Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 418 - Backstage

The concert ended successfully. Until the very moment the curtain fell, I was completely out of it. I was pretty certain I looked the most foolish I had ever been since debut. Fan events really… really mess with your head.

 

I didn’t even remember how I finished the performance. When I stepped off the stage, the guys were all crying. Choi Jeho and I were busy attending to two younger members each, sticking tissues to their faces. Even as congratulations for our first concert poured in from all directions, those rascals wept like spring water gushing from a mountain fountain.

 

How did they even think of holding up the slogans together like that? When did they prepare it? How did they pull off such a massive event without us knowing?

 

The moment my guard dropped, my mind kept filling with the image of the glowing audience and waves of slogans. I should’ve taken pictures. I wondered if the video team captured it well…

 

“Hey.”

 

Someone tapped my back from behind. Choi Jeho handed me a towel.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just a bit dazed.”

 

Burying my face in the steaming hot towel helped me calm down. Still, giving us that much emotion at the ending was too much. I almost cried.

 

“Hyung, are you okay?”

 

“Seongbin, you look less okay than I do.”

 

The leader had swollen, fish-like eyes.  It looked like all the effort he put into looking his absolute best for the two-day concert was about to go down the drain.

 

“Did you scrub your eyes with a scrub towel or something? Why are they so swollen?”

 

“I guess I rubbed them too much…”

 

“What are you going to do about tomorrow’s concert? I should call Mr. Seongjun.”

 

“I’ll just stick my face in the freezer…”

 

Unwilling to hand the concert over to Jeong Seongjun, Jeong Seongbin hurriedly looked for an ice pack while sniffing. His sense of responsibility was shining through.

 

Even after we barely managed to calm them down, it didn’t last long. When their families arrived at the waiting room, the boys’ eyes welled up again. I always thought there were many sensitive members in the group, but I didn’t realize it was to this extent.

 

However, there was a guest who made even these tender-hearted Spark members straighten up at once.

 

“Lee Kangmyeong?”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon’s younger brother had come with their father. When the two men with icy impressions entered, the waiting room fell silent.

 

“Soohoon said he had work at the lab. But he really wanted to come himself.”

 

“I heard from him. I didn’t expect Lee Kangmyeong to come in his place, though.”

 

The one who broke the subtle silence was Choi Jeho’s mother. Having heard that Lee Cheonghyeon’s father was coming, she had been waiting to at least greet him.

 

“I’ve heard the story. Thank you for your help in finding a lawyer for the kids.”

 

“It was nothing.”

 

Thanks to that, Student Lee Kangmyeong was left alone, separated from his father. Lee Cheonghyeon looked down at his brother without a word.

 

“……”

 

“……”

 

They were brothers who didn’t share much resemblance, though not quite as different as my sister and I. Choi Jeho placed an arm over Lee Cheonghyeon’s slanting shoulder.

 

“Your brother?”

 

“Yeah. This is Choi Jeho hyung. Twenty-two years old.”

 

Lee Kangmyeong’s gaze, which already had to look up at Lee Cheonghyeon, traveled even higher. Choi Jeho scanned the visitor with an indifferent expression. Lee Kangmyeong flinched.

 

‘He has the kind of face that says ‘don’t mess with me unless you want trouble’.’

 

His sleeveless shirt was far too small to cover the muscles pumped from over three hours of dancing and singing. His wet hair made his already sharp gaze look even more predatory.

 

And finally, for a guy like Choi Jeho who made his likes and dislikes crystal clear…

 

“How old?”

 

“Seventeen…”

 

…He never hid his ‘You piss the f*ck out of me’ feelings when he was in front of someone he disliked. Lee Kangmyeong’s voice trailed off.

 

“Ah.”

 

“……”

 

“You’re young.”

 

It roughly translated to: ‘So you’re just a little brat who’s been talking sh*t to his own brother.’

 

Lee Kangmyeong’s expression stiffened. Being Lee Cheonghyeon’s brother, his reading comprehension was apparently quite good.

 

Lee Cheonghyeon took his completely intimidated brother to find their father.

 

“Were you siding with Cheonghyeon?”

 

“I heard that you should pull weeds early.”

 

“Who taught you such scary words?”

 

“My sister.”

 

Choi Jeho spoke with the solemnity of a worker who had finished plowing a field. Sisters never tell lies. Their phrasing was just a bit rough.

 

“He would’ve been better off getting a scolding from me.”

 

“Is there a worse option than you?”

 

At my question, Choi Jeho pointed over his shoulder. Park Joowoo’s eyes were flared with a fierce light.

 

Thinking about it now, he was with me when we heard the news of Lee Cheonghyeon running away from home. Since he had rushed from Daejeon to Seoul in a single breath to comfort the crying Cheonghyeon, there was no way he would look at Lee Kangmyeong kindly.

 

“Joowoo, relax your eyes. You’re getting wrinkles on your brow.”

 

“For revenge, a single wrinkle is a small price…”

 

“Just what kind of revenge are you planning…”

 

Fortunately, Park Joowoo soon returned to his usual gentle self. Apparently because Lee Cheonghyeon didn’t seem too upset about his family visiting.

 

“I’ll let it slide this once…”

 

It was the first time the veins popping out over his fist looked so terrifying. I reinjected the importance of peaceful dialogue into Park Joowoo.

