Top Idol (2)

From the time I was little, I never had the slightest interest in running a company.

"What? A singer? That sort of thing? Why would you want to do it?"

"Once you inherit the company, singers like that will all come groveling to you on their own."

People had been praising my singing since kindergarten, and I loved the way their faces lit up when they heard me. All I wanted was to be a singer.

But I had been born the daughter of a great conglomerate, and for that reason alone I had no choice but to sit through lessons in management.

"I don't want to! I said I don't want to!"

I hated the classes. I hated the family gatherings even more—everyone packed into one room, quietly taking one another's measure.

So I gave up. Time slipped past, and by the time I was in high school my older sister, who had already thrown herself into the business, came to me with a question.

"You. If you start down the road of being a singer, are you confident you won't quit?"

"Huh?"

When we were little it might have been different, but years had passed with the two of us buried in separate lessons, barely speaking at all. Then one day she—the model student, nothing like me—walked into my room and asked me that.

I had heard she was preparing some new venture. That she would seek me out in the middle of all that busyness, and say what she said, caught me completely off guard.

"Yeah... I'm sure. I'll work really, really hard."

"...Is that so? All right. And..."

Something welled up in me, and I answered on the verge of tears. She heard me out, watched me for a moment without a word, then turned as if her business were finished and spoke over her shoulder.

"From now on, working hard won't be enough. You'll have to be good."

The next day, on my way to yet another lesson, the news was plastered wall to wall with stories of my sister launching a new entertainment company—and I became its very first signed singer.

If I had done well there and been happy, that would have been enough. But even when I sat at number one on the charts, even when I became the talk of broadcast after broadcast, my family's eyes stayed cold.

Oddballs. That was the word they used for the two of us, lumped together.

Truthfully, I never wanted to attend the gatherings where those people assembled. But one day Grandfather had an announcement to make, and unlike the rest of them he always welcomed the two of us warmly, so I endured it with his face in mind. That was the day I met him for the first time.

Maybe I was lonelier than usual. A stranger though he was—the man I would come to call oppa—he was easier to be around than my own family.

"Secretary, whose side are you on?"

Grandfather's secretary. In a room where any number of people were surely trying to buy him onto their side with money and power, I assumed he was simply someone enjoying the spectacle, and the rude little prejudice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slipped out of me before I knew it.

"...I'm not on anyone's side."

He seemed startled that I had spoken to him at all. Then he met my eyes and went on.

"My only role is to see the Chairman home if he's had too much to drink."

"Ah... is that so?"

I took it for an evasion and was just about to walk away when he drew a pen from his pocket.

"If it isn't too forward of me, might I have your autograph? One of the secretaries is a fan."

"...Pfft."

In that whole room, aside from my sister, he was the only person who looked at me as a singer—and he wasn't trying to curry favor, wasn't watching anyone else's eyes. He had only come because someone under him wanted a signature. It was funny, and I liked him for it, and even knowing it was rude I couldn't stop laughing.

"Did I... do something wrong?"

"Ah—no. I'm sorry. I'll really do it. Of course I will. But where's the paper?"

"Oh—I'll fetch some right away."

After that, I started looking forward to the family gatherings. My sister was busy dealing with the rest of the family, and Grandfather was busier still, so he was the only person there who actually kept me company. There were days he didn't come. Still, whenever I caught sight of him arriving to escort Grandfather, I was glad.

"Secretary, is there a type of woman you like?"

"Sorry?"

One day I found the courage to ask about his type.

"Uh... someone bright, who works hard at whatever she has to do."

Looking back now, I wondered if he had only given me a safe, halfway answer. It didn't matter much. There was nothing wrong with being bright.

From then on, whenever I stood on a stage or went on the air, I played a bright, charming woman. I hid the timid person I really was and became the idol who looked sunny and stepped forward on her own.

So I had been certain—certain that when we met again, I would be able to show him that side of me....

"Hey, are you all right?"

"Ah? Yes! I'm fine. Of course I'm fine!"

Pressed tight against Sieun's side with her head bowed, she looked nothing like the woman I knew from television. The difference was almost jarring.

"Haa... she was so sure of herself, and she hasn't changed a bit."

