Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 180: Company Theme Song (3)

“Team Leader, it’s been a while.”
“Iwol, how have you been? You look much better.”
“Thank you for the compliment!”
A friendly greeting was exchanged with the planning team leader.
“Cheonghyeon is here to observe?”
“Yes. He’s here for ideation purposes, so please don’t mind us and proceed as usual.”
Lee Cheonghyeon and I were participating in a meeting for an existing UA promotion, not with Spark’s dedicated team.
Since we had given them a heads-up beforehand, the conversation flowed smoothly. Lee Cheonghyeon looked relieved as he took a seat in the corner of the meeting room.
30 minutes later.
“Look, there’s no point in having a meeting if we’re going to do it like this.”
“How long are we going to keep discussing the same thing? We should have a conclusion by now!”
“We absolutely need to have a result today. Everyone knows that, right?”
“I know, I know… but… sigh.”
Ta-da! A typical meeting scene unfolded, one that you could see anywhere.
Lee Cheonghyeon shifted his gaze around, a bewildered expression on his face.
It was understandable. He had only ever seen structured meetings where I had everything planned out in advance.
He probably had no idea how to draw inspiration from this. He couldn’t write lyrics like, ‘Conclusions that never come, even after daily meetings, this can’t go on anymore’.
I jotted down a few words in the corner of my notepad.
[Focus on the sounds.]
Lee Cheonghyeon’s eyes widened.
The sounds of sighs, rising voices, the silence that fell when one person spoke up, the atmosphere that built up together only to die down in an instant. The click of a pen.
Whether he wanted to replicate the sounds or capture the atmosphere was up to him, but the best way to decide was to experience the raw ambiance firsthand.
Usually, people close their eyes to focus on sounds, but Lee Cheonghyeon opened his eyes even wider.
He was so focused, as if trying to memorize everything in the meeting room.
Even the subtle movements, like someone setting down a damp paper cup on the table with a soft thud.
When the sluggish meeting passed the one-hour mark, Lee Cheonghyeon nudged my notepad. It was a signal to leave.
We carefully closed the meeting room door so as not to disturb them.
“Don’t you need to see more?”
“No, it’s enough.”
Lee Cheonghyeon grinned mischievously.
“I’ll make an OST that you can’t help but use for every emotional scene.”
His resolve was extraordinary. I should have shown him a raw meeting like this sooner.
***
“So that’s why the OST was made so quickly. Mr. Cheonghyeon, was it? He must be a genius.”
“Objectively, I think so.”
Ha Seomyeong burst out laughing at my words. She said I didn’t look like it, but I was fiercely protective of my members.
“I hope the finished version comes out soon. I watched ‘Genre-Swap’ and Mr. Seongbin’s singing was incredible.”
“Our main vocalists are really good singers. I’m just struggling to keep up with them.”
“Really? Then I’ll have to see you perform sometime, Mr. Iwol.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to spend your precious time on something more beautiful, sunbaenim? Seongbin has a breathtaking cover song, you know.”
Jeong Seongbin followed by Kim Iwol? What an undignified demise that would be. I had no interest in facing the awkwardness of Ha Seomyeong avoiding my gaze during future shoots.
As I desperately tried to promote Spark’s best output songs, a familiar voice cut through.
“The showbiz folks sure get along well.”
The male lead actor, Gu Jahan, who played the intellectual Ji Seongin, was looking at us. The surrounding area instantly fell silent.
“Ha…”
Ha Seomyeong gave a short, dry laugh.
It wasn’t the first time Gu Jahan had sneered at actors with idol backgrounds.
His words didn’t affect me at all. There was no reason for me to be offended by being called a showbiz entertainer. If anything, Gu Jahan was just broadcasting his own narrow-mindedness.
However, I could see Ha Seomyeong becoming increasingly stressed by Gu Jahan day by day.
The reason was simple. Gu Jahan, the ‘pure-bred actor’, was worse at acting than Ha Seomyeong, the ‘entertainer-turned-actor’.
Imagine this: you’re more skilled than someone, but not only do you have to compensate for their shortcomings, they also mock you to your face. And because they’re one of the leads, you’re expected to tolerate it. From Ha Seomyeong’s perspective, it must be infuriating.
This was exactly why you shouldn’t force the sky to have two suns. One was an imperfect artificial sun, so the real sun had to generate twice the energy. The epitome of unfairness.
‘And it’s not just his acting that’s lacking…’
Ha Seomyeong had an exceptional sense of responsibility for the projects she took on. I could see it in how she grabbed me and practiced ad-libs multiple times every day.
Her goal was to extract more than what was on the page, to plant as many seeds as possible in case something unexpected sprouted.
Gu Jahan was the opposite. He wanted to achieve maximum effect with minimal effort. The way every big corporation wanted to operate.
However, there was a difference between corporations and Gu Jahan. Corporations had technology accumulated over time, and Gu Jahan didn’t.
If the blocking was even slightly off, his memorized lines evaporated from his mind. He frequently got supporting actors’ names wrong.
Most crucially, his acting simply wasn’t good. Or more precisely, his acting wasn’t outstanding ‘compared to his acting experience’.
