Offered the Devil's Editing
The person with the phone stumbled backward step by step, then spun around and bolted.
"Hey, what are you doing?!"
Cathy belatedly shouted after spotting Rembrary holding the dripping wet handkerchief. Then, grasping the situation in an instant, he spat out a curse, wheeled around, and took off after the phone-wielder.
Rembrary watched his retreating back for a moment, then quickly set the plate back where it belonged and mopped up the spilled water with the handkerchief. Even in the midst of it, water kept seeping out of the plate, leaving him at a loss.
Did it react to my divine power?
Either way, it seemed he would have to come back here later and speak with the priest of this place.
Putting the matter off for another day, Rembrary stepped outside to look for Cathy. Having apparently lost the person with the phone, Cathy was yelling his head off at empty air.
"Ah, damn it. What did they even film?"
After fuming for a good while, Cathy noticed people staring in their direction and hastily quieted down, pulled on a mask, and came over to Rembrary with a question.
"Nothing weird got caught on camera, right?"
"······Probably not."
"What do you mean, probably? Why are your answers so wishy-washy?"
When the clicking sound had rung out, Rembrary had been wiping away the water pooling on the plate.
Had someone seen that? And if so, what then?
The power of a High Priest was useful in many ways, and there had been plenty of people in his original world who wanted to seize or exploit it. Here, though, there seemed to be no one who wielded divine power or magic at all. He worried that if his use of holy power was exposed, he might drag innocents into needless trouble.
But surely no one saw it.
Rembrary considered the matter briefly and concluded it would be fine, answering, "It is fine."
He had learned from the members that phones could take pictures. The timing had been odd, granted, but at the moment of the click, Rembrary had been standing directly in front of the vessel. From that angle, there was no way a camera held behind him could have captured the water welling up.
"Hm. Right. It is fine."
Rembrary repeated himself, and Cathy muttered "Something's off about this······" but didn't press further.
But that evening, it turned out that everything was very much not fine.
The moment Jong-woo arrived at the dorm and shut the door behind him, he roared.
"Woo Yeon-woo, you little punk, are you insane?!"
Ever since losing his memory, the man had been making a constant effort not to lose his temper — yet today his face was flushed crimson with fury. When Rembrary walked out with a toothbrush in his mouth, Jong-woo thrust the phone he'd been carrying at him.
"What is this?!"
Rembrary took the phone and looked at the photo. Just as he'd thought, the moment of water filling the plate hadn't been captured. However, the shot had caught him tilting the plate from behind his back — making it look exactly as though the plate had held water and he was playing around with it.
Oh no.
Rembrary clicked his tongue. It was true that his power was no longer in danger of being exploited······but now he had become a wicked man fooling around with sacred objects at a holy religious institution.
"Woo Yeon-woo, I swear—"
Jong-woo thumped his own chest again and again.
"You punk, I told you to keep the line and you keep the line! Why were you flipping over a vessel at someone else's cathedral?!"
Meanwhile, Cathy slyly snatched the phone away, read the photo and the post attached to it, and snickered. The person who'd taken the photo had written that 'Yeon-woo was messing around with a sacred relic of the cathedral while a fellow group member beside him tried to stop him.' The post hadn't named Cathy outright, but several commenters were already supplying his name in the comments.
More comments kept rolling in, apparently from people who knew Cathy and Yeon-woo well.
"What are you laughing at?!"
When Jong-woo yelled at the sight, Cathy finally managed his expression and handed the phone back. Jong-woo snatched it, stuffed it in his pocket, and shouted at Yeon-woo again.
"Woo Yeon-woo. Anything you'd like to say for yourself?"
"I did spill the water, but Cathy didn't stop me from—"
Before he could even finish, Jong-woo grabbed the back of his neck and roared.
"You punk, you call that a defense?!"
The next day.
The moment he arrived at the office, Jong-woo was summoned to CEO Im's office.
"What happened?"
The CEO asked, though his face said he already had a rough idea.
"I'm so sorry."
"Is being sorry going to fix this? Even a top star would get torn apart for spilling a sacred relic at a cathedral — so why does a no-name idol with zero fans to shield him go flipping one over?! It trended twice and now you think you're actually a top star, is that it?"
"······"
Even as the words left his own mouth, CEO Im seemed to realize he'd gone too far and grew glum. He had spoken in a fit of temper, but then remembered that Yeon-woo's mind was currently a blank slate. It was possible Yeon-woo didn't even know what a sacred relic was. No — he almost certainly didn't. Or maybe he simply had no idea what kind of place a cathedral even was.
"Fine, enough. Enough. So why did you flip the vessel over?"
"······Something was pooling in it, so I was just trying to clean it up······"
"Aigoo!"
At the unexpectedly good intention, CEO Im clutched the back of his neck. He groaned and wrestled with himself for a long while, his face the picture of deliberation. For nearly fifteen minutes he went on like that while Jong-woo stood rooted in place, hyper-aware of every glance. He couldn't help feeling guilty — after all, he was the one who had gotten permission for Yeon-woo to go to the cathedral alone with Cathy.
Only after an eternity did CEO Im speak, with a sigh.
"Yeon-woo······there's no telling where that kid will bolt next. Let's just let him run."
