Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: This Life is Space Star 57
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I recalled the story Ri-hyuk had told me not long ago.
“At first, I didn’t know who he was. But then I thought about it, and his face popped into my head. He looked different back then because he was younger.”
Before coming to Lemon Entertainment, Ri-hyuk had been a trainee at Eulim Entertainment.
Eulim Entertainment.
One of the five mid-sized agencies that held year-end evaluations alongside DNS and Lemon. In the industry, it had a reputation for being solid.
Its specialty was vocals.
Unlike other agencies that emphasized dance performances, Eulim specialized in grooming singers.
Somewhere between idols and singers, I suppose.
The singers from Eulim weren’t idols, but they had an idol-like vibe—solo artists or vocal groups with refined looks.
Take the four-member vocal group Playlist, popular for their handsome faces, for example.
It made sense that Ri-hyuk, who was weak at dance, had ended up there.
“Remember? Hwayi Entertainment told me to show them my dance first and rejected me. After that, I auditioned at other agencies, but I kept getting cut because of my dancing. I had no choice.”
Naturally, the company rep who heard our monster vocalist had printed out a contract before the audition even ended.
That’s how Ri-hyuk became a trainee.
Everything seemed to be going well.
His overwhelming vocal skills put him at debut-ready level in one go, and the company staff liked him too.
The problem was that Ri-hyuk hated the place.
“Well, every company has its own vibe, but there, the rookie development team staff would make us do punishment drills. If they said get down, you got down.”
Ri-hyuk said it like just thinking about it made him sick.
“The issue was there was this guy on the rookie development team called Sato.”
“Sato?”
“Fourth-floor psycho, so Sato. Anyway, there was this one guy who got way too chummy with the trainees. He’d give favors to his buddies and treat anyone he didn’t like like dirt.”
“And you were fine?”
“You think I got along with him? He was dying to eat me alive. But since the CEO liked me, he couldn’t touch me.”
Like how top students get left alone no matter what.
“Anyway, it was bad. The quick-witted kids stuck to him and brown-nosed, factions formed among the trainees. I’d say the only ones wandering solo were me and that Yoon Ki-won kid.”
“So you knew him from before?”
“Nope. Never even said a word to him.”
Ri-hyuk was a lone wolf back then too, and Yoon Ki-won was just this low-presence trainee who didn’t stand out.
The most memorable thing about him was that he seemed like a timid kid.
“But usually when the higher-ups cause a fuss, the lower ones build up stress with nowhere to vent.”
“So they vented on him.”
“Looks like it. I tuned it out, so I didn’t know the details.”
I could picture the atmosphere.
When people are stressed, they look for someone to take it out on.
He must have been the youngest and weakest trainee there—the perfect target.
“That was around the time they were picking debut lineups, and I was basically locked in. Halfway through debut prep, you know? So I was like, whatever, just focus on my stuff….”
That’s when the resentment had been building.
The incident happened on an ordinary day.
Ri-hyuk went to the practice room for after-school practice and saw something weird.
In one corner of the room, a kid doing push-ups on the floor.
He was shaking so badly you could see it from across the room—arms and legs trembling from exhaustion.
The floor was pooled with his sweat.
What was absurd was the company staff and other trainees munching on snacks and hanging out right next to him.
“It was so ridiculous. So I asked, ‘Why’s he getting punished?’ And the answer? Gold.”
“What’d they say?”
“Just ‘cause. Just because. That set me off. So…”
“You fought.”
“Big time. I don’t even know why, but I was pissed.”
Ri-hyuk got his contract terminated that day.
“That’s it. It was a while ago anyway, and if they hadn’t brought it up first, I probably wouldn’t even remember.”
“But he remembered because he was grateful.”
“Now? Back then, when everyone was testifying against me, he was the only one who kept his mouth shut.”
“Hey, what do you expect from a middle schooler?”
“I was in second year middle school too, you know?”
I asked Ri-hyuk, who was squinting at me.
“So, what about the other trainees? What happened to them?”
“I heard that staff guy got fired soon after. The rest probably debuted. Playlist—that snack-munching crew from back then.”
Playlist.
I made a mental note to watch out for that name.
Ri-hyuk shook his head.
“Anyway, my philosophy is, helping others gets you nowhere. You just end up losing out.”
Ri-hyuk said it flatly, looking somehow lonely.
* * *
As I thought back to the story from last Sunday, Ri-hyuk tapped the studio floor with his foot.
“So I don’t really get it. I’ve never relied on anyone or had anyone rely on me. I don’t know what that feels like.”
True, I’d never seen Ri-hyuk vent to or lean on anyone.
“What about Ji-ho?”
“...You serious?”
“Don’t look at me with contempt. It hurts.”
“I’m asking straight up—does Wang Ji-ho seem like he relies on me?”
It didn’t take a second to answer.
“Nope.”
“See? That fox kid relying on me? Ridiculous.”
“Ji-ho’s a fox? That kid’s got zero tact.”
“I’ve watched him for almost three years. He just pretends to be dumb on the outside, but he’s got schemes inside.”
“Hmm, I don’t see it.”
Well. One thing was clear.
Ji-ho didn’t rely on Ri-hyuk.
He probably just saw him as a fun hyung to hang with.
Our kids only leaned on me in tough, dangerous times—they were pretty independent otherwise.
“Hmm…”
This was a headache.
“Ri-hyuk.”
“Yeah?”
“If you knew this was coming, you should’ve said something sooner. Not drop it on me three days before the song’s done.”
“Don’t blame me. I thought it’d work back then.”
I shot a glare at the guy blushing and protesting, then sank into thought.
What to do.
Should I swap it out for a b-side to promote the album?
No, no.
That’d mean re-arranging.
