Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols Chapter 526 - The One Who Leaves (2)

The journey to my new home was long and arduous. First, I went to a dealership and terminated my contract to dispose of my existing phone.

 

Next, I moved to the express bus terminal. There, I threw the remains of the smashed phone into a trash can. Even if people couldn’t perceive me face-to-face or through CCTV screens, I took every precaution, knowing that tracking or searching through digital records might still be possible.

 

It was all because of that system and its constant wordplay. Since I couldn’t trust the damn thing, I found myself constantly on edge, like a real fugitive on the run, even after obtaining the powerful protection of unrecognizability.

 

Just in case, I stopped at various places along the way to change my clothes several times. I transferred between taxis and buses to reach my destination. When I finally arrived at the entrance of the officetel after a long detour, a strange feeling washed over me.

 

Moving was exhausting, then and now. Between sweeping and mopping as soon as I moved in and opening the packages that arrived via courier, the day had already turned dark. My back let out a series of cracks the moment I straightened up after spending hours hunched over, scrubbing the floor with a rag.

 

“At least it looks like a proper home now.”

 

Seeing the simple household setup made me feel like I had returned to my days as a salaryman. The sight of everything—including the cutlery—existing in sets of only one was the most striking sign. It was quite different from the dorm, where I had to set out six of every daily necessity.

 

With just a slight turn of my head, I could see the entire room. A single wardrobe, a desk, and a bed were the entirety of the furniture. Except for the lack of a desktop computer on the desk, it was identical to the place I had lived in right before my regression.

 

Was moving back into the exact house I died in a bit over the top?

 

Belatedly, the thought occurred to me that it might seem bizarre to others. But it was too late to turn back. I couldn’t think of any other suitable place.

 

And besides…

 

‘As I live my life, I might run into noona.’

 

To ensure the complete nullification of her death, the system might have permanently erased the possibility of her coming near this area. But if she had only avoided that one unlucky day, I hoped she would pass through this neighborhood again by chance, just like before. Now that I had plenty of time, I planned to take ten strolls around the neighborhood every day starting tomorrow.

 

With that grand resolution, I sprawled out on the bed. The mattress was so hard that my back began to ache the moment I lay down. Staring blankly at the ceiling, I began to notice stained patterns one by one.

 

I remembered when I first moved into this building. My sister had visited on her precious day off to help me move. Even though I had strongly declined, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d asked endless questions about the security deposit and monthly rent, then beamed with delight, saying this place was far nicer than my previous place.

 

Since there was only one chair at the desk, she and I had spread paper on the floor and eaten jjajangmyeon on it on moving day. She had returned home only after filling every cabinet in the kitchen with ramen, canned food, cooking oil, and sauces.

 

The day Spark moved dorms as a group was also vivid. It felt like just yesterday that we spent ages talking about trivial things like how to assign roommates. I still remembered the taste of the konjac jjajangmyeon, which tasted like nothing yet had a faint scent of black bean sauce, giving me a sense of déjà vu.

 

I took out my spare phone that only had the default apps installed. Then, for the first time in a very long while, I installed a delivery application. I ordered jjajangmyeon from a nearby restaurant and lay there quietly waiting for the food to arrive. Even after receiving the text saying it had been left outside my door, I couldn’t bring myself to get up right away.

 

Eventually, moving at a sluggish pace, I peeled the plastic wrap off the container and mixed the noodles with the sauce. Perhaps because it had been so long since I’d eaten greasy food, it didn’t taste good at all, even though it wasn’t konjac noodles and had a high rating.

 

 ***

 

Had I fallen asleep? Amidst total darkness, lively noise drifted from a distance. Looking at the dark room around me, I initially thought I was in the apartment I’d just moved into. The glowing blue computer screen informed me that I was dreaming.

 

Gradually, the video playing on the screen came into focus. I saw five figures sitting side-by-side.

 

『It has been a very long time since Spark made a comeback as a full group…』

 

It was one of the comeback interview videos I had rewatched while doing proxy stanning. Seeing those guys again after so long, their complete lack of professionalism was downright devastating.

 

The camera captured their stiff smiles, created by forcibly curling their lips, their slumped shoulders, and their tightly clasped hands throughout the frame. For people who had supposedly just made a comeback, every single one of them looked utterly dejected.

 

I wasn’t unaware that their attitude had caused much talk at the time. In fact, I knew it better than most.

 

Nevertheless, seeing the Spark of the past with my own eyes again, they looked far gloomier than in my memories. The total lack of motivation or enthusiasm was palpable even through the screen.

 

Just looking at those faces with the light gone from their eyes made me feel suffocated. It felt even worse because I had watched them up close when they were sparkling with brilliance.

 

『How does it feel to have your first comeback since being discharged, Mr. Seongbin?』

 

The microphone was passed to Jeong Seongbin. He answered with a face as still as a carved stone.

 

I could recite every single word of what he’d said that day, syllable for syllable. He had been ruthlessly criticized for years, with people asking how a leader could say such things in his first interview after fleeing to the military just when the group should have been promoting.

 

A few comments were attached below the video. Not a single one was kind to them.

