It Starts with Variety: Next K-Star (4)
About fifteen minutes later, we reached the dorm. In the early hours yesterday it had been nothing but a dreary villa, but under bright sunlight the place felt entirely different. Ivy spilling over the white brick gave it a cozy, almost pretty charm.
We climbed to the fifth floor and rang the bell. I still hadn't been told the door-lock code. Managers had apparently been swapped out more than once, and if they handed over the password they'd have to change it every time the manager did—so of course they weren't eager to share it.
"Who is it?"
Lim Seoyoung poked her head through the gap the security chain allowed.
"It's us. Chief Manager's busy, so it's just the two of us."
"One second!"
The door shut, then swung wide. We stepped inside carefully. It was only my second time here, and I still wasn't used to the place. The Traitor's arms and legs had already gone stiff. Was that real nerves, or a bit?
"You're here?"
"Yeah. Morning."
The members were huddled together in the living room to greet us, then stared straight up at me—at us. If they looked a great deal more alive than yesterday, Next K-Star was probably why.
A morning welcomed by dazzlingly pretty girls. Energy welled up even without sleep, and I felt full without having eaten a thing.
If the future I'd seen actually came to pass and I became Sung Do-won's manager, I was going to miss this.
"I heard it from Hyunjo-oppa and Team Leader Park about a hundred times over the phone, but I still think I need to hear it in person before it feels real. We're really going on Next K-Star? As regulars?"
Lim Seoyoung asked, fidgeting with her fingers. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips were pressed tight with nerves. It wasn't only her. Lee Taehee and LJ on the sofa, and Lee Songha sprawled on the rug, were all waiting for our mouths to open.
"That's right."
The Traitor and I said it at the same time.
"Kyaa!"
Lim Seoyoung bounced in place, and under the loose T-shirt her full chest bounced with her. Seriously cute. This had to be photographed. I yanked out my phone and snapped a shot—shoulders and up only, of course.
The shutter sounds made every one of them look at me.
"The PR team lead told me to take a bunch and send them over."
I offered the excuse without a shred of shame and took a few more of the kids gathered in the living room. Celebrities, all right. The moment a lens came up, their expressions and poses changed. Checking the shots, there wasn't a single one worth throwing out.
"What do I even do, I'm so happy. I kept searching the articles because I was scared this was a dream."
Lim Seoyoung still had her phone clutched in her hand.
"Ease up on that, idiot."
LJ gave Seoyoung's leg a light kick.
"There are hate comments, you know."
"I even like the hate comments. It's the first attention we've ever gotten—am I in any position to be picky?"
"Let's see how long you like it."
"Look at you, acting all unbothered by yourself. I know you called your mom and dad this morning to brag. Broke as you are, two whole hours on an international call!"
Seoyoung needled her with a sly little laugh. Stung, LJ shot up from the sofa.
"I didn't call them! Mom saw the article and called me! And I'm not acting unbothered—I'm being careful!"
The one who actually looked unbothered, from where I stood, was Lee Songha. I couldn't tell whether she was that bold, or whether the poker face only made her seem so.
Even now she was rolling around on the rug, eating snacks, crumbs scattering everywhere. Still better than my nephews, though. She cleaned up whatever fell.
By picking up every last crumb and putting it in her mouth...
"We should start getting ready to head out."
The Traitor pointed at the clock.
"Our interview's at two, so we don't have much time."
"We're ready. We can go."
Lee Songha was the first on her feet. The others ducked into their rooms, grabbed nothing but bags and hats, and came right back out. They handled themselves just fine. I'd been worried it was only the Traitor and me without Kim Hyunjo, but at this rate things looked like they'd go smoothly.
On the way out Seoyoung nearly tripped twice because she was staring at her phone, and LJ confiscated it, so our ears took a beating—but still.
We left the villa and climbed into the van. As expected, the Traitor took the driver's seat.
"The salon address is... this one."
He set the navigation for the salon and buckled his seat belt. I glanced at the back. The members had no thought of buckling up; they were busy rehearsing what they'd say in the interview.
"When you get in a car, seat belts come first."
The words were out before I caught myself. Had I just sounded like a man with four kids again?
Every time the habits I'd picked up with the quadruplets slipped out, those damned friends of mine tried to shame me by calling me Auntie Jung, Nanny Jung, Mama Jung.
I snuck a look at the back seat. Thankfully, the members seemed ready to let it pass without a word. All of them had their heads down, buckling up.
Relieved, I captured that in a photo too.
Even the boredom of waiting at the salon was bearable today. While the members got their makeup and had their hair restyled, the Traitor and I sat side by side on the sofa, pulling together everything we could find on Next K-Star on our phones.
The program was called Next K-Star. It was the follow-up meant to fill the gap while a survival audition show, its seventh season nearly finished, prepared the next one.
I hadn't cared enough to know, but for something launching on cable, the interest and expectations around Next K-Star were running pretty high. Casting idols must have worked in its favor. Their visuals were far better than any group of ordinary people, and even among the rookies, some of the boy groups already had fandoms. Quite a few fans were hauling the news onto social media and websites, promoting Next K-Star themselves.
