You're Handsome
Seated in the passenger seat with her teeth chattering and her whole body trembling, Gyeowool carefully spoke up.
“...Manager Taeyang, maybe you should reconsider? No matter how I think about it, I feel like Sister Gaeul or Yeoreum would do a much better job than me.”
Aigoo, our little outcast.
When Gyeowool had first said those words, I had approached the situation with care. I felt genuine pity for the trauma she carried and the crushing lack of confidence that came with it. After all, she was a child bearing that kind of pain. That was why I had patiently laid out every logical reason, one by one, until she understood why she had to appear on Girl 100. Repeating the process had never felt like a burden.
But there was a limit. Trust me a little, Gyeowool. I have to drag you onto that stage.
How could she still be like this on the actual day of recording?
Deciding to go all out, I launched into the most extreme praise I could muster.
“Gyeowool, why do you think I’m sending you instead of Gaeul or Yeoreum?”
“Because I’m the only one whose unflattering moments were caught on camera, so you’re using that to trick the writers into giving me an entertainment character and create dramatic contrast on stage?”
She knows the exact reason. So why is she acting like this?
“That’s part of it. But the important reason is even simpler.”
“...What is it?”
“Because you’re simply the best.”
“...?”
Gyeowool kept trembling as she stared at me.
“The best?”
Her eyes held anxiety and the faintest spark of hope.
“...Are you saying that objectively? Or is that just your personal opinion, Manager Taeyang?”
She looked at me with a brief flash of brightness, but then her own words seemed to deflate her completely.
“...Haha, of course it’s just empty flattery. I’m sorry.”
It seemed even Gyeowool recognized that the praise was excessive. In my heart I wanted to tell her it was objective fact, but I knew she would only interpret it as encouragement meant to lift her spirits.
Time to really loosen my lips.
“No one can truly see things with complete objectivity. People might claim they’re being objective, but everyone evaluates the world through their own subjective lens shaped by their unique experiences and knowledge.”
“....”
“In that sense, my version of objectivity tells me that you, Gyeowool, are the best.”
Gyeowool’s body went rigid. The trembling stopped entirely.
“Am I the best to you, Team Leader Seon?”
“Yes. You’re the best. That’s both my objectivity and my personal view.”
“...I’m Manager Taeyang’s best?”
Her face flushed bright red, then suddenly drained of all color as her hands began to shake violently. In a voice so soft I could barely catch it, she muttered, “...That can’t happen. ...I have to help Sister Gaeul.”
She looked more unstable than I had ever seen her. I had only meant to ease her tension—what was happening? Had the extreme praise somehow made her burden even heavier?
This wouldn’t do. I pulled the car over, stepped into a nearby café, and bought her favorite banana mocha cream frappuccino. We had left with two full hours to spare before recording, so there was plenty of time.
“Here, Gyeowool. Eating something sweet helps loosen the nerves.”
She accepted the cup with careful hands. Her eyes looked clearer now, as if she had managed to collect herself while I was gone.
“I’m sorry, Manager Taeyang. I swore I wouldn’t show you this side of me anymore... You believed in me, yet I’m still being so pathetic. I really am a worthless person.”
Gyeowool hid her still-trembling hands and looked straight into my eyes.
“I’ll change from now on. I won’t be the timid, dependent Han Gyeowool anymore. I’ll become the talented trainee you believe in. I’ll grow into someone who can handle things on her own without making you worry so much. That way, you can focus more on Sister Gaeul and Yeoreum.”
“You don’t have to handle it alone.”
“...What?”
Why did she always try to shoulder everything by herself when someone was right beside her? The only time you truly had to be strong alone was when no one else was there.
“I can’t do everything by myself either. My daily routine is starting a dozen things at once and leaving the cleanup to the CEO or Director Seoyeon.”
Whether it was recruiting Gaeul or confronting Jin Baek-ho at Jin Kang Group, everything had only come together because others had helped me. Believing you had to handle everything alone was the kind of arrogance I had only held right after my regression. I wasn’t nearly that remarkable.
“So let’s rely on each other a little. If I start to lean, you push me back up. If you slip, I’ll lend you my back. We’ve been doing exactly that all this time, haven’t we?”
“...I’m not the one who did well. I was the one always leaning on you.”
