The Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader - Chapter 91

“Ah. He was a former staffer, sure. That doesn’t make a shitty past disappear, though.”

Hearing Cheon Sa-yoon say that brought something back to mind. Hadn’t Bae So-jin once said she was working under Ju Dong-yun because he had a grip on her weakness? Was this what she meant?

“Do you mean a weakness?”

“Yep. She picked the wrong friends, that’s all. Stalking celebrities like a psycho isn’t exactly rare, is it?” he said pleasantly, his tone almost sing-song. “Right?”

So he knew all that already. Then why the hell had he still chosen to stick close to them?

Cheon Sa-yoon’s answer came in a way that was simple, and in more ways than one, thoroughly Cheon Sa-yoon.

“I was just curious, personally.”

“……”

“Well, I solved my curiosity. What a shame. It would’ve been better if it had been more fun.”

Why was this more exhausting than a meeting?

Young-in didn’t know what had brought Cheon Sa-yoon through here, but he definitely didn’t want to keep facing someone he’d be stuck seeing over and over in the dorm.

He was still thinking about how to shake Cheon Sa-yoon loose when a voice reached him that absolutely should not have been heard here.

“Hey, Go Young!”

Young-in looked up at Kyeon In-woo, who was striding toward him with long, fast steps.

Hadn’t he been on a live stream a moment ago? Had he cut it off early? No, that couldn’t be right. It hadn’t been that long yet.

“In-woo, weren’t you live?”

Kyeon In-woo ignored Cheon Sa-yoon as if he didn’t exist, turned his back on him, and answered with easy nonchalance.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be in the practice room. Why the hell are you here? If you don’t have a schedule, you’re usually locked in there at this hour.”

“Ah… I had a quick errand.”

“Yeah? Well, you could’ve told me you were out running around for no reason.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if pretending to be put out. The fact that he was answering so obediently made it look suspicious.

“Hey. You don’t have anything to do right now, do you?”

It wasn’t urgent enough to be a crisis, but he had more than enough to do. Hearing it phrased like that still annoyed him.

Judging by the way he was talking, it was obvious he was about to make some irritating request.

“I was just on my way to the practice room—”

“I know it’s not time for you to go rehearse yet.”

“Before that, I was just going to stop by A&R and drop off a proposal—”

“You’re not busy? Good.”

Kyeon In-woo cut him off with a smooth grin and slung an arm around his shoulders in what was clearly meant to pass for camaraderie, though it turned into a headlock as he tried to drag Young-in along.

“Then let’s go.”

Over my dead body. Young-in wanted to plant his feet and resist, but if he’d been able to do that, he wouldn’t have been getting tossed around like this in the first place.

So what exactly was this—no, fine, he didn’t mind going, but he had a bump now, and he still hadn’t finished talking to the bump.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah. I’m in a fucking hurry right now.”

Ding.

That bastard. Looks like he’s still got the live on.

Something had definitely gone wrong. But it didn’t seem serious, did it?

If it had, manager Kwon Je-won would already be calling, and the company would be in an uproar by now.

He glanced down at his phone. It didn’t look like a huge problem, just—

So there was something after all.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

So there really was something to clean up. Young-in gave up halfway, let the tension out of his legs, and obediently followed Kyeon In-woo.

Cheon Sa-yoon, who had been standing there like part of the background until now, cut in.

“I’m going too.”

Kyeon In-woo silently raised a hand and flipped him the middle finger. Apparently even saying “get lost” out loud was too much effort.

Cheon Sa-yoon didn’t so much as change expression. He was still smiling with those smiling eyes of his, as if the gesture hadn’t even reached him.

“I can go too, right, Young-in?”

Why are you asking me? You psycho.

Young-in turned his head to check Kyeon In-woo’s face. He was looking as murderous as hell, his eyes sharp enough to cut. If he kept that up, they were going to shoot beams out of them any second now.

“Get lost. Who the hell are you trying to wedge yourself in with, you fucking bastard? Hey, Go Young. Tell him no.”

“I think I hear barking. Did you hear that too, Young-in?”

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“Your ears already gone bad, huh? Say absolutely not.”

“That’s strange. I’m pretty sure the sign at the entrance said animals aren’t allowed in the building. Who would’ve dragged one in?”

You… insane bastards. Just talk to each other yourselves. What am I, the partition between office cubicles? Why are you both glaring at each other while talking like that?

Kyeon In-woo bared his teeth, the veins in his neck standing out hard enough to see.

The status window still hadn’t appeared, but Young-in had a sinking feeling that if he let this go, Kyeon In-woo might become the second member in this run to make the society pages for assaulting a teammate.

“In-woo, didn’t you say you were in a hurry? We don’t have to move that fast.”

“Fuck.”

So I was the first one to open this run’s society-page headline. Tragic.