Sieun let out a deep sigh, as if she had expected exactly this, then reached over to stroke Garam's trembling head and began the introductions for me.

"I doubt I even need to tell you who she is, but since we met for business, I should. The face of our agency, and currently number one in brand value thanks to that signature mystique of hers—Lee Garam. Stage name, One."

At Sieun's introduction Lee Garam dipped her head, and I bowed in return, but she still couldn't bring herself to meet my eyes.

Timid as she looked, it only set her beauty off. Passing staff and guests turned for a second glance, every one of them.

"Whoa—that's Lee Garam. She's really beautiful...."

"Who's the one beside her? Standing right next to her and not losing an inch."

Sieun was every bit as lovely, so the attention spilled over onto me as well, seated there in front of the two of them.

"Who the hell is that guy...."

"Wait, isn't that him? From High Group...."

"Tch. Becomes chairman and the first thing he does is go meet an idol? Damn it, why aren't I over there?"

Envy and jealousy braided through the muttering and the stares until my throat burned.

"Unnie... you said we were just getting a meal. I thought that's all it was, so the second I landed I went by Grandfather's grave and rushed straight here...."

"And what's wrong with stopping by Grandfather and then coming here?"

"It's not that... if I'd known oppa was going to be here, I would have done my makeup properly and picked out something to wear...."

"Relax! You've got the figure for it. Anything you put on is going to look expensive."

"U-Unnie, what are you saying!"

She wasn't wrong. Quite apart from her face, Garam's figure was blessed enough that the compliment landed cleanly.

Flushing, Garam threw a few halfhearted punches at Sieun that carried no strength at all. Sieun, long used to it, paid them no mind and turned her eyes to me.

"Anyway, the reason I called Garam here today is to ask her to sign as an advertising model."

Thanks to Sieun's consideration, Lee Garam—One—was sitting in front of me now. But as I listened again to the past Sieun had told me, I began to worry whether I even had the right to ask her for a commercial.

"Whatever else you say about her, she doesn't have a good impression of corporations. That's why she's been refusing things like ads."

I was still choosing my words, just about to open my mouth, when—

"I'll do it!"

"Huh?"

"Hm?"

"I'll do it! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A smartphone, a new apartment complex—whatever it is, I'll do it!"

Before I could get a single word out, Garam, who moments ago couldn't even meet my eyes, shot to her feet and said it straight to me.

"Miss Garam... are you sure that's all right? You've never taken on advertising before...."

"No, it's fine. I was already thinking I couldn't keep turning them down forever!"

I had pictured myself begging while she hesitated. It was the exact opposite. She was the one clinging to me.

"I don't even need to be paid, so please—just use me!"

"Our Garam. Shall we calm down first?"

She had run away with herself, no brakes at all, until she was volunteering to work for nothing. The one who caught her by the arm was Sieun.

"If you do it for free, where does that leave me?"

"B-but, Unnie, if I don't grab this now...."

"How on earth do you pull off that composed act the rest of the time? We weren't considering anyone but you for the model anyway! So calm down."

How long did that take? When Garam finally settled, the realization of just how badly she had spiraled left her staring at nothing but the floor.

"Still, that went better than I thought. I figured I'd be talking her into it for ages."

"Same here. Thank you again, Miss Garam."

I offered my thanks, and Garam, who had been sitting with her head down without so much as a twitch, seemed to sense that something was off and lifted her face.

"But... since when have the two of you been close enough to drop the formal speech?"

"Hm?"

Of all the questions I might have expected, that was not one of them.

Shifting how?

"You still speak formally with me. Since when did you get comfortable enough to talk to Unnie like that?"

Even Sieun, seeing this side of her for the first time, could only stare, thrown.

Elsewhere? What does that even mean? What's the percentage?

Then it's basically certain! What am I supposed to do?

The same sensation I had felt when she quieted the board came over me. My arm moved of its own accord and closed firmly around Garam's hand where it rested on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the table.

"Ah...? Oppa?"

"Th-then... it would be fine if I spoke casually with our Garam too, wouldn't it?"

Even as the line left my mouth, I could only be aghast all over again, deep down, at Makina—for driving me into a move like that.