Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 511 - Fulfilling the Promise (1)

While touring the music shows, we were busy with challenge trade-offs. We invested all our break time into it, to the point where there were jokes asking if we were filming with every single idol appearing on the show.

 

≫ Is the Spark x Hellas challenge for real??

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

└ I had a moment of cognitive dissonanceㅋㅋ

└ Since MYTH almost never let their artists do anything with other agencies… ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

 

We even filmed one with Hellas. The power of the agency (I never imagined the day would come when people would use an expression like that in front of Spark’s name) was truly incredible.

 

Our first music show appearance in nearly a year also became a new topic of conversation for the men who had been bored since their acting projects ended.

 

[Gu Jahan sunbaenim]

(Photo)

[Melancholy Kim Iwol]

(Photo)

[Powerful Kim Iwol]

 

[Me]

[May I ask the reason why you are doing this to me?]

 

[Woo Yoonjae sunbaenim]

[You look wonderful, Young Master.]

 

[Me]

[Seriously, why are you doing this to me…]

 

Every time Spark appeared on TV, Gu Jahan and Woo Yoonjae would appear like clockwork, laugh their heads off, and tease me relentlessly. They even sent a photo of the two of them meeting up for drinks with a selfie taken in front of the TV with me on the screen. I really shouldn’t have filmed that rural variety show with them.

 

These ahjussis didn’t stop at teasing me in the group chat; they spread rumors everywhere. Because they blabbered all over the place, even posting screenshots of messages on social media, I almost got caught up in a controversy: ‘Kim Iwol says he has no friends and stops his members from hanging out with other groups, yet he’s the only one making actor acquaintances…’

 

Even Berion’s fandom who had built camaraderie with us from IDC all the way through the Strawberry Park performances, showed up carrying voting tickets to return the favor. It was already well known that while Spark had been touring, Sparklers had cast an incredible number of support votes for them. The Berion fandom came saying, ‘We’re here to uphold the code of honor’, demonstrating the strength of veteran boy-group fans.

 

Thanks to all of that support, the recognition we’d built over the years, and the unwavering help from our fans, Spark received results that left no room for anyone to claim we were declining. Hosting the show and saying with my own mouth that the #1 winner was Spark felt strange. Perhaps it was because it had been a long time since I referred to Spark from a third-party perspective.

 

The short promotion period ended safely. We faithfully fulfilled our #1 winning pledge and shared the joy of the award by embracing each other. The feeling of being free from the jinxes of accidents, discord, and lack of support was indescribable.

 

* * *

 

For exactly three days after the final broadcast until the start of the domestic tour, the schedule was empty except for concert rehearsals.

 

I spent those few days busier than anyone else. While waiting for the hat and protective gear I’d ordered in advance to arrive, I checked the City Traffic Information Center’s CCTV feeds every single day. I couldn’t allow a mishap like colliding with a bollard or a traffic light while trying to avoid a car.

 

When I spent two hours at a time under my covers looking at the CCTV during sleep hours, the System spoke to me.

 

+

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ Assistant Manager Kim, what are you preparing so diligently for?

+

 

Since it could see anyway, I didn’t answer. Instead, I threw a question back at the System.

 

‘Up until now, you’ve given me KPIs and missions to stop various incidents. Since you’ve even told me the dates of those accidents, is it fair to assume that means you’re willing to make certain allowances?’

 

The System blinked a couple of times.

 

+

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ If we don’t exclude the fact that there was always a price to pay, then I suppose so.

+

 

Oh. Judging by how much less it sounded like Manager Nam, I must have gotten on the system’s nerves quite a bit.

 

But what can you do? If you declared you’d cooperate, you have to keep your word.

 

Staring at the System right in front of me, I felt like we were in a war of nerves. The System didn’t back down, but it couldn’t come out aggressively either.

 

“Last time you explained what causes the synchronization rate to increase. While you’re at it, why don’t you tell me how much it’s expected to increase?”

 

I pushed even more shamelessly. More accurately, ever since I decided to resist the system, I’d stopped bothering to carefully choose my words.

 

After all, if the system was using Manager Nam’s way of speaking because it wanted to control my behavior, I wasn’t about to keep acting within the company’s rules by myself. Why should I have to remain the system’s employee forever?

 

‘You remember promising to lower the speed of the synchronization rate increase last time, right? Keep your word about cooperating. What’s the use of synchronizing when I don’t even have a clue what the resignation process looks like?’

 

As I muttered inwardly, the System flashed.

 

+

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ Assistant Manager Kim speaks as if I’ve been uncooperative.

 

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ Haven’t I been kind enough to you, Assistant Manager Kim? Not that I’m obligated to be kind to you in the first place.

