Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 486 - New Year (2)

This year, Spark was given a full ten-minute segment all to themselves. It was the second-longest stage on the entire cue sheet.

 

Other groups only seemed to have longer stages because they performed a series of collaboration stages with their senior labelmates. If our joint performance with Berion was included, Spark was easily in first place.

 

The stage, fitting for an event billed as a ‘Year-End K-pop Wrap-up’, was presented in full military-style uniforms. From here on, Spark’s year-end results would be determined by what we did next.

 

Above my head, I heard the drum beats and electric guitar riffs filling the stadium. The lift carrying us rose slowly.

 

As I listened to the intro—rearranged with a more aggressive color to suit an outdoor performance—my field of vision gradually shifted. We rose from beneath the stage where staff members were scurrying about, past the scaffolding where structures were moving in time with the music…

 

And finally, we faced the audience pouring out their screams. Even amidst the countless lights, the glow supporting Spark was instantly recognizable.

 

The floor vibrated weakly under the deafening roar of the speakers. Just walking toward the front of the stage made my face flush with heat. A surge of endorphins, so intense it made my hands and feet tingle, exploded endlessly in my mind.

 

The stage lights cut out following a sharp electronic sound. The cheers that had momentarily subsided reignited like a wildfire the moment the intro to Dreamer began. A sea of lightsticks swayed in a frantic rhythm.

 

『I don’t understand

Everyone

Tells lies』

 

Lee Cheonghyeon once told me that the year-end stages were a kind of unresolved regret for him. He said the peak of his family troubles coincided with the first Music Festival he stood on after his debut. 

 

But now, he said it didn’t matter if his family watched or not. He said he had confidence.

 

‘What kind of confidence?’

 

‘The confidence to show them that things are fierce here, too.’

 

『I will believe in myself

Because we are all

Living a dream』

 

Kang Kiyeon no longer took anxiety medicine. He no longer trembled before countless cameras. He had overcome the fear that a mistake would stop him from debuting, the fear that everyone else would be perfect while he alone lagged behind. He accepted that the place where he would live from now on was in front of an audience.

 

‘So, you don’t have to keep the first-aid kit stocked anymore.’

 

He laughed, saying that even if he needed help again one day, it wouldn’t be as painful as that time. Because he had overcome it once already.

 

『I want to dream tomorrow too』

 

Jeong Seongbin’s voice filled the stadium. Not a trace remained of the boy who had doubted his own talent.

 

Everyone loved Jeong Seongbin’s singing. He said that was enough for him.

 

‘I thought it would be fine as long as my voice wasn’t unpleasant to hear, but they say they love it.’

 

‘…’

 

‘So I don’t need anything more.’

 

He was remarkably humble regarding his own work. At the same time, he wished to stay together with the members for a very, very long time—a wish that was difficult to achieve in the idol industry. I believed that if it were Jeong Seongbin, he could do it. After all, even in the original timeline, he had kept the group together until the very end without losing a single member.

 

The music soon transitioned into the next track. The surroundings turned blood-red with the glow of lasers and electronic displays. A raw riff sliced through the air. My grip on the microphone tightened.

 

『The heat is not enough

Gather and swallow it

Raise the temperature』

 

The formation shifted, and Choi Jeho took the lead. Through his open jacket, his waist—free of a single surgical scar—was visible. As the chorus hit, pillars of fire erupted as stage effects.

 

In his life, dance was the only thing Choi Jeho had ever held onto. Even the action school was merely the method that suited him best to learn how to use his body. 

 

He was impossible to read most of the time, but I knew one thing for certain: Choi Jeho came alive when he danced. Because I saw him this closely. Every single day.

 

『When the soul

Glows deep blue』

 

Park Joowoo revved up for the high notes. His eyes, burning with intensity, stared straight ahead. On the opposite side, Jeong Seongbin layered harmonies, following Park Joowoo’s high register. The members surrounded the two as they handled their parts.

