Returning to the Office After Dropping Off the Kids
It was already past three in the afternoon when Namhun finally arrived at the office.
“Why are you so late?”
“I had to check out the academies for the kids and register them.”
He had gone without lunch while looking for academies and handling registrations before the kids got out of school.
Thanks to that, he was finally free for pickups at drop-off time.
“These days the taekwondo academy feels more like a kindergarten.”
“From talking to married friends, I hear it’s turned into a full-service childcare center. Not like how it used to be.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, my schedule has gotten a lot freer now.”
After grabbing lunch, they headed straight to the academies, so he didn’t even need to stop at home.
Drop off the kids in the morning, prepare the dinner side dishes, and he was done.
Now he could finally spend an entire day as he pleased.
“Oh, and by the way, I already have your memorial service booked for next Sunday. You can practice here if you have time. I’ll be free to watch over you.”
“Eh? Why me?”
“No reason. You weren’t answering your phone, so the director called me instead.”
At those words, Namhun pulled out his smartphone and saw hundreds of missed calls.
“Whoops. I must have forgotten to silence my phone while handling consultations at the academies all day.”
“You really are suffering, huh. Raising three kids on your own as a bachelor isn’t easy.”
“Haha. At first it was tough, but I’ve gotten used to it now. The baby years were the hardest, with all the vomiting.”
He had braced himself for it, but life was even harsher than he expected.
Yet time had passed, and in the end Namhun had come out on top.
Thanks to that experience, he felt ready to laugh off almost any hardship he might face now.
“So, same old question—have you practiced your trot yet?”
“Not as much as last time.”
Starting this week, he and Wonhyung would be visiting other agencies to introduce themselves.
Because the trot industry was so narrow, he wanted to build a face and make connections early.
“Anyway, let’s get moving. It’s also important to see just how good the other kids are. At least they have to be around my level for you to be able to hand out a business card saying you’re a trot singer…”
At Wonhyung’s words, Namhun felt a flicker of nerves.
This would be his first time meeting the others who were preparing to debut as trot singers alongside him.
* * *
The entertainment industry was fierce.
It ran on a strict winner-takes-all rule.
Winner Takes It All!
The phrase fit the industry perfectly—the winner got everything.
But predicting who would win was impossible.
Ranks were assigned by standards no one could truly understand, and artists had no choice but to accept the report cards with calm.
Namhun had experienced that pain firsthand as a singer.
He knew all too well how cruel the public’s reaction could be, like a blade.
And he knew that entertainers had far higher rates of mental health issues than most jobs.
“Maybe it would have been better to audition with a competition instead.”
Matching the judges’ tastes was hard enough, but appealing to the fickle tastes of the general public was even harder.
Unlike classical music, the trends of popular songs changed at lightning speed.
Trot, which had taken off in the 1930s, had gone through countless shifts up to now.
It had fallen into a stagnant period after the 1970s.
Yet a new breeze was beginning to stir in the trot world.
“We’re heading to the company of one of the Trot Four Heavenly Kings, senior Jeong Nam.”
“Oh. I haven’t seen senior Jeong Nam in ages. I wonder if he’ll even remember me.”
Jeong Nam was the eldest of the Trot Four Heavenly Kings, a man who had survived long years of obscurity before becoming a star.
For a while he had been very active, but the past ten years had seen little work.
Namhun had only seen him a few times during his Elixer days.
Jeong Nam had essentially retired from the industry before Namhun’s debut album even dropped.
“He’s in his seventies now. With only dinner shows, he doesn’t take many gigs, so it’s hard for me to see him. He says he comes in sometimes to mentor younger artists, but I bet he won’t be there today.”
“Really?”
“What? Even if he’s in the office, he won’t recognize you the way you are now.”
“Probably. I only greeted him about ten years ago.”
“Still, he might remember you as Elixer. That name was so unusual. Everyone asked about it but couldn’t recall it properly.”
“…I guess so.”
At the time, trot singers disliked the name Elixer.
So most people just called him by his real name, Jang Nam.
“Anyway, there are three young singers preparing to debut at senior Jeong Nam’s company. Two men and one woman. They’re all in their early thirties, so older than you. They’re all veteran rookies like you. Well, you’re faster to debut, but they’re older, so the relationship might feel a bit awkward.”
“Awkward? Forget it. From now on it’s going to be age order.”
The entertainment industry cared more about debut order than age, but in private it was different.
The culture of hanging out in private had grown weaker, and singers rarely clashed anymore.
“Trot is so narrow that competition feels less important than helping each other. You don’t have to worry. We’re short on people and have plenty of gigs anyway.”
“More like a sense of unity.”
“Yeah. It’ll feel different from the nerves we faced in the music industry. Of course there’s still competition, and they’ll probably be watching you closely to see what kind of record you get.”
“Haha… I’m scared.”
“Your trot skills are still at beginner level, so they won’t last long before you break their nerves.”
At Wonhyung’s words, Namhun grumbled.
“No matter what, you’d say something like that right in front of the person?”
“If you’re upset, try singing trot well then.”
