Step or Be Stepped On (3)
Once that stifling pressure had eased a little, the situation started to strike me as interesting.
Someone, somewhere, was quietly setting the board to drop Sung Do-won into a trap. And right now neither Sung Do-won nor W&U knew a thing. It felt like sprawling on my stomach with my chin in my hands, watching a movie that was about to break into a war scene—except I already knew which way the war would turn.
The most interesting part, of course, was that unlike a movie, I could step into this one myself.
For the moment, I'd keep quiet and wait until the incident actually began. Go around talking about it now and all I'd get was someone asking if I was paranoid. And the future—I absolutely had to see the rest of the scene from earlier. If I could learn the full story of this case, that would be information of extraordinary value. Maybe enough for me to seize this board and shake it myself.
Until that day came, I'd focus on Neptune.
I gathered my thoughts and returned to the interview room, where Kim Hyunjo greeted me warmly.
"Dizziness any better?"
"I'm fine now."
"If you feel run-down, say so right away. I'll feed you something nourishing. You can't collapse on me."
…I did need to stay alive at least until that day.
"All right, last question."
"Yes!"
At PD Go Joon-tae's words, the kids' gloomy faces brightened. They'd been overflowing with energy even after practicing all night—just how hard had he been grinding them?
"I heard this while interviewing Sugar Cat. Seoyoung, you almost debuted with Sugar Cat, didn't you?"
Lim Seoyoung bit her lip, as if the subject were unwelcome.
"Ah… we were trainees at the same company."
"The Sugar Cat members seemed awfully sorry you'd gone to W&U."
"Sorry?"
"Of course, they said they understood, disappointment aside. Sugar Cat's agency isn't small, but next to W&U it's… well, you know. Still, seeing the group you walked out on doing better than Neptune now—doesn't that make you jealous? Ever regret the decision?"
A girl who betrayed the colleagues she'd suffered alongside for years, jumped to a bigger company, and now burned with jealousy because her old teammates were doing better. That was the character he was trying to pin on her. If it aired that way, the hate comments would come pouring in the moment the broadcast went up. I didn't even need to see them.
I glanced sideways. Kim Hyunjo's leg was bouncing with nerves.
Lim Seoyoung spoke, working hard to stay calm.
"First of all, I didn't abandon them and leave."
"Hm?"
"Maybe I just had bad luck, but my debut fell through several times while I was a trainee. I heard Sugar Cat might not debut either—that everyone was about to scatter—so when W&U reached out, I said I'd transfer. I was surprised too when the others debuted as Sugar Cat."
"Ah… is that right? So there was a communication problem with the company?"
"And yes, I'm envious that Sugar Cat is popular. I genuinely think they did well. But I don't regret debuting as Neptune. I really love Taehee unnie, LJ, Songha—all of the members."
Kim Hyunjo flashed an OK sign with his fingers. After the interview ended, he caught PD Go Joon-tae and carefully brought up the edit.
"PD. Please make sure Seoyoung's old story doesn't go out distorted."
"I exaggerate for the ratings, but I don't lie. I'm not that cheap."
He wouldn't lie. He also wouldn't tell the whole truth.
Was Neptune getting torn apart because of Seoyoung…?
Knowing the future only in fragments, my suspicions just kept multiplying.
The pre-interview ended, and the junior writer I'd seen at the last company dinner led us to the waiting room. Other teams must have arrived while we were being interviewed; the hallway was full of pretty, handsome kids.
"This is Neptune's waiting room."
The junior writer stopped in front of the door and subtly looked away.
Two names were stuck to it.
Neptune
Sugar Cat
Were these people kidding?
"I'm sorry, we don't have enough waiting rooms… You'll only be sharing for today's recording."
Was the room actually short, or did they want to shove Neptune and Sugar Cat into one room and start a fight?
"If there aren't enough rooms, it can't be helped."
Kim Hyunjo opened the door with a tired face.
"Hello!"
"Seoyoung, hi!"
Huh?
The Sugar Cat girls I'd seen at the last music show shot to their feet and greeted us. What was with that over-the-top reaction? Lim Seoyoung looked startled too; her greeting came a beat late.
"Uh… hi, guys."
"We were so happy when we saw the article about you joining Neptune. We almost called, but we figured you were busy and didn't want to get in the way. We'll be seeing a lot of each other here from now on!"
That one was the Sugar Cat leader, wasn't she? Han Saet-byul, if he remembered right. Round and cute, the same aegyo-heavy style as Lim Seoyoung. He was wondering why she was laying it on so thick when the junior writer supplied the answer.
"There are cameras set up in the waiting room, so if you need to change, please use the dressing room."
Aha.
"We're just trying to get some natural footage, so you don't have to be conscious of the cameras."
The junior writer said something not even a child would believe, and left.
Under the gaze of multiple cameras, Sugar Cat and Neptune exchanged a round of greetings. They traded only the most superficial updates, then, once every other team had arrived, headed out into the hallway together. They had to say hello to the other teams before recording started.
The hallway was already noisy with people greeting one another. So many kids, it felt like a school camp. The oldest here was twenty-five. The youngest was seventeen, wasn't it?
Eight teams chosen from the dozens of idol groups that poured out every year. Call them prospects, call them rising stars—either way, they were rookies at the bottom of the music industry's food chain, starving for popularity and success.
Maybe that was why so many of them didn't act like kids. On the surface they smiled, asked how things were going, and whined that they hadn't practiced enough and their scores would be awful, but underneath they were comparing, checking, envying, and looking down on one another.