 

≫ ‘I lack confidence, but I’ll do my best’ ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Is that something to say to fans who waited a year and six months?

  └ He should’ve said something like ‘We’ve worked hard preparing for this, and we’ll repay everyone who’s waited for us’ but ‘I lack confidence’? Is that all you have to say after ruining full-group activities by running to the military right before hitting a career high?

  └ And this guy’s the leader? Somebody save Cheonghyeon.

 

≫ UA didn’t even work them that hard, so why do they already have dead-fish eyes? If they’d been left on hiatus too long and gotten rusty, that’d be one thing. But they never worked hard enough to burn out in the first place, and yet, they’re already radiating ‘I don’t want to be here’… ㅋㅋ

  └ At this point I’m starting to think that whole ‘locked away in the underground dungeon’ era wasn’t even the company’s decision but their own request… Their attitude is legendary.

 

≫ It’s almost impressive how good they are at pissing off their own fans. Even fandoms that fight among themselves usually temporarily unite to get results and awards during a comeback, but what the hell is wrong with these guys? Somehow every comeback makes the fandom even more of a dumpster fire.

  └ Idols who don’t want to work + loudmouth fans who say they’re disillusioned but don’t leave and just keep bashing + Flower-garden solo stans busy shielding no matter what the idol does + other solo stans who are toxic because their bias was belittled by the flower-gardens + freeloaders who complain that the fandom atmosphere is exhausting, never bother streaming, and only show up to consume new content—it’s a chaotic collaboration.

 

≫ Wouldn’t it be more efficient for Spark to only do year-end stages? Spend eleven months a year resting, show up with those dead-fish eyes whenever all the other idols gather, flex your physiques and visuals, give fans a few nice screenshots, then disappear again. Wouldn’t that be more honorable?

  └ For real, there’s no better way to lift a Sparkler’s spirits.

  └ You’re the first idols I’ve ever seen whose hiatuses make fans feel relieved… You guys are truly something else…

 

Every single character in those comments stung my eyes. From now on, those words would be aimed at me.

 

A problematic member who irresponsibly quit the group while it was soaring in popularity. An idol who took easy money for granted and had the nerve to say he wanted to return to living as an ordinary person. A net negative whose only value was his appearance—someone who would’ve been better off never appearing on television at all.

 

I aimlessly touched the desk, which had nothing on it but a keyboard and a mouse. I felt as if the request for contract termination—which I had left on the desk in my dorm room before dragging my suitcase out—was shackled to my wrist.

 

Did I include enough apologies in the letter I left behind? Did I do my best to ask for understanding after choosing the worst possible method, for which I could never be forgiven?

 

Seeing as I couldn’t remember clearly, the time spent writing that handwritten letter must have been quite painful. Much like those periods when my memories came in broken fragments.

 

Now Spark was back to being five. Like the Spark in the video, which hadn’t included Kim Iwol from the start.

 

But I hoped they wouldn’t be as weary as that Spark. I wanted to believe they’d respond to each other’s jokes, lift the mood together, and support one another. As long as the team stayed as close as ever, the fans wouldn’t be shaken too badly. And maybe that would lighten my guilt, even if only a little.

 

Since there was no going back anyway, I hoped the hole I’d left behind would gradually be forgotten. I could keep that bleak version of Spark locked away inside my dreams forever. And once even I—the only one who could still dream of it—disappeared, Spark would be able to burn brightly inside the lightsticks forever.

 

As I closed my eyes, I heard the intro to Spark’s comeback stage. It was the song they brought to break their long hiatus after Jeong Seongbin’s discharge. It was a track Lee Cheonghyeon had held onto for over two years, including during the hiatus. The behind-the-scenes story had always stayed with me: he’d written it hoping they would sing it together again on the day they reunited.

 

The masterpiece that overcame controversies of the leader’s desertion and rumors of disbandment, remarkably unifying a fandom on the verge of disintegration and making ‘Spark’ synonymous with the phrase ‘a group more poisonous than the changing of the seasons’.

 

Out of all of Spark’s songs, it was the one I listened to most often.

 

『Turn back the stopped time

Wake the sleeping world』

 

“The endless sprint…”

 

I sat leaning against the backrest, eyes closed, humming the lyrics. In a small studio apartment, not a vocal practice room or a recording studio. Without a recording camera or a phone broadcasting a livestream. Even though this was my original daily life, it felt so unfamiliar that I let out a laugh.

 

 ***

 

When I opened my eyes again, the dream had ended and morning had arrived. The mattress was still as hard as ever. Though it was long past sunrise, the room was dark due to poor lighting.

 

For several days, I spent my time in that dark room without ever turning on a light. When I got hungry, I ordered food or roughly reheated whatever leftovers I had.

 

The rest of the time, I just lay there. When the sun set and my vision turned pitch black, I just slept. I lived without knowing how time was passing or how many days had gone by.

 

Then, on the day I finally gathered the courage to pick up my phone.

 

“Why… is there no announcement?”

 

I discovered that no notice of my withdrawal had been posted on any of UtopiA’s platforms.