Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

Once the song was completed, UA immediately started recruiting a lyricist to write lyrics for the debut song.

 

Since it was a company specializing in music production, there was no need to worry about finding a suitable lyricist.

 

When UA asked if there were any specific points I wanted included in the lyrics, I elaborated on the previously shared proposal and added some references before submitting it anew. 

 

Fortunately, the achievement rate for ‘advice for the stage’ went up again this time.

 

With this, the large-scale project for debut was more or less finished. At least within the scope of what I could handle.

 

But that didn’t mean I could rest at all.

 

It was common knowledge among office workers that when one task ended, a new one came along.

 

‘Now it’ll probably assign me a bunch of weird tasks again…’

 

So instead of relaxing, I had to think about how to make the most of the little bit of free time I had.

 

Whether it was catching up on overdue account management or drawing those ‘love lines’ between members that I hadn’t been able to for a while.

 

Before I knew it, work piled up like a mountain. The blessings of tasks were endless. 

 

As long as I lived in the Republic of Korea, the land of labor, it was clear I’d never have to worry about a lack of work—at least not until I was six feet under.

 

So when I quit being an idol, I hoped companies would post lots of job openings. I’d work with all my heart and soul.

 

“Hyung, are you using the vocal practice room today? I saw your name on the board.”

 

“Yeah, I’m going to practice until I master it.”

 

I gave a casual response to Jeong Sengbin’s suggestion not to push myself too hard.

 

Objectively speaking, I was in a position where I had to practice even if it meant pushing myself.

 

It was impressive that he could say such things despite knowing my skills stick out like a sore thumb among the six of us.

 

No matter how many times I saw it, it was truly admirable.

 

‘When you say things like that, it only makes me feel more guilty…’

 

Now I could understand why Seongbin’s fans always said, ‘Even kindness is a sin’.

 

Back then, I thought being kind was just a good thing. Now I agreed. Kindness was indeed a sin.

 

Even though my conscience had been ground to dust, there was still a speck of it left. After all, I was still wearing the guise of a human being.

 

I was also receiving work support that I had never received at Hanpyeong Industry, so the least I could do was burn my vocal cords.

 

Determined to improve my vocal skills, I headed to the practice room.

 

But the results weren’t great.

 

The growing pains were too severe compared to the minimal growth.

 

I aimed to reach at least a two-octave high note, even if I couldn’t hit a three-octave one, but instead, I lost half my voice.

 

I realized I lost my voice when I greeted Jeong Seongbin, who was briskly walking out of his room in the morning.

 

“Good morning, hyung.”

 

“Yeah. ….?”

 

I was about to ask, ‘Did you sleep well?’ but it was like my throat was grinding out cement.

 

It was as if the acrid air of a construction site had been transplanted into my throat. Belatedly, I felt the scratchiness in my throat.

 

“Hyung, what’s wrong with your voice?!”

 

“It must be, ahem, because it’s morning.”

 

Unfortunately, my lie didn’t work.

 

My voice sounded like someone who had spent three hours at a karaoke bar last night. Or like someone who had spent three hours shouting curses at their boss from the top of Bugaksan Mountain.

 

“Hyung, you really shouldn’t force yourself to use your voice.”

 

Seeing my struggle to clear my throat, Jeong Seongbin handed me a cup of warm water.

 

I appreciated the kindness, but my condition was worrisome.

 

How could my vocal cords be so shredded while my skills only improved by a tiny bit?

 

This was so unfair. Even Hanpyeong Industry paid minimum wage, but this idol gig seemed to be operating outside the bounds of the law.

 

To think I was in this state even with work support. I couldn’t help but think the physical damage was disproportionate to the results.

 

“I. under. stand. Damn it. I can’t, ahem, even say anything.”

 

“I told you not to say anything…!”

 

As Jeong Seongbin’s voice grew louder, Kang Kiyeon came out of his room asking what was going on.

 

“Iwol hyung’s voice is really messed up. He must have overdone it yesterday.”

 

“His voice?”

 

“Yeah. Hyung, we’ll take care of breakfast ourselves, so you should rest and then go to the hospital.”

 

“What does my voice have to do with baking bread?”

 

With a voice that could probably register as ‘hazardous’ if you measured the ultrafine dust levels, I tried to convey, ‘Stop talking and just sit down and wait for the bread’. Kang Kiyeon’s expression rapidly darkened.

 

“Uh… I really think you should go to the hospital first.”

 

Everyone was overreacting just because a rookie trainee strained their voice once.

 

It was frustrating that I couldn’t tell them I wasn’t going to sing for the rest of my life. It was not like something terrible would happen just because my voice was a bit hoarse.

 

If something really impaired my ability to practice, I’d head to the hospital without hesitation, but losing my voice didn’t seem urgent enough for that.

 

I tore open the bread bag and said,

 

“Hey, guys.”

 

“Hyung…”

 

“My throat hurts, so don’t make me say it twice.”

