So Sweet and Yet So Poignant

It was so sweet and yet so poignant. A week after Gyeowool signed her trainee contract with SS, I simply waited. There was no such thing as a dedicated road manager position for trainees, so I figured it would take time to create the role.

After two weeks, I let my imagination run wild with optimistic thoughts. He must be busy with work. I generously made excuses for him.

By the third week, suspicion began to creep in. No matter how you looked at it, not contacting me even once was strange. Still, I held onto my faith and waited. I trusted the pride Cheon Jonghun had displayed across ten years in the previous round. That man breaking a promise? The very incarnation of pride, going back on words that had left his own mouth? …No way. From my experience, it was difficult to accept.

When the fourth week arrived, I stopped waiting. With the mindset that the fault lay with the one keeping silent, I reached out through every possible channel—his official business number, personal phone, and email. There was no response. It seemed I had been blocked.

Only then did I accept reality. It appeared Cheon Jonghun had deceived me. After thrashing around in fury, I resolved ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that I would one day repay this grudge and faced the truth. Then I opened a job search site. I had decided to give up and take a road manager position at a smaller agency.

That was when a thought flashed through my mind. Wait—I still haven’t used the Future Fragment, have I?

“Reward window! Reward window!”

My sister had left for work, leaving the room empty. Shouting for the reward window in the corner of the room, I found the Future Fragment waiting there obediently. The memory of winning second place in the lottery with this fragment in the previous round sent dopamine surging through my brain.

“Use it!”

Please, lottery numbers!

“One, two, three. Hello! We’re Alcest!”

“Nice to meet you, Alcest! Wow, just having you here brightens up this dreary studio. Look at the camera director grinning like that! I honestly didn’t know he could smile like that until today!”

The audience burst into laughter at the MC’s playful banter. To Gyeowool, that laughter sounded like mockery directed at her. Logically, she knew they were laughing at the cheerful MC. But her emotions refused to accept it that way. Gyeowool was afraid of people.

“But Gyeowool, you’ve been awfully quiet. Don’t tell me the youngest has had all her lines stolen by her unnies?”

Even though the MC had called her name, Gyeowool didn’t register that he was speaking to her. It felt like the entire world was staring at her. It also felt like the entire world was ignoring her. She felt dizzy. Her stomach churned. She thought she might throw up.

“I’m really sorry. Gyeowool hasn’t been feeling well since this morning.”

“What’s this, SS? How hard are you working our cute juniors? Should I tell SS Chairman Cheon Seon-su to give them some vacation time?”

“N-no! Han Gyeowool can do it!”

Snapping back to her senses, Gyeowool jumped up from her seat and flailed through a clumsy dance to show she wouldn’t cause any trouble. The MC, interpreting it as a variety show character bit, chuckled and smoothly changed the subject.

“You’ve come to our Palette with a new album and title track, right? We can’t not listen to it now. Alright, let’s play the music!”

Gyeowool barely held on, clinging to her hazy consciousness. The recording finally ended. As she tried to return to the waiting room to rest her fragile mind, Alcest’s leader Yoon Jung stopped her. She suggested they go to the bathroom together. Gyeowool had no right to refuse.

After confirming no one else was in the restroom, Yoon Jung forcefully shoved Gyeowool toward the wall where she couldn’t be seen from the entrance.

Thud!

“Han Gyeowool. I thought there was nothing new ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you could do to inconvenience us since you cause trouble every single day. But I was wrong.”

Yoon Jung mocked her. “Today’s method of being a nuisance was quite fresh. Truly impressive.”

With every sentence, Yoon Jung jabbed her unnaturally sharp artificial nails into Gyeowool’s chest. The force behind each poke was stronger than it looked, nearly making Gyeowool stagger several times, but she barely endured it. Her eyes stung, yet she held back her tears with practiced skill. If she showed any sign of being hurt—staggering or crying—Yoon Jung would apologize for going too far, only to escalate the “discipline” into something even more insidious and vicious. This was knowledge gained through bitter experience.

“I’m sorry, unnie.”

“What are you going to do about being sorry? Does an apology fix everything?”

She repeated only apologies, praying this scolding would end quickly. Meanwhile, she thought, How did things end up like this?

Gyeowool tried to find the cause in her own faults, but the situation had become twisted long before she joined Alcest’s debut team. Cheon Jonghun had told the SS trainees that the girl group project he was planning, Alcest, would consist of five members. If they wanted to be among those five, they would have to train until they were soaked in sweat and blood.

All thirty-two trainees poured their entire lives into that single goal of debut that Cheon Jonghun had dangled before them. In the process, they had to cut away all the normal things girls their age enjoyed—school, snacks, romance, hobbies. While they wasted time on such things, the competitors beside them would be dancing and singing more. They became blades that performed only one function: being idols.

Even from an ordinary adult’s perspective, it was a harsh trial. Many couldn’t endure the journey and dropped out midway. The remaining trainees labeled them as defeated,, and sharpened their resolve. They vowed they would not leave in such an ugly manner.

As expected, those who left cried bitterly, hung their heads in shame and self-reproach. They looked like losers. But not everyone fit that image. Some of the departing girls seemed to feel liberation. It looked incredibly sweet.

Every time a fallen competitor showed such an expression, the others wavered. Would the time they were investing ever be rewarded? Was this place worth the sacrifices they were making? No one could give them a definite answer. In that anxiety, they grew sharper. They no longer saw the trainee next to them as a colleague, only as a competitor.