All four tracks on our single were for five singers, so parts distribution was tricky, plus handling Jung-hyun’s rap.
Something? Nah, too negative.
People were sick of it, and worst, DJ Jang So-won.
She’d know right away how half-assed our prep was.
With her pro mindset, we might get an earful after the schedule.
Disappointing fans wasn’t an option.
After mulling it over, the conclusion was to stick with “Night Sea” now.
Maybe he misunderstood my silent contemplation.
“Sorry. My fault.”
“Nah. Can’t blame you for this.”
You can’t fault a kid for growing up without that experience and ask why.
“Maybe a movie with similar vibes would help.”
“Movies hurt my eyes.”
“You read a lot. A novel then…”
“Mostly non-fiction. For literature, stuff like Walden essays? Overly emotional stuff isn’t my taste.”
“...”
I took a deep breath.
Then gave Ri-hyuk a gentle smile.
“You don’t hate me, right?”
“No, not hate, just… a bit…”
“A bit?”
“A bit, in a good way.”
It sounded clumsy, but whatever.
Staring at this picky 18-year-old who hated everything, I finally found a solution.
“Forget warm and fuzzy—let’s replace it with the closest emotion you can feel. When I wrote Night Sea, there was gratitude in it too. We’ll center on that.”
“Gratitude?”
“Yeah. You’ve gotta have someone you’re grateful to.”
“Hmm…”
Surely he had someone.
The chair he sat in creaked as it turned, white sneakers tapping the floor like his train of thought.
Who was he thinking of?
I got curious.
Various emotions flickered over his blank, pale face.
For a brief moment, at the end, a faint smile seemed to linger on his lips.
Ri-hyuk answered readily.
“Yeah, someone I’m grateful to.”
“Who?”
“Do I have to say? Privacy?”
“Fine. Too lame to ask anyway.”
I chuckled and looked at the Night Sea sheet music on the laptop.
“Then let’s base it on that and practice?”
“Sure.”
I smiled back at the guy smiling for the first time in a while.
* * *
The big day finally arrived.
July 6th.
On a muggy summer night with daytime highs of 33 degrees, our dongsaengs saw us off to the van in front of the dorm.
“Have a good one.”
Bi-ju clasped mine and Ri-hyuk’s hands warmly with both of his. His soft voice floated over with the warmth.
“No fighting, you two.”
“When did we ever?”
“Heard from the video staff. 70% of your practice footage was arguments.”
“...”
Bi-ju, who’d been nagging, handed over a Lock & Lock container.
Radio meant lots of talking, so it was our house-husband’s thoughtfulness—snacks for the ride to hydrate.
“Do great, hyung.”
Jung-hyun held out a fist to bump.
Looked painful.
Instead of bumping, I grabbed it like a towel and shook it playfully.
Jung-hyun grinned.
As the warm vibes flowed, Ji-ho fanned himself, complaining it was hot.
“Can we go in now? It’s too damn hot.”
“Hey.”
“Have fun~”
Under our glares, Ji-ho hid behind Jung-hyun, peeking out on tiptoes.
Like a country dog on a stone wall.
“Heard it’s a visible radio today. I’ll spam the chat, so look forward to it. Nickname ‘Ri-hyuk is Pirarucu.’”
“You’re dead.”
“And I sent a gift, so expect it.”
Gift?
Wanted to ask more, but Min-gi hyung urged us to go, so we boarded the Carnival.
We waved to the dongsaengs through the lowering tinted window.
Anyone’d think we were off to war, but hey.
Technically, we were competing with Street Boys, so not wrong.
Let’s do this.
I wiped the cold sweat from my palms and nodded.
* * *
Mokdong HBS building.
In the lobby with its open top and glass walls everywhere, I was busy texting.
Me [Grandma. Grandson’s on radio at 9?]
The 1 vanished right away, but reply came five minutes later.
Grandma [Got it on]
Grandma [That girl singing with you, right?]
Me [Yep. Great sunbae-nim]
As I tapped away, Ri-hyuk tilted his head.
“Who’re you texting?”
“My grandma.”
“Say hi for me.”
“Hold on.”
I typed.
Me [Ri-hyuk says hi]
Grandma [Who?]
Me [Ri-hyuk]
Me [The one who sings great, eyes kinda slanted, super nice personality]
Ri-hyuk trying to snatch the phone caused typos.
Me [You know. Good-singing dongsaeng]
Ri-hyuk finally nodded.
I read him Grandma’s reply.
“She says thanks. And to be good to the hyung in front of you.”
“You made that up.”
“Obviously. Would my grandma say that? She’d say don’t burden him and behave.”
“Tell her I’m raising her grandson well.”
I shook my head with a chuckle.
Last message: We’ll sing later, so listen. Then pocketed the phone.
Good call skipping Street Boys talk.
Debut showcase had all sorts of drama, but Grandma only knew the good stuff.
Her reaction confirmed it.
If I’d told her, she’d be raging now: ‘You okay going on with those damn things?’
“Let’s go, kids.”
Following Min-gi hyung back with coffee boxes from the cafe, we headed out.
Americano and cake slices for the production staff.
While waiting for the elevator.
I asked Ri-hyuk, furiously typing on his phone.
“Who?”
“Wang Ji-ho. Said he sent a gift earlier. Keeps dodging what it is.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Heard Seok-hwan hyung knew. So probably fine.
We’d know once we got up there.
Honestly, Ri-hyuk didn’t seem that curious.
Felt like he was just seeking distraction for his frayed nerves.
Like texting a friend before an awkward situation.
I knew why and smiled.
Ding—
But when the elevator doors opened, my smile vanished.
They say enemies meet on a single log bridge.
Seeing Street Boys and their managers inside, I sensed extreme awkwardness ahead.