Quite the Parachute Appointment, I Must Say (1)

"Oh, right, Jinhyuk. Now that I think of it, there was something I needed to tell you."

Hyung had been slurping a still-steaming bowl of gukbap—hot rice soup in an earthenware pot—like it was ice water. He left it half-finished and finally looked up. I'd watched him eat like that every single day seven years ago, so the sight should have been familiar, but seeing it again after all this time, I felt once more just what a monster of a man he was. The observation was completely useless, though, and he'd said he had something to tell me, so I shook off the stray thoughts and focused.

"Yes? What is it?"

"You still planning to try your hand as an idol manager?"

"Yes, of course. That's why I let them take me quietly that day."

Even now, thinking of that day seven years ago—rain coming down in sheets—still made me angry. If those crazy bastards hadn't gotten lucky and kidnapped the young lady without knowing a damn thing, it wouldn't have ended the way it did.

But if I looked at it as the thing that let me wash my hands of the gangster life and turn into someone new, then I could call it necessary for the future I'd wanted. And the future I'd set my sights on that day had become today, so now it was all right. It really was all right. From here on, even remembering that day probably wouldn't spark much anger—because starting now, just keeping up with tomorrow would be enough to kill me. The proof that I was about to be that busy was waiting in Hyung's mouth. I cleared my head once more and leaned in for whatever he was about to say.

"Good, then. I set up an agency. I'll parachute you in."

"Pfft—!?"

Except the proof had blown so far past anything I'd expected that it was downright brutal. I was so startled I choked, and the mouthful of gukbap I'd been holding shot out of me on its own. Splat—what escaped my mouth found, with the most natural aim in the world, the face of the man sitting across from me.

"Goddamn it! That's disgusting!"

He looked like a man who could tear into raw meat with his teeth, and yet he was secretly fussy about cleanliness. He shoved his chair back and howled. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did not have the spare attention to care.

"Cough! Cough-cough—hack—urk! Khak!"

Because I was choking far too hard for that. When you feel like you're about to die on the spot, where exactly do you find a spare second to worry about someone else?

"Uh... h-here. Drink some water."

It was bad enough that Hyung, the victim, was the one who poured a cup and held it out to me first. I'm not a man who loses his composure over much, but the scale of this was simply too enormous.

"Haa... haa... hoo."

A good five minutes of coughing and water later, I finally settled. By then Hyung had wiped his face with a tissue and was watching me with a perfectly serious expression. Far too brazen a face for a man who'd been joking. I asked him again.

"...Is that true?"

"Of course."

"You really founded an entertainment agency?"

"Yes! Why do you keep asking! You ever seen me lie?"

"No. Can't say I have."

But then why was it actually true?

Of course, five years ago I'd heard he was starting a business—he'd even told me not to expect any more visits, said he needed to focus on the work. Even so, an entertainment agency was a hard thing to swallow.

"I mean, where would you even get that kind of money?"

He hadn't been down to his last coin, exactly, but his means had been ordinary working-class and nothing more. That a man like that had opened an agency in five years did not go down easy. And the business he'd said he was going into had nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment. What was it again? Something... a security company, I was pretty sure. What did a security firm have to do with an entertainment agency? The question dissolved completely in the answer that followed.

"Money? I've got plenty. You know who my daughter is."

"Ah. Right."

Hyung's daughter. To me, the young lady—Lee Byeol. Seven years ago she'd been nothing but a downy little thing on the verge of debut, a high school freshman and no more. Now—

"Right on cue. There's our young lady."

Nova filled the restaurant TV—the greatest star of the Korean Wave, the one currently bringing honor to the nation. Her standing and popularity in this country were beyond compare, so much so that the news had reached me even in prison. For a young lady like that, setting up a single agency would hardly be difficult. She was a mid-sized company that happened to walk around. The moment her name entered the picture, a story that hadn't possessed a shred of plausibility suddenly held together.

Granted, the young lady herself was a blatant cheat character—the kind who'd become the best singer in Korea in seven years flat, all on her own, and eaten plausibility and everything else for breakfast while she was at it. Still, you couldn't sit there arguing realism over something that had already happened.

"Still, she's quite the devoted daughter. Going so far as to set up an entire agency for her dad."

The last time I'd seen the young lady... well, she'd been asleep, so it hardly counted. The last time I'd seen her actually conscious, she'd been a tomboy to the bone. Talent that bordered on insane, looks that belonged on a leading actress—and still, back then, she was just a seventeen-year-old kid. The kind of child who threw a fit when she wanted something bought, and charged straight in when she wanted to do something, with no idea how frightening the world could be.

That was her, back then. And now that same hopelessly unripe girl had become a superstar who brought glory to the country, and was even putting up the money for her father's business...

"She really grew up well. She really did."

I'm not a man whose eyes go red over just anything, but this time I couldn't help the heat gathering at the corners, or the sting climbing the bridge of my nose. I was sitting there, moved by how she'd grown, when a voice reached me from Hyung—the voice of a man wondering what on earth I was going on about.

"What?"

"Going on about how you only had three years left before you got out, and all that. Said that when you came out, I ought to become the agency president myself, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you wouldn't even be able to look at another company. Told me to grab you and hold on."

Hyung founding an agency... the young lady putting up the money... all of it because of me?

"W-wait, what are you saying? Does the young lady know I got out today? Does she know I was released on a special pardon?"

When I'd sent Hyung the letter saying I'd be freed today on a special pardon, I'd added a line telling him not to breathe a word of it to her. Because she was the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sun of the entertainment world, lighting up everything around her, and I was a violent felon with a red line slashed through my record. I could swear all I wanted that I wouldn't live as a gangster anymore. The red line already drawn wasn't going to vanish, and neither was the fact that I'd served seven years in prison.

So I'd hammered it into that letter, again and again. And he'd gone and spilled the whole thing—gone so far as to found an agency just to keep hold of me? I was in the middle of seriously considering whether today was the day for a little insubordination, whether it was time to sort the hierarchy out properly, when Hyung waved a hand and shook his head.

"No, no. Byeol doesn't know. She barely even texts me unless it's something to do with you."

"Then the agency..."

"Was set up in advance. We opened it a year ago. Build something impressive enough that you can't even look anywhere else, she said—something like that. I'm already worked to death running the security company, and this is bending my spine in half on top of it."

Saying it, he looked genuinely worn out. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a sigh heavy enough to blot out the room. This was a man who'd laughed—bright, loud, ha ha ha—even when a subordinate he trusted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠betrayed him and cleaned out every last coin, delighted that there was nothing left to steal so he could charge ahead without watching his back. Seeing him this slumped made my chest ache for no good reason.

"Anyway, just like you asked, I didn't tell Byeol you got out on the New Year's special pardon. So you don't have to worry about that."

"Thank you, Hyung."

"Thank me for what. Between us."

At the words between us, a smile pulled at my mouth whether I wanted it or not. Hyung and I were closer than brothers born of the same blood—sworn brothers whose bond ran deeper and tighter than any ordinary family affection could reach. And seven years ago, wanting to take even a little of the weight off the guilt he'd carry for me taking the fall for everything, I'd told him to succeed, no matter what. To think he'd actually done it. Even if the money had come from the young lady, it didn't change the fact that Hyung had kept his promise to help me make my dream real. After all, what agency—what celebrity—was ever going to take an ex-con on as a manager?

I was smiling in that warm glow, about to nod, when Hyung spoke again in a voice gone slightly sheepish.

"But just so you know, I can parachute you in as a manager. There's a bit of a problem, though."

"What kind of problem?"

"...What?"

???