Chapter 57 - The Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader - Episode 57

There was no choice but to stop Kyeon In-woo before he spent the whole day cursing his lungs out. Whatever had set him off, he stormed into the room after his outburst.

Still, at least he’d watched the broadcast all the way through before going in. He might still be grumbling, but he was keeping up with the monitoring like clockwork, and that counted for something.

In a way, this was also a kind of positive change.

A few months ago, Go Young-in had definitely made a bold little vow that this time, he’d do something about resurrecting this damned group. Whether that was actually going well was another matter entirely.

The newly resurfaced memories had made him hesitate for a moment, too. Not because they were a problem, exactly, but because they had forced him to clearly realize things he’d always only half-known.

For example, that he couldn’t ignore the butterfly effect. Or that after living through so many changes, the old Go Young-in had actually come to feel a strange sense of stability in the things that didn’t change at all.

That didn’t mean he’d given up on trying to make changes, though. Right now, changing was the only way to stay alive.

I’m just overthinking it...

Maybe it was better described as a clash between the part of him that wanted to stay as safe as possible and never tamper with the few intact memories he still had, and the part of him that knew he had to keep changing things if he wanted to find a new path forward.

One tiny alteration had already sent quite a lot of things careening off course. The direction of this program, for one. And if things kept going like this, a future Go Young-in didn’t know would eventually begin.

It meant that the memories he already relied on too little would lose what little value they still had. The only thing he could lean on had been the vague knowledge of what was coming, and now even that was being rewritten by his own hand.

He hadn’t expected things to go smoothly when he’d started this, determined not to depend on memory. He’d known, too, that change didn’t necessarily lead to good results.

He wanted to keep introducing change without creating variables he could no longer cover, but somehow things had ended up like this. Just look at the penalty he’d been handed this time; it was an unexpected variable from the start.

And yet, because of it, he’d learned at least one thing for certain.

Whatever happened with Kyeon In-woo, or whatever this penalty turned into, it would only get worse from here. Not that it mattered—if it was just the penalty, he could still muscle through it with his own body. If that was all, then it was almost a relief. But if things went any further than that, it would be over before he even had a chance to react.

Just look at the editing issue from this broadcast.

It was the first time something had veered this far outside his expectations. Was it because this was the first time he’d personally stepped in?

Fuck... what’s the point of thinking about it now?

Go Young-in pushed the thought aside and picked up his phone.

After skimming the audience reactions to episode 2, he checked the messages and missed calls that had piled up in the meantime.

For now, he had to deal with what he could.

There were a lot of calls from numbers he hadn’t saved, and most of them were probably the stalker type, testing whether this really was Go Young-in’s number.

One of the messages that had just come in was the same sort of thing. What kind of loser sent this many messages on a regular basis? If he had time to do this, he should be doing something more productive. Did he really have nothing better to do?

It happened often enough that Go Young-in was used to ignoring them. He closed the window and checked the next message.

He was just as relentless as ever. Go Young-in was considering whether to reply when the dance team group chat suddenly buzzed again, and once more, he lost the chance.

Na Woo-ri was just as noisy in the group chat as he was in person.

Go Young-in sent a quick reply saying that since he’d made the suggestion, he’d look into it, then muted the chat notifications he should have turned off ages ago. That bastard really did chew through battery, somehow.

Ah. I should probably contact the DTD leader too.

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t just leave Pyo Jae-ho in Cheon Sa-yoon’s hands and abandon the vocal team. He’d been thinking about asking DTD’s Park Ha-un, who was also in the vocal team with those guys, for a rough read on the atmosphere there.

They’d only exchanged the usual polite contact information and never interacted beyond that, so calling out of the blue made him feel like that friend who showed up after years just to push religion or insurance on people.

Honestly, he wanted to ask the members themselves. But they never answered when he did. Those bastards...

Wouldn’t it make more sense if those bastards cooperated enough to make me feel “glad” about helping them?

His fingers were already typing out a message to Park Ha-un, but there was no helping the thought.

Today’s filming had been delayed in a way it usually wasn’t.