The place they arrived at was probably one of the company’s internal studios that Kyeon In-woo had rented for his personal live stream.

And right now, this place was…

It was a glorious disaster in the purest possible sense.

It started with an unknown powder scattered across the floor, bowls overturned and rolling around, and the table turned into a shallow lake. On the cutting board sat a half-sliced slab of meat, soft and sagging like it had given up on life, and he couldn’t even begin to understand why two kitchen knives had been stabbed beside it with the handles gone, only the blades sticking up.

The closer he got, the worse it was.

Ha. Fuck.

So this was what they meant when they said not to stare too long into the abyss.

Inside the frying pan on top of the portable burner, blackened crumbs of ash had been scattered everywhere.

Out of camera range, a few staff members were giving him weak, hollow little waves with faces that looked like they’d aged ten years, and among them was manager Kwon Je-won, holding up his phone and pointing at it like, You see this?

So that’s why they’d called. No, wait—was this even acceptable?

“Wow. What a mess.”

Cheon Sa-yoon, who had followed them in, gave a bright, innocent exclamation as if he were genuinely impressed.

Young-in took in the studio’s condition at a glance, then confirmed that the live stream was indeed still running. He stepped up to the camera and greeted the fans first.

“Aonis, hello. In-woo called me over.”

“I came with Young-in too.”

Cheon Sa-yoon leaned in shamelessly and waved along with him, his face crowding the frame as if he belonged there.

Behind the camera, Kyeon In-woo’s fingers cracked loudly at the sight of Cheon Sa-yoon having actually followed them all the way here, but Young-in pretended not to notice.

While ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠greeting the viewers, he checked the broadcast title. Just a little while ago it had said, “Who’s Here?” but now it had changed to “Why’d It Turn Off?” He’d apparently even managed to turn the stream off by mistake and start it again.

He really had caused trouble in every possible way.

“What were you and In-woo doing before we got here?”

Rather than asking Kyeon In-woo what had happened, it seemed faster and more accurate to ask the fans who had watched it live.

Sure enough, the chat sped up even more. The moment they were asked, everyone rushed to report Kyeon In-woo’s crimes.

Well, they all took care of their own meals at the dorm, so there’d been no chance to share a proper table together.

Of course, if he said that out loud, it would instantly invite speculation about discord, plus every possible piece of nonsense about whether the company didn’t feed them, whether they ordered delivery every day and never saved money, whether the fact that they couldn’t even cook meant they couldn’t manage household chores properly. He kept it to himself.

Kyeon In-woo wasn’t merely bad at cooking. What he did was closer to alchemy, in the sense that he was somehow trying to transmute an unknown substance into food.

Cheon Sa-yoon, judging by appearance alone, was a question mark. Lim Se-bin… impossible to guess.

Still, Pyo Jae-ho was the one who was good at it, right?

Pyo Jae-ho, back when he was even younger than he was now, in the studio—ah, fuck.

Ding.

Fuck. Once he noticed it, it got under his skin.

He rubbed his forehead slowly and looked over at Kyeon In-woo, the source of this entire disaster.

He hadn’t paid attention before, but with the studio in this state, it wouldn’t have been strange if someone had gotten hurt somewhere.

Still, since they’d been hanging around together a little more lately, maybe he ought to worry.

Should I ask…?

From the outside he looked fine. Would Kyeon In-woo even care? But in situations like this, you were supposed to ask, weren’t you…?

Ding.

Apparently so.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t know it would end up this fucked.”

Kyeon In-woo grinned shamelessly, acting as if he’d just stumbled into this mess without meaning to.

He knew it was ruined, at least.

“So you do know it’s ruined.”

Cheon Sa-yoon opened his mouth with a bright smile, as if he’d just said the same thing Young-in had been thinking.

For a second, Young-in almost thought he had spoken aloud.

“What are you talking about? Don’t you know the saying about taking one step back for every step forward?”

It wasn’t the kind of phrase meant for this situation, but Kyeon In-woo tossed it back carelessly anyway, even though he was still in the middle of a live stream.

He didn’t even have to make sense.

Young-in nodded and pointed as calmly as he could toward the frying pan.

He figured he ought to ask, at least as a matter of courtesy, since they’d come all the way here.

Inside the pan, a pile of black, dried-up crumbs sat in a heap.

“What’s this?”

“Ah. That? Green onions.”

“Green onions…?”

How on earth was that green onion? That was ash, fuck.

“It’s completely black…”

“Well… hey, Go Young. But didn’t it burn pretty evenly? Go on, check it out.”

Was that supposed to be a brag? Why did he sound so proud?

“You’re not kidding, are you…?”

You’re going to get yourself hated, idiot.

“Does this look like I’m kidding?”

Even with that absurdly serious face, there was no way anyone could be convinced.