17. The Most Effective Way to Defuse a Bomb (2)

Ji Soo-ho arrived at the meeting spot in just thirty minutes, a remarkable feat. Despite having hung up on me in a hurry earlier, he approached with surprising politeness, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

"What kind of nonsense are you suddenly spouting...?"

"I'm just stating facts. You asked what was going on."

"Do you have any idea how shocked I was? What if other employees had heard?"

I've always thought that for someone with the title of "Miro's Guardian Deity," he's surprisingly soft-hearted.

Right now, Soo-ho and I were sitting in a nearby burger joint, sharing a meal. He had literally sprinted here the moment I hung up. For a brief second, I wondered if an idol trainee should even be eating this kind of food—but the savory aroma of french fries quickly silenced that thought.

Eh. If I feel guilty, I'll just run ten laps around the field before bed.

"Suddenly talking about department heads and promotions—what kind of baseless nonsense is this?"

I laid out everything I'd uncovered for Soo-ho, who was staring at me with wide, rabbit-like eyes. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠department head's bold schemes, the tyranny he was inflicting on the trainees. Just in case, I didn't mention Joo Eun-chan or Dan Ha-ru by name.

"...I had no idea."

"Well, you were exclusively handling Endway trainees before."

"Still, to be in the company and not know any of this..."

Soo-ho clenched his jaw, genuinely upset.

"Anyway. I'm thinking of using this chance to cut the department head out of Miro entirely."

"How? It won't be easy. Even if he's treated like a loose end now, he's still one of the founding contributors."

"......"

"People say he's lost his touch, but many still praise his eye for spotting talented trainees."

The problem is, that "good eye" only picks out trainees he can exploit.

I shrugged, dunking the longest, crispiest fry into my milkshake before taking a bite.

"Team Leader."

"Yes?"

"Do you know the fastest way to defuse a bomb?"

The fry I'd just bitten into plunged back into the milkshake. A splash of slightly melted shake flicked onto the table.

"You set it off. That's the most certain way. No risk of it exploding later, no worries about messing up the defusal."

"...That's not safe."

"Then what's the safest way to set off a bomb?"

Isn't it already unsafe the moment it explodes? Whether Soo-ho's eyes said that or not, I continued.

"You make the guy who planted it set it off himself."

"That's still not safe at all!"

"But I'm safe."

"......"

"It's not like I'm military-ranked enough to worry about the well-being of a department head who preys on minors."

The one who sowed the wind should reap the whirlwind. At my faint smile, Soo-ho made a strangled noise. Was that even the original meaning of the saying?

"So what exactly are you planning?"

Still, curiosity must have gotten the better of him, because Soo-ho asked with a completely baffled expression.

Of course, I'd prepared an answer for that kind of question. I slid over the stack of A4 papers from the L-shaped folder beside me.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

"...'Those Who Seek the Sun, Take Flight'?"

"Keep going."

"Working Title: In Search of Miro's Icarus? What is this?"

As Soo-ho flipped through the pages in stunned silence, I pitched my idea with a bright, straightforward tone.

"A survival show. An in-house survival program to decide Miro's next male idol group."

Who gets to decide who has what it takes to debut?

But the public can. Especially when Miro has die-hard fans who cling fiercely to the "company-wide love" concept for every male idol, each with distinct concepts and demand.

"That's the proposal you'll take to the CEO at the next meeting."

"A survival show for Miro's next group!? With what money?"

"Oh, that's already taken care of. Want to check page 8?"

Soo-ho, as if entranced, flipped to page eight. Listed there were investment firms already interested, major brands open to sponsorship, and contact details for PDs and production companies capable of handling the broadcast.

"I did some broadcast work during my first life."

"I thought you were an idol trainee?"

"That was just a brief stint in my teens. I dropped it fast and found other ways to make a living."

"You said you worked at an agency too?"

"That was during a college hiatus."

Soo-ho paused, then asked seriously.

"...Is there anything you haven't done?"

"Hmm. Being an idol?"

At my breezy reply, he seemed to accept it and went back to reviewing the proposal.

Watching him read and reread it was oddly nerve-wracking. Felt like waiting for approval.

"Anyway, the department head doesn't care about the next debut team. He's probably desperate to poach all the good trainees before the lineup's decided. So we're setting up a defense before he can pull anything."

"A survival show... as defense?"

"You weren't planning to debut all the current trainees anyway. And honestly, in this state, anyone not in the special class has no chance."

Even if some in-house survival shows had pre-selected winners, the advantage was still getting broadcast exposure.

If ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you just fail within the company, no one remembers your dreams. But if you've been on TV? Different story.

"Even if they don't debut, they can at least stamp their faces into the minds of K-pop fans eagerly waiting for the next rookie."

Just showing their potential could expand opportunities—from their standing within the company to love calls from other agencies.

