Shall We Gather the Haters?
“Shall we gather everyone who hates that bastard?”
69 “Hello! I’m Oh Yuri, the bright and bubbly vitamin everyone wants to be!”
After Ban Seongcheol finished his greeting, the pink twin-tailed trainee who had entered with him offered a cute, aegyo-laced introduction. But I barely registered it. The only thing in my line of sight was Ban Seongcheol, smiling darkly.
“Taeyang-nim, are you all right?”
Gyeowool was looking at me with worried eyes.
“Yeah, Gyeowool. I’m fine. Why?”
“…Your expression looked a little angry. I thought maybe you were upset with me.”
“……”
Seeing her anxiety, I pulled myself together. I was working right now. I couldn’t afford to let personal feelings take over when I was supposed to be her pillar of support.
“Sorry. Something worrying suddenly came to mind and I reacted late. Nice to meet you, Oh Yuri-ssi. This is trainee Han Gyeowool, and I’m the team leader accompanying her, Seon Taeyang.”
“Nice to meet you! Yuri-nim. I’m Han Gyeowool.”
Oh Yuri smiled brightly, clasped her hands cutely, and said, “It’s okay! We’re the ones who barged in while you were talking.”
She looked like she was somewhere between middle school third year and high school first year, yet she spoke so politely that I felt oddly proud.
…But there hadn’t been a kid like her at Flower Entertainment, had there?
Come to think of it, the only ones Flower Entertainment had sent to Girl 100 at this point in time were Seo Eunbyul and me—people I had been deeply involved with, even lovers in the previous timeline. Yet the person standing here now was Oh Yuri, not Ban Seongcheol and Eunbyul. Because I hadn’t gone to Flower Entertainment, something in the future had clearly changed.
“Our Yuri is quite nervous since this is her first official schedule. I’d appreciate it if you could look kindly on any mistakes she makes.”
Ban Seongcheol gazed at Oh Yuri with obvious pride as he spoke. It was an extremely strange feeling. Stronger than when Dongwoo-hyung had offered me a spot at Flower, stronger even than when I’d seen my sister—this regression finally felt real. My actions were changing the future. That fact was staring me in the face.
“She’s so cute! Yuri-nim, how old are you?”
“Hehe, thank you. I’m fifteen.”
“Wow, third year of middle school? I’m sixteen!”
“So you really are my unnie! I thought you had that kind of charisma. Your blonde hair and sharp eyes give off such a strong presence.”
“Presence…? Ah, I’m not that kind of person.”
Watching the two of them chat, Ban Seongcheol said, “Our Yuri is such a friendly kid that they’ve already gotten close. I think we can look forward to some good chemistry on the show. A light capitalist GL vibe. Fans eat that stuff up.”
…That kind of thing also splits opinions pretty badly.
“…Haha, I see. Though I’m not sure if Gyeowool, who has no talent for acting, will be able to match her well.”
“Come on, someone in your position should know this already… Idol business is all about selling fantasies, and these days this is the fantasy that sells the best, you know?”
Suddenly I wondered how I was supposed to deal with this guy. Ban Seongcheol wouldn’t stab me in the back until ten years from now. In the previous timeline, at this point we’d actually had a fairly amicable relationship. He’d tried to dump work on me here and there, but that was just the level of an annoying colleague. We only became real enemies much later. Yet my emotions refused to settle.
“By the way, you said you’re a team leader? What brings someone like you all the way to the set? …Ah, is it because it’s the first day and you wanted to give your trainee some moral support?”
I could have played it off with some plausible excuse, but I didn’t bother with bravado.
“I considered that, but our company is a bit short-staffed, so I came myself.”
This industry was small. Once Toobear started making real moves, the personnel situation would get out quickly anyway. No point lying about something that would be exposed immediately.
“…Pardon me, but what did you say the company name was?”
“Toobear Entertainment.”
“…Toobear… Aha, a new agency.”
Ban Seongcheol’s gaze toward me shifted. It was low and contemptuous. Having known him for so long, I recognized the look instantly. That was the way he looked at people he considered beneath him.
Still got no manners, huh, Seongcheol.
“You’ve heard of Flower Entertainment, right? We’re the company that created Milkyz, after all.”
Of course I knew. Did he think I wouldn’t? Milkyz was a seven-member boy group that never quite cracked the top ranks on music shows and wasn’t a mainstream pick, but they’d built a decent fanbase and turned a modest profit. Not a bad group, but not something to brag about in front of others either. Still, I didn’t point that out. I just responded neutrally.
