I Will Live for Myself

The quest window floated before my eyes, its text gleaming with malicious intent.

“This bastard’s at it again.”

I waved my hand dismissively, swatting the quest window away like an annoying fly. The Management System that had suddenly appeared one day, claiming it would turn me into the greatest manager of all time, seemed dead set on turning me into a complete piece of shit.

It kept throwing out quests that demanded I frame my junior manager as the mastermind behind some scandal and cut him loose, or sow discord between the agency and its artists to poach talent. These weren’t manager quests—they were industrial espionage missions. Most of the time, I simply ignored the immoral requests.

Succeeding at work and earning recognition for my competence didn’t require selling my soul. A handful of ethical quests had been enough to get me this far. Of course, if I followed every single one, I’d probably climb even higher. But I had no desire to become the kind of person who traded away his conscience.

Instead, I wanted to become someone a little more human. Yes. I wanted to be a good person.

Not some saint from a biography who practiced heroic self-sacrifice. The kind of good person I aspired to be was more like a kind neighbor—the sort everyone welcomed with open arms.

The world isn’t something you can survive alone. In life, you inevitably form connections with others. In those relationships, I wanted to be remembered as a good person rather than a selfish one.

That’s why I never turned my back on friends in difficult situations. I treated their crises as my own and never hesitated to roll up my sleeves. I didn’t shy away from offering my time, money, or opportunities. Living that way gradually earned me a reputation as the most well-connected person in the management industry.

Invitations to grab drinks came in daily. People assured me that if I ever needed help with anything, I should call them without hesitation. I was satisfied. I felt proud of my choices and dedication. More than the money or position I’d built, I considered my vast network of relationships my greatest asset.

Then one day, a scandal erupted over unfair contracts between my company, Flower Entertainment, and its artists. The artists who had shared the same roof with me came asking for help. In response, the System issued a quest ordering me to side with the company and crush the trainees who had rebelled.

But I ignored that demand and chose to act like the good person I wanted to be. I united the artists’ rights and helped them through the legal battle. What should have been a straightforward court case dragged on endlessly. As the settlement dragged out, some artists began feeling the threat to their livelihoods.

While I was agonizing over what to do for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them, Ban Seongcheol—the man I’d competed against and clashed with for over a decade at Flower Entertainment—made me an offer.

“Taeyang, we’ve bumped heads in all sorts of ways until now, but this time… I actually agree with you.”

Ban Seongcheol spoke in a more serious tone than I’d ever heard from him.

“The company has crossed the line. They’ve completely abandoned any sense of human decency. Right now, you’re the only one who can protect those kids.”

“…Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Not this time, you idiot. Have you ever seen me joke around with the kids’ livelihoods?”

He had a point. Ban Seongcheol genuinely cared for the trainees. Even if that affection had gone too far and gotten him sued for sexual harassment after sniffing a trainee’s tracksuit.

“And this is something only you can do! So take the kids and go independent. They’re tied down by the company right now, but if they can even just do events, making money will be easy. I’ll help as much as I can with the cleanup and convincing the kids.”

After gathering internal information on Flower Entertainment, I accepted his proposal. Just as he said, I was the only one who could truly stand by those children’s side.

I led the artists who had rebelled against the company and had nowhere else to go, and established a new agency. Every connection I had who knew the situation offered their support, saying they would cheer me on and lend their strength. It felt like the whole world was on my side.

That was how I stepped into the wild jungle known as the entertainment industry.

Flower Entertainment’s sabotage was blatantly obvious. They blocked the artists I’d taken with me from appearing on broadcasts and made sure they were left off event lineups. Still, I trusted my connections. With the power of those relationships who had promised to help whenever I needed it, overcoming this obstacle shouldn’t be too difficult.

That belief marked the beginning of my downfall.

The singer Mint, whom I had discovered and raised to success. PD Kim Hansu, who had fallen out of favor in company politics but survived thanks to my help. Even composer Oh Jinwoo, whose plagiarism suspicions I had helped suppress. Every last one of them turned their backs on me.

