Smiling Like Spring
"Um, Team Leader Cheon. It seems you'll need to get in the car right away for the next schedule."
Seo Suae, the employee who always stayed by his side managing Cheon Jonghun's schedule, spoke to him cautiously. But he didn't answer her. He simply stood there rigidly, as if lost in thought.
Even after Taeyang and Gyeoul had left, Cheon Jonghun couldn't bring himself to move from the lobby. As Seo Suae had pointed out, he should have left immediately if he considered the next schedule, but he couldn't. Seon Taeyang's final words kept circling through his mind.
'I hope Gyeoul is smiling in that light.'
He understood the context of those words through knowledge and experience. It was a tough industry to survive without yearning and dreams for stardom, so even Cheon Jonghun, who had devoted himself to this world, had once harbored similar feelings. Even so, he had greatly undervalued it. The pure wish for one's artist to be happy was a childish notion Cheon Jonghun had graduated from ten years ago.
"An artist smiling?"
"...Yes?"
Seo Suae thought the words were directed at her and answered in surprise. But that seemed to be a misunderstanding. His words weren't aimed at her.
"That's the kind of childish thinking only amateurs who can't let go of their fan hearts would have. We're merchants who create a product called idols and take money from customers called fans."
Cheon Jonghun continued speaking to himself, staring blankly at the lobby's front entrance where Gyeoul and Taeyang had exited.
"The first thing to consider is creating high-quality products that will satisfy the customers. The second and third are the same. Creating a finished product of sellable quality. That's all there is to it."
In Cheon Jonghun's view, that was what a professional was. That was what an expert looked like.
"Something like an artist's smile doesn't even make the tenth priority. It's utterly unimportant!"
That was the definition of the producer profession that Cheon Jonghun had established after cutting and carving himself down the path of success. He had never doubted it. So why was he making excuses to himself? Cheon Jonghun couldn't understand the reason.
Suddenly, the expression Seon Taeyang had given him flashed through his mind. The man had looked at him with pity as he listed conditions to hold onto him, as if offering sympathy.
"Seo Suae!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Starting right now, contact every agency SS has any connection to. No—contact every single agency, whether we have ties to them or not!"
Seo Suae, frightened by the unprecedented fury Cheon Jonghun displayed, still asked the one thing she needed to know to carry out his order.
"...What exactly should I tell them?"
Cheon Jonghun spoke like a beast unable to contain its bloodlust.
"...Any agency that takes in Seon Taeyang and Han Gyeoul should prepare to be at war with SS."
Cheon Jonghun knew this action would leave a massive stain on his career. He knew he would regret it someday. Carrying out this single statement would diminish SS's prestige. Reporters smelling blood would dig up dirt, his standing within SS would plummet, and the succession structure might even shake. Even so, he couldn't leave Taeyang and Gyeoul alone. If they succeeded right in front of him, it felt like everything he had built over his lifetime would come crashing down.
Those two geniuses would surely soar above his head one day.
"Hey, Gyeoul."
"Yes?"
"We're outside now. We won't run into any SS employees, and we definitely won't bump into the Alcest kids."
"...Right."
"So can you let go of my hand now?"
"..."
Gyeoul tightened her grip as if she had no intention of doing so, squeezing even harder. My sister watched the two of us with a strange look in her eyes.
"Looks like you two have something to talk about. I'll head in first."
"No, sis, we don't really have anything to discuss alone."
My sister flipped me the middle finger and headed toward where she'd parked the car.
...I was the one holding the keys.
Gyeoul kept bowing until my sister's back disappeared from view. Of course, she never let go of my hand. It was awkward.
"Gyeoul. Then, can I finish asking the question I was about to ask earlier?"
I recalled what Gyeoul had said as she ran out to the lobby.
'...It was because I was embarrassed to show that side to Teacher Taeyang.'
"What did you mean by embarrassed?"
Our connection had been short, but Gyeoul and I had shown each other more than enough unsightly sides. I wondered what there was left to feel embarrassed about at this point.
"We've already been through the whole precognition thing together. There wasn't really anything to hide, was there?"
The situation had resolved well enough, but if Gyeoul had actively communicated and shared her thoughts with me, it could have been solved much more easily. I had charged forward because I'd seen the future; otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to act that way. In every sense, reaching out to each other would have been the right move. It was difficult since SS had confiscated the smartphone, but if we looked for a way, we'd find one.
Saying she was embarrassed had ultimately been Gyeoul's way of avoiding communication. That was what puzzled me. Weren't we pretty compatible in our own way?
"...Teacher Taeyang."
"Yeah. Speak comfortably."
Gyeoul wore a cold, dry expression—neither crying nor smiling bashfully. It was the same face she'd had when I first found her hanging from the bridge railing.
"The truth is, I'm a much more frustrated, dull, and useless kid than what you think I am, Teacher Taeyang."
I wanted to refute her self-deprecation but held back. It looked like she still had more to say.
"When I first met you, I told you I'd lost my wallet and was looking for it, remember?"
"I do."
"That was a lie."
"Then what were you actually doing?"
"I was wondering if anyone would come looking for me if I fell from there."
Hearing the truth made my breath catch in my throat.
"...Why were you thinking something like that?"
"Losing the money wasn't a lie. It just wasn't at that bridge. I think I probably lost it at the train station where I had my last conversation with Yeji. That was the only place I'd taken my wallet out."
