Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 146: Fourth Competition: Final Announcement (2)

『Some stories become history
On divine beings
Everyone focuses their attention』
Park Joowoo’s gestures had a dreamy quality.
His movements, flowing from his face and neck down his sleeves, were graceful.
Until now, Spark’s choreography had always been dynamic and bold. No matter where they paused, their angles were razor-sharp, and every member’s enthusiasm stood out vividly on stage.
But this time, their control over intensity was more pronounced. The choreography wasn’t overly aggressive, but all five members moved in perfect harmony—like flowing water.
Their hanboks, seemingly made of a silk-like material, flowed with each movement, even the creases at their waists catching the light in a uniform manner. Director Han didn’t miss that detail.
As the members lowered their stances for the next move, Choi Jeho appeared in the center.
『Footprints left in the snow,
Failures from challenges
Remain unforgettable
Every day, in a long story』
Synchronized with Choi Jeho’s solo dance, Spark gathered in the center and then spread out across the stage. This part made Choi Jeho stand out even more.
And as his part was nearing its end, just as Kang Kiyeon approached him—
Choi Jeho encircled Kang Kiyeon in his arms and covered his lips.
Kang Giyeon grasped Choi Jeho’s hand, lowering it with a smile.
His downward gaze met the camera with an enigmatic look, the corners of his lips lifting in a faintly bitter expression.
『Here, we are
How will we be recorded?
Will my name remain,
Or will it fade away?』
The gentle mood of the first verse became a little firmer as it transitioned to the second.
Lee Cheonghyeon took on this role.
Though he was just like any other boy his age during breaks or in the dorm, Lee Cheonghyeon possessed a unique charisma on stage.
Every member of Spark commanded presence on stage, but the gap was particularly striking with Lee Cheonghyeon.
Lee Cheonghyeon, who had rampaged like a mad dog in the previous performance, now exuded an aura as elegant as a Confucian scholar.
He unfolded a fan, seemingly acquired from somewhere unknown, and gracefully waved it as he performed his part.
And as the second verse came to a close, the moment Lee Cheonghyeon folded the fan with a crisp snap…
“Whoa!”
Gasps of genuine surprise erupted from all around Director Han.
Wet hair, dark gray eyes that seemed coordinated with Park Joowoo’s, and skin that stood out even more because of its exceptionally pale tone.
『Let it be known
To me as well
I have words I want to leave behind』
It was Kim Iwol’s appearance, which no one in the audience could have predicted. His face, glistening with moisture, bloomed into a radiant smile.
After delivering his short part, Kim Iwol moved to the back of the formation.
Yet the impact lingered.
Even the formation of six members now carried a newfound sense of stability.
It was strange. The previous five members hadn’t made any mistakes, nor were they lacking in skill.
The ensuing group dance was the epitome of splendor.
It felt like they were declaring, ‘It’s not that we couldn’t be flashy! We just haven’t had the chance!’
With what seemed like at least twenty backup dancers joining in, the scale of the performance instantly grew.
Intricate movements repeated in sync with the grand flow.
Among the backup dancers dressed in hanboks with irregular black patterns on a white background, Spark, in their turquoise hanboks, clearly stood out.
‘Like plants blooming on a snowy mountain.’
A thought befitting a director with an eye for visuals.
Fluid movements, like riding waves, followed one after another with subtle shifts in timing.
Walking among them, Jeong Seongbin began to sing again.
『Write our story
Within it
Let us be together
Like this moment right now』
Most of the stages that had been presented in ‘Idol Dynasty Chronicle’ so far contained themes related to struggle, conquest, and the throne.
It was understandable. The title of the program itself was ‘Idol Dynasty Chronicle’.
And yet, Spark had focused on the journey itself, rather than occupying the throne, as their goal.
And now, they were inscribing the sentiments of their journey.
Is the story of those who failed to become kings unimportant?
Are the untold moments lost forever?
Should the stories of the unrecognized simply be buried and forgotten?
For those who had ever pondered such questions, Spark was providing an answer.
They would remember. Because that was the role of the chronicler.
Seeing it this way, Director Han understood why the producer wanted Spark’s final performance.
The theme of ‘Idol Dynasty Chronicle’ was the growth stories of idols striving to become kings.  The program itself was a record of that growth.
And Spark was voluntarily taking on the role of the chronicler. Could there be a stage that better represented the identity of ‘Idol Dynasty Chronicle’?
