Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 492 - Going to School

For the sake of realism, we should have at least taken the shuttle bus, but to ensure a safe commute, both the production crew and the cast moved separately from the students until we entered the school grounds. Inside the car on the way to school, Choi Jeho and I shared various conversations.

 

“Is there any particular story you remember from your school days?”

 

“The fact that my pants kept getting shorter?”

 

“That’s just a humblebrag.”

 

“Kim Iwol, did you do evening self-study?”

 

“I did.”

 

“Then how late did you stay at school?”

 

“Until 10:00 PM.”

 

“You could actually study until ten at night?”

 

“You probably practiced until that late after school, too. It’s the same thing.”

 

In between, the PD also asked us questions.

 

“What were your high school lives like?”

 

The actual broadcast would probably insert screenshots of our school records right after this. They had requested them before filming, so we had reviewed each other’s records in advance.

 

Choi Jeho’s record was quite impressive. Contrary to his own confession that he didn’t pay much attention in class, there were quite a few descriptions like ‘diligent’ in his records.

 

‘Your teachers must have really liked you.’

 

‘I guess?’

 

There were also mentions of him taking the initiative in class affairs. Considering Choi Jeho’s personality, he wouldn’t have been the one leading the classroom cleanup. They probably just phrased his anecdotes to fit the formal nature of a student record.

 

In reality, Choi Jeho said he never really stepped forward to do anything special at school. However, he explained that he did everything the teachers told him to do. He even shared the surprising fact that he never missed a homework assignment, even if the quality was a mess.

 

‘So you were diligent.’

 

Embarrassed, Choi Jeho brushed the topic aside. Still, it was reassuring to know there was nothing problematic in his records. I listened to Choi Jeho’s comments while imagining which parts would be highlighted as excerpts.

 

“I guess I was lucky with my class assignments. The kids in my class were always easygoing. Everyone was nice.”

 

Or maybe everyone was just intimidated by you? If your class was peaceful for twelve years straight, shouldn’t you at least question it once?

 

“Jeho, did you play basketball with your classmates too? I used to play a lot.”

 

“Occasionally? We played soccer more often.”

 

Since Choi Jeho’s school days were relatively less known compared to the younger members who debuted while still in school, I took this opportunity to share some small stories. This was all information that past Sparklers had been curious about. I was having this conversation because I knew there was a demand for it.

 

My own stories had been thoroughly dug up back during the special treatment controversy and personality issues, so I didn’t have much new material. Thus, when it was my turn, I scraped up even the most trivial things I could remember, and after that, I worked hard to set the stage for Choi Jeho to talk as much as he wanted.

 

Choi Jeho shared a tragic story about wanting to eat three servings of school lunch but restraining himself and only taking one for the sake of self-management, and an absurd story about how he could recognize a classmate’s back but didn’t know their face because he slept through every recess. Every bit of his past revealed a great deal of star quality.

 

“You two had completely opposite school lives.”

 

The PD remarked.

 

Thinking, ‘Is that so?’, I looked to my side to find Choi Jeho making the exact same expression as me.

 

I wasn’t sure if we were as polarized as the PD suggested, but I, who spent full time from classes to self-study, and Choi Jeho, whose body was in school but whose soul never crossed the school gates, got out of the car to spend the day in the same school and the same class. Since it was after the students had already arrived, the area in front of the gate was deserted.

 

“Wait. We have to check our attire before entering.”

 

“Everyone’s already inside, who’s even going to inspect us now?”

 

Choi Jeho grumbled. In Spark’s dictionary, improper attire was something permitted only for music video shoots, so I nagged Choi Jeho until I confirmed we were both the epitome of model students. For today, I brought ‘Glasses-Jeho’ instead of ‘Lenses-Jeho’. At least outwardly, there was no one who looked more suited to a library than him.

 

“Does an all-boys school feel different?”

 

The filming location was a boys’ high school. Since I graduated from one, I didn’t think much of it, but it seemed to leave a different impression on Choi Jeho, who went to co-ed schools all the way through high school.

 

“Wouldn’t it be similar to a school with gender-separated classes? You guys were…”

 

I almost said, ‘were in co-ed classes, right?’ This was information Kim Iwol wasn’t supposed to know, since he had never discussed his youthful student days in detail with Choi Jeho. Proxy fangirling was truly harmful.

 

“We were in co-ed classes.”

 

“Then it might feel a little different.”

 

Fortunately, I moved past it safely this time. It felt like just yesterday I was making verbal mistakes, but I had grown a lot.

 

“Hey, you two latecomers!”

 

A shout thundered from a distance toward us as we crossed the playground toward the school building. We sprinted over and were scolded in a very mechanical tone for ‘walking leisurely despite being late’. Having grown accustomed to skits through my experience as a music-show MC, I responded with practiced charm and playful pleading, dragged Choi Jeho along, and finally stepped into the school building.

 

* * *

 

The students of 2nd Grade, Class 4 at Daram High School welcomed two transfer students not long after the new semester began. The transfer students received an enthusiastic welcome.

 

“Any questions for our new friends?”

 

The homeroom teacher kindly opened a public Q&A session. If the new friends hadn’t been (former) idols accustomed to receiving attention, it would have been very awkward.

 

Questions poured in like a flood. Most were basic topics like, ‘What’s your bench/squat/deadlift total?’ or ‘Which team do you think will win the LoL World Championship this year?’

 

Everyone was enthusiastic about Choi Jeho’s workout routine and marveled at the fact that the Smoking House that was almost built on the Deserted Island was 100% Choi Jeho’s pure idea, not a script.

 

And as for me…

 

“It will be a year where you’ll feel glad you focused on your studies.”

