Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

The IDC’s self-PR stages proceeded in debut order.

 

Parthe, adorned in a dazzling outfit dripping with jewels, kicked things off with a performance so extravagant it felt like a grand finale from the start.  

 

It proved the saying, ‘If you’re going to be a servant, serve a noble house’. However, while their performance looked extravagant on the surface, it was actually quite crude, with only slight modifications to the original choreography and arrangement.

 

The subsequent performances were mostly average.

 

Nothing really caught my eye, so I simply observed while cheers and applause erupted from either side of me.

 

I thought the Spark members would react enthusiastically, at least for the cameras, but they didn’t.

 

Instead, they watched with even more reserved expressions than me.

 

Well, from our perspective—having completely reworked our basslines and choreographed everything from scratch—the other teams must have looked like they were on a picnic.

 

Since they weren’t ignoring other teams’ performances or acting disrespectfully, I didn’t say anything.

 

There was, however, one team that stood out.

 

It was Berion, the group right before us—the ones who would have been the youngest in the IDC, originally.

 

Compared to the intense choreography, fierce visuals, and dazzling acrobatic shows from earlier, Berion’s stage was reminiscent of fresh, cheerful boys blowing up balloons.

 

From what I saw during pre-stage monitoring, their concept seemed more similar to other groups. However, it looked like they decided to try something new for their first performance on this program.

 

People who stick to what they know could be intimidating in their own way, but those brimming with a spirit of challenge were the ones to watch out for. They had the potential to awaken something new at any time.

 

In that sense, Berion’s stage was impressive. Even the physical colors were different from the previous stages, which relied heavily on deep dark blue lighting. Whatever Berion’s goal was, they succeeded in standing out to some degree.

 

As Berion lined up after their performance, I smiled and applauded. Kang Kiyeon, who was also clapping enthusiastically, leaned toward me and whispered,

 

“Berion sunbaenims are so cool.”

 

“Right? Let’s learn a lot from them.”

 

It seemed the members had similar thoughts.

 

“I really enjoyed Berion’s stage. It was impressive and reminded me of Hellas’s early debut days.”

 

Looking at Mr. Yur, who was hosting on the podium. I said.

 

“But before that.”

 

Mr. Yur, holding cue cards, pointed his palm toward us.

 

“Now for the final performance. The youngest group of Idol Dynasty Chronicles, Spark, please come on stage!”

 

“Let’s finish our stage well too.”

 

***

 

The lyrics of 『Flowering』 contained specific keywords: dream, strength, wish, drive, cheers, and so on.

 

And depending on how you cooked it, it could become the challenging story of a dreaming idol.

 

Spark, idols who still retained their pre-debut daily lives, sat in a circle with their heads resting on each other’s shoulders, and opened their eyes as if waking from sleep.

 

『There are times when a single dream

 

Is so vivid』

 

Originally, the intro was my part, but Choi Jeho took it for this stage.

 

He was the member who was best suited for glasses, the perfect prop for showcasing everyday life, and he was the center who embodied Spark’s identity.

 

Choi Jeho perfectly acted like someone who overslept and passed the part to the next member.

 

『Through the long dawn,

 

I can’t fall asleep,

 

This pounding heart drives me forward.』

 

Not only were the parts adjusted, but the lyrics were also modified. Words evoking the night were replaced with alternatives like ‘dawn’ or ‘blue skies’ to align with the hopeful tone. Any element that might hint at hardship or struggle was completely removed to better fit an idol just starting their ascent.

 

Thanks to this, the current Spark perfectly embodied the image of pure, passionate idols running towards their dreams, dressed in pure white t-shirts, refreshing jeans like the summer sky, and visuals clearer than Jeju Island’s ocean.

 

From afar, with the camera zoomed out, we might have looked like a group of misfit neighbors crashing a luxury boy group’s photoshoot.

 

But when our faces were captured in close-up by the broadcast cameras?

 

In an instant, we were suddenly starring in a summer vacation app commercial. Say what you will, but these visuals have never been criticized, not even once.

 

Choi Jeho and Lee Cheonghyeon launched a facial attack, creating the illusion of a giant fan blowing wind,

 

Kang Kiyeon, while occasionally faltering, acted the part of a trainee moving forward with a bright smile,

 

Park Joowoo and Jeong Seongbin solidly proved their live singing skills with the adjusted lyrics as we moved on to the second verse.

 

‘Since this isn’t the main stage, the stage effects are minimal, but if the outfits and makeup are too simple, I am worried it will feel empty.’

 

Jeong Seongbin had pointed out that during the meeting.

 

Jeong Seongbin’s point was valid. His observations were so precise it was almost as if he’d seen the IDC from the future.

 

To address this, I had prepared something inspired by the photo of the flamboyant Mr. Polo positioned next to pictures of handsome actors.

 

At the climax, Kang Kiyeon and I walked out from either side of Choi Jeho, who had just finished his dance break. 

 

We unfurled oversized flight jackets patched with multiple designs, which we’d stashed in a corner before the performance.

 

How many times had we circled Dongdaemun Market to find patches that matched the keywords representing each member?

 

Choi Jeho slipped his arms into the jacket and took off his glasses. Then, he casually swept his bangs up.

 

Along with the accompaniment that Lee Cheonghyeon had meticulously arranged, the atmosphere shifted from a gentle breeze to a summer wind mixed with heat.

