Can I Have Him?
Bang! Cheon Jonghun slammed his fist down on the marble table with all his might.
“Me? Jealous of that guy? This Cheon Jonghun?”
It was an intense emotional outburst, completely unlike the perpetually arrogant Cheon Jonghun.
“I have never once failed to achieve a goal I set for myself. If I aimed for first place, I took it. If I wanted results, I produced them. Everything I desired, I claimed!”
Like a beast confronting an intruder, Cheon Jonghun roared, “And you’re saying I’m jealous? Don’t make me laugh. I’m the one who receives jealousy, not the one who feels it.”
Cheon A-ram had been observing her brother’s fury with evident interest. Now she shifted the mood with the skill of an actor playing dual roles.
“You’re right, brother.”
The new atmosphere was that of a sycophant oozing flattery. “After all, that man is nothing more than a job applicant, while you are the heir destined to inherit SS’s very foundation. No matter how modest his talent, how could he possibly close that gap?”
This was a side of her Cheon Jonghun had never seen before.
“Cheon Jonghun is a man who will ascend to the summit, while that man is fated to crawl along the ground. It is as immutable as truth itself. Don’t you agree, brother?”
The words were so sweetly persuasive that even he—who normally despised such obsequious compliments—felt himself sway. It could only be because they came from Cheon A-ram.
Entranced, Cheon Jonghun opened his mouth. “Crawl on the ground? No. That guy’s talent isn’t at that level.”
“Is that so? Or is it simply that you have a good eye? We could always use him as a scout. But that’s all, isn’t it?”
Cheon A-ram spoke in a honeyed voice, as though scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. “One of the sharper blades. Nothing more. He cannot even be compared to you, brother, who was destined from birth to rule the house of SS.”
Cheon Jonghun shook his head. “Insight cannot be reduced to a single phrase like ‘having a good eye.’ It requires expert knowledge of the genre, an innate sense, and the agility to never miss a trend.”
It was not a talent that could be dismissed so lightly.
“But even that is acceptable. If it were only that kind of talent, we could use him as a convenient tool, just as you say. However, that man is a genius in another sense entirely.”
Though Cheon Jonghun denied it, what stirred jealousy in him toward Seon Taeyang was not his insight. It was the ability to take trainees burdened with vile habits—like waste destined for the trash—and elevate them in just six days to a level that satisfied his own exacting aesthetic standards. The ability the world called producing, the very field in which Cheon Jonghun held the greatest confidence.
“Was it possible only because the child named Gyeoul possessed exceptional talent? Influence must have played a part, of course. A child without talent could never have endured such a schedule.”
Cheon Jonghun’s gaze was no longer on his sister. He was staring at the Seon Taeyang in his memory.
“Yet having a talented child alone is never enough.”
It required the presence of the finest producer.
“Judgment. Leadership. Analytical power. Precise knowledge of music and dance. The ability to calculate and envision a finished image. And above all, an intuitive eye for talent. All of these are necessary.”
Cheon A-ram asked, seemingly puzzled. “Don’t you possess those very talents, brother?”
“…”
Cheon Jonghun could not answer.
“Wow.”
From his silence, Cheon A-ram understood everything. Cheon Jonghun—who possessed such talents—had judged that he could not do it. Which meant Seon Taeyang carried a talent beyond even his ability to measure.
“That man will undoubtedly reach the summit one day. And when he does, he will draw his blade to topple me. Because right now, the person closest to the top is me.”
Cheon Jonghun could still see the look in Seon Taeyang’s eyes. The gaze that seemed unable to comprehend why it was considered impossible. The eyes of a genius regarding an ordinary man. It was a familiar look—the very one Cheon Jonghun so often directed at others.
“This isn’t about his personality. It is the fate of someone whose talent juts out like an awl. He will rise to the top.”
Cheon Jonghun shivered faintly. “I have no hobby of personally raising the person who will one day plunge a knife into my back.”
Just as Cheon Jonghun would claim the throne, Seon Taeyang would move in the same manner. Because he was the kind of man who could.
“Hmm… I understand your position, brother. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like a perfectly reasonable decision on your part.”
Cheon A-ram nodded, offering empathy. But the real point was yet to come.
“…That said. Regardless of the reason, you ultimately let that man named Seon Taeyang go, didn’t you?”
Cheon A-ram twirled her fork playfully like a magician before stabbing it deep into a snail. “In that case, can I have him?”
At her provocative words, Cheon Jonghun’s brow furrowed deeply. “Did you not hear a single thing I just said? Do you really think I’ll gladly give my permission?”
Cheon A-ram smiled brightly. “You and I aren’t competitors, are we? We’re family. Wouldn’t it be better if I managed him rather than letting him sharpen his blade in ignorance?”
“You and that guy don’t match.”
“In what way?”
“You can smell it when someone approaches with selfish intent.”
It was both a chronic affliction and a gift Cheon A-ram had inherited from her grandfather—the supernatural ability to detect impure motives through scent alone. In chaotic times it might have made her a queen, but to her it was hardly a welcome talent. It created hardships tantamount to mysophobia.
