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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Keywords (1)
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At my age, I thought pulling an all-nighter was impossible unless I was absolutely swamped with work.
But I was wrong.
Turns out, people can do anything when their feet are to the fire. Thanks to that, I greeted the morning with my eyes wide open.
Losing my memories was daunting enough, but now that my lips were sealed, I felt completely tied up.
‘The biggest problem is not knowing the exact scope of “direct information.”’
Such a subjective phrase was dangerous. It was like digging traps everywhere and praying I'd fall into one.
Lamenting my less-than-hopeful future, I struggled out of bed.
Even though I was forced to sign a security pledge, I still had to work.
Such was the fate of an office worker.
“Did I fall asleep working overtime just to end up like this...”
When I muttered this to myself, Choi Jeho and Lee Cheonghyun gave me distinctly uncomfortable looks.
I ignored them and left the room. Just then, Jeong Seongbin was coming out into the living room.
Our eyes met, and Jeong Seongbin approached me.
“Did you not sleep well last night?”
“A little.”
Jeong Seongbin hesitated for a moment, then whispered in my ear.
“Hyung.”
“What?”
“Couldn't you sleep because you were seeing the future?”
“What?”
I turned to him, appalled, and saw his face was brimming with mischief.
Jeong Seongbin's consideration in struggling to hold back his laughter only made me feel more humiliated.
When I told him to just laugh openly, he didn't hold back.
Happy now?
Your laughter brings me joy. Just you try quitting being a trainee.
* * *
“Iwol, did I ask to see you for a moment?”
As soon as I arrived at UA, the manager called me over. It was because I'd requested a meeting yesterday.
My reason was simple: the issue of using a smartphone.
As the owner of a 2G phone, the only way I could get outside information was by sneaking to a PC bang at dawn or by taking turns using the spare phone at the dorm.
I always used incognito mode on the spare phone, but my heart pounded, fearing that at any moment someone might ask, “Who searched for ‘I see weird things in front of my eyes’ on the phone?”
So I tried to get a budget phone in my name, but unfortunately, UA didn't allow trainees to have personal phones.
They probably let it slide for a month because I had a 2G phone. This company was sentimental about the strangest things.
But what I wanted wasn't to have my phone confiscated or to keep using a 2G phone; it was to use a smartphone.
Having been thrown into the past with my memories wiped, I needed to at least secure access to information.
As expected, the manager's reaction to my request was not exactly positive.
“That's not allowed. The other guys also agreed not to have personal phones until their debut.”
“Yes, I'm aware.”
Besides, you guys at UA didn't even let them use phones for a year after their debut.
How can you just brush aside such an important issue?
Regardless of my boiling animosity, the manager stood firm.
“It's not that we have bad intentions; we do this because the company needs to manage you. I hope you can understand.”
I thought it was excessively old-fashioned, but I kept quiet for the time being.
If I were to say, ‘But Spark never caused any trouble with their phones,’ who would believe me?
“Iwol, you haven't been preparing to be an idol for long, so you might not know, but a single post you make by mistake can often come back as a huge problem later. The company is trying to prevent that.”
“Yes. Still, Manager, would you be willing to hear my reasons for needing a phone and consider it?”
Respect the company's policy, express that I'll follow the outcome no matter what, and humbly request the floor.
If you make it clear that the decision lies with the company, most people—unless they're like Department Head Nam—will at least hear you out.
Fortunately, the manager was even kinder and gave me the time.
“I don't remember if I mentioned this when I joined, but I'm living independently because I'm not on good terms with my parents.”
“Yeah, I heard from the management team.”
That makes things easier.
My situation—with my guardian having moved and cut off contact without a word—was considerably worse than that of the other trainees.
That's because trainees need money for things beyond what the company covers. Even for something as simple as buying shoes or medicine.
“I thought I would need a smartphone to manage my living expenses or look for a part-time job, so I wanted to ask in advance. Would it be difficult even just to check it once a day?”
My training schedule was too packed to go to an ATM every day just to check my card or bank balance. The manager agreed on this point.
“You're going to get a part-time job, too?”
“If I can find something that doesn't interfere with my practice hours. Ah, of course, I'm thinking of doing it only after I've mastered all the basics.”
To reassure the manager, I strongly emphasized that I had no intention of slacking off for the time being.
But the manager's worries didn't end there.
“I hear you're always the last one to leave. The kids told me. Will you have the stamina for it?”
“Stamina is all I have. I'll be fine.”
Honestly, I had no doubt that Hanpyeong Industries hired me for my stamina, too. That's why they worked me to the bone without a break.
While I was lost in thought, the manager considered for a moment before speaking.
“Once a day... I'll discuss it. It might not be approved, so don't get your hopes up, okay? And consult with me before you start any part-time job.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Alright. Keep practicing hard!”