“It’s because you leaned on me that we’ve made it this far.”
Gyeowool. You were my beginning.
“Do you remember when we first met? You told me you needed someone to push you forward. Looking back now, I think I needed that kind of person too at the time.”
After meeting Gyeowool and being strangely drawn along by her, I had encountered Cheon Aram, then Seo Suyeon, then Gaeul, Yeoreum, Hyerin, Seok Hyeonwu, and Song Yohan. I changed because of them. I failed to change because of them. I remained the same because of them. And so the person I was now had come to exist.
If I hadn’t met Gyeowool right after my regression, none of those encounters would have happened. I would have become a twisted man obsessed with some warped sense of compensation, caring only about rising above others. I might have earned a little more money, but I wouldn’t have been a pleasant sight to anyone watching.
“I like who I am now. And the reason is you.”
Gyeowool stared at me blankly for a moment, then spoke.
“Manager Taeyang must become happy.”
Her plain, straightforward words brought a smile to my face. How could anyone hate a child who spoke like that?
“Thank you.”
I gently stroked her hair, careful not to ruin it. Gyeowool closed her eyes and savored the touch, then whispered softly.
“...I’ll make sure of it. Without fail.”
“How was the intro interview?”
“Ah... I don’t think I said anything that will cause controversy, at least.”
“Good. That’s all that matters.”
It was just a simple scene—walking down the hallway alone, showing some motivation, and saying “Choose your girl.” There wasn’t much room to display entertainment skills there. As long as she hadn’t flubbed her lines or caused an accident, it was a success.
“But there were way more cameras than I expected. It surprised me a little.”
“There’ll be even more when it actually airs.”
“...Whoa.”
It was the most deflating exclamation I had ever heard.
“Still, you’ll do well once the real broadcast starts, right?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
The Gyeowool I knew was strong when it counted.
“You’ve never gotten nervous when you actually had to dance or sing, right? Like during Cheon Jonghun’s interview or at the orphanage.”
She shyly twisted a strand of her hair and answered.
“When I’m dancing or singing, other people’s gazes somehow don’t register. ...Or rather, they do register, but they don’t feel like real people. Does that make sense?”
Gyeowool spoke as if it were nothing special, but this was actually an excellent mindset for overcoming stage fright.
“Like how people who perform often say everything looks like talking potatoes?”
“Not talking potatoes. They just look like 2D characters.”
“...Oh. Yeah. That’s pretty impressive.”
It seemed slightly different from the usual metaphor, but if she was comfortable with it, that was what mattered.
“But I still get nervous whenever I’m not dancing or singing!”
“Hmm... Then let’s view even your normal everyday moments as 2D characters. That way you won’t feel nervous.”
“...I’ve never tried doing it on purpose before.”
“If you’re already doing it unconsciously, a small trigger should be enough. Don’t overthink it. Try it on me right now.”
“Ah... Okay. I’ll try.”
Gyeowool seemed to take my suggestion seriously. She furrowed her brows and stared at me with intense concentration. Somehow, even though she was focusing so hard, she only looked incredibly cute.
At the very least, she didn’t appear nervous anymore. Thinking the method might actually be working, I asked.
“How is it?”
“...You’re handsome.”
“...Oh. Thanks.”
Gyeowool. I appreciate the sentiment, but hearing flattery from a sixteen-year-old only makes this uncle feel incredibly awkward.
Just then, the door to the waiting room burst open. It seemed the other trainee and manager assigned to this room had arrived.
“Hello! I’m Han Gyeowool from Two Bear Entertainment!”
Gyeowool reflexively executed a perfect ninety-degree bow, exactly as she had been taught. The speed of her reaction was so impressive I briefly wondered if she might have talent for sports. At any rate, I was satisfied that no one would ever call her rude.
I turned my head to follow her lead and offered a simple greeting.
“Hello. I’m Seon Taeyang, team leader at Two Bear Entertain—”
My polite introduction came to an abrupt halt.
There was a face I could never forget.
“Haha, nice to meet you. I’m Ban Seongcheol, manager from Flower Entertainment. I’ll be accompanying Trainee Oh Yuri. Please take good care of us.”
It was Ban Seongcheol—the man who had earned first place in contribution to stabbing me in the back in my previous life.