Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

In Spark, what kind of existence was Jeong Seongbin?

 

When asked this question in the past, the four members of Spark answered with one word:

 

‘Leader.’

 

Setting aside how aggravated I was by those curt fellows, Jeong Seongbin was still recognized in that barren group.

 

Even fans who gave the other members all sorts of chaotic nicknames called Jung Seongbin ‘Mental Pillar Jeong Seongbin’.

 

What would happen if such a person ran away?

 

Well. It would be the end, debut and everything else.

 

It would be like seeing the bus driver jump out of the window while you were trying to sneak onto a bus full of extremely angry passengers.

 

‘What should I do? Should I take him to a café and buy him a 6,800 won drink?’

 

I raised my head trying to recall if there was a cafe nearby.

 

Then I realized it was pitch dark all around.

 

‘Right, we came out at midnight.’

 

F*ck.

 

I desperately racked my dusty brain.

 

But no matter how much I searched my memory, I couldn’t recall a single moment when Jeong Seongbin said something like, ‘I was uncertain if this path was right for me when I was a trainee.’

 

Jeong Seongbin soon returned to his usual self. It seemed like he still hadn’t recognized the deep, true darkness within him.

 

I couldn’t let my guard down. People like this were more dangerous.

 

They were the type to work overtime until the previous day, then they came in the next morning with a smiling face and said, ‘Phew, I can’t do this anymore!’ and expressed their intention to resign.

 

In a tone as casual as if they were just suggesting a coffee break.

 

The way it looked now, within a month, Jeong Seongbin would definitely start feeling disillusioned with life and begin pondering what life was all about.

 

And two months later, he would leave us.

 

At that point, saying things like, ‘What are you talking about all of a sudden? We were doing great…!’ would be useless.

 

By then, he would have already run the resignation simulation in his head about 300 times.

 

If I couldn’t prevent that disaster, UA would end up making a raccoon-washed-cotton-candy expression in front of the one-of-a-kind leadership material who suddenly declared he was quitting being an idol.

 

‘I need to squash it before he can even start worrying.’

 

You’d think I’d just let him run away alone, leaving the four problem children behind? Absolutely not.

 

“Seongbin, want to talk for a bit before we head in?”

 

I stopped Jeong Seongbin in front of the convenience store. I intended to be as clingy as possible, enough to make him feel like he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he quit now.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later.

 

We sat side by side on the swings in the playground, each holding a warm cup of red ginseng honey tea. For the record, it was Jeong Seongbin who chose the drink.

 

A sharp wind dug into my outwear.

 

“I’m sorry it’s cold.”

 

“No, it’s okay.”

 

Despite my sudden request for a talk, Sungbin smiled and said it was fine. Hah…  The leader had to be protected at all costs.

 

“Is there something worrying you these days?”

 

When I carefully broached the topic, Jeong Seongbin looked my way.

 

It was clear from his face that he was wondering how I knew. Sorry, but it was way too obvious.

 

Jeong Seongbin swung his legs a few times, barely touching the ground, then spoke.

 

“It’s just… I am feeling a little conflicted thinking about how the evaluation results will come out soon.”

 

Then Jeong Seongbin smiled bitterly.

 

UA’s evaluation method wasn’t harsh by objective standards.

 

However, considering that each time feedback was given along with the trainees’ rankings, Jeong Seongbin’s concern was likely about his rank.

 

Jeong Seongbin’s next words didn’t stray far from my expectations.

 

“There aren’t that many trainees at the company, but at some point, the rankings haven’t really changed much.”

 

This evaluation was carried out in the order of Park Joowoo, Choi Jeho, Lee Cheonghyeon, Jeong Seongbin, and Kang Kiyeon.

 

And this order was the ranking order of the last evaluation.

 

Considering that Kang Kiyeon hadn’t been able to showcase his skills and received poor results each time, it meant that purely based on skill, Seongbin’s rank was the lowest.

 

Even lower than Lee Cheonghyeon, who had much less trainee experience compared to Seongbin.

 

‘No wonder he’s anxious.’

 

It commonly happened when you were surrounded by too many outstanding people.