Their excuses varied. They couldn’t get permission from their superiors. They were too busy right now. The other party apparently held a grudge against them too. But in the end, there was only one real reason.

I was no longer useful to them.

“Do these bastards even realize I still have their weaknesses?”

I still had the materials I’d received as quest rewards. I seriously considered just giving up and blowing everything up. But I worried about the kids who would have to endure the aftermath with me.

I had people I needed to protect. Yeah… what fault did the kids have in any of this? I just had to endure it.

To swallow the bitter taste of that harsh reality, I poured alcohol into my empty stomach.

“Oppa, why are you drinking alone at this hour?”

“Oh, Seri. You shouldn’t see me like this at the company. I’ll clean this up right away.”

Seri let out a small sigh.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing major, but…”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore and poured out the resentment that had been stabbing at my chest. It was a complaint about how all the people who had once sung about repaying my kindness had now turned away. As the boss, I knew I shouldn’t be saying such things, but because it was Seri—who had always treated me warmly—I let myself vent.

She was like a younger sister who had always believed in me and followed me, so my heart had loosened.

“Oppa, so what exactly are you trying to say?”

That was why Seri’s following words caught me completely off guard.

“Did you want me to defend them and take your side? Or did you want me to curse them together with you, calling them terrible people?”

“…Seri?”

“Ah, so you wanted comfort—someone to tell you that none of this is your fault?”

“No… Seri. That’s not what I was hoping for… I’m sorry. You must be struggling too, and here I am complaining.”

She must have been holding back her own feelings, yet I’d shown her such a pathetic side. I should at least comfort our struggling leader.

“I’ll work even harder. So please, let go of your anger.”

“Ha… Even now, those are the words that come out of your mouth?”

Seri ran a hand through her hair in clear frustration.

“Oppa, you think everyone likes you and wants to get close to you, don’t you? They don’t. They only buttered you up because you looked like an easy mark—someone they could suck dry and then throw away.”

If this had been earlier, I definitely would have argued back. But now, I couldn’t deny it.

Still, I wasn’t completely without a response.

“Maybe that’s true for them, but you stayed with me even in the hard times, Seri.”

Yes. Seri had stayed by my side even when things got tough. That was the only reason I could still find the strength to keep going.

“Stayed with you? Ha… Actually, that’s exactly why I came to talk to you.”

Seri handed me a document folder.

“What’s this?”

“Can’t you read? It’s a contract.”

The document was a transfer agreement stating their intention to return to Flower Entertainment. Given that they had rebelled, they wouldn’t receive good treatment. I wondered if this was really the right choice.

“…What about the other members? Did they all agree?”

“They said it would be uncomfortable to face you, so I volunteered to represent them. This isn’t just my decision—we discussed it thoroughly among ourselves and reached this conclusion.”

…I see. So Rangsi, Ha-won, and everyone else felt the same way.

“Don’t complicate things and just let us go. If you truly care about us and aren’t just being hypocritical, then do that.”

Leaving those words behind, Seri walked out of the president’s office. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even reach out to stop her. I simply watched her leave in silence, not even touching the drink that had been poured for me.

Seri’s words—that if I wasn’t being hypocritical, I should let them go—echoed in my ears.

Since the kids had already left my hands, I considered just giving up and blowing everything up along with Flower Entertainment. But in the end, I pulled myself together.

“Right. If there’s a lifeboat, the people who can be saved should be saved.”

Of course, surviving thanks to a lifeboat didn’t mean they could withstand the massive waves of the vast ocean. Which meant there was one thing I truly needed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to do if I really cared about the kids.

I called Ban Seongcheol, the one who had helped me go independent.

“Seongcheol, sorry for calling when you’re probably busy.”

“Yeah, Taeyang. What’s up?”

“Since the contract has already come out, you probably already know, but the kids have decided to go back. …Given the bad atmosphere when they left, going back won’t be easy for them to adjust.”

“…I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suppose so. From the company’s perspective, they’ll be seen as traitors.”

