Don't Pick Up
"Sea Butter? You mean the ones with the choreography that got leaked?"
"Yeah, those guys."
"Mind if I ask why?"
"Because I'm mad."
No detailed explanation was offered. When CEO Im waved him out of the office, Jong-woo left with a distinctly uneasy feeling in his gut.
But finding out the schedule turned out to be exactly as easy as promised. Truthfully, digging up an idol's schedule wasn't all that difficult. Companies often released schedules publicly for the fans, and even when they didn't, a few well-placed calls to industry contacts made everything spill out like water.
Three hours later, Jong-woo walked into CEO Im's office with two months' worth of Sea Butter's schedule, freshly printed.
"Here you go. Nothing special in it. More could get added later, but this is everything that's confirmed so far."
CEO Im took the A4 printout and stared down at it for a long moment. Just as Jong-woo had said, aside from the fact that Sea Butter's album was dropping a few days ahead of Wild Animal's, there was nothing remotely troubling about it.
But there was something exploitable. CEO Im pointed at a single line with his finger. "There."
Where? Jong-woo craned his neck to look.
"The one you said you didn't like?"
The schedule CEO Im had singled out was a singing competition variety show. It was called You Rap, I'll Sing — a program where vocalists and rappers swapped positions, teamed up, and competed for the crown, with winning teams going on to face off against each other in up to two more rounds at six-month and one-year intervals.
Because the format demanded a huge cast, an invitation had gone out to Rembrary early on, but CEO Im had turned it down flat — what earthly good would it do to send Rembrary out to rap?
It hadn't helped that the offer had arrived right around the time CEO Im had decided to brand Rembrary with a mysterious, otherworldly image. Not that the mystique hadn't been mauled to death by the two-timing variety show scandal already.
"Let's send our Snout out on the same day Sea Butter's on. Not send — have him appear."
A flash of genuine venom slipped out of CEO Im's mouth before he hastily corrected himself.
Was that sincerity just now? Jong-woo stared at him steadily, and CEO Im cleared his throat and restated the order.
"Ask the PD there if he'd be interested in having Yeon-woo on. If he says yes, work out the dates so they line up."
"He'll probably take the offer. But I don't think he'll let us pick who Yeon-woo teams up with…"
"Doesn't matter who he's teamed with — the kid'll sweep the whole thing himself. It's fine. Just lock in the schedule."
"Got it."
"And bring our Snout in here."
"Snout."
Rembrary was in the grip of a serious situation. Someone had left a comment on his social media that saw straight through to his true nature.
Rembrary's heart fluttered. So even wearing a different shell, this body's majestic true nature shone through, did it? He left a like on the comment as a token of his love for the believer. And he was pondering what reply he ought to leave the believer when—
"Hey, Snout."
Jong-woo had to go and interrupt this joyful moment.
"Do you mean me? Surely you're not calling me."
When Rembrary turned around with a scowl, Jong-woo answered with a flat "You," and jerked his chin toward the door.
"The CEO wants you."
Cathy snickered beside him.
"Jong-woo hyung, that's giving off major 'the teacher wants to see you' class president energy, it is."
Jong-woo ignored him and urged Rembrary along.
"Hurry up."
It was a nuisance, but Rembrary pocketed his phone and left the practice room. When he arrived at the CEO's office, Im was standing by the window, waiting for him.
"You summoned me?"
"Yeon-woo!"
The greeting was so warm that Rembrary was caught off guard. Normally CEO Im regarded him with the complicated expression of a man agonizing over what on earth am I going to do with you. Today, though, he had the manner of an ally greeting reinforcements arriving on the battlefield.
"What's this about? Has something happened?"
As Rembrary approached, CEO Im gestured for him to sit across from him, then asked:
"Yeon-woo. Would you go on a singing variety show for me? Just one more time?"
"No."
"You're going."
His tone flat, CEO Im explained the premise and competition format of You Rap, I'll Sing, then added, as if it were nothing:
"You just go on once, sing a song, and come back. It's not a recurring thing, so think of it as a little outing. Go out there, sweep the floor — ahem, film the episode, and come home."
There was a suspicious excitement in CEO Im's voice, and Rembrary eyed him with flat, dead-fish eyes. It was unusual enough that CEO Im, and not Jong-woo, was the one broaching a variety appearance. It was even more unusual that, while proposing the appearance, he wasn't appending his usual warning of don't cause any incidents. Something was off.
"Why don't you just be honest with me?"
The moment Rembrary's sharp words pierced straight to the truth of it, CEO Im flinched. Had his ulterior motives really been that obvious?
"What's going on?"
Pressed again, CEO Im reluctantly came clean.
"We apologized, but it's still an injustice, isn't it? Doesn't it feel unjust to you guys? The choreography was stolen from us, and we're the ones who got flamed for it. Sure, Hye-gyeol wiggled his fingers at them, but that's hardly in the same league as leaking an entire dance."
Rembrary nodded. Indeed, ever since CEO Im had apologized on his behalf, Hye-gyeol had been holed up stewing in his own sense of grievance. He wasn't running an actual fever, but he was clearly simmering with resentment.
"Sea Butter's going on that show to promote their new single."
"What is this you speak of?"
"The team whose choreography got mixed up with ours. Not all of them — just their rapper."
Exhaling through his nose, CEO Im lowered his voice like a man weaving some sinister scheme and issued his orders.
"I'll get you booked for the same day. Go in there and take every last spotlight for yourself. It's what you do best, isn't it? Getting attention. By the time the broadcast ends, I want people unable to remember that those guys were even there. Can you do it?"