The culprit was painfully obvious.
"Yeji, who came to see me off, said she'd check the wallet before getting on the train. I was so stupid—I handed it over without a single objection. I didn't even check it afterward. I thought that was what trust meant."
"..."
"I only took the wallet out when I got to Seoul and tried to catch a taxi. The cash and cards were all gone."
"That fucking bitch."
I made a silent vow. Separate from Gyeoul's grandfather dealing with Yeji through the law, I would make sure to give her hell too.
Gyeoul gave a weak smile as she watched me shiver with rage while cursing Yeji, then continued.
"You'll probably think it's strange that I climbed up on that railing over something like that. But Yeji was truly an important person to me."
Gyeoul opened the hand that wasn't holding mine and counted on her fingers one by one.
"My grandfather doesn't like me. The kids in my class don't like me. My mom and dad don't like me. The kids at the dance academy don't like me either."
One finger remained.
"It was only Yeji. The only person who ever said they liked me."
I could feel the trembling in Gyeoul's hand.
"I knew Yeji didn't purely like me. She would only smile if I bought her things, and she didn't like it when I tried to act like I knew better. ...Still, even that twisted relationship was incredibly precious to me."
I gently squeezed her trembling hand.
"Because it was my only relationship. It was the only thing I had."
Hoping she would realize I was here now.
"So I climbed onto the railing. Because I thought nothing was left for me. ...And that's when you appeared, Teacher Taeyang."
That had been our first meeting.
"Your eyes sparkled when you looked at me. Like you'd discovered a jewel. It was the first time in my life I'd ever received a look like that."
It really had been like discovering a jewel. To me, whose eyes had rolled back after seeing the quest, she had looked like an opportunity lying on the ground.
"I didn't want someone like you to see me as a stupid kid attempting suicide. So I lied and threw a tantrum."
The sudden kneeling and begging must have been quite troublesome.
"You looked at me so favorably, praising me so much and placing all those expectations on me. Even though in reality I'm just a stupid, dull, gloomy failure."
She verbally tore into herself as if she had no choice.
"Even so, I wanted to remain a talented kid in your eyes. That's why I did it."
"You do have talent, Gyeoul. Enough that calling you a genius wouldn't be an exaggeration."
Gyeoul shook her head.
"The real me—who can't adapt, can't get along with the other kids, can't even do the choreography properly, and gets bullied by Yoon Jung—isn't the genius you talk about. ...Showing you that side of me and having you acknowledge it was truly embarrassing."
Gyeoul lowered her head as if she couldn't bear to meet my eyes.
"I can never become that kind of genius. So there's no reason for you to invest your time in me. You'd be better off finding a better kid."
Gyeoul was saying she hoped I would find someone else. But from where I stood, it seemed like she wanted something completely different from those words. Rather, it looked like she wanted the certainty that I wouldn't leave her.
That made sense. After all, she was still gripping my hand tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.
Don't worry, Gyeoul. I have no intention of letting you go.
"Didn't I tell you a month ago that I would bet my entire remaining life on you succeeding and becoming the best idol?"
Gyeoul nodded silently.
"I won't just leave it at words. I'll bet my entire future on you."
I knelt on one knee and matched her eye level as she kept her head lowered.
"I'll do everything with you from now on. No matter what agency you join, I'll follow you. And I'll make sure you rise to the very top. No matter how long it takes. No matter how far."
I want to leech off your genius life. Will you let this leech cling to you?
A small smile bloomed on Gyeoul's face at my words. But it was quickly swallowed by an even greater sadness.
"...I'm really happy. Those are such happy words. But you shouldn't follow through on them."
"Why not?"
I asked while wiping away the fresh tears flowing down her face with my free hand and a tissue. Strangely, the more I wiped, the more they seemed to fall. Even through that waterfall of tears, Gyeoul spoke each word clearly and firmly.
"It would be good if we succeeded, but if we fail, there's no way for me to compensate you for your time and effort, Teacher Taeyang. ...Even if I gave you everything I have, I couldn't make up for it."
"If I can't succeed with you, that's my fault. Why would you need to compensate me? If anything, I should be the one compensating you."
If I fail with a kid whose major stats are all A-rank, I deserve to drop dead.
"Even so, if it all falls apart, then everything ends! All this time, all these moments!"
As if the emotions she couldn't fully express with words were overflowing, Gyeoul's hands and eyes trembled with cold. Hoping that chill would melt even a little, I smiled as I met her shaking gaze.
"If being an idol fails, we can just do something else."
"...Like what?"
"Well... how about internet streaming? You're pretty, Gyeoul. Extremely pretty. Just turn on the camera and viewers are guaranteed. I'll handle the editing."
"...What if that fails too?"
"Then let's open a pub. I'll cook, you serve. We'll set up a small stage in the corner, and if you stop serving every now and then to sing, customers will flock like clouds."
"...What if that fails too?"
I listed everything that came to mind—from a music academy to a retirement home to a maid café. At some point I was just throwing out ridiculous ideas to make her laugh, but Gyeoul's tears only grew heavier.
...Is the maid café that sad?
Gyeoul grabbed my left hand—the one wiping her tears. Holding both my hands, she stared straight into my eyes.
"Teacher Taeyang."
"Yeah?"
"Let's stay together for a really, really long time."
"Okay."
Han Gyeoul smiled. Like spring, without living up to her name.