-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Concept Planning (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
I sat on the practice room floor next to Kang Giyeon.
In the mirror across from us, I could see Kang Giyeon fidgeting with his hands.
The awkward silence was suffocating.
I debated whether I should try to break the ice, but I figured this kid needed someone to set the stage for him rather than coddle him. So, I spoke first.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
Even so, Kang Giyeon didn't speak right away.
Did he want me to make some small talk? I never thought of him as someone who had trouble expressing himself.
Fortunately, before much more time passed, Kang Giyeon opened his mouth.
“About… being nervous. I was wondering if I could get some advice.”
Kang Giyeon’s reason for requesting a meeting was, surprisingly, ‘Needs advice.’
It seemed my nerve in not bombing the first evaluation had left an impression on him.
*‘Among Spark, is there no one who seems mentally strong… besides Choi Jeho?’*
Jeong Seongbin would develop a solid core later on, but for now, they were all still kids.
And Choi Jeho, the only other one worth asking for advice, had a conversation difficulty level of ‘extreme.’
So by process of elimination, I was the only one left. That was it.
*‘I have to admit, his willingness to ask even a stiff like me for advice when he’s desperate is admirable.’*
It takes more than ordinary courage to face direct criticism from someone else. In that respect, he was truly respectable.
As I was feeling genuinely moved, Kang Giyeon asked me.
“Hyung, are you the type who doesn't get nervous?”
“I didn't get nervous a lot, but I wasn’t immune to it either. I think I was about average.”
“How did you fix it?”
*Yeah, I fixed it by getting my ass chewed out by my department head as an example in front of the executives.*
I closed my eyes, trying to erase the memory of the conference room where yelling was a common occurrence.
*Get a grip. Kang Giyeon is a high school student, not a working adult.*
Instead of telling Kang Giyeon about the bitter taste of corporate life, I explained my painful memories in the most sanitized way possible.
“I did a lot of practice that felt like the real thing. Like mock interviews.”
“Like the real thing…”
Kang Giyeon murmured, repeating my words.
“I’d imagine getting chewed out, imagine making mistakes. Then I’d figure out how to handle it when I messed up, and identify what kind of situations made me the most nervous.”
“I’ve done a lot of mock tests, but they weren’t very effective. I even set up cameras.”
“If there’s less pressure than the real thing, you can still get flustered no matter how much you practice.”
After all, you could pull an all-nighter preparing a presentation, but if your boss just says, ‘Assistant Manager Kim, what’s with your expression?’ it feels like all the blood is draining from your body.
“Did the instructors give you any advice?”
“They just said I’m doing well, so I just need to perform like I do in practice… things like that.”
Just like UA. Their advice was so gentle.
Though I guess they were deliberately avoiding harsh criticism, thinking about how it might break the idols' spirits later.
Praise from others only registers when you’re in a state to hear it.
Being told he was doing well when he felt he couldn’t showcase his skills probably didn’t resonate much with Kang Giyeon.
“How should I create that pressure?”
Kang Giyeon asked.
Well, for me, I used to hold a grand festival of Q&A with myself, running through hundreds of follow-up questions that Department Head Nam would ask.
It’s a good thing I lived alone; if I had a roommate, they would’ve thought I was losing my mind.
“If you practice in a setting that’s as specific and realistic as possible, you’ll probably get used to it… But you can’t exactly ask the instructors to create that environment for you every time.”
“Exactly.”
After a moment of thought, I made a suggestion to Kang Giyeon.
“Want me to play the part of the evaluator?”
“What?”
Kang Giyeon’s eyes widened slightly.
He’d been speaking calmly this whole time without even raising his voice. This must have been unexpected.
“You said just having cameras isn’t enough. Making the surroundings and atmosphere more realistic might be effective.”
“But when you talk, you tend to lighten the mood. Won’t that ruin the effect?”
“Don’t worry. I’m great at playing the part of a condescending old boomer.”
Kang Giyeon gave me a look of complete disbelief. He’ll be in for a shock when he sees my passionate performance, possessed by the spirit of Department Head Nam.
I never thought I’d willingly do something to help Spark in my life.
