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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Concept Planning (1)
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I recalled the concepts Spark had taken on over the past seven years.
From their debut album, where they sang ballads with a winter-boy vibe in a field of frost-bitten grass.
To the time they sang love songs in jumpsuits at an abandoned factory, perhaps aiming for an unexpected charm.
Among them were some concepts that suited Spark rather well. It was just that their sense of season and fashion had been a complete disaster.
‘The moment they came up with the cyber-warrior concept, you had to assume UA's planning skills were dead and gone.’
I tried to push the five grey-clad cyber warriors, a memory I didn't even want to recall, out of my mind.
So, what kind of concept should Spark have?
‘I have to make the most of their faces and physiques somehow…’
First, I asked Lee Cheonghyun, who would have the biggest say in the songwriting, if he had a concept in mind. This was his reply.
“I want it to have an explosive feel. Something exciting!”
“Aren’t you just saying that because it matches the song you’re writing right now?”
The song Lee Cheonghyun hummed, saying it was what he was composing, was one that had been included as a B-side on their debut album.
Knowing how that song would turn out, I knew exactly what kind of feel he was talking about.
“My life’s motto is ‘You only live once, so live it up’!”
It wasn't particularly helpful, but they were the words of our precious composer, so I took them to heart.
“Oh! How about a futuristic concept? It’s cool, right? Like a movie!”
“Don’t you dare utter such a horrible word.”
Unless you want to become a cyber warrior born from an LED.
“Nothing else you need?”
“Some warm praise for your younger brother who’s struggling with self-improvement?”
“Cheonghyun, your dedication to growth is admirable. Satisfied? Now let’s get back to work.”
As I herded Lee Cheonghyun back to his laptop, Park Juwoo poked his head out from the doorway.
I gestured for Park Juwoo, who had willingly stuck his head in, to come inside.
“We were just talking about concepts. Juwoo, is there any concept you’d like to try?”
“If it’s among idol-like concepts… something a bit intense.”
His preference was still the complete opposite of his gentle demeanor.
“Do you mean intense in terms of the lyrics or message? Or do you mean visually intense, like the styling or choreography?”
“…Umm.”
Park Juwoo seemed to ponder it, as if he hadn't thought that far.
“Considering Juwoo-hyung’s taste, maybe he means something with a high difficulty? Like power vocals and high notes.”
“As long as this group is a nation in possession of Park Juwoo and Jeong Seongbin, there’s no escaping high notes.”
“…If I have to choose, I’d prefer a strong message.”
Quite the philosophical preference.
The last time I’d pondered philosophy was when I begged them to please, for the love of God, decide on a management philosophy for the Hanpyeong Industries website.
After asking the other members, including Jeong Seongbin, I got a rough idea of the concepts they each wanted to try.
Choi Jeho: Intense choreography.
Jeong Seongbin: Anything, as long as it suits the members.
Park Juwoo: Something with a powerful message.
Lee Cheonghyun: Something exciting and explosive.
Kang Giyeon: Something that can utilize unique formations, is eye-catching, and clearly shows the group’s color.
A bunch of guys who'd go to a Chinese restaurant and each order a different dish. How did they manage to work together for seven years with this little unity?
I pushed away my oncoming headache and mentally reviewed the concept requirements I had to piece together.
1. Must highlight the members' strengths: their physiques and visuals.
2. Must match the song Lee Cheonghyun will compose.
3. Must satisfy the tastes of our very demanding members.
4. Must be marketable.
My vision went dark. The only album concepts I knew were the ones Spark had done for the past seven years.
There was only one solution in a situation like this.
To throw myself into the sea of information, just as I had when I scoured the internet for HR document templates right after joining the company.
I crammed ‘reference research’ into my already packed schedule.
For my days to be this busy, to the point of bursting. I wanted to demand overtime pay from the System.
* * *
I once went around scraping together positive comments to prepare a birthday present for Choi Jeho.
That was probably… when I decided to make a book of supportive comments as a gift.
Among the posts I saw while browsing various online communities, there was a certain type that would pop up as if copy-pasted every time Spark had a comeback.
≫ There's no company out there that's as bad at utilizing their idols' faces as UA
They take kids who would look fine just wearing color-coordinated outfits and go out of their way to meticulously dress them in rags
└ >The "go out of their way to meticulously" part is the killing point
└ >Officially the #1 idols who look best in their own clothes
Below it, the thread was flooded with pictures of Spark in their "Tetris look," as if the only rule was to wear a top and a bottom.
≫ It takes real talent to dress them like this for every single performance
One of the members must have spilled an iced americano on the CEO's face
└ >Looking at this mess, it seems more like all five of them did it at the same time
└ >If the shirt the CEO was wearing cost 800,000 won, then it's totally understandable
As the scathing criticism and flashy photos took turns boggling my mind, something caught my eye.
