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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Meeting with the CEO (2)
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Perhaps five minutes had passed since I arrived at the CEO’s office with the manager.
With the arrival of Min Jukyung, who looked as if she had rushed over from work, all the attendees for this monumental first meeting were now present.
“No need to be nervous. The idea is for all UA artists to see each other and say hello at least once a month.”
The CEO began. As he said, neither the manager nor Min Jukyung seemed particularly tense.
‘Wasn’t UA’s rating on career review sites something like 3.2 stars?’
For a small agency in the notoriously harsh entertainment industry, that was a high rating. At least twice as high as Hanpyeong Industries, I recalled.
“I skipped last month because I figured you'd still be adjusting, but you're all settled in now, right? I know you must be busy practicing, so just think of this as a short break and relax.”
While those words might be appreciated by an idol dedicated to physical training, I felt the veins in my fists bulging.
Usually, when you say you’re not feeling well, they tell you to take it easy, not summon you to the CEO’s office.
After I was even served buckwheat tea personally brewed by the CEO, the conversation began in earnest.
Most of the topics were like those in a new employee interview: How are you settling in? Is anything uncomfortable?
“The manager is always praising you, saying that even though you started late, you’re not discouraged and stay behind to practice every day.”
When I glanced at the manager, he gave me a wink. I’m eternally grateful for him packaging my remedial studies in such a positive light.
The CEO and Min Jukyung laughed warmly, showering me with questions.
“You’re sharing a room with Jeho and Cheonghyun at the dorm, right? Are you getting along well with the guys?”
“What do you usually do during your free practice time?”
“How are the preparations for the next evaluation coming along? Have you given it some thought?”
For a fledgling trainee in his early twenties, new to this industry, these were impeccably thoughtful questions.
But for me, someone whose human resources training was forged in a mud pit, a thick pair of colored glasses was already firmly in place.
To me, their questions sounded like this:
→ Are you communicating with your team members without issue?
→ What do you typically do for professional development?
→ Have you started drafting your performance plan for the second half of the year? Start now, because there will be a surprise inspection.
If this wasn't their true intention, I apologize, but I answered with the most upright and proper attitude I could muster.
“My roommates are all very kind, so I’m living comfortably.”
…And so on.
What I really meant was, ‘Choi Jeho has a fantastic personality, and while Lee Cheonghyun is on his laptop until dawn, he doesn’t nag me, so we’re maintaining the peace and getting along well.’
After a few more exchanges like this, Min Jukyung laughed heartily.
“CEO, doesn't Iwol speak so earnestly?”
“I know, right? When you first told me about him, Jukyung, I thought, ‘All our kids are earnest, what’s so special about that?’”
I realized the “earnestness” they were talking about was the ‘Yes! I’ll work hard!’ type, but I didn't bother to correct them.
This way of speaking was a habit I’d picked up working under Department Head Nam.
Or perhaps the ‘Attendance Management’ effect from my resume was kicking in here as well.
Sure enough, a small, faint line of text glowed in the corner of my vision: ‘Excellent attendance management has been recognized, resulting in a high evaluation.’
While the atmosphere was still brimming with goodwill, the manager brought up something unexpected.
“Iwol has a sharp side to him. The other guys warmed up to him quickly, too.”
Those guys?
I don’t think so.
What great charm could an older guy, only a year or two their senior whom they’d known for less than a month, possibly have?
Especially when that guy was an awkward person like me.
However, it seemed the manager was determined to paint me as a highly sociable person.
“He adapts quickly and is very friendly. When they're all together, Iwol has a way of lightening the mood.”
By bringing a bit of looseness to the tense practice room. Thanks to that, I’m so busy reading the room every day that I never feel hungry.
Listening to the manager’s well-packaged story, the CEO commented.
“People like that are truly rare. Not just in a group, but in any organization.”
“…Pardon?”
I was taken aback.
It was a type of comment I had never once heard during any of my interviews at a company.
The CEO even encouraged me, saying, ‘Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.’
In an atmosphere so full of praise that I doubted its sincerity, I didn't know what to do but smile mechanically. It was an unfamiliar feeling.
* * *
After receiving experience points as a reward for finishing the meeting, I returned to the practice room to find only Lee Cheonghyun there.
“Why are you here alone?”
Lee Cheonghyun answered my question cheerfully.
“Jeho-hyung went to the convenience store, and Juwoo-hyung is in the vocal practice room!”
“What about Seongbin and Giyeon… does school end late for them today?”
“It’s their ID photo day, so they’ll come after that’s done. We didn’t have after-school classes today, so we finished early!”
“Ah, photos are important.”
After all, those pictures would probably wander the internet for the rest of their lives.
Hearing Cheonghyun’s words reminded me of my own time attending after-school classes and evening self-study sessions.
And of my older sister, who was always going on about how evening self-study was mandatory ‘back in my day.’
It was a strange feeling, having these memories I thought I’d forgotten pop up.
“What are you going to do today?”
“I have to finish the rap lyrics I was working on, but I’ll do that at night… I was told to try writing a song, so I thought about it, but there are a lot of things I’m unsure about, so I think I’ll just focus on dancing today and then head home.”
With a CEO who was himself a singer-songwriter, UA was the perfect environment to learn composition.
Lee Cheonghyun, who had majored in classical music as a child, only began learning to compose popular music in earnest after joining UA.
As befitting a member of Spark, a group of outstanding raw talents, Lee Cheonghyun’s growth accelerated dramatically after their debut.
In just a few years, he went from a rookie composer who contributed one B-side track to their debut album to a capable artist who could produce an entire album on his own.
There was only one thing such a talented Lee Cheonghyun regretted.
