Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

Choi Jeho nervously shoved a bundle of papers, about two or three pages thick, into my chest.

 

The paper had a title written in large letters.

 

[Spark Content (Episode 21) Plan – Childhood Memories]

 

As I flipped through the page, I saw something like an outline.

  

.

 

.

 

.

 

Upon seeing it, only one thought crossed my mind.

 

‘No wonder he’s mad.’

 

The only thing he asked for was not to talk about family, yet they blatantly ignored that. It would be strange if he weren’t angry.

 

I was also uncomfortable with this topic. As for Children’s Day memories, I only remembered running away to the playground near my house to avoid my family who didn’t go to work on the holiday.

 

Suppressing a sigh, I responded to Choi Jeho, who was glaring at me with fury.

 

“I didn’t come up with this.”

 

“Then it must be the company.”

 

Then Choi Jeho headed straight for the practice room door.

 

Since it would be obvious to anyone that he was angry, I quickly stopped him.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“The office.”

 

“What for? You’re not seriously going to confront them, are you?”

 

“Of course I am. What about it?”

 

His expression was nothing short of menacing. The wild look in his eyes made it seem like he might actually go raise hell.

 

I understood his feelings. It was natural to be angry. Especially if it was a family issue.

 

I tried to stay calm and talk him down.

 

“At least cool off a bit before you go.”

 

I tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t provoke him.

 

But Choi Jeho didn’t answer and stormed out of the practice room.

 

‘We’re screwed. Nothing good will come from him going like this.’

 

Life in an organization was truly full of contradictions.

 

There were times when speaking politely led to being ignored, and if you showed your emotions when something important went wrong, people might accuse you of treating the company like a playground.

 

In such a place, even if Choi Jeho expressed his shock and frustration, they would only tell him not to get emotional.

 

On top of that, this was the guy who once starred in a video titled, ‘Popular Male Idol Who Uses His Members as Emotional Dumpsters’.

 

I chased after him, determined to stop him from saying the wrong thing and throwing himself into the fire.

 

‘Are you this blunt at work too?’

 

My sister asked me this shortly after I started working at Hanpyeong Industry.

 

‘I try to seem like I have some social skills, why?’

 

‘So you care about that kind of thing too…’

 

‘If I don’t get want to get fired, I have no other choice.’

 

I had experienced various trials and errors in my first job. Because of that, I honed the ability to adapt my conversation to suit the situation, like a chameleon.

 

But that wasn’t all. Listening was also an important skill for a corporate worker.

 

The concerns that HR managers typically heard at companies were roughly like this.

 

‘Assistant Manager, I really want to quit. What should I do?’

 

‘Assistant Manager, how do I request a department transfer?’

 

‘Our team isn’t getting any new hires this time, are we? Please tell me that’s not true… Just kill me instead…’

 

Listening skills were essential for these types of concerns.

 

It was important to hear what made this person want to quit or why this person wanted to be transferred to a different department.

 

For the last one, though, all I could do was offer my condolences.

 

But with Choi Jeho now, I didn’t know what approach to take.

 

I knew in my head that I should take his side. After all, for most people, family was extremely important.

 

I knew that, but…

 

‘Faking empathy when I can’t relate just feels wrong.’

 

I could easily empathize with complaints about the terrible practices at the Hanpyeong Industry. I could smoothly respond with lines like ‘You’ve really been through a lot’ as easily as spitting out coins from a vending machine.

 

But this situation was different. While I agreed that Choi Jeho had every reason to be angry, my mind kept telling me, ‘But this is work’.

 

If I went after him now, it would just be me pretending to listen to him.

 

F*ck, but I couldn’t just say something sociopathic like, ‘Compared to being forced into idol life with your sister’s life on the line, this is nothing’.

 

My mind was in turmoil the whole time I ran after Choi Jeho.

 

And the chase ended when I grabbed Choi Jeho’s elbow before he could climb all the stairs to the third floor where the office was.

 

“Hey.”

 

When I called out to him, Choi Jeho turned to me, annoyed.

 

I looked up at Choi Jeho, who was standing awkwardly on the stairs, and I spoke, still holding his arm.

 

“I’m sorry for grabbing you without permission. But before you go to the office, can you talk to me just once?”

 

“You said you didn’t come up with this idea. So why should I talk to you?”

 

“Well, if I had checked it earlier, I might have been able to filter it out. So I’m partly responsible.”

 

I meant it. I felt my mistake the whole time I was running up the stairs.

 

Despite my sincerity, Choi Jeho laughed in disbelief.

 

“Why would that be your responsibility?”

 

Choi Jeho said with a sneer.

 

“You think I’m that stupid? Hey, I know where to direct my anger.”

 

“…”

 

“Come up with ideas, come up with album concepts, write articles, and record album sales trends… Is that your job in the first place? Why are you trying to take responsibility for someone else’s mistake when it’s not even your job?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Because at the Hanpyeong Industry, that was just how it was.

