Chapter 15

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 15

Chapter Title: Seolgi (2)

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'Ah, I really shouldn't have turned this on.'

Seolgi broke out in a cold sweat as she watched posts and articles popping up across various online communities in an instant. In the world of the internet, facts don't matter.

Anyone who tries to compete with facts is a coward—let's go with incitement and fabrication! Every post on the internet is the truth. And so on.

There's a famous quote attributed to Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Germany's propaganda expert:

"Any lie can be spoken in one line, but it takes dozens of pages of documents and evidence to refute it. And by the time you're trying to refute it, people have already been swayed by the lie."

In truth, Goebbels never said that. That's a lie too. He might have said it, or he might not have. The important thing is that if something sounds even remotely plausible, tons of people will believe it.

'These reporters are real pieces of shit. What do you mean I'm in critical condition?'

As an unpopular member like herself, she hadn't really been slandered much before, but the other three members had been hit with sensational headlines over even the tiniest incidents, all to rack up clicks. Now that it was her turn, it felt utterly ridiculous. Sure enough, messages from the other members were pouring in, and her Instagram comments were exploding. She had to do some damage control. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It felt like barely ten minutes had passed—did they really have nothing better to do?

"So, what's the actual situation, unnie? I had a full health check last time and everything was fine..."

"Oh, Seolgi. Um, Korea University Hospital wants to shoot a promo video and they specifically asked for you."

"What??"

Celebs, especially hot idols like them, got invites everywhere. Just look at her own members. But a hospital? Why would a hospital want her?

"Normally, casting offers like this get filtered by staff, right? Why is the CEO handling it personally?"

"I know, it's a first for me too as a manager... We have an exclusive contract with Korea University Hospital, remember? All our artists get checkups there."

"Yeah?"

"Well, the hospital director called the CEO's personal line. They want to film a promo and picked you out specifically. They said they'd love to meet ASAP—even right now. So, should we head to the hospital?"

"I don't have any schedule, so sure... But this is so out of nowhere. And it's really me? Not one of the others? You're sure this isn't about some health issue of mine?"

"Nah, your checkup three months ago was spotless."

"Okay, got it... So we're going straight there? But is it okay to show up like this?"

"They said they want to meet ASAP, so yeah, it's urgent."

"Is full shoot makeup okay for a hospital visit...?"

"Just throw on a mask and hat. The director's reserving a spot in the staff lot. You can go straight up from the basement."

The makeup was heavy for the shoot, and the outfit was iffy for a hospital, but she had nothing else. She had to handle this. Seolgi opened the group chat to update the members, then started typing an Instagram post.

No helping it. She hated it, but it was Mom's son's signature pose. Seolgi struck the pose—right arm extended sideways, bent sharply upward at a perfect 90 degrees—and snapped a selfie with her left hand holding the phone.

The original pose used both arms, but she needed one for the phone. Her genetics held strong; the muscles clung tight to her bones. She remembered teasing Min Hong-taek, that bastard, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that he really needed to work out.

'Korea's Tyson is vanishing like this... Bro, you really gotta exercise!'

'You do it.'

'I am.'

'Oh.'

Anyway, she'd snapped the pic and was about to post when she felt a surge of anger. What? Critical condition? Poking reporters never ended well.

They were masters of public manipulation. The custom was to let things slide amicably. But experiencing it firsthand? Infuriating.

'This reporter looks familiar. It's that asshole who trashed our maknae last time.'

The family gathering came back to her—boozy chats over drinks. The others noticed her slipping popularity and said Mom's son should just do whatever. It'd create noise marketing at least.

'Hey, Mom's daughter.'

'What, Mom's son.'

'Just act on impulse. That's usually best. Don't overthink it. That's how you get noise marketing.'

'You telling an idol that? Should I date someone or what?'

'What bullshit. Idols dating means career suicide. Nah, we're both hot-bodied, right? Brains? Meh. No need to tax 'em if your body's prime. Just go wild~.'

'Easy for you, Mr. Athlete. And think about your screw-ups! Your debut interview dissing the opposing pitcher got me dragged in too!'

'Calling a total wuss a wuss—what, can't handle truth? Anyway, that's how I saw it. Speak up or shut up. And yeah, that was calculated.'

'You? Calculated??'

'Hey, I think about pitchers' stuff, ball counts, everything at the plate. I'm not that dumb.'

'So your calculated debut hero interview was "The opposing pitcher's such a pussy he wouldn't throw strikes, so I just walked outta the batter's box?"'

