Conditions for Becoming a Perfect Idol Leader - Chapter 86

86

Go Young-in didn’t particularly want to know that something like this had been posted. He only found out because, while chatting with fans through Bubble, the paid messaging app, he happened to see one of the messages someone had sent him.

Every so often, when something happened, there were people who would come straight to a member and dump every last detail on him as though they were reporting the weather.

It was a fan communication app, yes, but that didn’t necessarily mean only fans used it. The world was full of people willing to spend money just to say whatever they pleased to celebrities.

There was a saying that curiosity killed the cat, and this was exactly that.

Here it comes.

Was he adapting too well? Or had there simply been so many large and small incidents lately that this hardly seemed like much anymore?

Compared to everything he’d been dragged through so far, this felt almost mild.

Damn... to think I’d end up rationalizing things like this...

"If everyone’s here, sit down for now. We need to make plans for the first half of next year."

As soon as Chairman Kwon Dae-do entered the conference room, he slapped the innocent table and took his seat.

The morning after the variety show aired, the company had called Zero One in at dawn. Just as Go Young-in had predicted a while ago, they’d been summoned to prepare for a comeback.

He had wondered whether the timeline would shift if events changed, but only the timing and details ever moved around; the broad outline itself never escaped its frame.

What was the original first full-album comeback like again...?

Director Nam Ki-hyuk rose for the planning briefing and walked up to the podium.

Before Go Young-in put down his phone, he checked the notes he’d scribbled in a jumble the moment the last reset had ended.

Zero One... 2X-year first-half plan... comeback... comeback... ah, this is it.

They’d aimed for a full-album comeback in the first half of the year and, while producing the album, had also prepared for a concert...

It had been a perfectly ordinary plan, all things considered.

Back then, after all, it wasn’t Go Young-in but Pyo Jae-ho who had been caught up in controversy over alleged song similarities, so the company had wanted fast, stable results that would quiet the noise rather than anything risky or adventurous.

Hold on. So what did they end up bringing in...?

"Director Nam, was the project Director Kim handled metaverse?"

"Yes. It was about using blockchain technology in the metaverse. NFT."

Fuck. Right, that was it.

Who the hell had brought in that so-called virtual token thing?

The world wasn’t in a state where offline concerts had become impossible, and yet the thought of this suddenly shoved-forward digital asset made his head go light.

That damned coin... overseas and even among sports fans, it’s been familiar for ages, and yet all it does is get hate. So what the hell...

It was a new business item beyond concerts and merchandise sales, so there was no way a company would turn it down.

Still, in the original timeline, the chairman should already have been pushing them to move forward with NFT or metaverse or whatever it was; instead, he’d only mentioned it and not ordered them to go ahead.

Why? The answer came thanks to Director Nam.

"Wasn’t that already rejected?"

"That’s because Director Kim quit. It was the business he kept singing about, wasn’t it? And you said you didn’t want to be the one responsible for it, Director Nam?"

"You also said it was still too early."

"Oh, come on, Director Nam, you really do hold grudges. Just because Director Kim was your enemy, did you really have to bring up something that was already over? And you were saying you’d even think about a push into the U.S., weren’t you?"

The global marketing division head, Director Kim Whatever, who had been actively driving the company’s entry into the NFT market, had changed jobs, and the business partnership tied to Zero One’s K-pop NFT platform project had been suspended for the time being.

And that transferred executive had been someone Ju Dong-yun had been connected to as well...

That side too—Ju Dong-yun, the former manager—same school as well...

There was definitely something rotten at that school.

If this company ever went under, it would surely be because of school ties. That felt like a perfectly reasonable suspicion.

Separate from whether fans hated it, the blockchain business really was becoming a trend these days.

Many overseas labels and most of the major domestic entertainment companies had already jumped into NFT platform businesses.

They weren’t going to abandon the project altogether, but at least they’d managed to stop the company from impulsively trying to overexpand.

"Sigh... but I really don’t like copying what everyone else is doing."

Kwon Dae-do’s contrarian streak had flared up again. For once, Go Young-in had never been happier to hear those words from him.

"So let’s all exchange some active opinions this time. You never know. If this album blows up, maybe we won’t have to take any reckless leaps? Hahaha."

With a creepy grin, Kwon Dae-do stood up and rummaged around beneath the table before lifting something out. It was a long caddie bag.

"If it doesn’t blow up, I’ll just do whatever I want—what else am I supposed to do? Metaverse? Perfect timing. We need to stay ahead of the times too. Look at Zero One’s worldview. Apocalypse! SF! Chaos! Destruction! Ruin!"

He was the only one getting excited, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠practically vibrating with energy. Just look at the glow on his face. Was that the privilege of the person who signed the paychecks?

Whether the others liked it or not, Kwon Dae-do was already completely absorbed in his own words.

"A future world with no dreams and no hope! That’s the perfect atmosphere for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a metaverse. And how good is untact content, huh? Heh heh..."

No matter how many times he died and regressed, he still couldn’t understand Kwon Dae-do’s bizarre sensibilities.

Who had planted this ridiculous fantasy about digital technology in this industry, anyway?