“Exactly. So the company might hold a grudge and just cycle them through event venues, or force them into low-quality schedules.”

Flower Entertainment was more than capable of doing exactly that.

“Of course, since this is a profit-driven business, they can do whatever they want, but we should still maintain some basic human decency, right?”

“…”

“Please mediate for me in the middle. You’re the only one I can trust.”

“Pfft…”

The moment I finished speaking, Ban Seongcheol burst into laughter so hysterical that the phone shook. Even though we’d known each other for over a decade, I had never heard him laugh like this.

“Hey, are you seriously that stupid?”

“…What?”

“I’m the only trustworthy person? Heh heh heh. Do you even know who blocked your music show appearances and stopped composers from giving you songs before you spout that kind of line?”

“…It was you?”

“That’s right, you moron! I did it to get rid of you and earn recognition from the company. Heh heh heh. Thanks to you, my promotion is going smoothly.”

Ban Seongcheol spoke in a refreshingly bright voice.

“Whew… That feels so good. Do you have any idea how fucking annoying it was every time you talked about ‘human decency’? How sick I got every time you played the good guy and only said nice things?”

“…”

“Is that the kind of thing a businessman should say? You should have gone bankrupt a long time ago!”

This son of a bitch.

“Every time you started something, somehow everything just fell perfectly into place. While other people were bleeding their asses off doing dirty work to barely scrape together results, you—a high school graduate—would catch up like it was the most natural thing in the world! Do you know how disgusting that was to watch?!”

“…I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about it. We fought sometimes, but I thought we got along pretty well otherwise?”

“The fact that you saw me enduring all that shit and bowing my head as ‘getting along’ just proves how good my acting was.”

Rage and resentment surged up from deep within my chest. I barely swallowed it down and spoke as calmly as I could. I wanted—at the very least—to hear him say he would take care of the Grace members. No, I needed to hear it. Otherwise, I felt like I would blow everything up.

“Seongcheol, still… you didn’t have to go this far, did you?”

“This far?”

“If I was that unpleasant to look at, you wouldn’t have had to see me anymore after I went independent. Instead of sabotaging me, you could have just treated me like a stranger. The promotion was obviously going to be yours once I left anyway.”

“Ah, that’s true. …But there was no reason not to do it, was there? It feels so damn satisfying!”

In my small president’s office, only Ban Seongcheol’s laughter echoed.

“Thanks for all your hard work playing the hypocrite!”

The call ended. The low beep of the dial tone rang out. My stomach churned. I checked my smartphone. There were no messages at all. Just three months ago, that phone had rung without a moment’s rest.

In the cramped president’s office, there was only me.

The strong front I had desperately maintained finally shattered.

“Hic… hic.”

Anger toward Ban Seongcheol surged up, but I could understand it. After all, there could be at least one person in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the world who hated me for no reason. Wanting everyone to like me was the truly insane greed.

But still.

Just as there could be one person in the world who hated me without any reason…

Couldn’t there have been at least one person who truly cared about me?

Ban Seongcheol held a high position and Flower Entertainment was a large company, but they didn’t possess the kind of overwhelming power that could blanket the entire entertainment industry. They could ask other agencies, celebrities, composers, and PDs to boycott my company. But what they offered in return was at most a few song contracts, promises of appearances, or vague assurances of maintaining good relationships.

It could damage their position, but it was the kind of offer that could easily be ignored if one chose to. Yet not a single person ignored that small loss to help me.

Not one.

I tried to hold it in, telling myself how pathetic I was being, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I felt incredibly stupid. The way I had naively played the fool and wagged my tail thinking it was wonderful now seemed so utterly idiotic. Even I found the sight of myself pathetically crying alone to be ugly.

“Fuck… fuck. Hic.”

My wish to become a good person felt truly foolish. I wanted to do it all over again. If I could be given just one chance—one single chance—I could become the most selfish person in the world. No matter how much the Management System demanded quests that turned me into human garbage, I was confident I could follow every single one.

At that moment, when I had lost everything, a new quest appeared.

It was the opportunity I had longed for so desperately.