'All calculated, I swear. Think: Who in Korea has a good image?'

'Outta nowhere...? Uh, National Treasure Actor Joo?'

'Yeah, good image... Right? That gorilla seems tougher than me... Anyway, life endangered, stopping here. Kugh. Booze is chef's kiss~'

-Clink!

Mom's little bro set down his glass and continued.

'Anyway, say a celeb does tons of charity, donations, gets called an angel. Then they screw up—hired some tax guy who cuts corners into evasion territory. What do people say?'

'Uh... Blast first, ask later? Explain fully, pay up proper, and it quiets down?'

'Exactly! Good image or bad, you get hate either way. Public figure life. Even spotless, haters hate.

Donation news? They'll nitpick the amount. "All your wealth?" "You're nuts to donate everything." Same crap.'

'So, what's that got to do with popularity? Spit it out.'

'Assume hate's inevitable—frees you to go nuts sometimes. Mindset shift. Do crazy shit occasionally.'

'Go nuts outta nowhere?'

'Look at me. Built a bad boy image early—now my antics get "That's just him" passes. Right?'

'So trash my image on purpose? I'm an idol, Mom's son.'

'Pfft! Hong-taek, quit trolling your sister!'

Dad tried intervening, but Hong-taek shrugged it off.

'Think: Scandal-prone celeb messes up? "Knew it, tsk." Small slips forgiven. Then I donate? "Him? Whoa."

Naturally, "Min Hong-taek" sticks. Chant requests? Mine first.'

'So, make me do wild shit to wreck my good image?'

'No! Not wrecking. As an idol, pick spots wisely. Your low popularity? No standout gimmick.'

'Standout gimmick... Yeah, I lack one.'

'Hate beats indifference. Embrace it, grab a unique character. Goes viral. I tossed "Villain? My jam" WWE bait—you didn't bite.'

'WWE what now?'

'Jeez, lurk forums more. Who notices "group eldest sis"? At 27 with 7-year gaps? Nah.

Not main vocal/dance? Effort alone wins attention? Everyone hustles! Me too—lazy rep, but grind!'

'...Yeah, everyone does.'

'Get it? Time to shitpost, sis. You shrug off hate fine. Mentally tough. Fame first—shit turns to applause.'

'Aigoo, Hong-taek, no filter with sis. Drunk? Bedtime.'

'Dad! All facts!'

'Nutcase, remember Whales gallery shitposting, beefing fans, cop station meetup?'

'That? Post-walk-off, apologized over my treat, clean end. Every tale builds lore. Shitposting: necessary evil.

You're 22—idol shelf life? 30 hits, retirement usual. Zero scandals ever? What then?'

'Just "Freya's Seolgi" forever.'

'See? Admitted. "Freya Member A." Forge a character. Eat hate like longevity tonic. Shitpost time.'

'...'

Mom's son thinking? Convincing her? Speechless. All his antics calculated?

'Caveats: Ace your basics. No talent? I'd be cut. Cross lines wisely—that pitcher was rookie like me. Vet? Nah. Key bit... Feel it doing it.'

'What's that?'

'Shitposting teaches it, sis. Bold, upfront blasts—not sneaky backstabs.'

'So I hit Whales gallery too?'

'Idol you: Raid rival fan clubs, post your vids, "Freya prettier tbh." Fanmeets? Pics, reverse fan gifts.

Your agency's huge. Smart shitpost—no side-eye. My fans shield "Whales numbers gang" style.'

'You're insane? What about company cleanup crew?'

'Relax—viral pulls eyes, eyes pull cash, cash funds raises. Your shitposts pay their salaries!

Lead the wage hike revolution. Ambitionless? Skip—your pay's fine.'

'Ads skip me though...'

'Exactly. Three good-image years, no viral? Extreme Rx. Idol or pro sports—same: Grab attention!'

Crazy talk, sure. But... a chance? Third-year girl group Freya, barely Top 5 in Korea.

Least popular member: her. This blew up Z's real-time trends—instant. Never trended post-comeback.

'Bold, upfront viral shitpost. Now: Trash reporters joking healthy folk dying.'

Decision made. Phone check: Safe post = just a blip.

Boring, preachy. Readers: "Oh, that? Whatever." Delete.

Captured the "critical to hospital" article, slapped it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠under the All-Tong-Man pose, new post:

[Post uploaded.]

Oh right... He said stick to lines?