I'm Quitting Being an Idol
"Fuck, President. Cut the bullshit."
I spat the words at the man before me like they were poison. Telling him to stop spewing crap.
"Eunha, it's... This was unavoidable..."
The guy called President tried to make excuses. I grilled him right back.
"Unavoidable? You call this unavoidable right now?"
"...Yeah."
"Ha... What a load of shit."
What utter bullshit. Not just any bullshit, but the most idiotic, brain-dead kind.
There was this group thrown together on a whim by the company execs. It wasn't even a proper group. More like half-assed trash.
Body-selling whore, Seohee Shin. Drug-addicted nutjob, Hamin Do. Japanese chaebol parachute, Ayaka. And me, just some regular person.
That's what made up Zenith. No surprise it was a total dumpster fire.
And then.
"Three years."
That's how long it took me to drag this godforsaken group to the stage at Jamsil Olympic Stadium.
"It took three goddamn years of clawing our way up here."
I practiced like a maniac every single day. Singing, dancing, performance. For a total normie like me, it was all alien shit, but I didn't give up. I poured everything into it. Because if I didn't bust my ass despite starting late, I'd never catch up to the early birds.
"You know that too, right, President?"
I fought tooth and nail. Sleeping just four hours a day, skipping meals to save time. No days off, no vacations, no free time.
I repeated the drills endlessly until the moves and sensations were etched into my muscles.
"At the very least, you know that much..."
From the day I first became a woman. I worked my ass off like my life depended on it.
...Or so I thought. At least, that's what I believed.
But.
"Playing games with ticket prices like that...?"
The company never intended to put us on that stage from the start. The tickets were just a cash grab for their stock split scheme, and the second they sold out, they dumped our group like trash.
With one vague line about "internal team issues," they shoved all the blame onto us.
The fans turned on us in an instant.
"This isn't right."
It was unbelievable. The kind of story that only happens in novels, not real life.
"You said you'd fight alongside us."
So I fired off a lawsuit against the company. Embezzlement, breach of trust, failure to settle accounts. I dragged every issue into the public eye and started a muddy courtroom brawl with this division head asshole.
And yet...
"We lost the appeal?"
"...Yeah."
"Don't give me excuses, fuck. How the hell did we lose?"
It was a trial we couldn't lose. That's what the exclusive legal team's lawyer told me. Our evidence was airtight—we submitted contracts, bank statements, internal chat logs, everything.
So I couldn't wrap my head around what this president was saying now.
"I-it was unavoidable... They said we couldn't prove intent with just the evidence we had... Their legal team came out swinging hard... The law's the law—what could I do?"
Bullshit. Unless they deliberately tanked it, losing was impossible.
"A-and BK Entertainment's side said they're looking into ways for us to resume activities positively... So Eunha, maybe drop this nonsense and think about coming back to Zenith now..."
But this imposter of a president pulled it off. He actually managed the impossible.
I don't know if he shoveled money their way or whored out some girls, but this bastard sold the group he'd nurtured for three years right back to the company.
What a monumental piece of shit.
"Hey, you fucking pig bastard."
I grabbed the president by the collar and shoved my curses right in his face.
"You think you're hot shit just 'cause I played nice with the formal talk? Think I didn't know you ditched the trial to hit the clubs? That at your age, calling in trainees for a fuck-fest made life worth living?"
"Hey...! Eunha Seong...!!"
The president yelled at me, pretending to be pissed. I kept going.
"Fuck, fine. I'll give you that much."
He was never a clean guy to begin with. Let's say I can stomach that.
"Calling in Seohee Shin every day for sex favors, doping Hamin Do into a vegetable, pocketing kickbacks from Ayaka... whatever."
Really stretching it, a hundred concessions. Let's pretend I can understand that too.
"But now you're saying I should understand you stabbing me in the back during the trial after squeezing every last drop out of me?"
Kept being nice, so you thought it was your right? Stab first, then expect the world. What, you think you're some baby dinosaur from that kids' show?
"Understand my ass."
I told the president straight.
"How much more of this shit do I have to understand?"
"......"
No answer came. Not even after a long silence.
"Ha."
It was so pathetic, a hollow laugh escaped me.
Thud.
"Gahk...!"
I let go of his collar, and the president's massive bulk crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
They say when you're pissed beyond measure, you get eerily calm instead? Maybe that's it—anger had left me. All that remained was disgust.
"Whatever."
I shoved back from my seat and stood.
"I'm quitting."
Fuck this, I'm out. Idol life, all of it—done.
"E-Eunha...!!"
The president tried to say something, but there was no reason to listen now.
I hurled the bundle of papers labeled "judgment" at him and said,
"Spit out the penalty fees, lawyer costs, whatever. Cough it all up and get lost."
The papers fluttered through the air. As they did, I flipped him off with my middle finger.
"Live it up together, you pieces of shit."