The manager patted my back a couple of times and left. With that, the immediate tasks I needed to handle were more or less settled.
I was worried that my sister might have tried to contact me and I wouldn't be able to answer right away, but...
From her perspective, reconnecting with a younger brother who couldn't even support himself probably wasn't a welcome thought.
I decided it was best to keep quiet, figuring I shouldn't go advertising my whereabouts, separate from trying to find out how she was doing on my own.
Feeling relieved, I headed to the practice room and saw Park Juwoo coming from the opposite direction.
Park Juwoo looked like he'd been dancing his heart out while I was gone; he was drenched in sweat as he filled his water bottle.
“...Where have you been?”
“I just had a meeting with the manager.”
“...?”
“He said I have such shockingly bad coordination that they need a special plan for me.”
Hearing my words, Park Juwoo's pupils wavered.
“Really...?”
“Half joke, half truth. Which part do you think is true?”
“...That you have bad coordination?”
“You're right, but that stings a little.”
Realizing I wasn't getting kicked out, Park Juwoo let out a subtle sigh of relief.
Is he actually relieved that I'm not leaving?
If my guess is right, these kids should probably practice not getting attached to people. Once they enter the real world, it'll be swarming with scammer-like adults trying to exploit them.
It felt a little cold to just joke around and leave, so I waited for Park Juwoo to finish filling his water bottle.
When the bottle was about half full, Park Juwoo, who had been filling it in silence, asked.
“Hyung, have you... decided on a song for the next evaluation?”
It hadn't been long since the monthly evaluation, but the next one was already waiting.
The barrage of tests reminded me of the pop quizzes from high school.
“I've just narrowed down the list. I have to pick one by the end of this week.”
Then I suddenly remembered that Park Juwoo had received some criticism regarding his song choice. He must have his own worries.
“When are you planning to start preparing?”
“...I'm still thinking about it.”
As he closed the cap on his water bottle, Park Juwoo looked quite troubled.
No matter how awkward I felt around these kids, it was a little hard to see someone ten years younger than me looking so discouraged.
So, I drew out a tiny bit of the social skills that Hanpyeong Industries had nurtured with my own blood.
“I learned to play the bass as a hobby. If you ever want to sing a band song, let me know. I'll play for you.”
“Really...?”
Yeah. I learned it in a university club I can no longer go to.
In front of my bitter self, Park Juwoo's eyes lit up. He seemed incredibly excited.
“...Cheonghyun knows how to play the keyboard, too.”
“Then you bring him along.”
Even if I quit right after debuting, I'm sure there'll be a chance to play for them.
After that, our conversation about bands from all eras didn't stop until we reached the practice room.
When I suggested we'd have another chance to talk more soon, Park Juwoo nodded in agreement.
The back of Park Juwoo, as he opened the practice room door and went inside, looked somehow a little happier.
* * *
Permission to use a phone was granted a few days later.
It was a primitive system where I had to ask the manager for the phone when I needed it and return it an hour later, but I was satisfied enough.
As soon as the budget phone I'd ordered online arrived, I installed a stock trading app to check on my precious babies, then bookmarked a few listings for remote part-time jobs.
With some time still left, I went to a search portal and typed in keywords I couldn't possibly let my housemates, with whom I shared a single spare phone, see.
‘Suddenly an idol’.
‘Woke up and I'm back in the past’.
‘I can see words in front of my eyes’.
At the same time, I prayed desperately that my situation wasn't some Korean version of The Truman Show.
If this were being broadcast nationwide, I'd probably lose the courage to ever leave my house again.
It was impossible that I, who could confidently call myself ordinary, had become some unheard-of life-recycler.
So, I searched, thinking there must be similar cases somewhere that I just didn't know about.
“Huh?”
Something actually showed up in the search results.
It was a link leading to something called a “web novel.”
The platform I accessed was filled with countless sad tales of those forced to sign contracts—from idols who returned to the past, to those who debuted by chance, to those who ended up inside a game.
By the time I learned that “Hoe-Bing-Hwan,” a term common to many of the stories, was an abbreviation for regression, possession, and reincarnation, I had also figured out that my situation fell under “regression.”
Apparently, before experiencing Hoe-Bing-Hwan, people were usually hit by a man called the “Truck Driver” in their original world or fell asleep while passionately enjoying some content.
Compared to me, who regressed while working overtime, everyone else's story was so dramatic. I guess life really isn't like a drama.
More importantly, they rolled me back nine years without even sending a single regression truck.
Am I the only one getting the budget treatment?
Because my phone time was limited, I could only read up to chapter 25 of the novels, the free portion.
As a result, I only learned the sad rule that any human trapped in the cycle of regression must inevitably become an idol.
Of course, there were some helpful parts, too.
A way to describe the members' personalities most intuitively with refined language.
‘#Pathetic, #Scheming, #Mastermind, #Healing...’
It was keywords.