 

I heard this later, but Park Joowoo said he no longer felt alone.

 

‘Because there are people who will sit beside me.’

 

The fact that he had sat squeezed between Choi Jeho and me in the car the day he went to visit his family seemed to have been important to him. Even though the trip left his shoulders stiff and sore, he said it was the first time in a very long while that he had felt a sense of security.

 

『Without leaving a trace』

 

My entire body felt searing hot, making the winter’s biting wind feel irrelevant. Our debut stage came to mind.

 

The day the heat from the stage lights had been so intense it left me dazed. The vivid sensation of dizziness and confusion, not even knowing what I was doing.

 

I was out of breath now just like back then, but it wasn’t overwhelming. This emotion needed a different name.

 

『Let it

burn』

 

It was pressing on me.

 

It felt as if I could hear the sound of the crowd shouting the lyrics together right through my in-ear monitors.

 

‘Don’t be fixated on what you can see, focus on the essence.’

 

Faintly, from a distance, words I heard long ago echoed.

 

『Open a new era』

 

‘Remember.’

 

『Until I turn to ash

Me』

 

‘That you are a flame.’

 

As the cheers grew beyond a certain point and became a massive roar, the instrumental was swallowed up. Sweat poured down like rain. My throat and lungs felt like they were bursting. I felt the strength tighten in my legs.

 

Perhaps this was what it meant to give everything you had. Burning with passion, performing until your body feels like it’s breaking—this moment was the definition of those words.

 

Everything I possessed was being consumed to create momentum. Energy and concentration traveled through my rapidly pumping blood, turning into my voice and my dance, reaching outward.

 

『Burn it up』

 

Why did people always describe vitality with the word burning?

 

Standing here, I felt like I finally knew the answer.

 

Some lives prove their existence simply by refusing to be extinguished.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, the absence of blankets wasn’t a problem. After performing several intense choreographies back-to-back, we were still flushed red in the artists’ seating area, fanning ourselves to cool down.

 

Someone tapped my knee from the side; it was Ond. When I bowed to greet them, a barrage of thumbs-ups returned. They even shared heat packs with us, thinking we looked cold. The hot pack born of that kindness ended up with Park Joowoo.

 

My hands were shaking from the sheer tension. I kept my poker face because I didn’t know where a Sparkler might be watching, but I was severely dizzy. I wasn’t sick, I was just… drained.

 

The others were in a similar state. They sat with their backs straight, but while their lips were smiling, their eyes were soulless. Even so, they didn’t stop their fan service—waving and making hearts during the lull. The years of brainwashing them to do it as naturally as breathing had paid off.

 

“An idol group that shined in the New Media category this year.”

 

“Spark, congratulations on your award!”

 

We received several awards throughout the night. Both as individuals and as a group, we were blessed with trophies. Every award undoubtedly carried the touch of our fans, so we accepted each one with gratitude.

 

And then, the sequence moved rapidly…

 

“…the Performance Grand Prize, awarded to the team that demonstrated the most outstanding performance this year.”

 

The Grand Prize ceremony began. The eyes of the fan section, weary from the long hours, changed instantly.

 

After an absurd amount of suspense-building, the award went to a group that had become famous for a staggered choreography that made excellent use of its large number of members.

 

The sincere acceptance speech and the sight of fans crying as they cheered for their artists were touching just to watch. I also clapped wholeheartedly, offering my sincere congratulations.

 

“Where do you think we’ll get the best view of the fireworks?”

 

“We’ll probably get shoved all the way to the back row, so I don’t think we have much choice.”

 

I was whispering to Lee Cheonghyeon next to me during a brief gap when the cameras turned toward us.

 

‘Huh?’

 

My brain stalled for a moment. Because a certain possibility occurred to me.

 

“…?”

 

Lee Cheonghyeon and the members beside him widened their eyes. Only Choi Jeho and Kang Kiyeon, who wouldn’t notice a hint even if it was served on a silver platter, waved cheerfully at the camera.