The network was pouring promotion into it too, pushing with everything it had. Ratings for the audition show that had built the cable boom kept falling with every season, so the broadcaster was probably desperate for another flagship. Maybe because they'd milked survival auditions for all they were worth, Next K-Star made no pretense of being anything but a team-versus-team competition.
Four girl groups, four boy groups—eight teams in all—would compete, and in the end one team would be chosen and handed the title of Next K-Star. The challenges covered a lot of ground. According to the articles, they'd go up against each other in singing, dance, photo shoots, variety sense, and more. After each round they'd receive a score combining guest judges and viewer text votes, and the group with the highest cumulative total would win. If the production team succeeded at nothing more than raising the cast's name recognition, there was still no way the concept wouldn't make noise.
The prize was a seven-episode idol reality series produced for broadcast on Knet, plus the right to take the stage at the Knet Asian Music Awards, an event otherwise reserved for the heavyweights of K-pop. From where I sat, that was a genuinely good opportunity.
"With viewer voting, the fans are going to tear each other apart."
They'd raise hell trying to crown the team they supported.
The Traitor nodded along.
"That's why they stuck text voting in there. To juice the buzz. The vote's their own private league anyway."
"Huh?"
"Put a girl group up against a boy group and they lose the fandom fight, so the winner's going to come out of the boy groups. That audition show didn't have a single female winner across seven seasons, did it?"
"It didn't? Then we should give up on winning and aim at getting our name out there."
"PD Go Joon-tae's the type who edits for maximum shock. Get unlucky and you become the punching bag—nothing but hate."
He was probably right. Devil's Editing always needed a sacrifice. Judging by how Neptune got dragged through the mud in the future I'd seen, something was going to go wrong with the kids. I'd have to watch this with my eyes wide open.
Clunk.
Someone else came into the salon. Not a crowd like us—just two people. I didn't recognize the man in front, but the one behind him, wearing a black snapback, looked familiar.
Kim Jong-hoon.
A hip-hop artist who'd debuted quite a while back. I'd been listening to his songs even in high school. These days his main job seemed to have shifted from singer to variety personality. Back when I lived with my parents—back when the house still had a TV—I'd often watched the shows he appeared on as a regular.
"Hello, sunbaenim!"
Lim Seoyoung, with only the right side of her hair curled, shot to her feet. The other members followed with greetings. Kim Jong-hoon waved, beaming like a neighborhood uncle surrounded by girls.
"Whoa... I might start coming at this hour every day. A girl group?"
"We're Neptune!"
Seoyoung, the best talker and the one with the most aegyo, stepped forward and introduced the team name and the members. Kim Jong-hoon's face loosened even further. While they exchanged greetings, the Traitor and I introduced ourselves too. Our counterpart was Kim Jong-hoon's manager.
"Hello. We're Neptune's managers."
"Oh, yeah. I'm Jong-hoon-hyung's manager."
His face was thick with stubble, and every breath reeked of alcohol, as if he'd been drinking right up until morning.
"Those are the kids going on Next K-Star, right? Saw a lot of articles today."
"Yes, that's right. Please look after us."
"What's there for me to look after. That thing's gonna be insanely stressful, though, isn't it?"
"Sorry?"
"Eight idol teams on one show, right?"
"That's right."
"Get them all in one place and you're looking at fifty, sixty people. This isn't some idol sports day. Ah, fuck. I'd be too drained to handle that. Couldn't do it."
Fifty or sixty. I hadn't even thought of that.
Yesterday's music show had already carried a kind of invisible tension, with so many idol teams gathered in one place, and Next K-Star would be worse. They wouldn't be holed up in a waiting room the way they were for music shows. They'd have to face each other and film the whole time.
This might not stay a fan problem. The cast themselves could end up fighting.
"And..."
Kim Jong-hoon's manager lowered his voice.
"Those kids who got dropped after the drunk-driving accident—their manager's that guy, right? Big, nasty-looking, gangster type."
"That's right."
I answered.
"I'm only saying this just in case, but watch out for that bastard."
"Watch out?"
"I've seen him a few times. Bad news. Run into him around the station and he won't even say hello. Son of a bitch. It's hearsay, but there's talk he lays hands on the kids he manages. Talk that he goes around threatening managers from other companies. Anyway, the filthy rumors about him aren't just one or two."
He'd looked the type. Just from the way he'd called the girl he was in charge of a damned bitch, a filthy whore—and he'd done it with me standing right there, without a hint of restraint.
He'd glared holes through me, too. The suit was the only reason it had passed quietly. If I'd looked like the rookie manager I was, the mood would've turned a lot uglier.
"The company must've torn into him for failing to manage his kids, and then you two slide in as replacements overnight—you think he's going to look kindly on that? He might take it out on you for no reason. Just know that."
"Yes. Thank you."
"Thanks for what... If that bastard actually shows up and picks a fight, call a reporter."
"A reporter?"
Not the police, or a bodyguard?
"With a guy like that, a reporter lands harder than anything else. Get unlucky and one article can tank a company's image. You two must have an entertainment reporter or two you're close with, yeah?"
"Yes."
The Traitor answered. Damn it. The person the Lemon Girls manager looked ready to pick a fight with was me, and the reporter we were close with belonged to him.
...Nothing was actually going to happen, right?