‘Question from user 1103! Cheonghyun, if you could change just one thing about your past, what would it be?’
‘That’s a tough one… If I had to pick one, it’d be starting composition late.’
‘Didn’t you write the title track for this album, Cheonghyun? Do you still have regrets?’
‘I didn’t start composing particularly early. I feel like if I had learned more diligently, I could have done better.’
If only he had started composing earlier.
At the time, he didn’t know he had a talent for making popular music, so he focused on his strength, rapping. But once he got a taste of composing, he must have grown ambitious.
‘There were so many kids around me who started dancing or singing early, too.’
I replayed all the songs Lee Cheonghyun had created in my mind.
Songs that, with each passing year, aligned more and more perfectly with Spark’s group identity.
Creation isn’t something you can suddenly do just by moving up a deadline, like for a debut schedule, but…
If he was going to regret starting late, he should walk a different path this time. Especially considering Lee Cheonghyun’s potential.
‘To debut stably even a year ahead of schedule, it’s better to have songs ready early.’
As they say, the earlier you start a challenge and post a job opening, the better.
The problem was whether composition was something one could just start and get into right away.
‘I don’t know anything about the realm of creation.’
I was someone who’d received 12 years of rote education before studying only business administration in college.
The only chance I had to exercise creativity at Hanpyeong Industries was when I had to postpone a company dinner that Department Head Nam tried to schedule for a Friday evening to the following Monday lunch.
“What are you thinking about so hard?”
“Thinking about how to raise you into a composition genius.”
“Me?”
Lee Cheonghyun asked again.
I continued, choosing my words carefully so the system wouldn’t flag my words as predicting the future.
“Yep. I plan to raise you well and hire you as the team’s composition machine.”
“Hyung, your wish is way too specific and grand!”
“Is it wrong to have high expectations for a young, smart talent? Ah, if it feels like too much pressure, just tell me. I’ll restrain myself.”
But I already knew. Lee Cheonghyun wasn’t the type to feel pressured by words like these.
As expected, he looked at me strangely but didn’t seem burdened.
“It would be nice if the young and smart Cheonghyun became a composition machine. But now that school has started again, I have no motivation, hyung.”
“What’s motivation got to do with work? The important things are deadlines and pressure.”
“Huh?”
“I believe that with enough compulsion, a person can do anything.”
I placed both my hands on Lee Cheonghyun’s shoulders.
“Cheonghyun.”
“…Yes.”
“Let’s channel all that worry into making a beat first.”
I understood that creativity couldn’t be forced.
But one could at least build the foundation necessary to grab inspiration by the neck when it arrived.
I couldn’t share in the pain of creation with him, but I did gift Lee Cheonghyun a handmade deadline as a token of my support.
For about a week after that, Lee Cheonghyun really did share his progress with me every single day without fail.
Even today, he was wrestling with the composition software until it was nearly midnight.
After staring at the monitor by himself for a while, Lee Cheonghyun asked me in a hoarse voice.
“Hyung. How come you tell Giyeon to go to bed when it’s late, but not me?”
“Because you have the look of someone who’ll grow tall even with a little less sleep.”
“That’s so mean.”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
“Now my pride won’t let me stop.”
Of course, I didn’t commit the shameless act of keeping a kid up late while I went to bed alone.
Instead, while Lee Cheonghyun worked on his music, I planned my schedule for the next day by predicting the tasks the system would assign me.
I figured it would take a decade to fill my experience gauge if I just waited for the system to randomly assign tasks.
It was a method of sweeping the yard before being told to grab the broom.
I had tried a few things based on the tasks I’d received so far, like when I predicted the vocal feedback, and it worked with a surprisingly high success rate.
Thanks to that, my accumulated experience had reached 90.
‘If only 10 more points would fall from the sky.’
I was idly drawing lines on a pointless algorithm when an alarm went off on Lee Cheonghyun’s phone. It was the notification that 25 minutes had passed.
This was the result of implementing the Pomodoro Technique, with the intention of having him focus intensely when he needed to and rest during his limited time.
Lee Cheonghyun was also getting used to this method of working and resting, rather than just staring blankly into space whenever he got stuck.
“Good work. Time for bed now?”
“I guess so… What about you, hyung?”
“I’ll stay up a little longer.”
“Is this hyung an elephant or something? How can you not sleep?”
I’m more surprised by the fact that you know elephants don’t sleep much.
It was then that a familiar, almost welcome message appeared.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Hidden Task’ has been completed.
▷ Details: Be acknowledged for your perseverance by a member
▷ Reward: Experience (10)
▷ Accumulated Experience: 100
▷ Accumulated Points: 1
+
“Cheonghyun.”
“What?”
“You’re a really admirable kid.”
“What are you talking about? Just go to sleep!”
Regardless of Lee Cheonghyun’s disgusted reaction, I quickly exchanged my newly acquired welfare point for skill points.
+
Performance Evaluation (100)
― Vocal Skill: 6(▲)/20
― Dance Skill: 5(▲)/20
― Self-PR: 12/20
― Attendance Management: 18/20
― Adaptability within the Organization: 10/20
Accumulated Experience: 0
+
Amidst all this, my Vocal Skill had gone up on its own again.
The vocal kid next door was doing just fine on his own, but I had no idea why our dance kid was so high-maintenance.
Still, I decided to let it slide just this once, proud of the kid for his amazing growth from 1 to 5.
By raising my Dance Skill to 5, the task of improving it before the March monthly evaluation was also marked as complete.
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Task’ has been completed.
▷ Reward: Trial pass to view other members' resumes, Standard proposal template set (3 types) for debut album planning
+
Finally, I could see the other members’ resumes, not just my own shabby one.