“Yes, I heard Leviathan did pretty well this time.”
“Exactly. Their current results aren’t bad, but Milkyz is clearly on an upward trajectory. We’re nothing like those ragtag agencies that haven’t accomplished anything.”
While Ban Seongcheol went on about Milkyz’s achievements and his own contributions, a small woman wearing glasses entered and called for Gyeowool.
“You’re Han Gyeowool, right?”
“Yes! Han Gyeowool!”
She checked something on her phone, then said, “Please get ready. Your test slot is early, so you need to come out now.”
“Uwah… already.”
I followed Gyeowool outside. Since filming had started, I wouldn’t be able to stay until the end, but I at least wanted to see her off a little. Gyeowool, who had been glancing at me, asked the woman with glasses, “Is there no rehearsal?”
The woman didn’t even look at Gyeowool as she replied while staring at her phone, “There are a hundred people waiting, so we don’t have time for individual rehearsals. Just do it.”
“…Okay.”
The woman fiddled with her phone a bit more, then, apparently finished with whatever she was doing, slipped it into her pocket and said, “I’m the writer, Yeo Hanna. From now on, most miscellaneous matters will go through me.”
“Yes, nice to meet you, Writer Yeo Hanna.”
Yeo Hanna looked at me standing in the back and said, “I heard you already spoke with PD Kim. I assume you passed that information on to your trainee as well?”
She was probably referring to the plan to use Gyeowool as an entertainment character.
“Are you hoping Gyeowool will pull off a funny scene during the test?”
“That’s right. That’s also why a writer like me was assigned.”
Even as she spoke, Yeo Hanna sounded thoroughly uninterested. “Well, don’t expect too much just because a writer’s attached. The fact that they assigned me out of all the writers means exactly that. …Whether you do it or not, it doesn’t matter. You get what I mean, right?”
“I do.”
“…Good that you understand. But don’t overthink it. Just show your usual skills—or lack thereof—and get some harsh feedback from the judges. Handle the funny parts yourself.”
With heavy dark circles visible behind her glasses, she spoke as if the entire situation was bothersome and tedious. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Get some screen time, cause a little buzz. …But from my perspective as a broadcast writer, I don’t know. An extra getting one laugh doesn’t exactly make headlines. And even if it does, I’m not sure it’ll actually benefit you. You’ll probably just get edited and dragged online anyway.”
“I’m confident I can steer that buzz in a positive direction.”
“Of course you are. That’s why you’re here. But I don’t think it’ll mean much on Girl 100 of all places. This isn’t some romantic stage where dreams and success intertwine. Not as long as PD Kim Seonye is around.”
…Did this woman know about the vote manipulation?
The upcoming vote-rigging incidents weren’t something a low-level staffer would know about. It was unlikely that someone high enough to know would be assigned as Gyeowool’s guide. But Yeo Hanna’s attitude and words were too loaded to just brush off. Honestly, this wasn’t the kind of demeanor a sane broadcast writer would show to contestants. This was the attitude of someone who had already mentally quit and was just going through the motions.
As if planting a flag on my suspicion, Yeo Hanna said self-deprecatingly, “…Honestly, it’s the same for me. Whether I get a funny moment for screen time or get edited out for not being funny, it doesn’t mean anything. There’s no reward either way. No matter how hard I try, nothing changes. So once this job is over, I’m quitting this hopeless, futureless place.”
She definitely knew something. Whether it was the vote manipulation or not, I couldn’t say. Yeo Hanna pulled her phone out of her pocket again, averted her gaze from us, and spoke while staring only at the screen.
“You get what kind of person I am now, right? Unfortunately for you, you got stuck with a writer who won’t be helpful. Someone who’d be lucky not to get in the way. So just don’t cause any trouble. Stay quiet until I retire. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
Then she looked at us with pitying eyes and added, “And that’ll be easier for you and your manager too. Disappointment hurts more when you had expectations. …I’m tired of seeing that.”
After watching Yeo Hanna walk ahead, Gyeowool leaned close to my ear and whispered cautiously, “…Taeyang-nim, are we screwed?”
“Why?”
“…I feel like we met a scary writer.”
I smiled to reassure her and said, “From what I can see, we might have met the best writer we possibly could.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There’s that saying, right? The enemy of my enemy is my ally. People bond easily when they hate the same things.”
I hated PD Kim Seonye, and Yeo Hanna seemed to hate her too. There was no better common ground for getting close. After a bit more investigation, it might be worth making her an offer. A proposal that would let her stab vote-manipulator PD Kim Seonye right in the back.