Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 127: Praising My Teammates

“I’m back.”
“Huh? Hyung, you’re back early…?”
Park Joowoo, who was stretching in the living room, approached me as I walked in. He even took my backpack and kindly carried it to my room.
“They said they had to clean the air conditioner on the Greenline, so the building had to be emptied. That’s why we finished early.”
If it had been for any other reason, I would have stubbornly stayed, but I couldn’t argue with air conditioner maintenance.
A poorly maintained air conditioner was no different from trash.
When the refrigerant ran out, the breeze got lukewarm; if the drainpipes wore out, water leaked; the remote always needed new batteries, and if mold grew inside, it smelled awful…
I still vividly remember the time water poured out of the ceiling like a waterfall, and I had to wash my hair in the mop sink. At that time, it felt less like an office and more like a water park.
To the executives of the Hanpyeong Industry, who didn’t bother fixing the air conditioner even after all that: I sincerely hope you all overheat this summer.
Lost in damp memories, Kang Kiyeon poked his head out from the kitchen.
“Welcome back. Have you eaten?”
“Not yet. How about you guys?”
“We had chicken breast. Want me to heat one for you?”
“No, I’ll do it.”
At my reply, Kang Kiyeon just nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.
But something was strange.
Just now, Kang Kiyeon came out of the kitchen, but…
“Kiyeon.”
“Yes?”
“Did you grow taller?”
My eyes didn’t seem to lower as much as usual.
“Me?”
Kang Kiyeon pointed at himself with his finger.
He seemed a bit flustered, but who cared about that. If he really grew taller, do you know how great that is?
“Guys! Someone bring me a measuring tape!”
“Hyung, maybe you just imagined it?”
“No way.”
Do you have any idea how many group shots of Spark I’ve retouched? My eyes are basically insole detectors, you punk.
At my outburst, Jeong Seongbin hurriedly fetched a tape measure.
“How do we measure this? Should we mark Kiyeon’s height on the wall first?”
“This place is a rental. Don’t mark it with a pen, stick a sticky note instead.”
Then, this time, Lee Cheonghyeon brought a rainbow-colored sticky note from the stationery box he had made in one corner of the dorm living room.
“Why are we doing this in the middle of the night…? Can’t you just measure it tomorrow at the company?”
“Do you even understand how much I’ve staked on your height?”
I grumbled as I positioned the complaining Kang Kiyeon against the wall.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Lee Cheonghyeon carefully placed the sticky note where the top of Kang Kiyeon’s head touched.
While Jeong Seongbin and Park Joowoo worked together to stretch the measuring tape, I prayed to the entire universe.
Please, I beg you. Let this kid’s height grow.
I had really worked hard. I made him take gym classes, made him eat protein, carbs, and fat with calcium, and made him go to bed early. Though it wasn’t with my own money.
What did the Sparklers do to deserve having to cut their SNS headers diagonally because of him? And what did Kang Kiyeon, whose upper body kept getting cropped up and repositioned higher, ever do wrong?
I was already stressed about how long I’d been freeloading in this group. If I couldn’t even help him grow a bit taller, I’d be too ashamed to live.
If you could just get him over 175 cm, I’d be so grateful. I’ll make him drink milk five times a day, I promise.
God, Buddha, Grandfather Dangun
[1]
In Korean mythology, Dangun was the grandson of the gods, and the founder of Gojoseon, who set up the capital at Asadal. Legends say that around 4,340 years ago, Joseon was the name of the country that became Korea. So Dangun is believed to be an ancestor of the Korean nation. There was also a kingdom called Joseon later in Korean history, so Dangun’s kingdom is called Go (meaning “Ancient”) Joseon. , please…
“Whoa. Kang Kiyeon, you’re 176?”
And so, with that single sentence from Lee Cheonghyeon, my desperate prayers were answered.
* * *
The next day, Kang Kiyeon’s height was officially confirmed as 176 cm by the height-measuring machine.
And while Kang Kiyeon himself remained indifferent, I bragged about his growth spurt to everyone on the fan café and through messager.
“Are you that happy about Kang Kiyeon growing taller?”
Choi Jeho, who had been observing me reveling in my joy, spoke up.
“Of course! If Kiyeon hadn’t minded, I would’ve even given him leg massages.”
While work could usually be done according to plan, things like height were a matter of luck. It was something that might not yield results no matter how much effort you put in, so it was only natural to feel proud when that effort paid off.
There was still time before Kang Kiyeon’s growth plates closed. Although I couldn’t repay him with my dance skill, I intended to repay the favor by helping him grow taller.
‘It would be nice if he grew to exactly 180cm.’
In a year or two, Jeong Seongbin and Lee Cheonghyeon would naturally surpass 180cm. If Kang Kiyeon joined them, Spark would be able to claim the title of a group where everyone was over 180 cm tall.
A tall group—doesn’t that sound nice? With visuals being so competitive, wouldn’t it be nice to push forward with physicality?
Lost in thought, I was about to write down five cartons of low-fat milk on the grocery list when I felt a nagging feeling.
Choi Jeho didn’t seem to be in a good mood.
That bastard was rarely in a good mood, but it was rare for him to show obvious dissatisfaction.
This wasn’t the case of tallest guy in the team feeling threatened just because the maknae grew a little, right?
“How’s the competition preparation going? Is it going well?”
