Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 467 - In Search of Work

The next day, Kang Kiyeon, unable to withstand my persistent prodding, went to get his height measured. He returned with official confirmation that he had reached exactly 180cm.

 

My condition reached its peak. I couldn’t stop grinning. ‘Spark, the all-180cm group’—what a sweet title that was.

 

“What would you have done if I hadn’t reached 180cm?”

 

“I would have spent my time aggressively promoting our ‘average height’ instead.”

 

“That sounds terrifying.”

 

Kang Kiyeon fled with a look of disbelief. Regardless, I fully savored the achievement I had spent years working toward.

 

My joyful mood led to increased efficiency. I could physically feel the difference in how fast my brain worked and how much better I could concentrate. Studying composition and practicing stunt falls were both going smoothly. Everyone who saw me kept asking whether something good had happened.

 

And once I started feeling this good, surprisingly…

 

“Seongbin.”

 

“Yes, hyung.”

 

“I want to work.”

 

…I actually started wanting to work. Incredible, right?

 

There is one thing I must clarify here. This absolutely was not because I felt some compulsive pressure that I had to be doing something.

 

I didn’t feel chased. No one was rushing me. Even the System had been quiet ever since it tossed me that KPI last time. To put it simply, I wanted to work purely because I was bored!

 

Something similar happened during the filming of ‘In My Office,’ like when I started making financial statements in a corner. That was the starting point for that famous meme ‘they literally dropped a real Yeouido office worker into the show’ about Do Younghwan, but anyway.

 

The other members weren’t nearly as free as I was. Park Joowoo, for instance, had already returned to his radio show after a two-week break. Only I had truly become an unemployed person. At that point, how could anyone not get bored?

 

Jeong Seongbin stared at me with a look of pure shock. I broke into a cold sweat as I tried to explain myself. I explained fervently that I wasn’t a workaholic, but that since my quality of life had improved, I simply wanted to balance it out with a moderate amount of work.

 

“I hate hard labor too. I’m not saying I want to stare at a monitor until I get dry eyes. It’s just that when people keep doing one thing, eventually they start wanting to do something else, right?”

 

“…….”

 

“I just want to be able to record ideas when they pop into my head… Is that so much to ask?”

 

After an earnest appeal, I managed to get the shared laptop back. The password was still as unsecure as ever. I thought about changing it, but I figured Choi Jeho had a 100% chance of forgetting the new one, so I let it be.

 

‘Until now, I’ve been squeezing work into time that barely existed… Maybe this time, I can just think of it as leisurely preparing for the next thing.’

 

A brand new, empty page on Dotion greeted me. I slowly began to type out a title.

 

* * *

 

Summer was sweltering. It was cruel weather for sparks of flame to run wild in. It was so hot that every single member lost even the little body fat they’d had.

 

We literally showed up at the practice room every day ‘to survive.’ Since the company’s electricity rates were cheaper than residential rates, it was also the choice that caused the least loss for UA. We weren’t shameless enough to recklessly spend our living expenses just because the company supported us.

 

Since we were already at the office, we practiced, received training, and ate there because it was too hot to go outside. Then we had to digest the food, so we practiced again, and since the sun sets so late in the summer, we ended up stuck in the basement until nightfall when the commute home would be slightly cooler….

 

After spending two months like that, Spark became masters capable of performing a medley of all our first-half releases’ choreography without a single mistake. Even me.

 

“Doesn’t this feel like our trainee schedule?”

 

“It’s a good thing to have more time to learn and practice.”

 

Kang Kiyeon immediately agreed with my words. He clearly felt a sense of accomplishment seeing me—who once took three thousand years to evolve from a hula-hoop show to a proper dance wave—finally acquire something resembling dance lines after undergoing intense midsummer training.

 

“Oh, right. Berion is making a comeback soon.”

 

“When?”

 

“Next month, apparently. Something already popped up on their official account.”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon fiddled with his phone and held it out to us. It seemed they were forcing an aggressive comeback to match the changing of the seasons.

 

“The Parthe sunbaenims… they probably won’t have a domestic comeback this year either, right?” 

 

Park Joowoo asked cautiously.

 

Following the exposure scandal during ‘IDC’, Parthe had attempted one domestic comeback, but after being hit by a harsh public backlash, they had been sticking strictly to overseas tours.

 

“There was no mention of a comeback in the annual plan, so that’s likely how it will go.”

 

Even while saying it, I felt disappointed. There was no better time to promote than now, during what people called an ‘idol recession’ because there was no definitive ‘national group.’

 

If we had done about three comebacks in a row until the end of the year, we could have reaped buzz and results far beyond our investment. It was frustrating and lamentable. Suddenly, someone pressed down heavily on my back. Through the mirror, I saw Lee Cheonghyeon’s mischievous face.

 

“What are you worrying about now?”

 

“I was thinking about how we missed the perfect comeback timing, and now my heart and stomach hurt.”

 

“How honest. I’ll give you some water as a reward.”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon held out a tumbler. I chugged down half of it like someone drinking straight from a bottle.

 

“We decided to release a full-length album instead of a quick one to make up for the long prep time. Even so, you’re still greedy for the schedules we missed?”

