Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

Up until the meeting to prepare for the first competition, the atmosphere wasn’t bad.

 

As befitting a senior group who debuted a few months earlier, Parthe had released quite a few albums already. They had mini albums and singles.

 

It was different from Spark, who only had two singles.

 

They had more options, and they’d likely prepared concepts ahead of time for IDC.

 

Our main concern was figuring out how to fit our youthful energy into one of Parthe’s lavishly-produced songs.

 

That was, until our manager brought in the budget proposal.

 

“This is… the available budget?”

 

“Yeah, that’s how it is.”

 

“Not just for one stage… for the entire program?”

 

“…Yeah.”

 

I read the numbers carefully again.

 

I meticulously checked to see if the commas were misplaced or if a digit was missing that might have affected the total.

 

But nothing changed. We simply didn’t have money to spend.

 

Faced with an absurdly low amount compared to what was expected, I struggled to speak.

 

“Manager, is the company preparing another idol group?”

 

“No, it’s not that. Actually… The company is undergoing an internal audit. It’s gotten harder for all departments to get approvals.”

 

In short, the discovery of possible embezzlement between Yoo Hansoo and the production team leader led UA to conduct a comprehensive review of expenditures.

 

However, even considering these circumstances, this budget made no sense. It wouldn’t even be enough for Spark to juggle their appearances on IDC and regional festivals.

 

Even though Spark hadn’t yet reached its break-even point, UA wasn’t a company known for withholding investment.

 

Something was wrong. It didn’t make sense.

 

Then it came up. The system, which had briefly popped up a few days ago only to annoy me, reappeared.

 

+

 

[SYSTEM] Work instructions from the ‘Superior’ have arrived.

 

▶ Assistant Manager Kim, do you think the company gives you transportation expenses just so you can go around doing useless things? If you’re just going to do as you please, go start a business outside, why are you even working at the company?

 

[SYSTEM] ‘Subordinate’ is being notified of ‘Violation of Regulations’.

 

▷ ‘Subordinate’ has a ‘Duty of Fairness’ to use the benefits derived from information asymmetry fairly.

 

▷ If actions deviating significantly from established history are discovered, ‘Subordinate’ will be deemed to have violated the Duty of Fairness.

 

▷ Depending on the extent to which ‘Subordinate’ has changed history, sanctions can be imposed by utilizing the environment ‘Subordinate’ is in.

 

[SYSTEM] Sanctions against ‘Subordinate’ for ‘Violation of Regulations’ have been issued.

 

▷ Content: Reduction of available budget provided by UA

 

▷ Reason: Participation in ‘Idol Dynasty Chronicle’

 

+

 

F*ck you, this is happening because you asked me to win first place!

 

Who’s going to die if Spark appears on IDC? Does it change the flow of destiny or something?

 

I can rewrite the upcoming album, but I am going to be punished for doing something I wasn’t supposed to?

 

I could feel the blood rushing to my head. My eyes burned.

 

What exactly was it trying to do by imposing unclear standards and tying my hands?

 

While I couldn’t say I fully understood the system until now, for this was one part, I absolutely could not comprehend the system’s intentions at all.

 

“Iwol, what’s wrong?” 

 

The manager asked me, who had been staring blankly into space.

 

I brushed it off, saying I was just thinking, and looked at the budget again.

 

If the sanctions considered my environment, then it meant the system manipulated the situation to look natural by exploiting my report on Yoo Hansoo.

 

I’d been naive.

 

I knew the system could interfere with the external parties, not just me, yet I thought as long as I kept my mouth shut and acted accordingly, nothing serious would happen.

 

If it could so easily influence people’s thoughts and turn them into reality, how easy would it be to let my sister die or make me walk into the Hanpyeong Industry on my own two feet?

 

My vision darkened. A sense of helplessness washed over me, a feeling I hadn’t experienced since my first day of regressing.

 

Even though I felt helpless, a worker ant still had to work, so I couldn’t just lie around.

 

I needed a countermeasure. A major change of plans.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes I wished a day was 48 hours long.

 

Now was one of those times.  No, I wished there were 480 hours.

 

We had two weeks until the first competition.

 

The original plan was to decide on the song and concept within a day or two, develop it on the third day, have a mid-point check in the first week, and then in the final week, the six of us would tear up the stage, but…

 

It all went wrong.

 

From the moment I saw the budget, I hadn’t slept a wink, becoming one with my laptop. Thanks to that, Choi Jeho was the one who baked the toast yesterday and today.

 

“Haa…”

 

“Hyung, are you okay…?”

 

Park Joowoo came into the room while I was staring at the ceiling, trying to clear my head.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Have the others gone to school?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay. Let’s go to practice.”

 

I already didn’t like the fact we had to go to practice when we hadn’t decided on anything yet, but the misfortune didn’t end there.

 

Three minutes after stepping into UA, I ran into Yoo Hansoo who was lurking in the hallway.

 

If he knew the company atmosphere had turned sour because of him, he should at least try to stay out of sight.

 

He really had a knack for getting on people’s nerves.