Think about it. Who would be better—someone who trained tirelessly to shed their ‘idol-turned-actor’ label, or someone who put in just the right amount of effort?
As another idol-turned-actor, I was confident that, even if I was lacking in other areas, my acting when it came to ‘pretending to be a decent person’ and ‘office worker acting’ was unmatched. I was also confident in my ‘grumpy boomer boss acting’, but that was irrelevant to Do Younghwan, so I’d leave that aside.
Anyway, it was understandable that he’d be annoyed by outsiders not only appearing in supporting roles but also snatching a lead role. Still, what was the point of so openly displaying his petty feelings?
“My voice must have been too loud. I’ll be more careful, sunbaenim.”
“Mr. Iwol’s sunbae is Ms. Seomyeong. Not me.”
Gu Jahan twisted my words until the very end and then left.
Ha Seomyeong ruffled her hair in frustration.
“Thinking about filming romance scenes with that guy makes me want to quit everything….”
At that moment, no words could possibly console her.
* * *
This week’s meeting time.
As usual, Spark was having a normal, harmonious time, praising each other and checking if the 12 dorm commandments – which had somehow doubled – were being followed properly.
To practice the ‘talk a lot’ commandment, I’d even brought a topic.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you guys.”
“Us?”
“What’s the occasion?”
Lee Cheonghyeon and Kang Kiyeon reacted cheekily.
Yeah, I’m asking you guys because I don’t have any other friends.
“I think changing careers… or rather, changing paths, isn’t a plus, but it’s not particularly a minus either. But in some cases, people face a lot of backlash during the transition. I was wondering what it was like for you guys.”
Besides Lee Cheonghyeon, many of them had changed their primary field. Choi Jeho went from street dance to idol dance, and Park Joowoo from rock ballads to idol vocals.
“There were people who looked down on me, but I never really paid much attention. They all said the same things anyway.”
“What did they usually say?”
The remarks Choi Jeho relayed were downright filthy and disgusting. I regretted not having a thousand hands to cover everyone’s ears.
Lee Cheonghyeon rubbed both his forearms.
“The feuds in that field seem scarier than diss raps.”
“Isn’t diss rap pretty intense too…?”
“Diss rap often contains respect, right? That one is just straight-up verbal abuse!”
That’s rich coming from you, who wore a muzzle and dissed your senior group. I hope you take some time for self-reflection soon.
“I think singing is relatively free…. If anything, being able to handle multiple genres is seen as a strength.”
Park Joowoo tilted his head as he spoke. Jeong Seongbin offered a counterpoint.
“I don’t think the reaction is very favorable when a mainstream singer transitions to musicals or classical music. Aside from the acting aspect, I think there’s resistance when it comes to vocal techniques change.”
“Hmm… I agree with that part.”
Park Joowoo readily acknowledged Jeong Seongbin’s statement. Then Kang Kiyeon jumped in.
“But isn’t that argument a bit vague? No one criticizes a metal singer for switching to ballads.”
“Then what about a traditional Korean pansori singer becoming an idol trainee? Or an opera singer shifting to trot?”
“Wait, don’t make the discussion more complicated!”
Lee Cheonghyeon’s ‘what ifs’ stormed in. Kang Kiyeon clutched his head and yelled at him.
‘Still, Lee Cheonghyeon’s the one who changed the most dynamically, right?’
As soon as I looked his way, Lee Cheonghyeon shrugged.
“My family insisted I take a job that required wearing a suit. Researcher, judge, prosecutor, professor. If I was going to do music, it had to be piano or conducting.”
“Wasn’t even being an orchestra session musician an option too?”
“Nope. They’re incredibly obsessed with having your name listed specifically. They don’t even know how different playing and conducting are. Funny people.”
Lee Cheonghyeon scoffed, looking anything but amused.
“And yet you still managed to become an entertainer?”
Choi Jeho threw a straightforward fastball. The pupils of the four of us, excluding Choi Jeho and Lee Cheonghyeon, shook violently.
I had roughly heard the story before, and Kang Kiyeon probably knew to some extent, but…
Jeong Seongbin and Park Joowoo were sweating bullets and just looking around nervously.
Lee Cheonghyeon himself, however, was calm.
“I fought with them a lot. Or rather, I just got scolded one-sidedly. They even threatened to disown me, and back then, I was still emotionally fragile, so I cried a lot in my room.”
“Really…?”
Park Joowoo’s eyebrows furrowed in sympathy for his dongsaeng.
“But in the end, what could they do if I refused to study? At first, they reluctantly allowed piano. Then, I realized that if I pushed back, I could find ways around them. So from then on, I started drifting further away.”
“That’s amazing.”
“But it was on the condition that I maintain a certain grade level. If my grades dropped, they really threatened to remove me from the family register. Therefore, Iwol hyung, I’m counting on you for my midterms this time as well.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to mention the exam dates first before making such requests, Cheonghyeon?”
I smiled gently.
As Lee Cheonghyeon’s face darkened rapidly, Jeong Seongbin called out to me.
“Iwol hyung.”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Is filming In My Office really tough on you?”
What?
Are you the one secretly channeling ancestral spirits, not me?