It Begins with Variety: Next K-Star (5)
Manager Kim Jonghun was a talker. His mouth never rested. For nearly an hour he'd been unloading the hardships of a man seven years into the job.
How he'd bent so low that a disc slipped within a year of starting. How his limit had once been five glasses of soju, until drinking every night with entertainment reporters and PDs stretched it to five bottles. He told the stories, repeated them, and then repeated them again.
At first I'd put real effort into the little sounds of agreement. Now I was worn out.
"Really? For us, too..."
The Traitor, meanwhile, smiled and played along the entire time.
One of two things. Either those stories were genuinely entertaining, or the guy was absurdly good at office life. Obviously the latter. No normal person would find that interesting.
"Sunwoo."
"Yeah?"
The Traitor checked his watch.
"We should probably feed the kids soon."
"I'll go buy something."
I shot to my feet. He handed me a card.
"Got it from the team lead this morning. She said to make sure you get a receipt."
"Got it. I'll bring it back."
I had my coat in hand and was just about to step out when someone caught me.
"Hey, while you're at it, grab something for us too. Here."
Manager Kim Jonghun pulled out a ten-thousand-won bill and held it out. Pinched between fingers thick with hair, the note wagged back and forth.
Those fingers... So this was where if it disgusts you, go make something of yourself came from.
"...What should I get?"
"You know, drinks, snacks, that sort of thing. Oh, and Jonghun-hyung likes potato chips."
Face. Control the face.
I buttoned the coat to my throat and stepped outside. It was cold, but at least I could breathe. I'd thought I was going to suffocate in there.
Hands in my pockets, I'd only gone a few steps when the door opened again.
"I'll come with you."
Lee Songha. She'd rushed out so fast she wasn't even wearing a coat.
"Why? You need something at the convenience store?"
"I want to pick what I'm eating myself."
"Fine. But how much of a hurry were you in, coming out without a coat?"
"Ah... will it be cold?"
"Of course it will. Go out like that and the wind gets into your bones. I'll wait, so go put something on."
A moment later she came back out, buried in a jumper.
We walked with a respectable distance between us. Even so, our clothes brushed now and then, and every time they did I caught myself glancing sideways. Knee-jerk reflex. That was all.
Maybe because today was an interview shoot, she looked far more natural, and prettier, than she had in yesterday's stage makeup. Her skin was clear and dewy, and her long black hair streamed in the wind with a soft rustle.
In the few minutes from the shop to the convenience store, every eye on the street poured over her. Men and women, young and old—anyone who spotted Lee Songha from a few meters off slowed at once. Then, slowly, glacially slowly, they passed beside us, marveling. Even after they'd gone by, they always looked back once more.
They hadn't recognized a girl-group member. She was simply that beautiful.
My own face burned in the spillover. The ability I'd been given was foresight, but right then I could have read minds. They were wondering what she and I were to each other. Friend, siblings, relatives—every available option would cycle through, and last of all would come the question, Surely not a couple? Then they'd take in the awkwardness between us, the careful gap that kept our shoulders from touching even as we walked side by side, and feel satisfied.
Still, dragging this much attention around had to be exhausting. Was she all right?
I looked over. She was calmly fiddling with her phone. Strong nerves, or just thick-skinned? I'd wondered if she was hunting for articles the way Lim Seoyoung did, but no. Call history, texts, a chat window... Was she waiting on someone?
Ding.
"Welcome!"
The part-timer greeted us brightly as we stepped into the convenience store.
Greeted her, that is.
I took a yellow plastic basket from by the door and made a circuit of the aisles. Every time I chose one thing and dropped it in, Lee Songha bustled over with two or three more. The basket was already heavy.
I added the low-calorie pudding for Lim Seoyoung and headed for the register, only to find the space beside me empty. Where had she wandered off to this time? I looked around and she was already waiting at the counter. No—standing beside it, staring at something.
Fish-cake skewers, hot steam curling up in soft wisps. Convenience stores these days really did stock everything. It definitely hadn't been here yesterday. She liked to eat, and apparently food liked her back.
"Want a skewer before we go?"
"May I have two?"
"Eat as many as you want."
It wasn't my money anyway.
"We'll take these fish-cake skewers. Do we have to pay first?"
I asked the part-timer. He didn't so much as glance at the person who'd asked and explained it to her instead.
Cool it, you little punk.
"You can eat first and pay for everything together afterward."
"All right."
"Um... excuse me, but are you a celebrity?"
"Yes. I'm Lee Songha of Neptune."
