Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 235: Our Neighborhood's Study King (1)

Hong Unseop was removed from his role as Spark’s manager. The company notified him of termination, but things got complicated when Hong Unseop claimed it was an unfair dismissal.
According to Lee Cheonghyeon, who frequently came by the company for composing work, Hong Unseop was now openly throwing a tantrum.
‘Shouldn’t it be fine since he was still in his probationary period?’
‘Apparently, he’s not listening to reason. He’s threatening to them to the Presidential Office and everything.’
‘That won’t even be processed. He needs to do his research.’
There was also the risk of Hong Unseop spreading rumors about Spark out of spite. He had a contract proving his employment at UA and evidence showing he was Spark’s manager.
If he decided to post something like, ‘I was Spark’s manager, and their personalities were terrible’, many people would believe him. It was the same tactic I used to threaten Jang Junhoo, only this time, it would be against Spark.
While public opinion might eventually swing in our favor, Spark would initially be subjected to a barrage of hate. ‘They cried about being victims of power abuse, but they’re the ones abusing power now?’ and so on. It was predictable.
Spark was already notorious for being embroiled in controversies despite having just debuted. But what about the fans? What had they done to deserve this?
Haters would run wild, and the public wouldn’t care about the truth. Writing clarification posts, defending our members, and fighting against those who believed the rumors without looking into the facts would be exhausting.
Sparklers had already been through this countless times. With the system attached to me, who knew what else might explode in the future? We couldn’t afford to throw more fuel on the fire.
So the decision was made: instead of immediately firing Hong Unseop, he would be removed from Spark duties and given a 30-day notice before being officially terminated. That way, there’d be no grounds to claim unfair dismissal.
I agreed with this approach. I even asked for the reasons for termination to be clearly documented. I’d already submitted the black box footage as evidence.
The company promised to fill the vacant position quickly, but I emphasized the need for a competent manager, not just a readily available one.
One thing that bothered me was that Spark seemed to be walking on eggshells around me.
Ever since I went to review the dashcam footage, it was obvious they were scrambling not to get on my bad side.
“What’s up with you guys?”
“What… what do you mean?”
“You’re all acting weird around me.”
Park Joowoo’s eyes darted around nervously. I saw the other three flinch behind him. Choi Jeho simply shrugged and went to his room.
“Should I be honest?”
“I always encourage honesty.”
“You looked seriously pissed off, so we were just trying not to push your buttons.”
Lee Cheonghyeon said frankly. Taken aback by his unexpected answer, I replied just as honestly.
“What? I’m not angry.”
“Look in the mirror and say that again.”
At Lee Cheonghyeon’s words, I went to the bathroom.
My facial muscles were a bit stiff, but… was it that noticeable? Maybe they mistook the change in my expression for something else just because my dark circles had faded? I wasn’t exactly known for being expressive.
“I look the same as usual.”
“You’re making a serious face.”
“How many people look like they’re smiling when they’re just sitting still?”
“You used to be one of those rare people.”
Lee Cheonghyeon didn’t back down. I did try to keep a generally friendly expression, but was the change that obvious?
If they were pointing it out so directly, I had to be mindful. Focus, focus.
“Anyway, I’m really not mad. So no need to walk on eggshells.”
Park Joowoo visibly relaxed, placing a hand over his heart. That kid must’ve been seriously keeping an eye on me.
“We have more pressing matters to attend to.”
I tapped the paper in my hand.
Filming for ‘Shining Stars, K-Scholar’, another variety show featuring idols, was just around the corner, right after ‘ISD’.
The basic educational level of idols had long been a topic of public debate. Even for idols who had been trainees since they were young, the public’s standards were harsh.
≫ Today’s Viral Idol Comment
‘A heart startled by a soft-shelled turtle gets startled again by… a buchimgae
[1]
The original proverb is ‘A heart startled by a soft-shelled turtle gets startled again by a pot lid’. It means ‘Someone who has experienced a shock or trauma will overreact or become easily startled by even unrelated things that seem similar’. ’
└ Seriously, they really didn’t know that? That wasn’t a joke?
└ The basic knowledge level of idols is seriously alarming.
≫ Apparently, just knowing square roots makes you a genius if you’re an idol
Square roots only show up on question #2 of the college entrance examㅋㅋㅋㅋ
└ What are you on about? Yur got into H University through regular admissions
└ If Yur is the only counterexample out of all the idols… well, you get the point
└ Korea’s obsession with academic credentials is insane. They expect so much even from idols
└ It’s about having the basicsㅋㅋㅋ How could you call this an obsession with academic credentials?
└ Wasn’t ‘knowing the basics’ about reading clocks and counting change? Since when did the bar get so high?
└ You’re telling me square roots are considered a ‘high bar’ now…? I’m asking because I genuinely don’t know.
There was always debate over what counted as ‘basic knowledge’, but idols got criticized far more often—and more harshly—than athletes or other young entertainers who also focused on developing their skills over school during their youth.
The broadcasting stations seemed to think this could be another piece of content. Thus was born the idea of a regular variety show with the concept: ‘Let’s give idols who lacked the opportunity to build basic academic skills a chance to study together!’