‘And it’s not just about ‘Idol Dynasty Chronicle’…’
Having observed countless idol performances that carried deeper messages within their lyrics, Director Han realized—
Spark’s song could be interpreted in multiple ways, depending on the angle.
A figure that commands attention wherever they go.
The observers who never stop watching and recording their every move.
The desire to remain together, unbroken, within that narrative.
Doesn’t it remind you of something?
‘Ultimately, it’s ‘Idol’ Dynasty Chronicle, isn’t it.’
Spark had crafted an unmissable performance while ensuring their own legacy. It was a clever move—strategic, even.
Moreover, weren’t they saying they would make it history? Their ambition was impressive.
The music gradually intensified, reaching its climax.
『It’s okay to stumble
Even if it’s a failure
I want it captured
So we can look back on it』
『Imprint our hearts
So we can unfold it
After the long night ends』
Director Han focused his camera on the main vocals as they delivered the high notes and ad-libs while facing each other.
There was a common saying in the industry. If a team had two or more main vocals with different timbres, that team would succeed.
By that standard, Spark had the strongest vocals of any group in Idol Dynasty Chronicle.
Even while executing intense choreography, their main vocalists didn’t let a single note waver. Every member carried their part flawlessly. What director wouldn’t be impressed?
The music became richer with the subtle blend of traditional Korean instruments. The balance between the instruments was delicately controlled, reaching a certain point.
Timed with a brief pause, Choi Jeho leaped.
If it went according to rehearsal, it was time for ‘that.’
Director Han heightened his focus as much as possible. If it happened exactly as in rehearsal, he might miss it again.
Choi Jeho placed both hands on the stage and performed a cartwheel.
And the moment his feet touched the ground, he used the momentum to jump high.
His finely tailored kwaeja billowed, tracing a perfect arc.
‘Is that a flash kick?’
The angle of his kick in mid-air was artistic. The perfectly circular motion, the masterful jump, and the prolonged hang time. There was nothing to criticize.
Idols nowadays mastered not only singing and dancing but also foreign languages, gaming, and even fine arts. Acrobatic skills were becoming increasingly common.
But the reason Choi Jeho was special was…
‘I don’t know.’
It just be like that sometimes. There were people who drew attention just by standing still.
Choi Jeho was also such a person. Every single movement was breathtakingly perfect, creating the illusion that even his clothes and hair were dancing along.
Even if he didn’t gain popularity now, Choi Jeho was the type who would eventually achieve great success. Director Han had seen many such people gain recognition through viral moments.
And given how well he was starting off, there was little doubt—Choi Jeho’s future was secure.
The soaring vocals subsided as Choi Jeho’s solo dance came to an end.
As the backup dancers gathered in the center of the stage, turning their backs and bowing their heads, the black markings on the backs of their hanboks formed a single shape.
Spark’s five members had also blended into the black letters.
Choi Jeho’s low voice resonated deeply across the stage floor.
『Now I
Will remain as a trace
And become eternal
For a long time』
Choi Jeho, who had been kneeling, slowly raised his head.
And he turned and walked back to his empty spot.
Finally, the character ‘錄’ (rok, meaning ‘to record’) was completed on the white canvas.
It was a perfect ending.
‘PD Yang must be regretting not saving this for the finale.’
Director Han thought to himself as he adjusted the camera angle to follow where the Spark members would be standing even as the stage went dark.
But sentimentality aside, he still had work to do. There were still interviews, two more performances, and the final ranking announcement.
Just as he was hoping for a smooth broadcast, the stage lights came back on.
As he adjusted the camera angle again to capture Spark’s upper bodies as they gathered for the interview, the walkie-talkie became noisy.
Urgent voices and a chaotic atmosphere.
Murmuring from the audience.
Director Han raised his head to check the stage.
The Spark members, who were gathering at the front of the stage, were running towards Kim Iwol, who had collapsed in the corner.
Instructions to change the angle towards Yur and not to show the audience came in through the walkie-talkie in a flurry.
While a staff member carried Kim Iwol offstage, Yur swiftly took charge, guiding the younger members with practiced ease.
Only then did Director Han recall a fact he had briefly overlooked.
Although makeup had concealed his complexion, Kim Iwol’s hair had been damp with cold sweat from the moment he appeared.
And that he was a patient who had recently suffered an injury that had left him with an eight-week prognosis.