 

Inevitably, they attended similar classes and invested similar amounts of time each day, and on top of that, Jeong Seongbin was a sincere person who was diligent in everything, so it must have hit him harder.

 

I personally believed that having the resilience to work hard among geniuses was a talent in itself.

 

But voicing that out loud was a different matter entirely.

 

So instead of carelessly speaking up, I decided to give Jeong Seongbin a bit more time.

 

I’d never seen a meeting go well when the other side fired off first at the person who was talked to.

 

“Drink your tea. It’ll get cold.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

With a slightly gloomy expression, Jeong Seongbin peeled off the plastic wrap covering the bottle cap.

 

As I fiddled with the ginseng honey tea bottle, I thought about what I could do right now.

 

There were roughly three methods I could use.

  

Appropriately mix in some cheesy compliments like those put on the coffee truck banners to envelop Seongbin in love.

 

But considering that I was UA’s top klutz, I doubt it would work.

 

Like how I wasn’t happy at all when Manager Nam praised me for organizing the break room well in the past.

  

Utilize the vast data collected while tidying up contents, and objectively explain which skills were improving, and based on that, what the prospects were for future growth.

 

However, if Jeong Seongbin responded with, ‘How do you know I sang that song, hyung?’ it would immediately lead to a bad ending.

 

Well… He’d probably look at me with disdain for being a creepy person. Even I would find that creepy.

  

Tell him I had the ability to see the future and that he would definitely succeed, gain wealth and fame, and be able to sing here and there until at least the age of twenty-eight.

 

This approach had the fatal drawback of being carefully advised to seek treatment at a hospital if I said one thing wrong.

 

‘Why can’t I come up with anything useful to say?’

 

Thinking back, I felt my career at Hanpyeong Industry might have been useless, but now I realized it wasn’t necessarily a bad move. It made me aware of how incompetent I was outside of the company.

 

None of the three options seemed promising, but I steeled myself.

 

This was a matter of life and death for me, for this guy, for my sister’s life, and my future.

 

“Seongbin. If it’s not too cold right now, can I… say something?”

 

“Yes, hyung.”

 

I tried to sound as calm as possible, so as not to appear overly encouraging.

 

“I hope you don’t get too disheartened if the gap with the other trainees isn’t closing right away.”

 

Jeong Seongbin, who was about to drink his tea, reacted slightly. Sorry for interrupting your drink.

 

“If you keep doing what you’ve been doing, the day you’ll be acknowledged will come. Really.”

 

“You seem really confident, hyung.”

 

“Of course.”

 

At my confident attitude, Jeong Seongbin, who had been smiling faintly like a deflated balloon, seemed flustered.

 

Kim Iwol, you can do this.

 

Compared to those like Godsong of the Idol World, The Spark among Sparks, or the drama OST killer, your image is nothing.

 

To help this young friend overcome his growing pains, no. To free myself from the Hanpyeong Industry, let’s boldly take this step.

 

I opened my mouth with great difficulty, the red ginseng honey tea barely moistening my lips.

 

“I… know the future.”

 

It was a shocking statement that could easily make a headline: 『Kim Iwol, 29, claims ‘I know the future’… A great controversy.』.

 

A cold wind passed between me and Seongbin.

 

“…Yes?”

 

Damn it.

 

This was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Was this what you call second-hand embarrassment? But it wasn’t second-hand though, I was the one experiencing it.

 

I continued speaking with difficulty, holding back the burning sensation in my face.

 

“I saw it for a bit, no, it appeared to me.”

 

I quickly corrected myself since saying ‘saw’ implied that I could do it at will.

 

“Even though this time might feel unbearably long and difficult for you right now… In the near future, you’ll think you’re happy thanks to this period.”

 

After hearing my words, Jeong Seongbin remained silent for quite a while. 

 

Perhaps he was considering whether I was insane or had lost my screws.

 

Taking advantage of the pause, I tried to wrap up the conversation as if nothing had happened.

 

“If you don’t believe me, never mind.”

 

“No, it’s reassuring.”

 

“At least lower the corners of your lips before you lie.”

 

Fortunately,  Jeong Seongbin’s face looked much more at ease than before. It seemed more like he was amused rather than comforted, though.