Jong-woo stared at him, startled.
"I'm sorry — let him run? Do you mean release—"
"Not release him. I mean give up on managing his image altogether."
"?"
"Even if we burn through the image fast, we've got to circulate him as much as possible before people get sick of his antics. He's going to pull something catastrophic while we're busy curating his image and go under, that kid."
"Ah······"
Jong-woo let out a groan. Guarding an idol's image was critical. The public tired easily. This was exactly why popular idols with years of experience found themselves shoved aside by rising rookies — the novelty wore off. Of course, plenty of core fans stayed stubbornly loyal and kept watch by their side. But precisely because those core fans were so stubborn, they didn't abandon their existing celebrities easily. Wild Animal, without even a fan club to its name, naturally had no such core fans. The people paying attention to Wild Animal now were the general public, ready to turn their backs at any moment. And in front of that public, an idol had to live while conserving image as carefully as possible — maximum effect from minimum expenditure. That was the most fundamental way agencies consumed their idols. Given that idols who burned through image had short careers, CEO Im's words right now marked a dangerously risky line.
"As long as he doesn't cause a massive disaster, just let him be. Within the bounds of not hurting the group."
"Yes, sir."
"When schedules come in, take all of them unless they're something really weird."
"Yes, sir."
"And if a good schedule comes in, try pushing to slot in a member or two alongside him."
"······Yes, sir."
Jong-woo left the CEO's office with a tangled heart and walked to his desk in the main office. Famous idols and major agencies had several managers apiece, each with finely divided duties. But LLL Entertainment wasn't a particularly large agency, and Wild Animal had been nobodies ever since their debut. As a result, Jong-woo was single-handedly handling every kind of managerial task. The sad part was that despite working as a road manager, the group was so obscure he almost never actually went anywhere.
"Phew."
"Rough morning, Manager Jong-woo?"
As he sat down, Team Leader Kim — who managed the most successful actor at LLL Entertainment — offered the remark by way of sympathy.
"Haha, well. You could say that."
Jong-woo answered awkwardly, sat at his desk, and turned on his computer. Plenty of slots sat empty, but the plan was to post Wild Animal's schedule on the company website. He had no idea what the future held, but thanks to the Sunday performance, three music show appearances had been booked for next week. He meant to at least record that much.
But as he was clicking away at the mouse, his phone rang.
"Hello?"
— Is this the cell phone of Lee Jong-woo of Wild Animal?
"Yes, it is."
It sounded like a work call. When Jong-woo answered respectfully, a hearty laugh came through the receiver.
— Ah, this manager, it's me from before. PD Kim Mu-rok.
"Oh, hello, sir!"
Jong-woo shot up from his desk to bow, and Team Leader Kim beside him gave him an odd look. He hurried out into the hallway and asked:
"Yes — is this about the other day, PD-nim?"
PD Kim Mu-rok was a cable variety producer turning in middling results, who had lately been planning something extremely provocative. It was called Sing Survival — on the surface, an ordinary singing competition program. But the word 'Survival' in the title was no accident. The contestants would compete in song in a variety of ways once a week, and the losers would take on the role of 'slave' for that week. They wouldn't literally become slaves, but the title was 'slave' all the same. On top of that, they'd have to wait on the other contestants hand and foot for the entire week. It would only amount to running errands, sure — but if the person in the slave role happened to be a popular star, mayhem and fan wars were guaranteed to erupt. With rules this cutthroat, insiders were predicting the program would be a make-or-break, all-or-nothing affair. Singers and idols who were already popular had declined to appear, but Jong-woo, upon seeing the planning proposal as a rookie manager, had immediately sent over Wild Animal's profiles saying they wanted in.
At the time, PD Kim Mu-rok had said he'd 'think it over carefully' and give an answer.
That had been three months ago.
The fact that he was only now calling made his intent transparent. Still, Jong-woo pretended not to notice and smiled brightly.
"Can we expect good news, PD-nim?"
— Uh, yeah, sure. So, uh. Looking at the profiles, that Yeon-woo kid is quite the looker. Great visual.
"Yes, our Yeon-woo — in my humble opinion, he's handsome enough to count on one hand!"
"Wait, 'in my opinion, handsome enough to count on one hand' doesn't quite make sense," Jong-woo briefly thought — no, he said it with confidence anyway. Actually he just barreled on. "Thank you so much! Our Yeon-woo is absolutely killer when it comes to buzz. He'll do a great job."
— Yeah, that's what I figured.
PD Kim Mu-rok laughed heartily — then suddenly went quiet. He seemed to have more to say.
"PD-nim?"
When Jong-woo prompted him carefully, sure enough — PD Kim Mu-rok spoke in a subtly suggestive voice.
— So, you know, about······that Yeon-woo kid.
"Yes."
— You've seen the proposal, so you know — a program like ours needs a villain character. It's essential.
"Yes······ that's true."
— Otherwise it's no fun. Wholesome competition? Nobody watches that with a smile on their face. But we need viewers who'll watch while cursing us out. Right?
Having grasped where this was going, Jong-woo clenched his fist for no reason.
— So here's the thing, this manager. How about it — can we edit Yeon-woo into the villain role? His image might take a hit, sure, but in exchange I'll stuff his screen time to bursting.