Doppelganger
"Ahh, I really don't wanna go to school."
I glanced down and saw the asphalt scorching like it was on fire. When I looked up, the sun blazed mercilessly in the clear sky.
The school wasn't far, but trudging there in this sweltering heat felt like a full-blown ordeal.
Now, Evergreen Sky Nursery had finally escaped its usual strict AC rationing. We could run the air conditioners in the living room and three big rooms nonstop.
Naturally, my room was exempt from all that. I could crank mine to full blast whenever.
Who decided? The Nursery Director, of course.
"Followers are piling up fast already."
Overnight, I'd racked up about 50,000. All from that one selfie I posted without warning last evening—people who'd hunted it down and hit follow.
Could I call these my core fans?
Honestly, no clue. You only measure true firepower by album sales or concert turnout.
Still, it was obvious: give it time, and I'd hit hundreds of thousands.
At that point, money worries? Gone. Sponsorships and ads alone would bring in more than enough—overflowing, even.
But cash wasn't the endgame anymore. Followers would just be launchpads for albums and tracks.
"Gotta drop a full album ASAP..."
Because you needed one to book a concert. My current song count couldn't even fill a setlist.
And that meant locking in an agency first. I'd mull it over for a week, then decide.
In truth, the choice is obvious.
Still, had to hear out the others.
Once Blooming got back from Hawaii, I'd ask if they wanted to keep my producing gig going.
I'd love to keep writing for them, but they might crave independence.
"Sigh. Too much to think about."
Mulling all that as I walked, I scrolled through my new followers list on Insta... and spotted one with an official verification mark.
"Hm?"
The handle: sakura_haruka. Starlight's leader, topping charts in Korea and Japan right now. She'd followed me first.
"Oh. Jackpot."
I followed back instantly.
She's always liked me, huh?
From sharing my Jelly Pop prelim vid on her story to this instant follow...
"Lolicon vibes."
Her tastes felt a tad suspicious.
Right as I reached the school gate, I spotted the banner I'd half-expected.
KYUNG OO ELEMENTARY SCHOOL 2ND GRADER
SEO SIYEON WINS SINGER STAR!
Congratulations!
"So embarrassing..."
Such cheesy vibes weren't really my thing.
"Whoa, so cute!"
"She's that cute? Sis, I'm cute too..."
"Our Inyoungie's cute too, obviously!"
Haruka hugged Yoo Inyoung tight, rubbing cheeks with her.
Inyoung groaned but made no move to escape, clearly enjoying it.
The other Starlight members watched with bemused looks.
Starlight was three months from disbandment now.
A project group from the start, members were scattering soon—no deep bonds.
So Haruka and Inyoung's closeness stood out.
"You two gonna date or what? Can't even bear to part."
"I'm dating Siyeon though?"
"Crazy lolicon."
To Starlight, Seo Siyeon occupied a weird spot.
Not real rivals, and hating a cute kid genius? Nah.
Auditions weeded out the toxic ones anyway.
But they all knew their fandom lowkey disliked her.
And why? Lee Hye-na's recent fabrication scandal.
It wouldn't hurt them—disbanding soon, court rulings take years.
No hard feelings toward Hye-na. Some still texted her.
"Tch. She is cute though. Should I follow?"
"Nah. Twitter would explode."
"Ugh, true. Sigh, no day passes without drama on Theamlab lately."
Seol Ha-eun, who'd debuted via that mess, smacked her lips and pocketed her phone.
Her fandom's hostility toward Hye-na's circle meant avoiding Siyeon follows was smart.
Idoling's exhausting, Ha-eun thought, eyeing Haruka.
Wishing she could live that freely too.
A week past Singer Star's finale.
I'd skipped school or dipped early to meet agency heads. Most balked at my terms.
Big 3 CEOs—Jina, Yoo Sanghyeon, Kayseop—flat-out rejected even my first demands.
Kayseop offered producing one next-gen idol, but it paled against Blue Sky Enter's deal.
Smaller outfits accepted some terms but not all, unlike Blue Sky.
Made sense. Producing's one thing—roster control? Insane.
So, to finalize, I headed to Blue Sky Enter's sparse office on Seoul's outskirts. Moving next month, it was basically empty.
Instant mix coffee and hot water surprised me—they had nothing else.
CEO Lee Ha-jun: decently tall, middle-aged everyman.
The guy behind Winter Girl's success.
Winter Girl split 3rd-gen dominance.
Declined lately; 7-year contracts ended last year, leading to disbandment.
But they'd swept WMMA grand prizes once.
Legend: no pro producer—manager-turned-CEO Ha-jun picked tracks, tweaked choreo, full producer role.
That eye worked only for them—next boy group tanked hard, disbanded in three years. Disaster.
Boys gone, girls scattered. Left: veteran manager Ha-jun and the company's faded name.
Yoo Hansung bought both—for his daughter.
Our chat was insightful.
Deep manager experience: knew artist support inside out. MV shoots, concerts—tons of know-how.
Musical ear? Sketchy... but otherwise, solid pro.
"Oh, wanna meet our trainees before you go?"
"Ah, you have trainees?"
Post-contract signing, his offer.
I agreed casually.
No high hopes. Blue Sky was a joke label now—trainees would reflect that.
Ha-jun called; next room bustled. Door flew open—three girls burst in.
"Huh?"
The middle one: shortish, baby-faced.
She looked exactly like my favorite kid from my past life.