Chapter 48

Gowon returned with his homework the next day looking even more hollow-eyed. Chief Manager Park happened to pass by and asked what the hell I had done to the kid, because he had never looked this bad even during promotions when he slept only an hour a day.

Holding a sheet of paper so crumpled that it was impossible to tell whether it was a lyric sheet or a tissue, Gowon kept glancing at me.

The signal was so obvious that I simply held out my hand. He hesitated like a little kid turning in his homework, then handed me the paper.

“If it’s strange... just ignore it and delete it.”

“Let me read it first. Hmm....”

I read through the lyrics Gowon had written.

A few lines of lyrics, written more neatly than his old crooked handwriting.

The lyrics he wrote resembled his handwriting.

They were more heartrending than the tone I had originally imagined. It looked as though he had agonized over them until the paper fell apart, pressing down so hard with his pen that he nearly tore through it.

That was why they weren’t bad.

Especially since Gowon, the person who would actually sing them, had written them.

“How did you come up with these lyrics?”

“I immersed myself in the concept you explained and thought about what might come next. The lyrics you had already filled in were so good....”

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“You should’ve started with that last part.”

“...Yes. The lyrics you wrote were good, and the song was so good that I almost felt unworthy of receiving it.”

Good boy.

“What do you think about this part?”

I pointed to the first line.

It was the section that bothered me most among the lyrics taking shape.

Gowon looked at me as though asking, What’s wrong with it? So I explained.

“The content is fairly conceptual. Usually, lyrics are written so people can understand them intuitively, while the music video gets stuffed with every possible fictional universe and storyline until it becomes spectacular.”

The problematic first line was a temporary lyric I had written.

But paired with the lines Gowon had carefully filled into the blanks, it looked even more conceptual.

“If we change it to something safer, the first line will lose some impact. Still, that would be better than you singing it while feeling embarrassed.”

“I like the lyric you wrote.”

Gowon’s gaze fell on the place beneath my finger.

“I didn’t feel embarrassed even when I tried singing it alone. I can immerse myself in the emotion and sing it properly. If that’s the only reason, please don’t change it.”

“.......”

His tone was firmer than I had expected.

“If the singer says so, there’s nothing more for me to argue about.”

I had wondered whether I needed to trap the A&R team in an endless cycle of meetings over the first line alone, but the problem was resolved almost anticlimactically.

Holding the lyric sheet, now close to completion, Gowon entered the booth. I had him sing it there and revised endings or phrases that did not fit smoothly.

It was a song made for Gowon and no one else, without a single exception.

Gowon did not use difficult words or elaborate metaphors. Every lyric openly expressed what he wanted to say without hesitation.

The refreshing taste of a rookie who hasn’t gotten full of himself yet....

After finishing the revisions, I had him sing the new lyrics. There were hardly any awkward consonants or pronunciations, and as for how well they suited the song, there was nothing more I could ask for.

When the outro ended, I could say it with certainty.

“The first song I’ve made for you turned out really fucking well.”

“.......”

Gowon remained silent for a moment. Then, a beat late, he flinched back into focus and answered.

“You gave me <Unlimited(∞)> too.”

“That was an existing song I refined. This one was made for you from scratch. That’s a pretty big difference, baby.”

“.......”

“What? Do you have something else to say?”

I expected him to complain about being called a baby again.

Instead, something completely unrelated came out.

“Brother, should I buy you dinner?”

“Have your profit settlements started already?”

“No....”

The conversation could not continue after that.

Because I made a strange choking sound—pff, kh—and collapsed over the desk, laughing.

Wow, an idol who hadn’t even begun receiving profit settlements wanted to buy me dinner!

A baby with exactly one debut album to his name! A little chick who hadn’t even stood onstage a hundred times!

“Ahahahaha!”

Gowon had calmly endured being called “baby” twice that day, but when I started pounding the desk and laughing loudly enough to shake the studio, he finally became seriously sullen.

“Gowon.”

“.......”

“Why do you hate it that much?”

“Because nothing good has ever followed when you call me that.”

“But our Gowon seemed determined to make sure I could never lift my head in front of Kwon Taeyoung again, so I was going to soothe you in case I’d done something wrong.”

“...What are you talking about?”

“Do you know what it means to let a kid who hasn’t started receiving profit settlements buy you dinner? It’s the same as extorting lunch money from a toddler.”

“The company gives me an allowance....”

“I’d sleep wonderfully after making you spend that on me.”

“.......”

I set down the lyric sheet and picked up the car keys lying abandoned on one side of the desk.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

Despite the suspicion in his voice, Gowon obediently stood up.