That was how the ‘Shining Stars’ series began. Participating idol groups were given a test outline in advance, covering basic knowledge and trivia selected by the producers.
On recording day, 70% of the questions came from the pre-disclosed material, and the remaining 30% were randomized. It was a simple format where the person who took first place was crowned the #1 intellectual idol of the year.
The network’s previous show ‘IDC’ achieved moderate success, so this year’s concept was based on Sungkyunkwan scholars.
The title had also changed to ‘Scholar’. Why are variety show titles always so cringe?
Spark was also invited to appear. For us, who were desperate for even a single appearance, merely saying ‘thank you’ wouldn’t have been enough.
Next, we had to pick the cast members. However, Jeong Seongbin and Park Joowoo now really had to go all-in on their college entrance exam prep.
If we followed the spirit of the show, Choi Jeho, who barely attended school, should be the one to go, but he had schedule conflicts too. His dance competition program was heading towards its finale. And Kang Kiyeon had also started attending regular counseling sessions.
So, the ones left were…
“The exam syllabus? I’ve memorized all of it, of course.”
…Only Lee Cheonghyeon, with his uncommonly brilliant brain, and me, whose degree had evaporated.
At the end of the day, idol success was all about marketing. Depending on who was promoted with what role, their image changed, their influence grew, and their recognition increased.
Naturally, many idols would be trying to secure an ‘intellectual’ image from this ‘Shining Star, K-Scholar’.
There was no harm in giving Lee Cheonghyeon that kind of image. He had the talent and the face for it.
But my case was different.
For me—known as ‘the sports community’s psychic octopus’, ‘the guy whose personal color is Yeouido Securities Gray’, ‘the textbook example of a 90-degree bow’, ‘the polite ruffian’, etc., etc. —even if I got such an image, people would just say I was putting on another act. I’d already seen too many comments mocking the ‘Kim Pep gimmick’.
So I’d wanted to send just Lee Cheonghyeon. But that plan flopped. Turned out a bunch of IDC alums were appearing in this one too.
I figured I’d rather see 100 posts saying ‘Kim Pep working hard again today’ than let Lee Cheonghyeon start cozying up to the likes of All Over.
“Hyung? Did you review the test material?”
“I did. Thankfully, it wasn’t much.”
“Isn’t it because they’re worried they won’t get enough screen time if too many people get eliminated right from the start?”
Lee Cheonghyeon showed surprising insight into the entertainment industry. Good—if you’re in a subordinate position, you should at least know how to read your superior’s intentions.
“What else might come up? Seongbin hyung, what kind of questions usually appear on these programs?”
“There are many questions on current affairs or new slang terms. Science or math don’t often appear in quiz shows with many contestants.”
As he spoke, Jeong Seongbin turned on the news. A segment was airing about the Bank of Korea’s interest rate policy.
“See, right now, the prevailing sentiment is that the Bank of Korea will maintain the base interest rate, right? They don’t ask many questions about the context here because the explanation would be too long. They’ll show ‘base interest rate’ highlighted in a different color in the headline, or they’ll blank out the beginning and ask you to fill in ‘○○’ for ‘○○ rate.'”
“What about new slang?”
“Check hashtags on social media. It takes some time for new slang to reach the broadcasters, so very recent slang actually doesn’t get used. You can assume only words that are confirmed to be popularly used will appear.”
His insight was incredible. I knew Jeong Seongbin was well-versed in the idol industry, but I didn’t know he was qualified enough to be a professor of idol studies. You’re not just a human karaoke machine, huh.
“So reading books won’t be very helpful then. Iwol hyung, lift my monitoring ban.”
“No way. I’ll pick them out for you, so just study from a summary.”
“Hyung, what do you know about new slang? You’re the biggest ‘young boomer’ among young boomers.”
What do you know about me, huh? I know all the new slang that will come out in the next five years. I even used some of them to make a birthday ad. Sure, it probably won’t show up on the test yet, but still.
“We have to study really hard. If we won the overall championship in ISD and then we get eliminated in the first round here, we’ll immediately be branded as ‘muscle for brains’.”
Lee Cheonghyeon said, worried. Though that image might have its own niche appeal, he wasn’t wrong, so I didn’t argue.
“Then just set a target rank.”
“Huh?”
Kang Kiyeon, who had been listening to our conversation, suddenly chimed in.
“Hyung, you love setting goals. If you have a rank in mind, you won’t get eliminated early.”
“That’s right. That hyung will push himself to do well.”
Are you seriously plotting this right in front of my face? Aren’t you a bit too cheeky?
Just as I was about to teach these guys the basic etiquette of scheming, Park Joowoo, who had been pondering in the corner, clapped his hands.
“I know what this is called.”
“What is it?”
Kang Kiyeon asked.
Park Joowoo smiled brightly.
“KPI.”
Don’t.
Don’t you dare utter that cursed word, it’s horrifying!
1. The original proverb is ‘A heart startled by a soft-shelled turtle gets startled again by a pot lid’. It means ‘Someone who has experienced a shock or trauma will overreact or become easily startled by even unrelated things that seem similar’.