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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Establishing KPIs (2)
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For the past few days, I had been watching for a chance to go out.
All so I could go to a PC cafe.
Oblivious to my impure intentions, Kang Giyeon offered me a small, kind word of encouragement.
“Don’t overdo it.”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
After confirming that Kang Giyeon had gone up the stairs, I immediately turned around.
I ran out to the main street and hailed the first taxi that came by.
I despise going off the rails. I’m the type of person who finds it easier to just do as I’m told.
Anyone would become that way after standing for four hours getting cursed out for saying during a one-on-one meeting that they were uncomfortable with personal orders unrelated to work.
But I had no choice right now. There was something I absolutely had to check.
Before long, the taxi arrived at the entrance of the apartment complex where I had lived with my family before moving out.
Instead of going into the apartment building, I walked for a few minutes toward the commercial area, and a familiar PC cafe appeared.
The moment I opened the door, the part-timer waved his hand, telling me to get out and asking if I didn’t know that minors weren’t allowed in PC cafes after 10 p.m.
If he had seen my dark circles in a brighter light, he wouldn’t have made such a mistake.
Left with no other option, I had to show him my ID to prove I had just turned twenty before I was finally allowed in.
I was relieved that if I had gone back just one year younger, I wouldn't have been able to get into a PC cafe or a karaoke room.
I found a seat and the first things I checked were the property register for the apartment I used to live in and my resident registration records.
These were documents I couldn't open on Lee Cheonghyun's laptop because they required a lot of personal information, and I was worried about leaving a search history.
And so I discovered a fact that was more surprising than interesting.
Around the same time my official residence was moved to Spark’s dorm, the ownership of the apartment had been transferred from my father to someone else.
I remembered being the one who cut off contact first in my past life.
Strangely, it seemed the new setting was that my parents had disowned me first.
It didn't really matter. It just meant that the point at which I distanced myself from my family had come sooner than before.
Though being abandoned in front of an entertainment agency at twenty was a bit pathetic.
Next, I opened Google Sheets and began organizing my financial portfolio, based on my entire fortune of 15 million won.
I first set aside an emergency fund for any unforeseen circumstances, then calculated my minimum living expenses. I double-checked the base amount needed for a housing subscription and subtracted it from my balance.
‘Now that my home has evaporated, a housing subscription is a must. The rest of the money… I should put it into stocks.’
In my past, I had zero interest in stocks.
Thanks to that, I suppose, the only stocks I knew were either already famous or destined to become famous.
Like the ones that shot up by 300%, making it impossible for anyone in the country not to know about them.
I checked and, sure enough, saw that several blue-chip stocks were trading at low prices.
Since I was about to lose my hard-earned money without even going to college, I planned to grow this money as much as possible to at least pay my sister back.
I left the stock forum after seeing a post titled “Sentimental Electronics. It’ll. Go up. Eventually.” which had a comment that read, “Okay, grandpa, time for bed.”
If only I knew which stocks were going to be delisted, I would have at least posted a warning for everyone to run.
With my limited knowledge, all I could do was wish everyone success in their investments.
Hoping I had made the right choice, I left the PC cafe, thoroughly exhausted.
Then, to keep the promise I’d made about practicing at a karaoke room, I went and sang for about two hours before obediently returning to the dorm.
It had been a long day.
* * *
If there was one thing I realized every morning, it was that the stamina of a twenty-year-old was incomparably better than that of someone nine years older.
No matter how much I danced or how little I slept the day before, I would have the energy to move by morning.
‘So the reason I could handle those logistics part-time jobs every vacation was because I was young.’
Every time I was reminded of my returned youth like this, I was filled with complicated feelings.
There was also a change in my identical daily routine.
“Did the practice help?”
Kang Giyeon, who usually just gave me a silent nod when we met in the morning, greeted me for the first time.
“It was a time for me to realize I’m not a genius who can master singing in a single day.”
“You practiced again on your own yesterday? Whoa, your dark circles are insane!”
Lee Cheonghyun, who had been following behind me, leaned forward to examine my face and made a fuss.
For some reason, our manager, who had come to the dorm early today, also added a comment from behind.
“Juwoo can sing a song right after he receives it.”
“Isn’t that proof that Juwoo is a genius?”
I immediately highlighted my fellow member’s greatness to the manager.
Being compared to the main vocalist first thing in the morning was just too harsh an environment.
It was certainly a louder morning than what I was used to when living alone. Still, I felt like I was getting a little more accustomed to mornings with other people.