So this was the "fair chance for everyone" I'd promised Joo Eun-chan.

"Fine, the proposal makes sense. But how did you get these investors?"

"That's a trade secret."

Soo-ho looked like he wanted to ask more, but I had my own secrets too.

"Knowing would only hurt you."

"It's not illegal, right?"

"...Not yet."

Anyway, these were just expressions of interest, not firm commitments. The finer details could wait until the proposal got real traction within Miro.

"I'll review it first. This isn't the kind of idea you just casually propose. Miro's never done a survival show before."

I wasn't about to play drill sergeant and demand he take it as homework, so I nodded. Now that I'd dropped the bomb, the next step was figuring out how to detonate it properly—

Buzz—

"Ah, sorry. Sudden call."

"No, it's fine. I'll keep looking over this."

I checked my phone, wondering who it could be—only to see Dan Ha-ru's number, saved just recently, glaring back at me.

'......? I didn't call him.'

I hadn't even recruited him as a comrade yet, so why was he calling? A sharp sense of foreboding prickled my radar. Ah, I've got a good nose for this.

"Hello? What's up?"

—Hyung, you gotta help Tae-hyun hyung!

"What? What are you talking about?"

—Tae-hyun hyung's at Rene right now! I think Min-seok hyung went to pick a fight with him!

"What?"

So the kitten that kept getting beaten finally snapped. Damn it, I hate this.

"Dan Ha-ru!"

"Hyung..."

"Ah. Manager Jang."

"Meeting again under these circumstances, Team Leader. Shall we talk separately?"

Rene's new office building gleamed like a Greek temple. Naturally, the one to greet us upon arrival was Jang Seo-yoon, Rene's manager. Leaving the complicated traffic control to Soo-ho, I followed Dan Ha-ru into the conference room where Seo Tae-hyun was waiting.

The boy known for his refreshing smile sat slumped in a corner, looking like he'd taken on the weight of the world's rebellion—as if all his previous smiles had been lies.

Seeing Tae-hyun avoiding eye contact, his eyes still burning with anger, something inside me boiled over. He'd clearly been in a fistfight—his usually clean face had fresh scratches.

Had I grown attached after seeing him just a few times? A torrent of scoldings raced through my head.

Are you out of your mind? An idol trainee throwing punches? On your day off, when you should be at home binge-watching Netflix? What were you thinking? If you ever debut, how are you gonna explain this? Are you some kind of thug? Is this why you've been grinding all this time?

And out of all those thoughts, the first thing that came out was:

"Seo Tae-hyun."

"......"

"Did you win?"

Wait, no—that's not—

"...Hyung?"

"......"

At my words, not only Dan Ha-ru but even Tae-hyun blinked up at me with round eyes. Honestly, I was the most startled by what I'd said—but I couldn't take it back now, so I played it cool.

"Don't tell me you lost?"

"...I won, okay!?"

"Good. That's something to brag about, kid."

"......"

The moment I poked him, he burst out—typical hot-blooded nineteen-year-old. Ah, these teenagers are exhausting. Seriously.

"Lucky you, Tae-hyun. Beating Cha Min-seok."

"...Don't mock me. You don't know anything."

No way pretty words were coming from Tae-hyun, who was fully on his rebellious streak. Dan Ha-ru looked shocked, like he'd never seen this side of him before. But honestly, I'd rather deal with this than the forced-smile version.

"Oh? What don't I know?"

"......"

"That you're scared of missing debut again, like in Boyhood Under Heaven, because of concept and position battles?"

"That your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prime might have already flashed and burned out?"

Tae-hyun locked eyes with me, looking like he couldn't believe I'd read him so easily. Chin propped on my hand, I leisurely prepared the next uppercut.

"Or is it rage? Rage at the department head threatening to block your debut? Or at Cha Min-seok ditching you for Rene?"

"...Hyung, did you hear everything that day?"

"See? What don't I know? If there's more, say it. Let me understand."

Whether my deductions—pulled from memories of my past life—had hit the mark, Tae-hyun's neck flushed red as he bit his lip hard. Kid really doesn't know his own worth.

I flicked his knee.

"Ow! Are you insane? Why'd you do that!?"

"You're an idol trainee, aren't you?"

"......"

"Relax your mouth. You wanna Photoshop out lip scars one by one?"

Tae-hyun instinctively checked his lips, then roughly dropped his hand when he remembered he was in full rebellion mode.

"...What does it matter? I'm not debuting anyway. So what if I split my lip?"

Twisted with bitterness, Tae-hyun's true feelings were even more shredded than I'd thought. His voice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cracked, thick with unshed tears.

"I'm not debuting. I'm quitting."

With finality, Seo Tae-hyun declared—taking the exact opposite path from his past life's self.