 

At that, they finally shut their mouths.

 

For someone aiming to be an idol, these guys sure were clueless.  I could see how hard it would be for them in the future.

 

Even though I repeatedly told them it wasn’t that bad, Jeong Seongbin woke Choi Jeho up anyway and said, ‘Tell Iwol hyung to go to the hospital!’ before going to school.

 

“How bad is your throat?”

 

“It’s just so-so.”

 

“But it sounds so raspy.”

 

Choi Jeho’s expression was one of shock. Wait, is it really that bad?

 

It was not the first time my vocal cords had been overworked.

 

During interview seasons or when there were inspections or construction at the company building, my daily routine involved chattering like a parrot for 8 hours straight. 

 

So I hadn’t thought much of it, but apparently, it sounded pretty bad to others.

 

“Hyung.”

 

Just as I was about to tell Choi Jeho that I’d take care of going to the hospital myself, someone called out to me from behind.

 

At this time, the only younger member left in the dorm was Park Joowoo.

 

When I turned around, Park Joowoo was standing there holding a mug. Hot steam was rising from inside the mug.

 

“What is it?”

 

“…Please drink this. It’s honey water.”

 

Park Joowoo set the mug down next to my plate of toast.

 

The water had a deep yellow color, likely from the generous amount of honey he’d added. But since I couldn’t smell the honey, my nose must have been blocked too.

 

As I was about to say thank you, my words of gratitude was cut off mid-air by Joowoo’s gesture to stop talking.

 

The honey water I drank without a word was incredibly sweet and hot.

 

“Joowoo.”

 

“Yes, hyung?”

 

“How much… ahem, honey did you put in?”

 

“About this much.”

 

Park Joowoo pointed to a spot about a quarter of the way up the cup.

 

It seemed our main vocalist wanted to cure me not with cold remedies but with an overdose of sugar.

 

Despite the overwhelming sweetness, I decided to take another sip out of consideration for his effort, but then Park Joowoo asked,

 

“…Should I add more water?”

 

At that moment, I was reminded of a time long ago when I was fifteen times more exhausted and in pain than I was now.

 

‘Why do you take medicine so often, Assistant Manager Kim? Are you sick?’

 

‘It’s nothing serious. I’ve just been having some headaches lately.’

 

It was about two years after I joined Hanpyeong Industry.

 

I started suffering from chronic headaches from then on. I tried to visit the hospital whenever I had the time, but they just told me that the cause was unknown.

 

In the end, all I could do was take painkillers whenever it got bad.

 

And every time I did, Manager Nam would always make sure to say something to me in passing.

 

‘Young people shouldn’t rely so much on medicine. That’s a lack of willpower.’

 

I couldn’t forget Manager Nam’s words about how willpower alone could cure headaches and improve blood circulation.

 

Meanwhile, as he aged, Manager Nam would go up to the rooftop every lunchtime to smoke for an hour, claiming that he had trouble digesting his food.

 

He was the reason I had a headache in the first place.

 

As my head was on the verge of being split open, Manager Nam took the medicine from my hand and threw it in the trash can, saying,

 

‘Anyway, don’t keep taking medicine. Take care of your health.’

 

‘Yes, I understand.’

 

‘It’s not like you’re protesting because you’re sick… Anyone could think you’re making a scene just to avoid working. You know what I mean, right?’

 

The problem was that I understood all too well what he meant, even though I wished I didn’t.

 

Rain or shine, in sickness and in health, Manager Nam’s unwavering dedication to nagging me was truly impressive.

 

After that, every time he saw me, he would ask how I was feeling. If any of the staff, who didn’t know what was going on, asked if I was sick, he would make a big fuss and talk about me as if I was going to die tomorrow.

 

‘Everyone, make sure to rest well over the weekend. Especially you, Assistant Manager Kim! Don’t do anything foolish; just stay put and rest!’

 

At that point, people who didn’t know the situation thought I was someone who did foolish things all the time. Thanks to that, I even got scolded by the executives about how taking care of one’s health was also a skill.

 

Compared to those times, the treatment I was receiving now was almost embarrassingly luxurious. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry about this.

 

Still, it wasn’t bad to receive concern without any malice, even if it was a little embarrassing.

 

Trying to suppress my embarrassment, I looked at the bashful Park Joowoo and said,

 

“No, it’s good. Thanks.”

 

At that, Park Joowoo smiled, a smile much lighter than the honey water.

 

Seeing that, I couldn’t bring myself to leave any honey water behind, so I ended up drinking it all, even though it was so sweet it could have been straight from the honeycomb itself.

 

Up until this point, I had been somewhat complacent.

 

I mistakenly thought that as my accumulated fatigue decreased due to the work support services, if I assisted the members, they too would be able to endure their grueling schedules without issues.

 

I forgot that, in terms of both mental and physical strength, these kids were still in the midst of growing up.