 

But still, at least I had refreshed his thoughts. I barely managed to hold back what felt like a million sighs of relief.

 

It felt like steam was pouring out of my body, making me wonder if winter ever got this hot.

 

The atmosphere on the way back to the dorm was much lighter than it had been a few minutes ago.

 

“What was I doing in the future that you saw?”

 

It was because Jeong Seongbin excitedly asked me all sorts of questions.

 

A little while ago, he had been forcing himself to pretend everything was fine, so his lies lacked sincerity, but now his every word was sprinkled with playfulness.

 

If I had said here…

 

‘Yeah, you’ll become the leader of a talented boy group, and despite the harsh entertainment industry, you’ll steadily lead the team until you eventually see the light. Though you’ll disband in the end.’

 

…and Jeong Seongbin ended up taking this superstitious folk belief too seriously and getting carried away, that would be a huge problem.

 

I racked my brain once more.

 

I needed to minimize information, use synonyms, but still convey a sense of responsibility…

 

“Uh… a leader?”

 

…Why the hell did this brain even exist?

 

If my brain failed this much, I seriously needed to reflect on myself.

 

“Wouldn’t the group fall apart quickly if I, ahem… became the leader?”

 

“No, it’d be doomed without you.”

 

I didn’t know what set him off, but Jeong Seongbin finally burst into laughter, trying to stifle it with his hand.

 

Noona, are you watching?

 

Noona’s dongsaeng is desperately trying to survive.

 

Seongbin’s questions didn’t stop until we reached the dorm.

 

These absurd stories must have been quite refreshing for the diligent Jeong Seongbin.

 

Thanks to that, our conversation remained like that the entire way.

 

“You can’t see the future anytime you want?”

 

“That’s right. I have to live in the present too.”

 

“If you think you want to see something, does it just appear before you?”

 

“It’s like being possessed by a spirit, I suppose. Not often, but occasionally it shows itself.”

 

Suddenly, I felt the need to apologize deeply to all shamans across the country.

 

And I resolved that once I saw this kind, good friend debut, I’d go into the Jirisan Mountain and atone.

 

Whether it was because of the laughter therapy or something else, by the time we returned to the room, Jeong Seongbin seemed to be in a lighter mood.

 

Or maybe he had been so cornered that he couldn’t even afford such silly thoughts.

 

Still, it was a remarkable achievement that Jeong Seongbin’s face changed to a face that said, ‘I’m going to give it my all today…!’

 

I was about to go to bed, thinking that it was a relief that it worked out somehow, but my vision turned blurry.

 

It was the system. It wasn’t even surprising anymore.

 

But something was off. The message type was different from before.

 

+

 

[SYSTEM] ‘Subordinate’ is notified of the ‘Penalty for Breach of Confidentiality.’

 

▷ Internal regulation violation

 

▷ Breach of confidentiality

 

▷ [Locked]

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

+

 

The words were ominous, to say the least.

 

With a sense of foreboding, I chose the ‘Breach of confidentiality’ item that was flashing conspicuously. Then a lengthy post appeared.

 

+

 

[SYSTEM] ‘Subordinate’ is notified of the ‘Breach of Confidentiality.’

 

▷ Any information that could affect areas beyond the successful activities of Spark, including details related to future events, is considered confidential and must be kept secret.

 

▷ ‘Subordinate’ is responsible for maintaining confidentiality regarding the aforementioned details.

 

▷ The severity of the penalty will be determined by the importance and publicity of the leaked confidential information, with the maximum punishment being ‘death.’

 

+

 

Surely they weren’t warning me—even going as far as threatening with death penalty—just because I made that half-joking comment about Jeong Seongbin becoming a ‘leader’?

 

If I had known my life was at stake, I wouldn’t have blurted out that careless, embarrassing breach of confidentiality.

 

Not wanting to believe the reality, at 3 am I re-read that maddeningly unreasonable memo.

 

However, reading the memo again did not change anything.

 

Everything except calling my father ‘Father’ was prohibited from being mentioned.

 

It was a story so hard to accept that I might lose my mind.