“…I’m trying hard.”
“You know what? In this world, ‘well’ matters more than ‘hard.’”
At those words, Namhun nodded.
Success wasn’t about trying hard.
“Everyone here prepared for about two years, right?”
“Yeah. So you can think of them as more finished than you. Or they’re just waiting for the songs, maybe.”
They were singers right before debut.
There would probably be a lot to learn from them.
“But who’s Seol-in? When did you two get close enough for people to call him that?”
Namhun sighed at Wonhyung’s mischievous smile.
He could just tell Wonhyung they’d known each other since they were kids, but then he’d be tied to the guy forever.
He had already suffered enough thanks to Sera.
‘This secret is going in the grave with me.’
* * *
Onjeong Entertainment was basically a one-man agency.
It belonged to his son, Jeong Jaemin.
Jeong Jaemin, in his early forties, was also a former rock band vocalist.
He was a senior who had been active around the same time as Evil Spirits.
While Evil Spirits had stayed in the top thirty on the monthly charts for their first and second albums, he had never even cracked the top hundred and remained completely unknown.
But before Evil Spirits even formed, he had been close with the sub-vocalist Myeong Ujin and leader Jo Wonhyung from their underground days.
That was why Namhun had known him even before his own debut.
—You said your high notes are really good.
—Huh?
—Let’s have a high-note battle.
As a rock vocalist, Jeong Jaemin had been confident in his high notes.
He had playfully challenged Namhun after Wonhyung kept praising him so much.
There had been no shame in it.
He had even strained his whole body to shout, yet he hadn’t been able to touch Namhun at all.
The gap in talent and physique had been insurmountable.
Just remembering that day made Jeong Jaemin’s face flush with embarrassment even now.
Today would be his chance to settle that score.
He called the three rookie singers he had been training into the practice room and lined them up.
“Han Taejin. Bang-gun. Woo Yeonjeong. Come here.”
The three who were called froze and straightened up, sensing their boss’s different attitude.
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes~!”
“Wonhyung is bringing one more rookie later.”
At those words, the playful Bang-gun asked,
“Is it a girl?”
“This guy still hasn’t learned his lesson.”
Woo Yeonjeong sighed deeply the moment she heard it. Jeong Jaemin got angry.
“What’s with you? Is gender even important right now?”
“I was just curious…”
“He’s a man.”
“Tch.”
“Seriously. I almost killed you. Anyway, you two are almost finished singers. Today Wonhyung is bringing someone who’s just starting trot. In his late twenties. But he has skill, so keep your guard up.”
“Late twenties means we’re veteran rookies too.”
“Right. You know the name Namhun?”
“Namhun? No.”
Woo Yeonjeong shook her head. Gugak background, she didn’t even know who a singer was at first.
But Bang-gun, who had come from dance, knew Namhun well. No, far more than just well.
“Eh? Namhun is doing trot? That doesn’t suit him at all.”
“What does that say about you?”
“Dance is dance, even if it’s trot dance. I’m the type who bets on performance, not vocals.”
“Yeah, you’re…”
Bang-gun was completely different from Namhun and the others.
He only targeted nightclub gigs.
“Anyway, you two have to show the senior’s power today.”
“We’re the seniors?”
“In the trot world, yes. When genres change, so does the hierarchy.”
Jeong Jaemin warned the two firmly.
“You know Jo Wonhyung writes good trot songs, right? Show that off today or you won’t get the tracks.”
At those words, Han Taejin and Woo Yeonjeong’s eyes lit up.
“Yes.”
“Got it.”
Watching them, Bang-gun asked,
“What about me, boss?”
“I already have your song.”
“Haha. As expected from the boss.”
Jeong Jaemin grimaced as Bang-gun preened and pulled him away.
“Get lost before I snatch your song, kid!”
That was the moment Onjeong Entertainment burned with fierce competition.
Meanwhile, Jo Wonhyung and Jang Namhun arrived at Onjeong Entertainment’s building.
* * *
The building Onjeong Entertainment used as its headquarters was an old four-story commercial house.
On the first floor sat a restaurant called Hanmaru.
But since there was no sign for Onjeong Entertainment, Namhun was confused.
“This is it? Can I park here?”
“Yeah.”
“An office building?”
“No. This building belongs to senior Jeong Nam.”
“For real?”
“Of course. Why would I lie? Who is senior Jeong Nam?”
“One of the Trot Four Heavenly Kings, the eldest.”
“Right. It’s only natural for a senior like that to own several buildings.”
Ah, that made sense.
A trot singer could live off a single hit for the rest of his life.
Jeong Nam was a Gold Song Award winner and a mid-tier singer with countless hits.
‘This rundown building suddenly looks like a gold mine.’
Compared to the flashy Mubibro headquarters in Gyeonggi, this place in Gangnam would be ten times more expensive.
“You’re late, so the timing is off. Come on down first.”
Wonhyung pulled Namhun toward the restaurant.
“What? No time? Where are we going?”
“Even if there’s no time, I have to say hello.”
“Eh?”