They were all more or less the same kind of rookie group, but even among them, gaps existed. Proof: kids with a bit of name recognition—Sugar Cat, who'd come in with us, for instance—had people swarming around them, while we were getting the cold shoulder. Formal hellos went back and forth, but almost no one wanted to talk for long. Time was short and people were many, so everyone clustered around whoever might actually help them, whoever might become a useful connection. The kind of person who, if you posted a single photo together, would make it a bigger story—and if you later said on air that you were close, might bump your own status up a notch. In other words, someone who looked ready to blow up.
On top of that, Neptune had joined late, so we were being treated like freeloaders. Even among fellow rookies, they seemed to think they and Neptune weren't on the same level. The looks coming our way were not kind.
Well, it wasn't shocking. What PD Go Joon-tae had read earlier—the reasons they'd written down for why Neptune would finish last. That alone told me most of the seven teams gathered here already thought poorly of Neptune. Still, knowing something in your head and actually living through it were different, and the kids, Kim Hyunjo, and the traitor all wore sour faces.
I was keeping my expression blank so I wouldn't stand out, but honestly, I found the whole situation a little funny. Because I knew Neptune's next album would succeed.
The teams gathered here—whatever name recognition they claimed, it was acorns lining up to see who was tallest. From what I remembered of the preliminary research, forget a music-show win; they hadn't even made the nominee list. Nominees—what nominees. They'd never cracked the top ten. I hadn't realized it before, but a music-show number one was absolutely not easy.
But Neptune would take that crown with their next album. After that, they'd never again be stuck with labels like unknown or perennial rookie. Plenty of one-hit wonders had launched a single song and then vanished without a sound, but in the future Director Park had called it Neptune's first hit, so there would clearly be a second.
Anyway, unless those kids pulled off the miracle of racking up music-show wins one after another, Neptune would soon no longer be anywhere near their level. So from where I stood, knowing that, what they were doing couldn't help but look ridiculous. The more they ignored and looked down on Neptune, the more I looked forward to their reactions once the positions flipped.
"Heh heh heh."
"Oppa, what's so funny? I feel like I just walked into enemy territory."
Lim Seoyoung poked me in the back and whispered.
"It's just kind of entertaining."
"What is?"
"What people are doing."
"…This oppa is weird sometimes, I swear."
There were times it was frustrating enough to kill me, but still—being able to see the future was a good thing.
It was the first recording, but the MCs never showed. The production staff shoved the eight idol teams onto the stage, calling it a first meeting before the real missions began. A power struggle dressed up as self-introductions and a Q&A. After that came more individual interviews with the staff. Everyone stayed tense the whole time, and by the end even we managers were drained.
Then we received the first mission. A group singing mission: in front of four watchers—the MC, a working solo singer; a former girl-group leader; a working producer; and a working composer—each team would perform its signature song.
We'd naturally assumed they'd at least play an MR, a backing track, but they told us to sing a cappella, and every team went into a panic. To judge rhythm, timing, and above all vocal ability with precision, they said. The risk was high, but there was plenty to gain if you pulled it off. It was a chance to properly promote your title track on air, after all. Satisfy viewers with an unaccompanied song and more of them would go looking for the track. Mess it up, though, and that song would be dark history forever.
The moment the first recording ended, the kids didn't return to the dorm. They holed up in the company practice room, drive burning hot. They were skipping dinner to keep going, so I bought them something to eat.
Then, on the way back up to the office, I ran into two people—one face somewhat familiar, one I knew very well.
Actress Son Chae-young, and Chief Jo, her manager, whom I'd seen at the PR team meeting a few days ago.
The two of them were sitting in the fourth-floor lounge. Chief Jo held a thick stack of A4 paper in each hand and was talking with great passion; Son Chae-young, sunglasses on, listened as if she were bored. It really was Son Chae-young. The very emblem of pure innocence I'd only ever seen on TV and in movie theaters.
Should I say hello?
I was still debating when Chief Jo suddenly beckoned.
"Team 3's Lucky Charm!"
"…Me?"
"Yeah, you. Come talk for a second."
Had it shown on my face, that debate over whether to greet them? I walked over feeling awkward, and Chief Jo held out the two stacks of A4.
What was this? Pretty thick.
Something like titles was written on the covers.
Don't tell me these were drama synopses?
I took them quickly and flipped through a few pages. Synopses, all right—fresh ones, for shows that hadn't even aired yet. The first page carried the title and the names of the director and writer; from the next page on, a detailed outline, character introductions, and the plot were laid out clean and clear. I wanted to read them carefully. No—I wanted to keep them. But why was he showing them to me?
"One's a PBS Monday-Tuesday, the other's an IBC Wednesday-Thursday. The broadcast windows overlap, so she has to pick just one, and the writing on both is solid and the fees are the same. Pick wrong, and the one you threw away pulls better ratings, and you'll genuinely lose your mind. You'd agonize over it, right?"
"I imagine so."
Which was why an eye for projects—and luck—mattered so much for actors and their managers. There were actors who had unluckily missed several huge hits, and actors who had stumbled into a role that was never meant to be theirs and shot to stardom overnight. You could never know which drama would be a smash and which would flop, so of course the choosing was nothing but worry.
"I'm asking you the way I'd ask a tarot reading. So don't feel pressured. Just pick one."
"Sorry?"
"Of those two, which one looks like it'll do better to you?"