Rembrary smiled serenely and leaned back against the sofa with luxurious ease.
"That is a simple task indeed."
The PD of You Rap, I'll Sing signed off on Woo Yeon-woo's casting almost instantly.
The date, too, could be matched to Sea Butter's — and since both groups were due for comebacks around the same time, the PD didn't find the coincidence the least bit strange.
The choreography, however, had to be rebuilt from scratch. And because the new routine lacked the impact of the old one, it left Hye-gyeol sulking.
Rembrary, who had never managed to keep up with the old choreography anyway, was equally dissatisfied with the replacement. Overall, the difficulty had gone down, but the old routine had offered plenty of moments where Rembrary could casually drift toward the back — whereas the new one had almost none.
And so, in a haze of half-measures and muddle, time flowed on, until at last the day of the recording arrived.
Since the date and time had been arranged well in advance, the members got up a little earlier than usual and set off by car.
But in order to concentrate fully on the recording, they wore almost no makeup, and their outfits were neat but comfortable.
"The choreography came out weaker than we expected, so you all need to focus harder on the vocals."
Jong-woo repeated his nagging over and over in the car. The fire over the choreography leak had cooled somewhat, but Hye-gyeol, still sulky about the whole affair, answered gruffly.
"I know, hyung."
"Should we each eat a raw egg before we record?"
"Ah, that'd make our throats even slimier. No thanks."
While they traded banter, the car pulled up to the studio. While Sa Gam-jae went to park, Jong-woo herded the members up to the reserved recording room. The composer had already arrived.
After running through the song together one more time in front of the composer to check the parts that needed work, Wild Animal filed into the booth one by one and began recording.
Tae-in had gone in alone to sing his part, and Rembrary was sitting in a chair in the master room, waiting his turn.
Suddenly his phone, silenced to vibrate-only, buzzed with a loud vrrrroom. Deciding it was an interruption, the composer shot Rembrary an irritated glance without saying a word.
Rembrary quickly pulled out the phone. The caller was Woo Sung-woo.
This man truly never has a single helpful moment, does he.
Judging it to be a call that could wait, Rembrary declined it, switched the phone to a mode where it wouldn't vibrate at all, and slipped it back into his pocket.
The words Connecting… vanished from the screen, and the home page popped up automatically. The person holding the phone let out a small sigh.
"Tsk. He's not picking up."
The man set the phone down on the shelf beside him with a light thump and turned his gaze forward.
There, a single chair sat forlornly in the middle of the room — and in it sat Woo Sung-woo.
But Sung-woo was not sitting there of his own accord. Thick rope bound his body to the chair, tight and unyielding.
Worse, dark bruises and split skin marked his face here and there where he'd been struck, and one of his shoes had come off and was lying somewhere across the floor.
Woo Sung-woo strained hard against his bonds and glared at the man standing before him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard."
But despite the question, Sung-woo knew exactly who stood in front of him. His name, and what he did for a living, too.
That was precisely why he couldn't believe it. The man Sung-woo knew was someone who had no need whatsoever to do something like this.
Sung-woo spat the pooled saliva from his mouth onto the floor and fixed the man with a venomous stare.
The man — the one who had just tried calling using Sung-woo's phone — smiled pleasantly and asked:
"So it seems you two really aren't close, after all?"
The man was Shin Jo-woon.
"What business is it of yours whether I'm close with my brother or not?"
Sung-woo had every right to be dumbfounded. To Sung-woo's knowledge, Shin Jo-woon was the slightly famous face behind an entertainment agency.
These days the man was even appearing on variety shows alongside Sung-woo's younger brother, riding a gentlemanly image to considerable popularity.
Personally, Sung-woo himself had no particular grudge against the man — no, he didn't even have the flimsiest connection to him.
And yet, out of nowhere, the man had ambushed him while he was on standby, kidnapped him, and now sat here confiscating his phone, all to "confirm whether he was close with his younger brother."
He genuinely could not fathom what was going through the man's head.
"I asked you before, didn't I? Whether you and your brother are close."
Answering patiently once more, Shin Jo-woon picked the phone back up off the shelf.
Sung-woo let out a hollow laugh. The man had answered his question, sure — but the answer did absolutely nothing to explain this situation.
"Did my brother borrow money from you or something?"
Instead of answering, Shin Jo-woon opened the keypad, punched in Woo Yeon-woo's phone number, and — without pressing the call button — turned the screen toward Sung-woo.
"Do you see?"
"…"
"He may simply be unable to answer because something's come up. So I'll try twice more. If he doesn't pick up either time, then I'll conclude you two truly aren't close."
Having arbitrarily established his own criteria, Shin Jo-woon thoughtfully turned on speaker mode and pressed the call button. The ringing tone stretched on long and thin, but this time, too, Yeon-woo did not answer.
"One try remaining."
Shin Jo-woon tilted his head and tapped in Yeon-woo's number once more. And in the instant before he could place the call—
Sung-woo had no idea what was going on, but he decided that first priority was escaping this crisis, and shouted, "Wait!"
The finger hovering over the call button stopped, just barely.
When Shin Jo-woon looked at him, Sung-woo made his proposal as calmly as he could manage.
"If he's busy right now and can't take calls, what's the point of calling back-to-back like this? Try your own phone. If he doesn't pick up yours either, then he's just too busy right now. Wait a few hours and try again. That's the fair way to do it."
Shin Jo-woon readily set Sung-woo's phone back down on the shelf, drew out his own, and pressed a speed-dial key.
Listening to the ringing tone, Woo Sung-woo swallowed dryly.