But Kang Giyeon has helped me a lot so far, so I decided to think of this as repaying a debt.
“Then… I’ll take you up on that.”
Whether because he had no other choice or because he was truly desperate, Kang Giyeon didn’t hesitate long before accepting my offer.
“This is in exchange for you helping me with my practice during the day. If you want to practice at night, just let me know anytime.”
“Let’s start tomorrow.”
“I truly admire your passion.”
I didn’t hold back my praise for Kang Giyeon, who, if we had a little more time left in the practice room, would have surely suggested we start today.
Then I added a brief comment about something that had been on my mind.
“By the way, you don’t need to beat around the bush for a favor like this.”
It was 50,000 times better to report first and deal with the consequences later than to hesitate about seeking advice and letting the problem grow.
The same went for fighting. It was better for them to trade blows in front of me than to fight where I couldn’t see them, deepening the emotional rift.
Though, the best-case scenario was them fighting out of sight and making up before coming to me.
*‘He was persistent enough to pester even Choi Jeho about practicing together, so he shouldn’t be the type to have trouble asking for things.’*
In fact, when it came to his goals, Kang Giyeon was surprisingly compliant.
Meaning, he wasn’t the type to ask for a separate meeting or beat around the bush just to ask something this simple.
But then, Kang Giyeon’s reply was quite surprising.
“You’ve seemed busy lately, hyung, so I wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.”
And for a rather admirable reason, at that.
He was worlds apart from Department Head Nam, who would say, ‘Assistant Manager Kim, you look busy,’ while asking me to book a birthday event cafe for Spark.
It was a moment that made my old mantra—‘I’d rather eat all the rice cakes and die than give an extra one to someone I hate’—feel pointless.
Right. The decent thing to do is to take the rice cake from the hateful person and give it to the one who’s working hard.
My mind drifted to Chief Song, the epitome of a hard worker—good-natured, competent, and diligent.
*Chief Song, I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you.*
*That impression of Department Head Nam that made you cackle… I’ll put it to good use here, too. I hope you get through today without any trouble and don’t have to work late.*
Just as my heart was getting all sentimental, the clock showing 11:50 caught my eye.
Before worrying about others, it was time for me to end my own overtime. It was a bitter thought.
* * *
After that late-night conversation, my relationship with Kang Giyeon became a little interesting.
‘Here, it should go *ta-dan tang*, but you’re just going *oo-dang tang*.’
‘My bad.’
During the day, Kang Giyeon would practically grab me by the scruff of the neck and drag me along…
‘Kang Giyeon, stop your hands from shaking. Eyes forward. Straighten your back.’
‘Yes.’
And at night, I drilled him relentlessly.
One time, Lee Cheonghyun, who had stayed behind wondering what the two of us were doing every night, ended up fleeing after getting an earful for twenty minutes about controlling his facial expression.
“Shoulders back, back straight. If your posture is hunched, you’ll feel more nervous.”
“…I’m nervous even when I straighten my posture.”
“Then try lying on the floor over there for about three minutes.”
It was a joke meant to help him relax, but Kang Giyeon actually lay down on the floor.
He must be that desperate. It must be so frustrating to be so talented but unable to show it.
With the sole determination to make sure my dance teacher would get his moment in the spotlight, I walked over to the prone Kang Giyeon.
“How is it? Feeling a little more relaxed?”
“…Yeah. I think it’s because it’s comfortable.”
He didn’t seem to be lying; his expression was visibly more at ease.
Watching Kang Giyeon catch his breath, I said.
“Alright, get up now. Let’s run the simulation again from the top.”
Kang Giyeon struggled to his feet. I had to give him credit for his endurance; he never once told me it was too hard.
But it wasn’t like Kang Giyeon was just eating up my practice time.
Since we were unintentionally seeing each other every day, I was learning things too.
Watching a model example dozens of times, as if I were monitoring him, allowed me to see his movements in much finer detail.
For example, like this.
“It looks like you’re putting less weight on your left foot than before. Was that because you’re tired or because you’re nervous?”
“Because I’m tired.”