 

…They despaired at my carefully worded message, which essentially meant, ‘No matter what sport you follow, it’s going to drive you crazy, so let go of your expectations’. A great way to bond with your peers through trendy common interests! Adapting to a new school sure is easy!

 

My seat partner was the class president of Class 4. The seating arrangement felt so intentional that I began to suspect rumors had spread that I was completely helpless in front of authority figures.

 

Choi Jeho was assigned a seat next to a mild-looking student. Normally, guests would be seated toward the center so the cameras could capture them clearly, but for the sake of the students sitting behind us, we were placed in the back row and the row directly in front of it.

 

Choi Jeho and I each managed to answer at least one surprise question thrown at us during Korean and Korean History classes. Reading thick legal documents and labor news every day proved to be a great help in the non-fiction reading area.

 

“Iwol, wake the class president up.”

 

A somewhat reversed scene of a transfer student waking the class president occurred every class hour.

 

“How can a class president sleep this much? What will the transfer students think of Class 4!”

 

“A loyal class president who bravely draws the teacher’s attention away from everyone else?”

 

“So that’s why you guys elected him as president.”

 

Laughter erupted in the classroom. Even the teacher laughed in disbelief. It might have been awkward to scold him harshly with the cameras there, but since the teacher had seen the president practically headbanging while trying to resist sleep, he didn’t say anything further.

 

My seatmate scratched his head sheepishly and asked me what page we were on. I pointed to the section the teacher was reading. My seatmate nodded exaggeratedly and grinned. Behind his glasses, I saw eyes full of mischief.

 

Choi Jeho didn’t wake his partner like I did, nor was he caught sleeping. He just sat there with his brow deeply furrowed until the teacher asked if he was feeling unwell.

 

The reason was ‘trying to resist sleep’. At the teacher’s suggestion to stand up if he was sleepy, Choi Jeho picked up his textbook and moved over to a standing desk. Then, he spent a long time clattering around alone, trying to pull the desk out to match his height.

 

“Partner, help him out. Jeho won’t be able to listen to the lesson at this rate!”

 

The partner called to help was just as clumsy as Choi Jeho at pulling out desk legs. In the end, it took three of us, including me, to raise the desk to the proper height. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re the Center—people on both sides have to support and attend to you. Truly remarkable.

 

* * *

 

We went on a tour of the school during every recess. While Choi Jeho’s eyes were relatively clear until the second recess, they rapidly lost their vitality starting from the third.

 

“Sleepy?”

 

“I’m enduring it.”

 

Furthermore, the students were so interested in Choi Jeho (specifically, his muscles) that whenever they had a chance, they approached him and politely asked if they could touch his forearm or shoulder just once. Consequently, he became the ‘Dol Hareubang of Class 4’—a statue that brings health and fortune when touched.

 

(Tl note: Dol Hareubang are large, iconic stone statues carved from porous volcanic basalt, found all over Jeju Island, South Korea.)

 

“What’s for lunch today?”

 

When the Dol-ho-rebang (I secretly coined a new nickname since Zestralo Erectus became too famous) asked, a student who had already become his loyal friend sprinted to the blackboard.

 

“Hey, you should have written it up before 3rd period started!”

 

“Negligence fine! You have to pay that. Hurry up and hand over 500 won.”

 

“It’s a dereliction-of-duty fine, idiot.”

 

The classroom erupted into the kind of chaos you’d expect from a crowded marketplace, all because the student responsible had neglected the duty of writing the lunch menu in the corner of the blackboard before third period. Well, it was only natural, as the only joy a student had at school was good food.

 

“It’s soybean sprout rice with wild chive seasoning, hyungnim!”

 

“What are the side dishes?”

 

“Spinach and cucumber kimchi. Shall we start a revolution?”

 

Choi Jeho himself remained silent, but the lunch revolution brewing around him died down the moment someone mentioned braised beef. To teenagers who are hungry whether they are sitting or standing, nothing is more important than lunch.

 

However, we couldn’t run to the cafeteria as soon as the bell rang. We had to wait in line in the hallway for the 2nd graders’ turn while the 3rd grade seniors moved first.

 

The appearance of the lunch we finally greeted after a long wait was excellent. Even though I kept asking for smaller portions whenever food was served, my tray still ended up overflowing. I also received as many well-wishes as I did food—mostly saying I needed to eat a lot to maintain that physique. So, I offered my thanks diligently.

 

After finding empty seats and sitting down, I noticed Choi Jeho had returned with a tray piled just as high as mine. He looked at my tray and asked.

 

“Why did you get so much rice today?”

 

“They gave me a lot.”

 

A friend sitting next to us, busily mixing his rice with the seasoning while listening to our conversation, asked with a face full of curiosity.

 

“Do idols really only eat chicken breast and salad all the time?”

 

“We eat beef too. We do try to reduce carbs as much as possible, though.”

 

“So you barely eat rice?”

 

“Except when we eat for filming like this, usually…? We eat it occasionally as a special treat to boost our mood.”

 

“What about Jeho hyung?”

 

My gaze naturally turned to Choi Jeho. He was shoving a spoonful of rice—now a delicious color from being mixed with the sauce—into his mouth. Trying to claim he was in the same situation as me wasn’t exactly convincing based on what I was seeing.

 

“…He’s trying to improve his likability by showing everyone how well he eats. Normally, he’s very strict about managing his diet too.”

 

“He ate ten bananas on the Deserted Island, though.”

 

I was completely defeated. Oblivious to my predicament, Choi Jeho focused only on his meal. He resembled a brown bear whose entire daily schedule consisted of nothing but catching salmon.