Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 239: Our Neighborhood's Study King (5)

Indeed, Song Minil had reached his limit. That was why those instructions were coming out.
It was obvious. They’d now pose a question of fiendish difficulty, and when all three failed to answer, they’d cut the recording. Then, during the break, the writers would secretly reveal the final question only to Song Minil. After all, they could just edit out the part where everyone got it wrong.
What an utter farce. A large agency throwing its weight around with capital might be the way of the business world, fine, but wasn’t there still a line of common decency they should upheld?
“Alright, here comes question number 54.”
The MC’s voice boomed from the ceiling.
I hoped the production team, unaware that Lee Cheonghyeon was knowledgeable about marine life, would pose a question related to sea creatures.
But of course, there was no way they would ask questions that Lee Cheonghyeon or I could answer. Things like classical music, math, or four-character idioms.
Just as I was genuinely curious about what the next question might be, it came.
“…What English word refers to ‘a position with little responsibility but good pay’?”
Huh?
That basically meant a sinecure. A cushy job with prestige or income but little actual work.
The first time I saw that word, I remember thinking it was my dream job. After studying for TOEIC Speaking, this kind of useless vocabulary was the only thing that stuck in my head. What a waste of exam fees.
Grumbling to myself, I quickly scribbled the spelling on my whiteboard. Maybe I was wrong to assume this question was going to be just a throwaway edit point.
“Whiteboards… up, please!”
A cheesy sound effect played in time with the MC’s cue.
Including the initial answer reveal, this was the fifty-fifth time I’d lifted my board. By now, I could flip it without smudging the writing, even without consciously deciding where to grip it.
Having skillfully lifted the board to my chest, I glanced to either side, and…
The expressions on the faces of the contestants beside me were odd. So odd that I wondered if I’d written something wrong.
Why? Did I misspell it? Did I accidentally write something so weirdly wrong it turned into a completely inappropriate word for broadcast?
Would this lead to an article titled: ‘[☆]Spark’s Iwol, What Has He Been Watching? … Vocabulary Choice Sparks Controversy’?
As I trembled with anxiety, Lee Cheonghyeon quietly asked me.
“You knew this one?”
“Huh?”
The center of Lee Cheonghyeon’s whiteboard was completely blank. Song Minil’s was the same.
So, the situation now was…
Regardless of my desperate wish to deny reality, the final judgment fell from the MC’s lips.
“‘Sinecure’ is correct!”
Wait a minute.
I don’t want to be the final winner!
Edit… Edit this out, please! You were planning to make this the editing point, weren’t you!
I screamed internally. But of course, my silent cry reached no one.
* * *
Thanks to the performance of Kim Iwol, the clueless TOEIC Speaking master, the production team found themselves in a bind.
However, no one could stop the recording. This was because all the idols, who had been waiting endlessly for a winner to emerge, rushed out from all directions—half to congratulate me, half in joy at finally being able to go home—creating a grand ending scene.
If, at this point, they had said something like, ‘This question was just a practice question!’ the entire production team would have had to endure the sharp glares of the idols.
Thanks to that, I ended up wearing the eosahwa, receiving congratulations from the idols, including Berion.
That wasn’t all. Lee Cheonghyeon sneakily inserted the word ‘not’ into my earlier message on the board that read ‘Sorry, guys’, turning it into ‘Not sorry, guys’, and handed me the answer board to hold up.
I gave a short acceptance speech, wondering whether I should be happy about winning or surprised that Lee Cheonghyeon had, just as he predicted—albeit tied—come in second.
In the car on the way back, Lee Cheonghyeon was incredibly excited, practically bouncing around and acting boisterously.
“It’s the regret of a lifetime that I can’t tell the members the results! When did they say this would air?”
“Still a while, I think.”
“This definitely calls for a group viewing. You’ll watch too, hyung, right?”
“What are you talking about? We have to prepare for the album. You included, of course.”
“Nope. There’s plenty of time to watch this one thing.”
Lee Cheonghyeon didn’t back down an inch. Every time I tried to say something, he would block me with the manager’s phone in hand, telling me to face the camera for a photo, and effectively shut me up. Unless I mastered the art of cursing through ventriloquism, it was a battle I was bound to lose.
“How’s the work progressing? Is it going well?”
I opted to change the subject instead.
“The sketch is done. But hyung, are you really not going to play bass for me?”
And just like that, I was in trouble again. Lee Cheonghyeon poked his face between the passenger and driver seats.
It had been quite a while since Lee Cheonghyeon started asking me to play bass on his song. His reason was that he wanted a real session musician, not virtual instruments.
‘You can just hire a session player.’
‘I want to credit it as ‘Bass: Iwol’ on our album. Don’t you know what a big selling point that would be, hyung?’
Despite being rejected every time, Lee Cheonghyeon was persistent.
‘I even showed the A&R team your self-cam video. They all said you’re more than good enough to record!’
‘Who on earth taught you such scheming tactics?’
‘I go to you for expert advice, and to Joowoo hyung for secretly bribing people.’
These kids… all picking up the worst habits from each other. At this point, telling anyone to avoid someone else’s room felt pointless. Everyone was a bad influence—who could I even warn them about?
“If I get my own instrument, I’ll think about it then.”
“That means you won’t do it.”