The adaptability of humans is a scary thing.
After that, Kang Giyeon would occasionally strike up a conversation with me as we passed each other.
From Jeong Seongbin, who had a habit of taking care of everyone, to the sociable Lee Cheonghyun, and even Park Juwoo, who would appear so quietly you wouldn't know when he arrived, just to check my posture or vocals.
The Spark guys took time out of their own breaks to help me practice.
All the while, I had to clench my fists to stop myself from habitually trying to press keyboard shortcuts in mid-air to color-correct their faces.
Separate from my own earnest efforts to learn, these guys needed to understand how detrimental it was to someone’s heart when they just popped up out of nowhere.
It had gotten to the point where even Choi Jeho, who rarely spoke to others, made a comment.
“You’re getting close with the others pretty fast.”
It seemed that fellow, Choi Jeho, had seen me being summoned by the members in rotation, like I was on a subway loop line.
But calling that “getting close” was crossing a line. I was grateful for their consideration and kindness, but that was all.
“Me? With them?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that just because they’re all nice?”
“I don’t know about that.”
Choi Jeho replied with a vague response. He clearly didn’t look pleased.
As if anyone found this situation comfortable.
They gave me advice, provided feedback at night, and looked out for me on the way home.
Considering the kindness these Spark guys were showing me, UA’s biggest misfit, it was only right to acknowledge their good character and feel grateful.
But I had not the slightest desire to build any intimacy with them. You guys can be friends with each other.
“With Giyeon, I think we’re closer to a strict teacher and a hopeless student…”
“So you know you were hopeless.”
“You’re putting it in the past tense for me?”
Choi Jeho smirked at my words.
That smile, the one fans would…
‘Please don’t misunderstand. Our Jeho is bursting with laughter right now. He doesn’t bite.’
…explain away like that.
If I hadn’t known, it would’ve been impossible to decipher Choi Jeho’s smiles.
Of course, there was something that bothered me.
The fact that the members were kind and the fact that I was a freeloader were two different issues.
To cling to the side of the bus with my own sinister goals, I needed more than just effort. As long as I had a conscience, that is.
The best-case scenario would be to get my skills up to par immediately, but that was realistically impossible.
And now that even my trusted experience points were being adjusted, it seemed difficult to raise my stats in an instant.
The only thing left was to support these guys who had bet their futures on this, matching their pace as best I could.
Whatever I could do to help.
Speaking of which, I decided to check with Choi Jeho first.
“I have something I want to ask.”
“What.”
“I appreciate you guys stopping in the middle of group practice for me, but I feel like I’m interrupting you too much.”
“So?”
“What should I focus on improving first so that I’m less of a burden to you all?”
At that, I could feel four teenagers staring at me from not too far away.
Working under Department Head Nam, I thought I had become quite used to humbling my incompetent self.
But there was one fact I had overlooked.
This was the first time I had ever openly declared, “Yes, I am this area’s dead weight.”
It was more embarrassing than I’d expected. It was the kind of experience that filled me with the motivation to grind my teeth and practice.
I’ll have to remember this well and kick my blankets in shame for a long time during my moments of self-reflection.
As I steeled my resolve, Choi Jeho shot back a question.
“Why are you asking that?”
Oh, he was being surprisingly gentle.
Coming from Choi Jeho, I had expected something like, “And you think you can fix it if I tell you?”
I was well aware of Choi Jeho’s collection of unfiltered quotes.
In the idol world, where a single phrase could create ten million anti-fans, Choi Jeho’s harsh remarks were perfect for stirring up controversy.
He wasn’t unaware of this himself, as the frequency with which he spoke on broadcasts noticeably decreased as the years went by.
Unfortunately, that led to the common vicious cycle where his silence was criticized as an attitude problem.
But since he was more than capable of handling his own part and was one of the oldest, it was understandable that no one on the team would call him out.
In that sense, “Why are you asking that?” was quite mild.
However, the expressions on Kang Giyeon and Lee Cheonghyun, who were now openly staring at us, were not good. They seemed to think Choi Jeho’s question could be heard as a provocation.
‘They probably interpreted that as something like, ‘Are you passive-aggressively complaining because you feel awkward after joining late?’’
Words are strange things. Depending on the context and non-verbal cues, the same words can be interpreted in a million different ways.
If I had heard that while I was in a foul mood from pulling an all-nighter, I might have glared daggers and thought, ‘Are you still unhappy even though I’m apologizing and bowing my head?’