 

“The Artist Grand Prize, given to the team that received the most love in 20XX…”

 

I had a suspicion of how things were turning out, but my brain couldn’t process it, so I just blinked blankly.

 

“They’ll be going home with hands full of trophies today.”

 

“Indeed. The winner of the prestigious Artist Grand Prize is…”

 

It would be one thing if we had received it earlier, but this was the final award. Among all the different ‘Grand Prize’, this was the one that held the lineage of a ‘Grand Prize’, even while other awards were being split into fragments.

 

And that award, right now…

 

“Spark!”

 

They were giving it to Spark?

 

We all stood up in a flurry of confusion. Even as the group surged forward, they dragged me along without letting go.

 

Choi Jeho, Kang Kiyeon, and Park Joowoo stepped onto the stage where the Grand Prize was waiting. Lee Cheonghyeon followed, pulling me along. Jeong Seongbin pushed my back with one arm as we climbed up together.

 

Jeong Seongbin received the trophy. Choi Jeho, who had arrived first, took the bouquet and handed it to Park Joowoo beside him.

 

Despite how much he had matured, Jeong Seongbin sobbed openly in front of the microphone. He didn’t collapse like he did when we got our first #1, but he couldn’t stop crying the entire time he was saying thank you. After finishing his speech, Jeong Seongbin placed the trophy in Lee Cheonghyeon’s hands. Everyone wanted to give something to one another.

 

Lee Cheonghyeon took the next speech. His contribution to every one of the team’s titles and his role in driving us to the Grand Prize deserved recognition. Yet he spent his speech praising the members who had given their best every moment.

 

When the hosts said they’d hear from a couple more members, Choi Jeho stepped forward. Starting with thanking the leader, the composer, and the producer who had worked so hard, he gave a fairly standard but heartfelt speech. When he finished by thanking all the members for their hard work, Kang Kiyeon turned away and wiped his tears.

 

Park Joowoo tried to give me a chance to speak, but I gestured that I was fine. After a moment’s thought, Park Joowoo patted Kang Kiyeon and led him to the microphone. Kang Kiyeon struggled to hold back his sobs as he thanked those he was grateful for. Hearing Kang Kiyeon thank the members’ families, I rubbed the back of Park Joowoo, who had likely passed on his turn for the same reason I had.

 

We stepped off the stage following the closing remarks about the approaching New Year. The guys who had been crying like children were already huddled together, running while clutching the trophy and the bouquet. I couldn’t take my eyes off their backs.

 

Debuts, comebacks, #1 wins—all of those were things these guys had achieved in the past—but a Grand Prize was a first.

 

That was why I initially thought it wasn’t a place for me to be, and later, I feared that my presence might actually prevent us from winning it.

 

But in the end, you took me with you and won the Grand Prize.

 

You stubborn punks. You persistent bastards.

 

The area under my eyes felt hot. I tilted my head up, fearing my makeup would run.

 

Above my head, the lightsticks swayed violently, emitting their glow.

 

Instead of the voices I had feared so much—the voices wanting only a five-member Spark…

 

A flood of congratulations poured in from fans cheering for the Spark that included me.

I felt as though I had been proven worthy of being here. By the people who cherished and loved Spark the most, the ones who made Spark’s existence possible.

 

The corners of my eyes began to dampen. I tried to wipe the moisture away with my hand, but tears kept forming.

 

Choi Jeho, who was following behind, patted my shoulder. Wrapping an arm around me, he hurried my slowing steps forward to catch up with the members ahead.

 

‘You’re not crying.’

 

‘I didn’t suffer enough to cry.’

 

‘Is that so?’

 

‘Why? Were you going to comfort me if I cried?’

 

Back then, you definitely asked me if I’d gone crazy. Then you should be consistent and pretend not to notice. Or at least scold me, asking if I even worked hard enough to cry.

 

It was the worst.

 

The truly annoying thing was that even while my pride was taking a hit, the tears wouldn’t stop.