"Whoa—wow, I knew it! Could we take just one photo together later? I'll become a fan."
"Of course. Thank you."
"Maybe two photos..."
She was going to choke at this rate.
"Ring these up first, please."
He was glued to the side of a girl who was trying to eat, so I shoved the heavy basket at him. He made his annoyance extremely obvious as he scanned the barcodes.
She ate seven skewers standing right there. She ate with such abundant relish that I kept staring. So this was why people watched mukbangs... Curious whether it was really that good, I had three myself. They just tasted like ordinary fish cake.
On her recommendation we packed a cup of fish-cake broth as well. The load was a mountain.
He held out his phone and asked for a picture, so I took it myself. He checked the screen with great fuss, and his face went stiff.
What exactly were you expecting, kid? You coming out looking like a squid is not my fault.
The walk back was the same as before. We drew every eye on the street like a magnet—hers in awe, mine in curiosity, envy, and jealousy.
The one difference was that this time our shoulders kept bumping, little by little. Maybe because we'd eaten the fish cake together. The awkward distance seemed to have shrunk. Just a little. Half a step?
On the way she checked her phone again. Call log. Texts. Chat... I hadn't thought much of it earlier, but suddenly I remembered what Team Leader Park in PR had said. Keep an eye out, in case the kids were dating.
Could it be...
"Waiting on someone's call?"
"My mom and dad."
Not that, then.
"Thank you."
She bowed out of nowhere.
"For what?"
Don't tell me it's the fish cake.
"I didn't buy that with my money."
"Not that... for getting us Next K-Star. I heard it from the team lead."
Ah. That.
So she'd been thinking about it this whole time and simply hadn't shown it?
"It's nothing. That's my job."
I tried to keep the pride out of my voice and my face. I don't think I succeeded. That's my job? That's my job? Was that really something a new hire, two days into the job, ought to say with his chest out? And as a working adult, she was senior to me.
"Thanks to you, oppa, I'll get to work too."
"Hm?"
"I've wanted to work so badly..."
"You've been working this whole time."
"Until now, the days without work far outnumbered the days with it. From now on we'll have a fixed schedule. I like that. I hope Next K-Star doesn't flop. I hope it does well."
"Don't worry about that. It's going to do incredibly well."
The ratings would explode, and it would run season after season.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I've got a good feeling for these things."
More precisely, I was scheduled to.
Thinking of the foresight made me suddenly curious about her future. Anyone could see she was someone who belonged in this business.
What would she be, twenty years from now? Even if Neptune got lucky and lasted a long time, she would have retired by then. What were the girl-group members who had once led an era doing these days? Some had become someone's wife and mother and turned up on parenting shows. Some kept going as musical actors or solo singers. Some had crossed over into acting... Which line would she take?
I wanted to know, but the ability wasn't helping, so I couldn't.
"Then what place do you think we'll come in?"
"They say girl groups don't have the firepower in the viewer vote, so the top ranks will be tough... but does ranking even matter?"
"It doesn't?"
"Higher is obviously better, but..."
For a group as unknown as Neptune, just getting their name out through this show would already be a huge success. If they were lucky, old albums that had been buried might even get dug up again. A reverse climb up the charts would be too greedy. Simply being recognized as Neptune, the girl group that sang this song—that alone would be something. And if one of the four happened to suit the viewers' taste and blew up, that would be hitting the lottery.
"More than that, broadcasting while constantly rubbing up against members from other teams. That's what I'd worry about."
"Why?"
"Won't it be hard? The mind games, the walking on eggshells... Seoyoung said it last time, too. Other teams are full of kids with nasty personalities, and if you'd been on another team you would've cried and quit because you couldn't take it."
Not that I could picture her, of all people, crying over something like that... Still, there was yesterday, with Lim Seoyoung and Sugar Cat. That hadn't been something to brush off.
Right—and I'd only found out late that Sugar Cat was one of the girl groups competing on Next K-Star. The thought of something happening on set made me uneasy.
"You said you have four nieces and nephews, oppa?"
"Yeah."
"Me too. Two older sisters, one younger sister, and me—four of us, all a year apart."
Her parents must have had it rough.
"I survived that. I can survive anywhere."
I could agree with that. My nieces and nephews were max-level fighters; they never came home having lost outside.
"Four at home, four at the dorm. Bet you adjusted to dorm life just fine."
"Compared to home, the dorm is heaven."
"That bad?"
"At the dorm, if I write my name on my ice cream, nobody eats it."
My first real conversation with Lee Songha ended the way everything with her did: it rose, it developed, it turned—and it landed on food.