 

For the sake of the Sparklers—who had been enjoying frequent comebacks only to suddenly find themselves starved of content—Spark had decided to produce a full-length album for the first time in ages. We were going to pack it with songs and put an insane amount of thought into the concept.

 

To the draft I had aggressively submitted, the dedicated team added a proposal by piecing together the budget originally planned for the second half of the year and the leftover funds from the first half. Flexibility was a unique advantage a small company could exercise.

 

Nevertheless, regret was regret. If humanity hadn’t been greedy in the first place, we would never have progressed.

 

“Because the time that has passed never returns.”

 

“If someone told me to look back on this period years from now, I don’t think I’d regret it at all. We’ve lived so productively.”

 

“Really? You don’t want to take it a bit slower?”

 

“No. I mean I like it this way.”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon shrugged.

 

“By the way, are you really not going to release a song? You can at least finish enough for test versions now.”

 

He was referring to my toddler-stage self-composed song, which was currently in the middle of mastering the art of walking on two legs.

 

“I decided to value completion itself. It’s far too lacking for commercialization.”

 

“And yet you assigned the debut song to me.”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon grumbled, but he didn’t push me further. He had definitely heard me muttering to Brilliance, ‘Brilliance… I guess I have no talent for composing’, on the veranda

 

(TL note: In case you forget, Briliance is one of Park Joowoo’s plants. Mentioned in Chapter 305.)

 

But who can be full after just the first spoonful? I decided to keep the grand dream of writing a decent song as a long-term goal.

 

“But hyung, are you really going with ‘that’ for the album concept?” 

 

Lee Cheonghyeon suddenly lowered his voice and whispered.

 

“Why? You don’t like it?”

 

“It’s not that I don’t like it, but….”

 

“Does it smell too much like a niche subculture? Does it give off the impression that I’m clumsily mimicking some weird subculture trend I was inspired by?”

 

“I never said that much!”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon flailed in panic, insisting that wasn’t what he meant.

 

“It’s just hard to imagine. Jeho hyung or you… in ‘that’ kind of concept? I’m not doubting your artistry, but from my narrow perspective, it’s hard to picture it matching.”

 

“You might as well openly slander me.”

 

“Slander? Cheonghyeon trusts hyung completely. I was just worried that Jeho hyung might have to fold away his lats before the comeback.”

 

“If that’s the case, you can rest easy. We’ve agreed he’ll slim down before the comeback.”

 

“Seriously? After bulking up that much?”

 

Choi Jeho was exceptionally well-built, even among idols with good physiques. The fans called him ‘stout’ out of affection, but ‘thick-built’ was a more accurate word in reality.

 

It was said that too much muscle could make a dancer look slow, but that didn’t really apply to Choi Jeho. He brought speed to life with perfect body control and power, and he knew how to use flexibility through dynamics.

 

Still, while promoting as an idol, he’d carefully maintained his physique so he wouldn’t stand out too much, only trimming it slightly for occasional photoshoots. But during the break, he’d expanded like a sponge soaked in water. It had reached the point where it wouldn’t have been strange for fitness channels to start inviting him on.

 

‘I’m telling you in advance, you have to return to your Flowering era state before the comeback.’

 

‘Skipping Bright and straight out to debut-era level?’

 

‘It can’t be helped. According to my simulations, that was the prettiest look.’

 

I was so worried I’d given him a pre-warning. I had at least received an ‘okay’ in response.

 

Other than that, I spent my days repeatedly styling Jeong Seongbin’s bangs up and down and experimenting with which lighting colors made Park Joowoo’s eyes look the most dazzling.

 

‘Seongbin! Next time, we definitely have to expose your forehead! Even if I forget, you have to remind me!’

 

‘Hyung, you already wrote it in huge letters on Dotion.’

 

I even finished checking his hairline to ensure the ‘Jeong Seongbin Forehead Appreciation Squad’ wouldn’t be disappointed. Fortunately, Jeong Seongbin’s hair grew in a very pretty line. I was satisfied.

 

‘Why aren’t you saying anything to me?’

 

I received a small protest from Kang Kiyeon in the middle of it all, as he felt left out….

 

‘Kiyeon, by showing such miraculous growth, you have given me peace, rest, and infinite possibilities. You have allowed me to dream even bigger dreams.’

 

‘I see….’

 

…Satisfied with my crystal-clear explanation, he went back quietly. I shouted at his back that if he really wanted to do something, he should practice the guitar diligently. Guitar practice didn’t put strain on the joints, after all.

 

Car stunt practice was also going well, and individual activities for each member were scheduled to begin soon. In the idol industry, where getting love calls was practically life itself, there had never been a more golden era than this.

 

‘So if we’d also managed to pull off a comeback rush during all this…’

 

I stopped that train of thought. I had to accept that there was no use regretting a schedule that had already gone down the drain. Instead, I reminded myself over and over that the stupidest thing I could do was fail to manage my mental state and ruin the break I had earned at such a cost.

 

But as they say, there is always a way out.

 

“An inquiry for a live content shoot?”

 

“Yes. I told them Spark isn’t accepting offers at the moment, but they contacted us again asking if we could at least review it.”

 

As I wandered aimlessly through the company hallway with nothing to do, the news that a casting offer had come in for Spark sounded so loud in my ears it might as well have been blasted through a megaphone.