Choi Jeho, who had been lying on the bed, flinched.
After hesitating for a moment, he sat up against the headboard and looked at me.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Do you think our members are particularly accommodating to others?”
There he goes again, cutting to the chase with no context.
What am I, a psychic? How am I supposed to know the whole story just from that alone?
Still, I had a rough idea. He must be having a hard time with All Over.
But I couldn’t be his interpreter forever, so I decided to play dumb until he spoke properly.
“Obviously. Our kids are kind.”
“Ha….”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Choi Jeho ruffled his hair.
“For f*ck’s sake, how can someone call themselves a dancer and not even keep up with choreography?”
“Maybe they’re just slow learners? They might be able to do it well once they learn.”
“It’s different. That wasn’t the movement of someone who knows how to use their body.”
Apparently, experienced people could tell such things at a glance. I, who knew nothing about body movement, chose to listen quietly.
“They don’t contribute ideas, and when they do, they whine about it being too difficult. What’s the point of meetings and practice then?”
“True. Sounds like you couldn’t make much progress.”
“It felt like it would take those guys a million years just to memorize the choreography, so I made everything except the main dance break myself.”
“Must’ve been tough. So, the group practice starts tomorrow?”
“They want to do individual practice for three days… what the hell? Don’t they need to see the bigger picture before making the dance break? It’s not like we’re doing separate stages, so what’s the point of memorizing it individually? For f*ck’s sake. And what kind of choreography takes three days to learn?”
Choi Jeho yelled in frustration. Then he buried his face in the pillow.
“Why are you like this? Mr. Choi Jeho, you didn’t think group practice was that important once upon a time either.”
“That was a long time ago.”
He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders rising and falling noticeably as he lay on the bed opposite me.
“You miss practicing with Spark, don’t you?”
At my question, his back stiffened.
When he finally sat up, his face was bright red from being pressed against the pillow.
Good grief, did he squish his nose? You’re banned from sleeping face-down from now on.
“Hey, use fair comparison.”
“They say you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone.”
His indignation made me chuckle a little.
But in truth, this was a lesson I intended for him.
Choi Jeho might have earned the title ‘Center Emperor’, the best center, but a team didn’t succeed solely on one person’s talent.
The reason Choi Jeho had been able to shine until now was because the surrounding members had sufficiently supported him.
Kang Kiyeon transformed Spark’s stage into a group performance rather than a Choi Jeho solo showcase, while Jeong Seongbin and the other members balanced the dynamic around him.
In the past, this didn’t always come together seamlessly, and there were times when their performances felt disorganized. But not anymore. Now, Spark looked like a team where everyone exceled, and within that harmony, Choi Jeho soared.
I figured it was something he needed to realize for himself.
He needed to appreciate the value of his members so he didn’t get any funny ideas about leaving the group to ‘find himself’ and debuting solo or something…
“Isn’t it basic to ask for help if you can’t do something? I don’t understand why they try to change the choreography right away when things get a little complicated.”
“Guess it was too hard for them.”
“Then what, are they just going to stick to basics their whole lives? Back in the day, Jeong Seongbin kept practicing even while crying.”
“Yeah, okay, boomer.”
At this point, Choi Jeho was almost completely losing it.
It was unfortunate that he had bad luck with his team, but it seemed he was learning the lessons I hoped he would.
After fuming for a while, Choi Jeho looked at me and asked,
“You said it before, right?  If I don’t like something, I can do what I want.”
“When did I ever say that? I told you to do what needs to be done first, then say whatever you want.”
Choi Jeho frowned at my words.
He thought about something quietly, then opened his mouth again.
“Is the result of this stage important?”
“The result doesn’t matter, but doing well does…”
“I know. You said as long as I do well and the fans are happy, that’s enough.”
He remembered what I said before IDC started quite well.
“If the ranking isn’t important and the broadcast image isn’t important either, I’ll do what I want.”
“What?”
“I’m saying I’ll do what I want. I’m annoyed with what they’re doing, so I’ll say everything I want to say, except for swear words, and I’ll progress at my own damn pace.”
I silently stared at him.
He looked at me, then briefly added,
“I’ll make sure to do my part well.”
No further response was needed. I simply smirked, told him to do as he wish, and left the room.
* * *
During the continuous practice period, I sang to my heart’s content.
First, having Park Joowoo take over the morning duties gave me some free time. Jeong Seongbin took charge of checking the refrigerator.
The two of them worked so well together that all I had to do was enjoy the salads and chicken breasts they prepared for me.
At Greenline, I would start by greeting the security guard—who always greeted me warmly, saying how polite and friendly I was—and then focus on practicing with the members of Berion… but.
“Hyung, want some of this? Our manager brought it back from Thailand!”
“Hyung, what’s your phone number? I just realized we never exchanged numbers when we first met.”
“Hyung, how does Spark do their brainstorming sessions?”
These guys… when did they get so cozy with me?
1. In Korean mythology, Dangun was the grandson of the gods, and the founder of Gojoseon, who set up the capital at Asadal. Legends say that around 4,340 years ago, Joseon was the name of the country that became Korea. So Dangun is believed to be an ancestor of the Korean nation. There was also a kingdom called Joseon later in Korean history, so Dangun’s kingdom is called Go (meaning “Ancient”) Joseon.