Under the ability’s strict standards, nearly everyone gave off a stench. Food or environments could be replaced, but people could not. Because of this, she had been forced to abandon normal human relationships from the moment she was born.
“Well, that’s true. When I’m beside someone with a rotten core, the stench makes me nauseous and gives me goosebumps. It becomes hard to even breathe.”
Cheon Jonghun remembered how, as a child, she had been rushed to the emergency room countless times because of it.
“Even I think it’s a strange symptom. I can tolerate physical filth just fine, but I can’t stand people with filthy hearts.”
Cheon A-ram covered her mouth playfully, as if she had just remembered something. “Ah, but family is an exception. So don’t worry, brother.”
Though he gave her a doubtful look, Cheon Jonghun nodded. “In the end, that man simply used talented children for his own gain. Asking for an introduction to SS was the same. That is completely at odds with the kind of person you desire.”
The Seon Taeyang Cheon Jonghun described appeared exactly that way.
“Therefore, you will never become entangled with him. He is merely another ambitious man common in this world. He will surely give off a terrible stench.”
“…I don’t know why, but something about your words doesn’t feel true, brother.”
“Are you saying I’m lying to you right now? I have never lied to you in my entire life.”
“That’s correct. You don’t lie to me. But you frequently withhold information, don’t you? Saying it’s something I don’t need to know.”
Just as Cheon Jonghun understood his sister, Cheon A-ram understood him.
“Right now my senses are telling me that you’re hiding something about that person.”
At some point, Cheon A-ram’s aura had shifted from that of a sweet flatterer to that of a hungry serpent. Cheon Jonghun felt an oppressive pressure, as though he had become the prey.
“What reason did he give?”
“…What reason are you referring to?”
“The reason he wanted to join SS.”
Cheon Jonghun simply stared at her without answering. Cheon A-ram met his gaze, then let out a small laugh.
“If you have no intention of telling me, it won’t matter if I look into it myself, will it?”
Cheon Jonghun glared at her sullenly, set down his utensils, and rose from his seat. As he put on his coat, he said, “Do as you like. After all, the only person who could possibly satisfy the aesthetic standards of a perfectionist like you is probably Seo Suyeon.”
“I think so too.”
Cheon A-ram brought the sliced snail to her lips and murmured softly, “But this time, I hope that intuition is wrong.”
The foldable dining table in our cramped little home was covered with popular delivery dishes—fried chicken, tteokbokki, pizza—and a cake.
All of it paid for with Gyeoul’s grandfather’s money.
Gyeoul had stuck candles into the cake and was now raising a glass of orange juice in a toast, celebrating the joy of passing the audition. My older sister wore an expression that suggested she found the whole noisy affair a bit embarrassing, yet she still played along. It was a very adult attitude.
Neither I nor my sister were the type to make a fuss over such milestones. Birthdays usually slipped by until three months later, when one of us would mutter, “Oh, right—my birthday passed, didn’t it?” and that would be the end of it.
When I shared that experience, Gyeoul replied, “I don’t have any friends either, so I’ve never done anything like this! But I really wanted to try it at least once!”
Aigoo, Gyeoul.
When she put it like that, it felt impossible to tell her to blow out the candles. Still, there were lines that couldn’t be crossed.
“It might disturb the neighbors, so put down that birthday firework.”
In an apartment built with cheap materials and zero soundproofing, even a small firework could qualify as a serious nuisance. Gyeoul set the firework down with a crestfallen expression.
“…Okay.”
While our attention was elsewhere, my sister silently tossed something she’d been holding into the trash bin. I glanced over discreetly. It was the birthday firework.
Sister… you were actually enjoying it, weren’t you?
For the sake of my sister’s dignity, I quickly changed the subject.
“By the way, what are you going to do about lodging?”
“…Huh? Lodging? Since I passed, won’t the company provide it?”
I wanted to point out how presumptuous it was to assume a mere trainee—not even part of a debut team—would automatically receive company housing. But fortunately, at this point in time, SS was living up to its status as one of the big three agencies and had begun offering dorms to trainees from out of town. So her assumption wasn’t entirely off-base.
That was only after signing the contract, however.
“You haven’t signed a contract yet, remember? We only agreed to short-term training.”
“…Didn’t I pass?”
“You could say it’s practically a pass, but not officially. You have to complete the short-term training before it becomes a full acceptance. The company needs to observe your everyday behavior before they can sign you with confidence, right?”
There were far too many trainees who appeared perfectly diligent during interviews and tests, only to reveal bizarre sides of themselves once they actually started training.
“That’s why we do the short-term training before any contract. It’ll probably be at least a week to a month before contract discussions even begin. That’s why I’m asking. You’ll need to figure out where to stay in Seoul during that time.”
It must have been something she hadn’t considered at all; Gyeoul’s pupils trembled violently. Soon she glanced nervously between me and my sister, then silently knelt and bowed her head.
“One month. No—please let me impose for just one more week!”
“Then get out of our house a little!”