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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Chapter 2
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The day Na Yeon-woo failed to debut was, for Hye-sung, the worst memory of her recent life.
She hadn’t even won a ticket to the final live show. After arguing with some strange logic that “a mother shouldn’t need to win a lottery to see her own daughter,” she ended up emptying her already thin wallet to buy a resold companion ticket.
But the heavens were not on Hye-sung’s side. She had spent a small fortune to see her girl get called up to the debut group, only for Na Yeon-woo to be eliminated after appearing in the four-way split screen during the final ranking announcement. Hye-sung had witnessed her bias’s tears up close.
Like any fan of an eliminated trainee, Hye-sung refused to accept the results.
Crying, screaming, and throwing a fit, she insisted the votes were rigged. In her frenzy, she injured her already weak ankle and ended up in the hospital, where she spent several listless days.
But she had her own life to live, so eventually, she had no choice but to return to reality.
Hye-sung had expected to be gloomy for weeks, thinking she would never see Na Yeon-woo on any screen again, but she managed to pull herself together and focus on her job search sooner than expected.
This was because Na Yeon-woo’s agency, Management A, had released an article stating, “A debut group centered around Na Yeon-woo is already in place and scheduled to debut soon.”
It was just the news she needed to soothe her then-furious heart, and she believed it wholeheartedly.
Telling herself she’d need a lot of money when Yeon-woo debuted, she worked hard and landed a job the very next quarter.
She knew that when a small-to-mid-sized agency said “soon,” it could easily be delayed for a year or more, but she took it positively, thinking it would give her time to build up her stan funds.
“…What in the world happened?”
Her hands trembled as she stared again at the account she’d just checked, praying it wasn’t true, that it couldn’t be. But judging by the username and profile picture, it seemed to be Na Yeon-woo’s account after all.
No, it was definitely Na Yeon-woo’s account. Though the feed was private, Hye-sung was certain from the seal emoji in the bio and the username ‘bummy_w’.
The ID was a combination of ‘Bummy’ and Yeon-woo’s initials, ‘YW.’ Bummy was one of the characters from ‘Homebody Seals,’ which Na Yeon-woo adored.
The slightly childish taste practically screamed Na Yeon-woo. And the profile picture, a mirror selfie, hid more than half of her face behind the camera, but Hye-sung could tell.
It was unmistakably Na Yeon-woo.
And it was a picture she had never seen before. A picture Hye-sung had never seen… probably of a 20-year-old Na Yeon-woo.
“Fucking bastards. Think you’re the only ones who get to see her? I have eyes, too. But you kept her so hidden away that I couldn’t even watch her grow up properly!”
Hye-sung shouted, fuming. Her rage toward the agency was palpable.
“But still, what is Yeon-woo thinking? Why would she make an account she’ll just have to delete if she moves to another company? Don’t tell me she’s going to be a non-celebrity… No!”
Generally, agencies that managed their trainees closely didn’t allow personal social media accounts.
Therefore, if she planned to join another company right away, there was no reason to create an account she would just have to delete. It was reasonable to assume this meant she wouldn't be signing with any agency for the time being.
‘She was on the verge of debuting, so why did she suddenly leave the company…?’
Na Yeon-woo’s agency—now former agency, it seemed—Management A, was an actor-only company, so their planning skills weren’t exactly reliable. However, they managed three Hallyu actors who were raking in foreign currency from China and Southeast Asia, as well as several others who starred in major domestic productions.
In other words, they weren’t short on money. And they likely had connections to secure investments.
Hye-sung’s mind was a mess of questions. Just a few weeks ago, she had seen an article titled, ‘Supernova Project Season 5’s Na Yeon-woo, Preparing to Debut in the First Half of This Year.’
Na Yeon-woo was a key member of that group, a central pillar, which made the current situation even more incomprehensible.
‘Did they postpone the debut because the competition among girl groups is so fierce these days? And Yeon-woo couldn’t wait any longer, so she left? What is going on?’
Whatever the reason, her bias—the one ray of light in her dreary life—was on the verge of becoming a normal person, and Hye-sung’s anxiety was at an all-time high.
“A talent who could turn the K-pop scene upside down, and they just… damn it.”
Hye-sung, who had been planning to host a giveaway with expensive prizes to vent her feelings on the day Na Yeon-woo debuted, bit her lower lip, her eyes welling up.
“Love is self-harm. No, it’s murder. You who stole Yeon-woo from me, you killed me! You hear me?! You did! You culture killers!”
Right now, the only ones she could blame were the agency.
‘…Don’t tell me the debut group completely fell apart? It’s not just Yeon-woo who left, right?’
“If it’s the latter, you’re dead meat.”
Hye-sung radiated murderous intent from the center of her room. The bloodlust in her red, tear-filled eyes was immense.
“A company with no experience managing idols tried to play big and ended up just hurting her…! What does Yeon-woo lack that she has to go through this again!”
Lying face down on the floor, Hye-sung cried out in frustration.
“Give me back Yeon-woo! Why do you think I’m working my ass off at this crappy company! Waaah!”
Her current company was a demanding place that only ran by grinding its employees down, and Hye-sung went to work every day thinking about quitting. But there was a reason she couldn’t leave just yet.
First, to make a living.
Second, to fill up her ‘Yeon-woo Savings Account.’