They aggressively attacked others over small troubles they would have laughed off before. Instead of helping with mistakes or shortcomings, they took pleasure in seeing them as opportunities to gain the upper hand. By pushing each other, they turned SS’s practice room into an increasingly precarious and unpleasant space.

But there was one person who stemmed that tide. Yoon Seo-ah, the oldest trainee. She mediated conflicts, always encouraged others, and took on annoying chores like cleaning the practice room. No matter the situation, she smiled and radiated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠positive energy. To the female trainees at SS, Yoon Seo-ah was practically a mental pillar.

This was true even for Lily, Coco, Amy, and Yoon Jung—the debut team whose names Cheon Jonghun had called. They believed she would take the one remaining spot in Alcest. They thought she had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠both the ability and character for it. And they hoped for it. With someone as reliable as Yoon Seo-ah leading them through the grueling training and schedule, they believed they could endure.

“The final spot in Alcest will go to this child.”

However, that expectation was betrayed. The last member of Alcest that Cheon Jonghun revealed was not the Yoon Seo-ah they had hoped for. She wasn’t even one of the competitors they had trained with for at least three years. It was Han Gyeowool, who had joined SS as a trainee less than a week ago.

They could not accept that fact or welcome Gyeowool as a colleague. Still young and possessing immature egos, they were consumed by betrayal. And they expressed it. They began to treat Gyeowool with hostility.

Gyeowool could sense that current. However, having never built proper human relationships, she lacked the affinity to step into the gap between the members and ease the atmosphere. She also lacked the courage to approach and improve the situation. Therefore, instead of actively trying to fix things, she simply assumed her own lack of ability and worked even harder. That was the worst choice.

She should have summoned her courage and approached them. At the very least, she should have gotten angry and clashed with them. But she couldn’t. As a result, Lily, Coco, Amy, and Yoon Jung grew increasingly exclusive. Even though they were bound together as the same team, they built a wall between themselves and Gyeowool, treating her as an outsider.

When Gyeowool spoke to them, they responded only with curt answers mixed with irritation. It became routine for them to withhold practice schedules or test times. If Gyeowool tried to eat with them, they would move to another seat. From their reactions, Gyeowool grew frightened and increasingly passive. It was a vicious cycle.

Even after they disbanded the debut team and debuted together under the name Alcest, the ostracism continued. During filming, official schedules, and supervised practices, they maintained a harmonious appearance. But in all other situations, they treated Gyeowool as less than a stranger. They didn’t engage in visible harassment like physical violence. The members had enough sense to know the backlash such actions would bring.

Yet the ways they crossed that line without technically crossing it were varied and constant. That was the current state of affairs.

Even so, Gyeowool tried to look good to the members. She blamed every problem on herself and worked hard so as not to tarnish the name Alcest. At least until one incident occurred.

Not long ago, a scandal erupted between Gyeowool and Chanyeong, the visual member of the popular idol group Shade. Gyeowool thought it was nothing more than common gossip. After all, there was nothing between her and Chanyeong. However, the situation changed dramatically when Chanyeong posted a meaningful message on SNS. The post implied that Gyeowool had cheated on him.

SS responded at the corporate level, but they couldn’t contain the blazing fire. Malicious comments and personal attacks against Gyeowool flooded the internet. Chanyeong’s sasaeng fans sent her threatening letters and messages, and even committed fecal terrorism. They even went to her grandfather’s workshop and caused a disturbance.

Even in that situation, Gyeowool only worried about the damage to those around her. She thought first of the Alcest members whose moods she had ruined with her problem. She apologized again and again. At least until they posted a single message on SNS.

Their post carried a tone of concern for Gyeowool while implying that she had a promiscuous nature in her relationships with men. It was a post filled with malice that suggested she might negatively impact both herself and the team. Gyeowool felt terror. The relationship with the Alcest members, bound by the name of “team,” felt like an unbearably heavy chain. It seemed there was no one on her side anywhere in the world.

The news of her grandfather’s death that arrived at that moment completely shattered Gyeowool. From then on, whenever she heard laughter, it sounded like everyone was laughing at her. Everyone hated her. She was someone who could never become close to anyone. She should never have been born.

Only after taking the strong antidepressants and sleeping pills prescribed at the hospital could Gyeowool fall asleep. In her drug-induced haze, she thought, I want to hear Teacher Taeyang’s voice.

Gyeowool took out her smartphone and typed in Taeyang’s number, which she had sworn never to forget. It was already saved as speed dial one, but she wanted to press the numbers with her own fingers. Yet she couldn’t press the call button.

Ever since her debut team days, she had called Taeyang whenever she had the chance, but he rarely picked up. Even when he did, the conversations were short, always ending with, “I’m busy right now, so I’ll call you back later.” It seemed that as a road manager at a small agency, he was living an incredibly hectic life. He had even mentioned sleeping only two hours for three days straight.

Gyeowool grew afraid that she was disturbing Taeyang’s precious rest time with her calls and gradually stopped contacting him. Instead, she visited the promotional YouTube channel for the girl group he had debuted. The self-produced content featuring seven noisy, laughing girls focused on them as the main characters. But perhaps because it was a small agency with limited staff, Taeyang also appeared in the role of MC.

Even while grumbling, he ran around harder than anyone for their sake and took care of them with genuine kindness. The seven girls accepted his consideration like children, delighted by it.

I’m jealous.

Gyeowool was unbearably envious of that sight. She imagined herself in their place. It was a scene of herself bursting into tears for no reason, and Taeyang gently pulling out a tissue to wipe her tears with care. It was so sweet and yet so poignant that Gyeowool simply broke down crying.