally. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve had to endure a long, annoying back-and-forth, so the blunt, efficient exchange felt oddly relieving.

As expected, though. Once he checked what he’d received, the music had gone in a completely different direction from what he’d originally planned. He stayed in the studio for days, trying to figure out how to reshape it.

In truth, music was just an excuse. The real reason he hadn’t gone back to the dorms was that he didn’t want to run into anyone. He didn’t want to waste even a sliver of energy on anything that wasn’t work.

When Manager Kwon Je-won asked whether he wasn’t planning to go to the dorm, he said he wouldn’t. He’d expected some comment about how it was bad for his health, or how he shouldn’t be doing that, or some sort of disapproval over his behavior. But whether the man had figured something out or simply didn’t care, he didn’t press the issue after that.

Maybe he’d decided Go Young-in was impossible to talk to. Or maybe, from that man’s point of view too, Go Young-in looked strange—just like he did to Kyeon In-woo.

Still, he thought maybe they wouldn’t just leave him alone, but when he went upstairs to submit the form for extending the studio rental, and the staff member told him the manager had already come by and handled it, he felt a little relieved.

After that, they mostly left him alone, only dropping by now and then to check whether he was dead or alive and toss him a few things before leaving. If anything, it felt less suffocating this way.

For the first time in a while, he could breathe a little easier.

He hadn’t exactly thought about resting and doing nothing, but his damned body kept mechanically carrying out whatever it had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been doing all along.

There wasn’t even much of a plan. He was just blankly drifting along. The work was moving forward, but he had no idea what he was even making at this point.

And so the revised, completed song was just... trash.

That was only natural.

It had too much raw feeling in it, so much that it was almost disgusting. It didn’t fit the original song at all, and even though he’d made it himself, all he felt was a sick, deflated sense of being exposed.

Was he really losing his mind after being tormented by those voices in his head for so long? He hadn’t wanted the song to show it like this.

What was he supposed to release this to? The track laid bare the fact that something was wrong with him right now. That was why he didn’t want to use it. If he kept poking at it, the song would just end up smeared with patheticness for no reason.

Was it because he couldn’t focus? Or because, to anyone with eyes, the work itself was a mess?

“Get out.”

After taking off his headset and letting it hang around his neck, Pyo Jae-ho issued a blunt eviction order in a steady voice. The tips of his solid fingers pointed toward the studio door.

Was it that bad? Go Young-in wanted to ask. But he didn’t. He didn’t trust himself to hear the answer.

“And don’t touch it anymore.”

Don’t touch it anymore. Was he angry? No? Was this just how he always was? It was hard to read his expression.

“What are you trying to do in that condition?”

After replaying the song a few times without adding any further comment, Pyo Jae-ho left Go Young-in standing there and went back to work alone. So even Pyo Jae-ho thought this wasn’t normal.

Go Young-in silently watched him for a while, then quietly left the studio.

* * *

He’d been kicked out of the studio. So what was he supposed to do now? Doing nothing felt too awkward. He felt like he should be doing something, anything.

If it had been usual, he would’ve gone to the practice room, but Kyeon In-woo was definitely there. Whether he was or not, he could just ignore anything the guy said.

Could he ignore it?

Even earlier, during choreography practice…….

See? Just look at how this bastard acts. That alone proves he didn’t listen to a damn word I said.

It was Kyeon In-woo’s familiar crap-stirring voice. Normally he would have cursed a few times inwardly and let it go. The problem, if there was one, was that this felt different from normal. It was loud. Annoying.

What, you gonna say let’s talk about it later again?

...No. That’s not it. I just don’t know if we really need to have this conversation.

Huh?

Come on. If this is the kind of conversation you mean, then it feels like you’re wasting energy on something that’s not even a big deal. Anyway, I—

Just by trading those kinds of words, he’d opened his mouth for no reason. Before he could even finish the sentence, a ringing noise exploded in his ears and cut off the conversation. He still couldn’t read Kyeon In-woo’s expression then, but knowing his personality, he probably had to have been angry.

Couldn’t they just act like they didn’t know and get by that way, like they had until now? Why did they keep trying to talk things out?

These days, just seeing Kyeon In-woo made him imagine things that weren’t there, to the point that even being near him was exhausting. Fuck... He barely forced his stomach to settle as it began to churn on reflex and tried to empty his mind as much as possible.

Even if he wanted to grab his head and scream, he couldn’t do it properly if someone was around. The absurdity of his own state—of even something as simple as forcing his face still to remain out of his control—felt more ridiculous than usual today.

If he was only going to do exactly what the status window told him, then what meaning did his existence even have? What was he, if not just another machine? The question suddenly crossed his mind.

It was the status window he’d seen the most lately. He knew full well that he needed to steady his own heart.

...So the moment he felt he needed to steady his mind, Jeong Hae was already messaging him. How fitting.

Kyeon In-woo and Jeong Hae. And the forgotten years before debut.

Among the memories from the past that had been confusing Go Young-in lately, one had remained without being forgotten again.

He didn’t know which cycle it had happened in.

One day in the past, Go Young-in realized that he had forgotten several years’ worth of memories, along with certain specific ones entirely.

Back then, unlike now, he had made a fair amount of effort to recover them, even looking into hospitals on his own.

Maybe it was because he was frustrated, but more than the inconvenience of the missing memories, perhaps he’d done it to reassure himself that he wasn’t some strange person.

Go Young-in’s diagnosis had been a type of dissociative disorder caused by psychogenic factors. According to the doctor, when people suffered mental shock or extreme stress, they sometimes forgot the memories tied to the source of it.

After hearing the explanation, he hesitated for a moment, but somehow, at the time, he’d found enough courage to try every possible treatment that might recover his memories.

Though, since no one except Go Young-in could remember what he’d gone through, there was no way to recommend the same treatment to anyone around him.

He’d spent a long time combining specialist treatment with medication, only for it all to fizzle out in the middle because of another reset. Whether it had helped or not—who knew.

If it had been solved, he wouldn’t be like this now.

The reason he couldn’t remember what happened in his school days had become inseparable from that, too.

On the other hand, he sometimes wondered if he really needed to remember. If he hadn’t been conscious of it, didn’t that mean the forgotten past probably wasn’t a very good memory anyway?

He did still need to know in the end, if he wanted to understand why Kyeon In-woo or Jeong Hae were acting like this......

Still, at the moment, he barely had enough mental strength left to care about anyone else’s thoughts.

Thinking about it was tiring.