The ‘Yeon-woo’ in ‘Yeon-woo Savings Account’ was, of course, Na Yeon-woo, and the savings account was exactly what it sounded like.
An ‘XX Savings Account’ was a common practice among idol fans, where they would deposit a certain amount of money every time a selfie or video of their bias was posted. In Hye-sung’s case, she was depositing 818,000 won every month until Yeon-woo debuted (Na Yeon-woo’s birthday was August 18th).
She had been doing it for over a year, so she had saved up a little over 10 million won.
That amount wasn’t just enough to attend every fan sign event for a rookie girl group from a small agency during one promotional period. Depending on the group’s growth, it could potentially cover every fan sign for the next promotion, and the one after that, maybe even until they disbanded.
But in Hye-sung’s eyes, Na Yeon-woo was destined to be a superstar, so she never entertained the thought that 10 million won would be enough for ‘every fan sign for every promotion.’
‘There aren’t any good places to transfer to, so what if I quit because it’s hard and can’t find another job, and my savings run out? Then I won’t be able to go see Yeon-woo.’
The thought alone made her hands tremble. So whenever she wanted to quit, she would imagine a superstar Na Yeon-woo and an unemployed, broke version of herself. The desire to resign would vanish instantly.
She had endured the frequent weekend shifts and late nights at her company, gritting her teeth all the while, only for her driving force to be shattered.
“Give me back Yeon-woo, you bastards… sob, sob…”
Love really was self-harm. Her heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds from loving someone she couldn’t see.
*Creak.*
Hearing Hye-sung’s loud sobs, someone opened her door a crack.
“Hey… what are you doing?”
Her younger brother, Yoon Eun-ho, peeked his head in, a look of reluctance on his face. His eyes betrayed the thought that he was seeing something he shouldn’t.
“Mind… *hic*, your own, *hic*, business, *sob*.”
“I heard crying and thought something happened, but it’s just some beggar wailing in here.”
“Close the door, *hic*, and get, *hic*, out. *Sob*.”
Lost in shock and grief, Hye-sung was unaware of her own appearance, but she looked exactly like a beggar who had just had her meal snatched away.
“Didn’t you just come into your room saying, ‘Late-night chicken after overtime is the best. None for you,’? Weren’t you in a good mood? Why are you suddenly crying?”
Like a proper younger brother, Yoon Eun-ho seemed worried about his sister crying her eyes out in such a pathetic state.
“*Sob*, that was then. Now everything’s fucking shitty. *Hiccup*. Waaah.”
“And why are you wearing that again? I told you to throw it out. What is this look?”
Yoon Eun-ho gestured with his eyes toward Hye-sung’s outfit.
“It’s fine, *hiccup*, it’s my pajamas, *hic*, who cares.”
The T-shirt, which she had gotten during her university orientation and worn as pajamas for years, was so stretched out at the neck that it seemed to be screaming for a merciful end. Her face was shiny with tears and chicken grease smeared around her mouth.
“Seriously, what is it? Is it because of work? All the overtime? At least wipe your face. Wait, what is that…”
Yoon Eun-ho’s gaze dropped to the floor as he pulled out a few tissues and walked toward her.
Grease and crumbs from the chicken leg she had dropped in shock after seeing the post about Na Yeon-woo were messily staining her pajama pants.
The floor was a mess of tears and snot from when Hye-sung had buried her face in it moments ago, along with other miscellaneous filth (she hadn’t had time to clean her room due to working overtime for days).
“Sis…”
Seeing the state his sister was in, Yoon Eun-ho seemed at a loss for words.
“…Don’t tell me you’re crying because you spilled chicken on your pants?”
Yoon Eun-ho recoiled in disgust, looking like he didn’t want to set foot in this space for even a second longer.
“Seriously? I was actually worried. You won’t die from eating that off the floor. Actually, no, you might die if you eat something that fell on your floor. This is why you should clean your room once in a while. Ugh, so gross.”
“Oh, just get out!”
Hye-sung picked up the chicken leg lying next to her hip and threw it at Yoon Eun-ho. But he had already slammed the door shut and fled.
*Thump, roll, roll…*
Watching the chicken leg bounce off the door and roll to a stop, Hye-sung wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand. The sight of the pitifully rolling chicken somehow reminded her of Yeon-woo, who was probably all alone right now.
“*Sniffle*, I shouldn’t be doing this… *snort*!”
I should send her a message of support.
Hye-sung sniffled, wiped her greasy hands on her pants, and began to compose a long message.
[Yeon-woo, hi (smiling emoji). Sorry to message you so suddenly. You might not even see this, but…]
She wrote about how she had been watching since Supernova Project, how cool and radiant Yeon-woo was back then, how much strength she had given her, and how she wanted to see her on stage again, that she would wait… but also that she would always support Yeon-woo no matter what choice she made.
She condensed it as much as she could and sent a message that was nearly 1,000 characters long, excluding spaces.
“Was that… too much? Will she find it overwhelming?”
What should I do? Hye-sung considered unsending the message but ultimately decided to leave it, hoping Yeon-woo would know that there was still someone cheering for her.
“I miss you even more today, my girl…”
Grabbing a cold can of beer from the fridge, Hye-sung sat in front of her monitor and started playing Supernova Project Season 5 from the very first episode.