“It’s understandable. But you know the evaluators aren’t going to take the fact that you’re tired into consideration, right?”
“…Yes.”
When I pointed out that the angle between his index and middle fingers changed every time he danced, the look on his face was one of utter exasperation.
Well, what can you do? Even if I didn’t say anything, he’d start worrying about it himself later.
I asked Kang Giyeon, who was drenched in a cold sweat despite not having moved much.
“Has your ankle hurt at all since then?”
“No. I guess it’s because I went to the hospital right away.”
“That’s why you need to go to the hospital immediately if you’re in pain. Don’t put it off because it’s a hassle and let it turn into something serious.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Kang Giyeon replied mechanically, as if he’d grown used to the constant nagging.
“Still, your movements are much more natural than in the beginning. At least, it seems you’ve gotten used to me.”
“I feel that way too.”
“It could be that I seem too soft, so it’s hard to create the right atmosphere. Maybe it would’ve been better to have Choi Jeho sit here instead?”
“What?”
At my words, Kang Giyeon looked at me as if I were spouting nonsense.
“You… you think you seem soft, hyung?”
“I think I’m either average or a bit unremarkable.”
I was about to say I probably looked softer than a boiled dumpling, but I held my tongue.
Otherwise, there’s no way Department Head Nam would have targeted me so relentlessly just three days after I joined the company.
However, the answer I got back was nothing short of shocking.
“Hyung, uh… I don’t know if I should say this, but.”
“Go ahead.”
“Honestly? No filter?”
“When have you ever used a filter? Tell me straight.”
“Just looking at your face is fucking scary.”
…What did you say?
“Lee Cheonghyun said that when he first saw you, he thought you were a company director, not a trainee.”
“What are these sharp-tongued, cool-toned bastards saying?”
“And Juwoo-hyung was so nervous on your first day that he couldn’t even eat dinner properly.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“It’s true. You’re providing plenty of pressure, so I don’t think you need to worry about that part.”
The more Kang Giyeon spoke, the more bewildered I became.
It seemed I needed to do something about my dark circles as soon as possible.
* * *
After hearing Kang Giyeon’s shocking confession, I returned to the dorm to find Lee Cheonghyun waiting for me.
At this point, it felt like I was onboarding new employees one after another.
It was past midnight when Lee Cheonghyun, who had taken over Kim Iwol’s back office, asked.
“Hyung! I’ve finished writing the melody, so what should I do now?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking an actual expert about that, Cheonghyun, not a director like me?”
“Did Kang Giyeon tell you that?! He didn’t even pretend to listen when I said it!”
“If you two keep talking nonsense, I’m going to ask Seongbin to increase your practice load.”
“Hey! We have plenty of constructive conversations!”
Then, Lee Cheonghyun began to praise me, displaying social skills that were impressive for his age.
Things like, ‘You have such a good eye for movement, hyung,’ and ‘Kang Giyeon talks about it a lot, too.’
However, Lee Cheonghyun’s approach wasn’t entirely smooth.
“Hyung, if your dynamic visual acuity is so good, why can’t you execute the moves?”
He landed a heavy punch right at the end.
“If you see a Picasso painting, can you reproduce it exactly?”
“Aha.”
Thanks to him, we had a rather silly conversation.
After a few more exchanges, I steered the conversation back to work.
“Anyway, you said you finished the melody. Can I hear it?”
“Of course. But please be gentle with the feedback.”
“Gentle?”
“Right now, I kind of feel like I’m showing off a house I built starting from the roof.”
Lee Cheonghyun said in an uncharacteristically cautious tone.
It’s not like I, a non-expert, could give him any meaningful advice anyway.
Next to Lee Cheonghyun, who was covering his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to watch, I put on the earphones and played the track.
What flowed out was unmistakably the melody I knew—the B-side track 『Start』, composed by Lee Cheonghyun in the past.
However, there was a distinct difference from before.
*‘Hasn’t the song become… a bit better than before?’*
So much better, in fact, that it was a shame my limited vocabulary could only describe it as such.
Lee Cheonghyun’s song was good. I could swear on my years of stanning Spark and all my PSD files.