 

Lee Cheonghyeon returned alone a moment later.  He said he’d seen his family off. As he opened a new bottle of water, he spoke.

 

“Lee Kangmyeong just left without saying a single word.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I was ready to fire back ten times over if he said one thing, but he kept his mouth shut. Guess Jeho hyung scared him.”

 

“His face is indeed scary.”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon burst out laughing at my remark. After emptying half the bottle in one go, he wiped the moisture from his lips.

 

“There aren’t many people who can keep their heads held high after being scolded by both Lee Soohoon and Choi Jeho.”

 

It seemed the eldest brother had also stepped in to discipline the youngest. I gazed at him quietly. Lee Cheonghyeon smiled with a face that looked refreshed.

 

“Once I become an adult, I’ll be freer in a lot of ways. Right?”

 

Of course. Because from now on, the only thing that could boss Lee Cheonghyeon around was a deadline schedule.

 

I patted Cheonghyeon on the back as a gesture of encouragement. He was greatly pleased by even such a trivial action.

 

* * *

 

If the first day was emotional because it was the first, the next day was heart-wrenching because it was the last. If there had been a third day, I would’ve been overwhelmed just because it was a third day. How many days are there in life that leave such a massive mark on one’s existence?

 

The MVP of the second day was undoubtedly Kang Kiyeon. He wasn’t just running around; he was practically flying. Having shaken off the fear of trying something new, he stood out in a league of his own.

 

He delivered the comments he had memorized the night before perfectly, without missing a single word. During the time to share their thoughts, he even mentioned the slogan event. I saw it—some of the members were desperately holding back tears.

 

When we came down from the stage, we were showered with encouragement. We even hugged the managers. We should have been exhausted, but perhaps because the endorphins were flowing, we even went to an after-party.

 

For the first time in months, the members ate a proper meal, and the moment the car started moving, they all passed out. Choi Jeho and I took charge of two younger members each and ushered them into the dorm.

 

Everyone was lying in bed, and all the lights in the dorm were out.

 

But I was the only one who couldn’t sleep. I still had a task remaining.

 

[SYSTEM] The achievement of Subordinate’s KPI: ‘Hold a Concert’ has been confirmed.

▷ Reward: Extra Data

 

The KPI completion alarm popped up. For once, it was approved early.

 

And then, the next KPI appeared.

 

[SYSTEM] Subordinate’s KPI has been set to: ‘Win a Grand Prize.’

 

Debut, winning first place on a music show, gathering fans, and holding a concert—those were matters of individual capability. But a Grand Prize was different. No one could predict how the judging criteria would change or which singer would sweep the charts in a given year.

 

Variables beyond my control, a rapidly rising synchronization rate, and a shortened contract period.

 

Furthermore, if I combined the reward labeled ‘Extra’ rather than the usual data… I could arrive at the answer quite easily.

 

‘It’s the final KPI.’

 

It meant that all the data the system deemed essential had already been provided.

 

It felt like my heart had moved into my head, pounding in both ears. I steadied my breathing.

 

Unless you had an extraordinary level of fame, name value didn’t necessarily guarantee a Grand Prize. Some idols seem to attract awards effortlessly, while others don’t.

 

In the past, Spark was famous, but not enough to cause a full-blown phenomenon. They weren’t particularly lucky with awards, either.

 

Spark had never won a Grand Prize before they disbanded.

 

‘I have to make them win their first Grand Prize with me.’

 

Even making them re-achieve what they had already done wasn’t easy. But at least that helped ease my guilt a little. I told myself they would’ve gotten those wins anyway—I just sped things up.

 

However, facing a step that Spark had never climbed before, it wasn’t so easy to justify things anymore.

 

That was something they should achieve on their own. It was not just anything; it was a Grand Prize.

 

No matter how I felt, I should respect the path they walked.

 

Nevertheless, as long as it was set as the Subordinate’s KPI, I couldn’t pull a trick to let only the five of them receive the award. My heart felt heavy.

 

With a complicated mind, I opened the memory data. A darkness blacker than the one filling the room blocked my vision.

 

I saw a crosswalk that was ordinary until ‘that day’.

 

People and cars moved in orderly lines, following the signal.

 

The route I used to walk to work every morning without a thought.

 

A crosswalk where I only knew the timing of the lights, never cared where the CCTV cameras were.

 

It felt familiar.

 

The scenery that had been faint, as if shrouded in fog, sharpened.

 

The writing on the banners, even the store names written in the corners of signs, was vivid.

 

How could I have forgotten this place?

 

My eyes stung just thinking about it.

 

The image of my sister crossing the street through the crowd was so vivid.

 

Just standing here felt like I might collapse.

 

If I waited quietly, it felt like the face I missed would come walking toward me.

 

The traffic light turned red.

 

People brushed past me dozens of times.

 

The sun set and night fell, then morning broke again.

 

Snow fell, and new leaves sprouted on the trees. After the pouring rain stopped, autumn leaves fell.

 

A mixed-use apartment complex rose where the old shopping center had vanished.

 

When everything else changed, I was the only one standing there in the same exact state.

 

Unable to leave. Until the longing dulled.

 

Time kept moving forward, but because I couldn’t let my sister go.

 

Endlessly, continuously.

 

Still.