Perhaps because he wasn’t the leader yet, Jeong Seongbin was also visibly holding his tongue.
This damned seniority system. I’d have to smash it to pieces sooner or later.
But if I was going to be an idol, there was no harm in being careful with my words.
So I decided to rephrase Choi Jeho’s question in the way he ‘probably’ meant to ask it.
“You mean, is there a reason I’ve come to think I’m a hindrance?”
“…? Yeah.”
I knew it. This guy might have a sharp tongue, but he didn’t seem like a bad person.
After a brief silence, Choi Jeho looked up at me. It seemed he had just noticed the strange atmosphere around us.
“It’s not that there’s a specific reason… I just did some thinking on my own after hearing about the monthly evaluation.”
“…”
“You’ve all been training longer than me, and you must want to do just as well, but practice keeps getting cut short to teach me. I thought that must be a nuisance for you.”
“Of course you’re going to make mistakes all the time. How long has it been since you became a trainee?”
“Still, I’m a disruption.”
“If someone’s form breaks just because practice gets interrupted a few times, that’s their problem.”
What a stark and needlessly affectionate piece of feedback.
With the conversation flowing this way, however, the other members couldn’t voice any complaints they might have had.
Oh well.
I decided to once again neatly repackage the words of the great genius Choi Jeho, who acted as if his own condition wouldn't be affected in the slightest whether others fell flat on their faces or broke their noses.
“I understand your point. Thanks for being honest.”
At that, Choi Jeho flinched.
He looked like he’d just had a moment of realization. Good, he wasn’t completely clueless.
Choi Jeho frowned slightly in thought before struggling to speak.
“…Anyway, that’s what I think.”
The ‘I’ was subtly emphasized. It meant he had no intention of dismissing others’ opinions or singling anyone out.
I glanced over and saw Lee Cheonghyun mouthing his admiration without a sound.
Unlike Choi Jeho, that guy was incredibly quick on the uptake.
On the off chance he’d get it, I sent him a signal to pick up the cue, and Lee Cheonghyun approached with a smooth smile.
“There’s no way Jeho meant anything bad by that, right? I didn’t feel that at all!”
He actually took the hint. For this moment, I was grateful for his wit.
“Just the fact that you’re sharing a room with Jeho is something I’m overwhelmingly thankful for. If not for you, I’d be the only one crying into my pillow every night in that Siberian-cold room.”
“Isn’t that an insult to me?”
“Come on. You know if I really had a grudge, I wouldn’t even be able to say things like this, right, Jeho?”
Then, Lee Cheonghyun shot a finger heart at Choi Jeho. It was a gesture perfectly suited for an idol.
Lee Cheonghyun slung an arm around Kang Giyeon’s shoulder and continued.
“Besides, if there was anything bothering him, this guy would’ve been the first to blow up, right? Our Giyeon is a total discipline captain, aren’t you?”
“Get your arm off me.”
“Isn’t Seongbin the captain? He’s always the one checking on us during breaks.”
“Seongbin is less of a discipline captain and more of a baby angel captain.”
That was true. Jeong Seongbin was a good kid.
“Still, um, everyone’s so good, and I just suddenly joined, so I couldn’t help but worry.”
“How many people do you think become trainees through street casting? If you worried about every single one, you wouldn’t even have time for your own practice.”
“Cheonghyun’s right, to an extent. You don’t have to worry so much.”
“If you guys aren’t bothered, then I’m relieved.”
Now, the only one who I was concerned about was Park Juwoo, who hadn’t participated in the conversation at all.
I cautiously sought the opinion of our future main vocalist, who would one day contribute his voice for the sake of the team for the rest of his life.
“Juwoo?”
“…Yes?”
“Is there anything about me that makes you uncomfortable?”
Sorry, Park Juwoo.
I know you don’t particularly enjoy talking to strangers, but for the sake of your own pleasant practice life and smooth debut, I ask for your cooperation…
“Not once.”
“Re-really?”
“Yes. And everyone knows you’re working hard…”
“Oh… Thanks for saying that.”
A society this tolerant of others. It felt so alien.
‘So as long as I don’t ruin the practice atmosphere, they don’t plan on making a big deal out of it.’
That, and the agency’s policy of focusing on self-directed practice.
It seemed the people here had no intention of giving anyone a hard time, as long as a situation where everyone’s discipline slipped into laziness didn’t arise.
So all I have to do is work my ass off?
I welcome it.