“I said I’ll think about it.”
“I’ve never seen you spend money on yourself, hyung. Yeah, as if you would!”
Lee Cheonghyeon sneered. True, even back then, I played a bass my older sister had bought for me.
‘You’re in college now, stop living so frugally just going from home to school and back. Join a club or something. Wasn’t there something you wanted to try?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t make me lose my temper. Just name one thing.’
I had genuinely said there was nothing. And my sister hit my shoulder. She had never once hit my back, a place others might casually pat, because she had always felt sorry for my back.
My resolve weakened then, and I blurted out, ‘…I’ve kind of wanted to try being in a band.’
The next thing I knew, I was in a musical instrument mall. Before I could even say anything, the white bass that had caught my eye even before we entered the store was in my hands.
‘If you couldn’t take your eyes off it, don’t pretend you’re not interested. And if I see this pop up on Hongdangmu, you’re dead.’
(TL note: Hongdangmu is a second-hand marketplace app.)
With that, she said her half-day leave was almost over and left.
How could I not play the bass with all my heart? Especially since it was the first hobby I’d ever truly wanted to pursue.
“No, really. I might actually buy one.”
“When?”
“When I’ve saved up some money.”
At my words, Manager Chanyoung, who was driving, chimed in.
“You probably already have enough saved for one bass. You’re getting paid next quarter too, right?”
“Ahaha, I need to save up an emergency fund too.”
Right now, food and lodging don’t cost me anything, but you never know what might happen in life.
Until the day I reclaim my tiny but precious apartment lease, I’ll keep living frugally.
* * *
Chuseok, the major national holiday, had arrived. Baek Haewon’s house was also busy from the very start of the long weekend.
Not having to go to school was great.
But having to make a pilgrimage across the country to meet all sorts of relatives? Not so much!
Fortunately, her grandmother’s house had two TVs. One would be monopolized by the adults watching dramas or holiday music shows, but the TV in the inner room was usually for the children.
And kids these days don’t watch TV, do they? She couldn’t have been happier that her younger cousins were the smartphone generation.
After chiming in a few times with the adults’ conversation in the living room, Baek Haewon saw the early drinks being set up and slyly slipped into the room. It was about time for ‘ISD’ to start.
She’d aalready seen all the teasers, spoilers, and behind-the-scenes commute photos, but there was no way she wouldn’t watch her boys exercising, filmed by the broadcasting station’s boasted high-definition cameras.
Baek Haewon herded her younger cousins into a corner of the room like a flock of sheep. Absorbed in their phone screens, they were easily pushed aside.
Just when all preparations were complete, including a plate of persimmons her mom had peeled for her, Baek Haein entered the room.
“Hey, let me watch soccer.”
“Get lost.”
Baek Haewon didn’t bat an eye. Her demeanor was like that of a general.
“Today’s match is f— I mean, it’s super important.”
Her mother’s son, about to spew a curse, glanced at the younger cousins and significantly softened his language.
“Like I care? Whoever grabs the remote first owns it.”
Baek Haewon waved the remote.
“Or go ask the uncles if they want to watch soccer. Someone’s probably watching it out there.”
“The living room is currently in a trot festival frenzy.”
“Too bad.”
Baek Haein scratched his head vigorously. Ugh, gross. At times like this, Baek Haewon wanted to deny the reality that such an uncivilized human was her family.
“How about futsal instead of soccer? They’re doing futsal on ‘ISD’ this time.”
“What’s the point of watching idols play futsal?”
“Yeah, well, your little sister has to watch idols play basketball, so I can’t give you the remote.”
“Damn it.”
Realizing that Bael Haewon wasn’t going to budge, Baek Haein sighed in defeat.
His disappointment was brief. Baek Haein asked.
“Then Kim Han… oh right, he changed his name, didn’t he? Kim Iwol will be on too, then?”
“Of course. Wanna watch?”
Baek Haewon offered without much expectation. Surprisingly, Baek Haein sat down.
Every idol fan, deep down, wants to show others just how cool their idol is.
Things like photos that even non-fans would save, or those 6-second clips that can trap you for an hour.
Spark’s entrance scene fully lived up to Baek Haewon’s expectations.
“Ah, Spark is insane!”
When her boys, standing at the end of Group D’s line and looking a good two heads taller than everyone else, appeared on screen, Baek Haewon finally understood what diaphragmatic breathing was.
Choi Jeho’s distinct nose bridge, visible even if he was captured as small as a matchstick, or Lee Cheonghyeon’s features, which immediately drew one’s gaze even if only a part of him was on screen, seized Baek Haewon’s heart and shook it.
“Look how cute Kiyeon is!”
“Who’s cute there?”
“If you can’t tell, then shut up.”
That clueless idiot, ruining the mood. Anyone can see that our Kiyeon is the cutest in the world.
However, Iwol, Baek Haewon’s one-pick, looked a bit off.
Normally, when among the other members, her Iwol was so pale he seemed almost transparent, otherworldly. But today, he looked like a fairy who, along with Park Joowoo, had officially obtained a tourist visa to the human realm and come to visit.
‘Why? Is the lighting bad?’
Just as Baek Haewon was thinking this, Baek Haein, beside her, said something similar.
“Did he get a bit of a tan or something?”