 

Reciting the Confucian society mantra, I politely greeted Yoo Hansoo, which drained half my energy. I wanted to give up on everything and return to the dorm.

 

Still, as if the universe wasn’t completely out to get us, we managed to settle on a concept with the help of the planning team’s advice. The theme was: ‘Friendly Competition.’

 

We chose Parthe’s third single title track, 『Desire』, a song about coveting a divine relic.

 

The music video, visually striking, featured all the members in uniforms with epaulets and capes, taking a knight’s oath in front of a giant statue and then brandishing their swords as they marched forward…

 

Well, we couldn’t even afford straws for epaulets, let alone more impressive outfits, so we ruled out overpowering them with fancy costumes. Instead, we focused on reinterpreting what Spark might desire.

 

What was valuable in a competition?

 

For gamers who thrived on the thrill of the chase, the ultimate value they pursued was victory. We chose this as our main keyword.

 

Next, we considered the means.

 

How would we portray victory?

 

Nothing beat sports for conveying a sense of familiarity, hard work, and lighthearted competition.

 

So, we settled on a sports concept.

 

What message did we want to convey with this performance?

 

The answer could be summed up in one sentence:

 

Fight fair and square, win, and earn honor.

 

All five members approved of this message. So far, so good.

 

“We’re short on funds.”

 

We even set a grand goal of creating a Spark High School volleyball team to match the number of members, but the problem was money.

 

Unless a bulk seller on the Hongdangmu app uploaded six identical uniforms that we could buy, saving money seemed impossible.

 

We didn’t absolutely need to wear expensive clothes on stage, but that only applied when the clothes actually looked decent.

 

If we sent the kids out in bright neon green t-shirts just because they were a ‘volleyball team’, even amateur volleyball clubs would mock us for having poor outfits.

 

We couldn’t send a team to a competition program with just basic uniforms.

 

I sighed.

 

It was not that there was no solution.

 

I could… use my own money.

 

But that just f*cking suck.

 

After the pre-paid package tour incident with Manager Nam, I had sworn never to use personal funds again.

 

Especially since this time, there was no guarantee I’d ever get it back!

 

But since I was the one who dragged them into this tough program and the budget was reduced because of me, I couldn’t confidently say, ‘Let’s just do our best with what we have!’.

 

Before the stock market closed, I immediately went to our manager and borrowed his phone. Then I sold a few stocks that were doing well.

 

Once the funds become available, I could probably secure about half of the items on the purchase list.

 

If only Manager Nam’s daughter could see me now. What a pity.

 

+

 

[SYSTEM] Work instructions from the ‘Superior’ have arrived.

 

▶ Assistant Manager Kim, are you from a wealthy family? Seems like you have a lot of money? What do your parents do?

 

+

 

Before I could even have a moment to feel sorry for myself, the system mocked me. I wanted to smash that window, but I didn’t even have the energy for that.

 

* * *

 

It was always a pleasure to see a colleague grow.

 

Their growth meant our team’s workload decreased.

 

However, it seemed not all growth was beneficial.

 

“I’ve been talking with Jeho hyung, and we think you need to be more in the center this time.”

 

Such misfortunes, like today, did happen—The traitor Kang Kiyeon was trying to steal my cozy little spot on the sidelines.

 

“Why?”

 

I asked, hiding my bewilderment and displeasure.

 

These guys were definitely aware that the budget was cut because of me and were now taking their revenge.

 

They planned to use me as a shield in a head-on battle with Parthe, intending to brand me with the dishonor of a lost fight. Their plan was so cunning that it was almost admirable.

 

Oblivious to the turmoil inside me, Kang Kiyeon remained calm.

 

“You know the part in the choreography where we incorporated volleyball moves? We keep watching it, and it just doesn’t look as good with the other members.”

 

“Really?”

 

I thought everyone was dancing well, but Kang Kiyeon must have preferred my more practical approach.

 

“When hyung is on the side, it feels a bit like… a kindergarten performance where the teacher is awkwardly standing at the edge.”

 

“You might as well just insult me, Kiyeon.”

 

But I understood what he meant.

 

Hardly anyone in Spark had played volleyball before. I was the only one with any experience, having been dragged into games in college and the military.

 

It had already been embarrassing enough demonstrating clumsy moves and explaining them to the dance line. And now this.

 

It was something I couldn’t refuse, as it was for the sake of improving the stage quality, but it made me uncomfortable.

 

It was one thing to be stuck in the middle of five people planning, arranging, rewriting lyrics, and creating choreography but now it felt like I was being pushed to expand my role.

 

“The other members pick up the choreography quickly… Let’s practice together a little longer. If it still seems better for me to be in the center, we’ll make the switch then.”

 

I answered evasively and sent Kang Kiyeon back to Choi Jeho. And if there truly was a god—especially a god of volleyball—I earnestly prayed they would possess one of our members in the coming days.

 

Perhaps because my ulterior motives had been exposed, the god of volleyball did not descend upon any of the members, not even by the deadline Kang Kiyeon and I had set.

 

And so, while I was practicing relentlessly, feeling abandoned by the world, one day—

 

IDC began airing.