They hadn’t even announced it in advance; they’d only sent the notice on the day of the shoot, which had naturally sparked complaints from all over. No one complained openly, though.

They should’ve said something before everyone arrived. By then every participant was already on site, and some people had even gone ahead and taken their assigned seats to prepare for filming. It was awkward to go back to the waiting room now.

Only Go Young-in and Cheon Sa-yoon, who’d finished getting ready first, were waiting out in the open.

At least they hadn’t put on their microphones yet, he thought with some relief, and looked out past the filming set.

He couldn’t see the producer or assistant director, so they must be in a meeting. A few managers were talking to the staff, sounding distinctly dissatisfied about something.

But since there weren’t that many people rushing around, maybe it wasn’t an urgent matter.

Bored, Go Young-in idly watched the staff wandering back and forth.

For a moment, he thought he caught the eye of someone whose face felt familiar. Before he could even be sure their eyes had met, the person lowered their gaze and headed back in the direction they’d come from.

...Are they avoiding me? Or is that just my imagination?

Where had he seen them before? While he was going over his memories trying to place the face, someone called out to the staff member and grabbed him.

“Mr. Sojin! What are you doing here?”

Ah. No way. The one Go Young-in had seen at the café with Cheon Sa-yoon.

Once he remembered, everything from that time came back with it. That was the staff member Cheon Sa-yoon had approached back then, planning to screw over another staffer named Ju Dong-yun.

So he wasn’t connected to management after all? Go Young-in remembered him as one of Ju Dong-yun’s underlings. Then again, it made sense for him to be cautious; his direct supervisor had been suddenly tied to this side and demoted because of it.

Cheon Sa-yoon seemed to be watching him too, because his eyes were fixed on the staff member. He glanced at Go Young-in only after feeling the stare.

Cheon Sa-yoon smiled with that mild, obedient face of his, his eyes narrowing into a thin, pleasant crescent.

“What are you looking at?”

He really was a sight to behold today, wasn’t he? At least match your expression to your line, would you?

Go Young-in was about to answer, but a shadow suddenly fell over his head. Someone had appeared in front of them and blocked the light.

“Long time no see?”

Go Young-in lifted his head and looked up at the unwelcome guest standing before him. Yoo In-hyeok was grinning so broadly his teeth showed.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

He must’ve been out somewhere smoking again, because the faint smell of cigarettes clung to him. Fuck, why come over here instead of going to your own seat?

“Hyung, you’re here?”

At the soft voice beside him, Go Young-in slowly turned his head. Cheon Sa-yoon was smiling as he welcomed Yoo In-hyeok.

Was he trying to act friendly because they were on opposing vocal teams? He was exactly the type to do that, too...

After exchanging greetings, Yoo In-hyeok settled himself against the armrest of the chair Cheon Sa-yoon was sitting in and draped an arm around his shoulders.

“What are you two doing, sitting here so quietly and waiting? You’re still a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couple of prim little squares, huh.”

Looking pleased, Yoo In-hyeok nodded, then swept his gaze up and down over Go Young-in from that same infuriatingly casual angle before letting out a short breath.

His expression was hard to read—like he’d found something funny, or maybe just pitiful.

“Hm, well... I guess you’re okay now?”

Oh, so that was him? Go Young-in realized Yoo In-hyeok was the one who’d been staring at him in the bathroom that day. He also realized Yoo In-hyeok was fishing for information.

You son of a bitch. Because of you, I couldn’t even rest properly back then—I had to put up with the status window the whole time.

If they were alone, maybe he could’ve ignored it. No, fuck that. Even if they were alone, this wasn’t the sort of thing he should be discussing here. Why was he bringing it up in the first place?

Cheon Sa-yoon’s eyes were already smiling, without blinking once, which meant he’d caught on to exactly what was being referred to.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Of course. Cheon Sa-yoon was most frightening when he smiled. Go Young-in sincerely wished he’d lend some of that loose-limbed facial freedom to Pyo Jae-ho instead.

“And if you’re on the same team, you ought to pay a little more attention to each other.”