“I just heard something so shamelessly absurd that I’m going to buy you a meal expensive enough to keep you from saying anything like that again for a while.”

As Gowon voluntarily turned off the studio lights, an ominous expression crossed his face.

***

Nam Jeongho, the leader of Newton, arrived outside Executive Director Choi’s office after being summoned, feeling as though he were being dragged to an execution.

Objectively speaking, he had committed no crime.

But ever since their previous promotions ended, he had felt uncomfortable every time he met Executive Director Choi.

Of course, if poor album and digital-chart results counted as a crime, then perhaps he was guilty.

Considering how many girl groups made comebacks at the same time, our results weren’t that bad....

That was true only when Gowon was excluded as a point of comparison.

Naturally, Gowon’s debut results had plenty of extraordinary reasons behind them: the deeply resentful fans who had rallied around him since the audition program, the title of being the first idol debuted by Kwon Taeyoung, and the involvement of Baek Hanje, a producer with a genius-level creative sense.

But if everyone listened to every long, complicated explanation like that, there would be no failed idols in the world.

“Jeongho.”

“Yes, Executive Director.”

Years of trainee life helped him put on a polite expression immediately.

But that expression collapsed at the executive director’s next words.

“At yesterday’s meeting, someone mentioned that a terrestrial network is preparing a competition program for male idols.”

“...Ah, it should be educational. We’ll make sure to watch—”

“No. There’s nothing better for securing a new fan base, so we were discussing whether you should appear on it... Hmm.”

Most groups appearing on competition programs had low public recognition. They had debuted but failed to enter the top tier, so they were usually groups desperate to claw their way toward any opportunity to perform.

Of course, Newton desperately needed greater recognition too.

But the greatest problem was that this was K-Dom, the largest entertainment agency in the country.

A group from K-Dom appearing on a competition program would be no different from admitting that they had failed to reach the top tier despite all the support they received.

Nam Jeongho’s own fantasy—that simply debuting under K-Dom would place him on a smooth road to success—had already shattered.

But displaying that fact before the public was another matter entirely.

“Executive Director, we....”

“But it would be a bit of a waste to openly send Newton onto a program like that, wouldn’t it? You’ve worked hard for two years. And it hasn’t been that long since your debut.”

“...Yes! We’ll work even harder from now on.”

“Well, I think the employees only mentioned it in passing. Maybe they thought you boys needed some new stimulation lately.”

“...No, sir. You and the Division Four staff are guiding us well, so all we can think about is continuing to improve ourselves.”

“Right? And Jeongho, as the leader, must understand that better than anyone.”

Executive Director Choi placed something on the table.

When his rough hand moved away, a white card remained.

“It’s an access key for the Division Five A&R team.”

“...Excuse me?”

“I heard Gowon is preparing for a summer comeback.”

“.......”

“They’ve kept it so tightly wrapped up that the song shows no sign of ever leaving that room. They’ve blocked access permissions from every direction too.”

“...I see.”

“I’m not telling you to do anything bad. But wouldn’t listening to it once give you some motivation? It might become the driving force you need to encourage the younger members to work harder.”

“...Ah....”

Nam Jeongho’s eyes wavered.

But if he refused here, it felt as though Executive Director Choi might immediately say, Then appear on the competition program.

“I under...stand. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to learn.”

***

“You’re back?”

When Nam Jeongho opened the door to the accommodations, the Newton members approached him one by one. Perhaps because they knew he had gone to see Executive Director Choi, none of them had gone to sleep despite the late hour.

“.......”

They studied him worriedly, but when they saw that his expression was poor, they tactfully returned to their rooms.

He was grateful.

He did not have enough composure right now to put on the shell of their kind, dependable leader.

For now... after sleeping and waking up, he would share the situation only with Eden, the main rapper and one of the oldest members, and discuss it with him.

“.......”

Even though they both occupied the role of “older member,” Eden had an additional position as the main rapper.

The same was true of the other members.

Main dancer, main vocalist, and visual center....

But the only word used to describe Nam Jeongho’s position within the group was “leader.”

It was an armband he had earned in return for having spent the longest time as a trainee.

He did technically hold the position of lead vocalist, but that was merely the place of the second-best singer who had failed to become the main vocalist.

Rather than being moderately good at several things, he wished he had possessed one unrivaled strength—dance, performance, rap, or at the very least, a gift for entertainment shows.

That was precisely why he felt even more anxious now, when the group’s survival was at stake.

“Ha....”

The more he replayed the events of that day, the more they seemed to eat through his mind, leaving it blackened inside.