‘What is this…?!’
It was a picture of me.
Wearing a black t-shirt, a fluorescent yellow vinyl vest, and white cotton shorts, no less.
The post with the shocking photo attached also had a one-line comment.
≫ Kim Iwol's outfit is seriously insane
He's basically a Post-it note dropped on a keyboard
The sheer expressiveness of it made me break out in a cold sweat.
Even that post, with only three views, had a comment.
≫ His dead-looking eyes are so f**king pitiful
“Gasp…!”
The moment my eyes met my own dead, blurry pupils, immortalized alongside the comment, I woke up.
It was a horrible dream.
‘No matter what, I will avoid a Post-it note concept.’
I steeled my resolve. As if every day wasn't hell already, I had a feeling today would be just as tough.
When I went out to the living room, Lee Cheonghyun, the first person I saw, greeted me.
“Hyung, did you have a nightmare? You were groaning in your sleep.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am that this is reality.”
“Must have been a really nasty dream.”
As I accepted Lee Cheonghyun's sympathy and headed for the kitchen, I saw someone standing in front of the induction cooktop, holding a spatula.
It was Jeong Seongbin, all ready for school.
“What are you doing?”
“Ah, hyung! Good morning.”
Then, Jeong Seongbin pointed to the dining table.
“I toasted some bread today. You should have some too, hyung.”
The bread was laid out neatly on the table.
I thought I'd smelled something delicious this morning.
If he'd woken up early, he should have just lazed around in bed. His diligence was truly like something created by breathing life into an ethics textbook.
“Thanks. I'll eat well.”
“It’s nothing.”
Then Jeong Seongbin also sat down and began to eat his bread.
So this is the Jeong Seongbin who becomes 'the prime example of a male idol leader full of venom' after seven years in a group.
I didn't even want to imagine how their future idol careers would unfold.
* * *
There's a saying that learning never ends.
For the past 29 years, I believed that saying didn't apply to me.
Because I myself wasn't a fan of studying. You study until you're sick of it as a student, so who would want to study as an adult?
In high school, my only reason for studying was to get away from home. In college, it was to get a scholarship, graduate quickly, and find a job.
I can say with certainty that I have never once studied because I enjoyed it.
Heck, at Hanpyeong Industries, I was the one who had to dig in the dirt with a trowel because there wasn't a single handover document.
I truly wanted to stop being forced to learn new things. And I probably could have, if I hadn't brought this foolishness upon myself.
But the old saying was never wrong.
I admitted it to myself as I massaged my eyes, which felt like they were about to fall out from organizing the last five years of monthly TOP 10 charts from music sites.
That just as there comes a day when an office worker has to study the idol market, there truly is no end to learning.
‘How can a new task just slam into me the moment one monthly evaluation is almost over?’
The sad memories I had steadily accumulated at Hanpyeong Industries seemed to be resurfacing.
As a result of sleeping three hours a day, practicing during the day, and staring at my laptop at night…
“Hyung. I think your dark circles have evolved.”
My face had reached a state where Lee Cheonghyun would say something like that to me. I also felt like my dry eye syndrome was acting up.
My complexion must have been pretty bad, because even Choi Jeho asked a question.
“You’re not sleepy with that little sleep?”
“Of course I am.”
But if I don't skimp on sleep now, I'll definitely suffer the humiliation of the Post-it note look in the future.
Just thinking about it made any sleepiness I had vanish.
“But hyung, what are you doing at night? Didn’t you say you’d already picked a song for the monthly evaluation?”
“Preparing for the future?”
“This hyung really talks in a weird way.”
Lee Cheonghyun said with a laugh.
But it's not like I could tell them, ‘You should be grateful I’m saving you from looking like kimbap wrapped in tinfoil,’ so I kept my mouth shut.
“…Still, hyung, you really don't seem to get nervous.”
“I know, right? You did great on your first evaluation, hyung.”
Park Juwoo and Jeong Seongbin, who were stretching together, even chimed in.
I wanted no part of the attention being showered on me, so I quickly changed the subject.
“Thanks for the compliments, but shouldn't we start practicing soon?”
At that, Jeong Seongbin, who was thankfully by-the-book when it came to practice, immediately switched into practice mode.
And so, the trivial conversation seemed to be over… or so I thought.
“Hyung.”
“Yeah?”
Late at night, Kang Giyeon, who was left alone with me in the practice room, struck up a conversation, and the trivial chat continued.
“Can you spare a moment?”
I'm sorry, Giyeon.
But now, I'm starting to get scared whenever you open your mouth.