All of a sudden, Yoo In-hyeok snorted and gave Cheon Sa-yoon’s upper body a light smack with the back of his hand. Cheon Sa-yoon’s eyes rolled toward the hand and stared at it quietly.

“……”

What was that. Why did it feel like Cheon Sa-yoon’s eyes had just gone ice-cold?

“Young-in hyung did overdo it a little back then.” Cheon Sa-yoon replied smoothly to Yoo In-hyeok’s words. There was no need to stress the word a little.

“A little? He looked like he could’ve been hauled off on a stretcher. Guess you didn’t really see it properly.”

Yoo In-hyeok, oblivious as ever, started blabbing about what he’d seen that day. This wasn’t some war story, so why was he acting like this? Even after Go Young-in had tried to stop him by saying he was fine, he’d been scolded for interrupting and told not to butt in where he wasn’t invited, so he’d been unable to say another word.

What on earth was this about?

“Ah. Really?”

“If you’re on the same team, how can you be this oblivious?”

Cheon Sa-yoon’s smile was deepening by the second. That alone was already maddening, but the fact that the whole thing ended with Yoo In-hyeok criticizing Cheon Sa-yoon made Go Young-in feel so honored he was close to losing it. It was a pure thorn-bush of a situation.

At some point, Cheon Sa-yoon lowered the arm he’d draped around Yoo In-hyeok’s shoulder and casually brushed off the spot he’d touched, as if it had gotten dirty.

Too natural by half.

“Anyway, man. Just take it easy. Why work so hard? Haven’t you watched your own broadcast? Even if you bust your ass, it’s all pointless.”

“Haha.”

Cheon Sa-yoon, please don’t laugh.

Go Young-in wasn’t sure what reaction Yoo In-hyuk had wanted, but it didn’t seem nearly as intense as he’d expected. He looked let down almost immediately.

“You’re a bunch of fucking boring losers. What kind of reaction is that? Whatever. Suffer again this time, too.”

Again this time, too? While Go Young-in’s brain was still trying to parse what the hell that meant, Yoo In-hyuk had already turned and walked away. No, don’t leave now. Leave later. Hey, you insane bastard. If you touched Cheon Sa-yoon, shouldn’t you be the one to clean it up?

He’s really just going to walk off like that?

“Hyung.”

“Yeah...”

“It’s really weird, isn’t it?”

Cheon Sa-yoon wore a faint smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Young-in hyung was the one who couldn’t manage himself, so why should I be the one forced to listen to trash like that? What do you think?”

Quite right, really...

As Go Young-in silently repeated one of Nietzsche’s famous lines in his head, he gave a faint, blurred smile back.

Cheon Sa-yoon’s mouth of disaster only changed targets after Pyo Jae-ho, who had finished getting ready, came out and threw an absolute fit for a while.

Thanks to Cheon Sa-yoon, Go Young-in learned that there were truly obscene words in the world he’d never even imagined.

Something had felt off even before the recording started. The delay was one thing, but so was the atmosphere—or maybe his instincts, if he had to call it that.

“This time, we wanted to show that we’re a team that can really deliver a performance, so we thought a lot about our song choice.”

Usually, at the midterm evaluation, they simply announced the songs without any separate presentation and moved on. But now they’d suddenly arranged time for each team to reveal the song they’d chosen.

“First of all, we thought this song’s grand, heroic feeling—of fighting against the obstacles blocking our way—fit the competition really well.”

And before anything even began, they’d also done something unusual by calling on whoever raised a hand first instead of choosing people in random order or by ranking.

Jeong Hae’s figure stood out sharply as he spoke, his voice steady and not a single tremor in it.

“Through this team match, we want to maximize the appeal of both Triple Shot and Eternal Seven. So,”

He paused just long enough to build suspense, then looked straight into the camera with a confident smile.

“our team has chosen the Industream seniors’ Crack down as our competition song.”

The familiar title came first from Jeong Hae, the opposite team’s mouth.

It was the very same song Go Young-in’s team had chosen.