 

『Until my heart boils over

 

And overflows!』

 

Along with the sound of waves we had recorded at Busan beach with Lee Cheonghyeon, the six blue jackets fluttered and settled down after the final pose.

 

The venue fell silent. Until someone broke the silence, letting out a small applause accompanied by a ‘Wow…’.

 

Leaving the polite applause behind, I looked at the production crew beyond the camera.

 

Faces unable to tear their gaze away from Spark, camera angles still focused on Spark.

 

This was enough. I was more than satisfied.

 

***

 

After everyone’s performance, individual evaluations followed.

 

For over ten minutes, only warm words were exchanged between the cast. Not a hint of dissatisfaction toward someone’s performance or attempts to undermine the stronger teams were present.

 

In a way, it was natural. No celebrities wanted to receive hate comments or criticism.

 

“And what does Spark think?”

 

As we were smiling and attentively listening to the sunbaenim’s comments, Mr. Yur suddenly directed a question at us.

 

All the compliments and encouragement had already been said. Statements like ‘It’s an honor to see such performances firsthand’ had even been uttered, so everyone was probably expecting the youngest group to diligently praise their sunbaenims and share the camaraderie.

 

A culture of mutual flattery—pleasant, isn’t it?

 

It’s pleasant indeed, but…

 

‘What do you think is the most important thing in voting?’

 

During a meeting, I had asked this question to Spark’s members and they gave me various answers.

 

My opinion was this:

 

‘I think voting loses its meaning if it lacks fairness. The same goes for survival programs that lose credibility. If people start saying the contestants are colluding, the competition is over at that point.’

 

If a performance was undeniably outstanding, the evaluation should reflect that.

 

However, I couldn’t drag the members into potential malicious editing due to my insistence.

 

So, in situations like this, I absolutely had to grab the microphone.

 

“Berion seniors’ performance was truly great. We’ll work hard not to be outdone in terms of youthful energy!”

 

And only said what needed to be said.

 

If there was nothing to praise about other groups—well, then I simply didn’t need to praise them.

 

The expressions of Parthe, especially Song Minil and a few others, who had received heartfelt praise from every group so far, were quite something to behold.

 

I continued to stir things up more in the continued stage evaluations.

 

In the vague evaluation system where you could give a bonus of 5 points to teams that performed better than your own and a deduction of 5 points to those that performed worse, I deducted 5 points from every group except Berion.

 

Berion, despite receiving bonus points, looked at us nervously.

 

I wondered how my determined stance—pushing forward with, ‘No, let’s do it this way’, despite the concerns of my teammates—would come across on the broadcast. I was already looking forward to it.

 

Spark, receiving deductions only from Parthe, and Parthe, deducted only by Spark, tied for first place.

 

Mr. Yur commented that the competition was intense right from the start and seemed delighted.

 

“Don’t worry. The results of the self-PR stage won’t impact the final results.”

 

Mr. Yur explained, prompting relieved sighs from here and there.

 

“But if there was no purpose to the scores, there’d be no reason to grade them in the first place, right?”

 

Along with Mr. Yur’s remark, the names of the six groups appeared on the screen, ranked according to the self-PR stage performance.

 

“In the first stage, you’ll be matched with one rival group each and perform a stage with your rival group’s song.”

 

“Gasp!”

 

“Teams with higher votes will receive bonus points as a reward. Starting with the group ranked first in the self-promotion stage, please choose your rival group!”

 

The competitive tone was set right from the beginning. The cast might be as mild as tofu, but the production team clearly had a spicy vibe.

 

“However, since we have a tie for first place, we’ll need a brief discussion on how to proceed.”

 

With that, Mr. Yur called Spark and Parthe forward.

 

“First, we’ll ask if the two teams have any rival groups in mind.  If your chosen group doesn’t overlap, you’ll compete with your respective choices.”

 

It didn’t matter which group Spark went up against, so I was about to choose a team other than the one Parthe had already selected so that the filming didn’t drag out pointlessly. 

 

“If Spark is okay with it, we’d like to choose Spark as our rival group!”

 

But Parthe made the first move.

 

I could roughly guess what scenario they were envisioning.  

 

They probably wanted to square off against some slightly cheeky juniors, demonstrate the gap in skill between us, and then showcase their magnanimity as seniors by graciously embracing us afterward.

 

‘Of course, that only works if there’s actually a gap to demonstrate…’

 

Seeing them harbor such arrogant thoughts when they had not even grasped their own abilities yet, I could only imagine how difficult it must be for the MYTH staff to manage them.

 

I asked Mr. Yur and Parthe to give us a moment and then asked my members what they wanted to do.

 

And these guys gave a very straightforward ‘okay’. They said they wanted to compete based on skill and win everything but it seemed clear they were fearless, albeit in a different way than Parthe.

 

As the clash between Spark and Parthe was decided, someone offered me a handshake.

 

It was Song Minil.

 

“Let’s do our best.”

 

“Yes, I look forward to it, sunbaenim!”

 

It was hard to like someone who said ‘Let’s do our best’ with such an insincere face.

 

Feeling the pressure in Song Minil’s handshake, I briefly imagined the victorious future he might be envisioning.

 

The grander the dream, the more exposed their true color would be when it shattered.

 

I resolved to do my best to witness Song Minil’s true self.

 

However, as always, it was my side that ended up breaking.