 

At the Hanpyeong Industry, I did it because I got paid, but here…

 

“Even though I’m lacking, the company gave me a chance. I’m doing this because I want to do more.”

 

“…”

 

“…If it came across as overstepping, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

 

Choi Jeho ran a finger through his hair.

 

“Ah, whatever. Anyway, I am not letting this slide.”

 

“You’re fearless. You just debuted, aren’t you afraid of the company?”

 

“I believe that the person who did something wrong should take responsibility for it. What did I do wrong?”

 

He didn’t do anything wrong. As he said, it was the company’s fault.

 

But still…

 

No. That was enough.

 

What this guy said wasn’t wrong, so why bother arguing?

 

My original goal was to calm Choi Jeho down a little. As long as I achieved that goal, it didn’t matter what Choi Jeho said.

 

Choi Jeho and I sat side by side on the emergency exit stairs. An awkward silence filled the space.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask why I got so mad?”

 

And Choi Jeho didn’t give in to this quiet atmosphere. Yes, his personality was truly something.

 

Feeling awkward for some reason, I scratched my face and answered.

 

“Because you have something you don’t want to tell others. Why would I ask about that?”

 

“Then why did you follow me?”

 

“Because I was afraid you’d get so angry that you’d end up saying something weird and miss the chance to say what really matters.”

 

“What?”

 

Choi Jeho frowned.

 

This b*tch, no matter how many times I told him not to frown because it would wrinkle his face, he never listened

 

I told him to straighten his eyebrows, got up from my seat, checked the emergency exit to see if there was any sign of someone, and then sat down on the stairs again.

 

“If you’d gone to the office in that state, how do you think you would have behaved?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I mean, if you went in there like that, how would you have acted in front of the staff?”

 

At my words, Choi Jeho hesitated.

 

It was obvious. He would’ve said all kinds of things.

 

“Most people judge your attitude more than the content of your words. Even if you say the right thing, if they think your behavior is rude, they’ll get defensive first.”

 

“…”

 

Then Choi Jeho propped his chin on his hand without saying anything.

 

Even if it feels like I’m nagging, just endure it. If you get through this well, it might reduce the amount of criticism you’ll face in the future.

 

I quietly watched Choi Jeho, who was lost in deep thought, and wondered about how I could make this rascal behave a little better.

 

‘Maybe if he feels some responsibility, he’ll cool off.’

 

This guy wasn’t the type to feel burdened by most things.

 

So, taking a gamble, I said.

 

“Go and say this as best you can. ‘Even Iwol feels uncomfortable with this topic. If you could remove this part, we’ll do our absolute best with the rest!’”

 

“What?”

 

“What do you mean ‘what?’ I don’t like talking about family either, you know.”

 

Choi Jeho looked at me with a bewildered expression.

 

“Why? Did I look like someone who grew up in such a perfect family?”

 

I asked him jokingly. Choi Jeho answered.

 

“No, not really.”

 

This little b*tch…

 

“I figured you’d just do it if you were told to.”

 

“I guess I could. But I really don’t have anything to say about family, so I’ll have to squeeze it out.”

 

Even so, it would be inappropriate to tell fans something like, ‘My mom and dad gave me the opportunity to learn that it’s okay to eat ramen that’s seven months past its expiration date.’

 

“So just cool off for a bit and talk it out. If you go in there, cause a scene, and get in trouble, I’ll have to do some serious damage control.”

 

“Tsk.”

 

Choi Jeho ruffled his hair irritably as he got up. However, unlike a little while ago, it was obvious that the edge of his anger had softened.

 

As I was about to head back to the practice room after sending Choi Jeho off, he called out to me.

 

“Hey.”

 

“What?”

 

When I turned around, Choi Jeho was looking down at me from a few steps above.

 

Choi Jeho asked, standing with his arm resting on the stair railing.

 

“…If you’re uncomfortable with it, should I just leave your part out?”

 

At that moment, I couldn’t help but laugh.

 

How could someone be this naive? He really was just twenty-one.

 

Looking up at Choi Jeho, who seemed to have ‘I’m concerned’ written on his forehead, I answered.

 

“I don’t care either way, so do whatever you want.”

 

* * *

 

The family history issue was resolved amicably after that.

 

I didn’t ask Choi Jeho in detail how it ended, but from the way he returned with a calm demeanor, it was clear that the adults at UA had handled it maturely.

 

Thanks to that, the atmosphere in the dorm was as peaceful as ever.

 

Lee Cheonghyeon, who had recently dragged all the members on a spring outing, was humming while working on his music. It was so odd that I wondered how he didn’t mix up his melodies.

 

The song he completed was vibrant and cheerful.

 

It perfectly matched the fresh, lively image of the transition from spring to summer, with a sense of brightness that we aimed to continue.

 

Everything was just as I wanted. Except for one thing.

 

“Cheonghyeon.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Why is this song so high-pitched…?”