+

 

I told the System I wasn’t curious about how it defined kindness. I added that I wanted to know the exact synchronization increase that reflected its willingness to cooperate.

 

The loading icon at the top of the system window spun around in circles. Even while weighing things, it seemed to want to assert its status as the superior by asking me to make the first offer.

 

+

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ Tell me what you think is a reasonable synchronization rate first.

+

 

If I say 1%, you’ll just say I’m talking nonsense. Stop pretending to be generous.

 

I deliberately didn’t answer out of spite, and the system eventually made an offer on its own.

 

+

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ Five percent? You know that’s an unprecedented concession, don’t you, Assistant Manager Kim?

+

 

I don’t care. Think logically. Is using 5GB when you have 100GB left the same as using 5GB when you only have 10GB left?

 

I snorted at the absurdity. If it was five percent, then after excluding the traffic accident, I’d only have one opportunity left… Did it really think I would accept this?

 

I intended to set up as many insurance policies as possible. That was also why I mentioned the handover. If it was the system, it would gladly make adjustments just to preserve the rules it had established. Just as I’d expected, the system took the initiative and made another offer.

 

+

[SYSTEM] A work instruction from the ‘Superior’ has arrived.

▶ I’ll make it 3%. No lower than that.

+

 

The system might twist its words or deliberately hide the important parts, but it had never lied. If it said something couldn’t be done, the chances of getting it to change its mind were practically nonexistent. So I decided to accept the offer there.

 

‘3% for stopping one major accident is a bargain.’

 

It was a satisfying outcome. Perhaps the system felt like it had been taken advantage of, because it disappeared in an instant.

 

* * *

 

When I opened my eyes, I was in a very familiar space.

 

Not the room where I had fallen asleep, but the old office of Hanpyeong Industries. I saw my seat, surrounded by a partition lower than the monitor height that offered no privacy. Sitting in the chair was me—well, Kim Iwol. I stared at the Kim Iwol working in the void.

 

His skin, as white as a fluorescent lamp, was the first thing that caught my eye. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the edges of his sclera were bloodshot. The way he just tapped at the keyboard with a stiff expression made him look like a machine. When someone approached to talk, he would smile briefly, but the smile vanished the moment the other person turned away.

 

A desk calendar was the only personal item on the empty desk. It was the year marking the first anniversary of my sister’s death—a year I could barely even remember living through.

 

So that’s what I was like back then. I remembered getting by more or less normally, but the version of myself before my eyes radiated no sense of life whatsoever.

 

The background shifted like a slide, from the colorless designated seat to a park bench, then to the bed of a dark studio apartment.

 

Kim Iwol stood on a hellishly packed commuter train, walked through crowds of people on their way to work, or simply stood still before a crosswalk with the green light on. The places surrounding Kim Iwol changed without pause. Everything around him sped by as though the footage were playing in fast-forward.

 

While everything else changed, Kim Iwol’s expression remained as hard as a plaster statue. Not a trace of vitality could be found. He looked depressed and exhausted. It felt so disconnected from the me in the photos uploaded dozens of times a day on the internet, singing with a bright smile.

 

At the head of the bed where Kim Iwol lay, his phone screen repeatedly brightened and dimmed. New messages climbed up the preview endlessly. As the room alternated between being bathed in blue light and swallowed once more by darkness, Kim Iwol didn’t move an inch. His dark eyes remained fixed on the ceiling without shifting.

 

Dim light leaked over his open eyes. After the sound of the bathroom door closing came the sound of water from the shower. With water dripping from his wet hair, he packed his bag, staggered slightly as he put on his dress shoes, and left through the front door.

 

And then, it was back to the street from a moment ago. People were being sucked into the entrance of a small subway station. Swept away by the wave of pedestrians, he boarded the train and was thrown out at the station.

 

The Kim Iwol who arrived in front of the company out of habit…

 

Looked miserable. Even in the moments he was standing still.

 

That, truly, made my heart feel complicated.

 

Sunlight reflected off the glass door of the closed building. It was blinding. When I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them, I was back in the dorm. Checking the time on my phone, it was 5 minutes before the alarm was set to ring.

 

In the corner of my vision, a D-day indicator and a digital clock screen were floating. The milliseconds rapidly decreased and filled back up repeatedly.

 

I showered early before the others woke up. Before putting on my street clothes, I unwrapped and equipped the hidden elbow and knee pads. Since I’d bought the thin kind, they didn’t show through my clothes.

 

I didn’t forget to pack the hat I had modified. A black mask and a ball cap were idol essentials, so no one would be suspicious.

 

I’d set a safety net for the synchronization rate, and I’d finished the rehearsals to the final stage.

 

The perfect preparation was complete.

 

I hadn’t written it down anywhere in case someone found it, but the D-Day I’d never once mistaken had finally arrived.