Again, the concept songs tailored to the worldview weren’t the problem.

It was just that every song they’d released for over two years, including the b-sides, belonged to the same genre. That was basically the musical equivalent of having spent a fortune investing in an idol business only to pray for it to fail.

Go Young-in wasn’t the only one thinking this. Most of the staff gathered there wore either resigned or exhausted expressions.

Kyeon In-woo, who had been scribbling something on the corner of a blank sheet for a while now, slid the paper toward Go Young-in.

On it, in sloppy, scrawled letters, was a short message.

[Are we fucked?]

Not sure yet, idiot.

With a raucous shout, Kwon Dae-do sprang up and slung the caddie bag over his shoulder.

"All right! Anyway, keep that in mind. I’ve got a golf appointment, so I’m off! Director Nam, handle the rest."

With that declaration that he’d only sign off on the final approval, Kwon Dae-do vanished.

So the butterfly effect of whatever Cheon Sa-yoon did because he was annoyed really grows this big. No wonder it’s impossible to predict anything.

Just one man walking out, and the air inside the conference room changed in an instant.

The moment Kwon Dae-do left, the staff—who had been zoning out and killing time until then—started talking all at once, turning the room into a market.

"Everyone heard that, right."

What quieted the noisy room was Director Nam Ki-hyuk.

"As you know... the chairman is the type who really does what he says."

That was exactly the problem.

"Now that the chairman’s taken that position, the final approval line has practically landed on our side. If we wanted to keep things easy, we’d just make whatever metaverse thing the chairman wants. Investors would probably like that more."

Nam Ki-hyuk pushed up his glasses and spoke in his usual stiff tone.

"But we’re aiming for the U.S. market no later than the year after next."

"Then even more reason to go with the safe choice and choose metaverse. We need to gather seed capital, don’t we? Look at our backers. They go crazy for anything called future-oriented."

"Then why don’t you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠persuade the chairman yourself, Mr. Baek Geon?"

"Oh, wow, that was a foolish thing to say."

"In any case, the most important thing is the members’ opinions, so..."

Nam Ki-hyuk’s gaze swept across the Zero One members. Kyeon In-woo, who had been scribbling on the paper without paying attention from the start; Lim Se-bin and Pyo Jae-ho, both quietly staring straight ahead; Cheon Sa-yoon, who was at least the most cooperative; and...

"Leader, no opinion?"

Of course, the easiest person to corner at a time like this was the leader.

Go Young-in fell into thought.

He didn’t know when Kwon Dae-do might change his mind again. He needed to make the most of this chance.

Half of the fans who’d come in after the survival program were people who had either watched the survival show or, because of everything that had happened, had stumbled in going, What on earth is this? and then somehow stayed.

In other words, most of them had come in knowing nothing about Zero One. They knew Zero One was an idol group, but they were still probably thinking, So what kind of music do they even do?

Whatever the process had been, the result was that this year had brought in a fairly meaningful number of fans. So this album needed one knockout blow that would firmly capture the fans who’d just arrived. On top of that, they also needed to show, unmistakably, that this was the kind of music they made.

"This comeback is the key variable. I think we need a project that can clearly imprint on the public what kind of identity Zero One has as a group."

"Yes, exactly. That’s why, after internal discussion, we’re thinking of increasing your participation in the album. If we’re considering overseas markets, it would be better to go in the self-produced direction."

That, too, had never happened before. The first song ever entrusted to a member had become a plagiarism scandal, so the company had no reason ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to gamble again.

Still, both the A&R team and Go Young-in agreed that this was a turning point.

After a proper discussion with the A&R team, the big theme of this comeback was decided to be an exhibition.

The point was to show the public who Zero One was. Apparently, they were to be presented as a single artistic work, displayed as if in an exhibition.

It fit roughly with the ideas of a new beginning, a return, and a leap forward, and in a sense this was Zero One’s second act, so it wasn’t wrong to say it carried the meaning of a fresh introduction.

"Then let’s wrap up today’s meeting here and get back to our own work."

When Nam Ki-hyuk called for dismissal, everyone scattered.

"Ah, Leader, you should stay a moment."

What now? Go Young-in, who had been about to leave, came back in and approached Nam Ki-hyuk.

"Sit anywhere there."

He took a seat in an empty chair and waited, and Nam Ki-hyuk sighed while looking toward the back.

"Mr. Baek Geon, are you planning to stay here? Why aren’t you leaving?"

Baek Geon was standing there blankly with Pyo Jae-ho.

Pyo Jae-ho clearly wanted to leave right away, but Baek Geon had grabbed him tight and wouldn’t let go.

"Huh? No—I've got something to say to Young-in and the brat Jae-ho. Why, how long will it take?"

"It won’t take long."

"Okay. You’re saying to wait outside, right?"

Baek Geon mimed zipping his mouth shut and muttered under his breath.

"Hey, Jae-ho. We got the hint. Let’s go."

Before Nam Ki-hyuk could even finish speaking, Baek Geon snatched up Pyo Jae-ho, who had been standing there expressionless, and dragged him out the door.

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