Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols-Chapter 289: Freeman: What One Truly Wants

“You want Cheonghyeon to focus on his studies, right? To quit being an idol.”
“I just want to resolve this amicably before resorting to drastic measures.”
If the past Lee Cheonghyeon had tried to terminate his contract, the penalty would not have been that large.
However, now the amount would be substantial. Because Spark was generating profit.
The determination to take Cheonghyeon away even at that cost was undeniably fierce.
“There is no amicable solution. If the directions we’re facing are different, how can there be no wounds?”
“In time, he’ll come to understand.”
“Do scars fade just because time passes?”
“Well, a person can’t grow up sheltered in a greenhouse forever.”
His father was adamant.
I quietly listened and then asked,
“While Cheonghyeon is failing, getting hurt, and getting back on his feet on a path he doesn’t want, what can his family do for him?”
At my words, his father answered without hesitation.
“We can support him so that he becomes someone respected by society.”
“……”
“People may cheer for idols, but no one respects them.”
His confident tone left me at a loss for words.
This was why conversations with arrogant people were tiring. I composed myself and opened my mouth again.
“Cheonghyeon’s driving force is not being respected. It is creation and support.”
“Introducing a new theory to academia can also be considered a kind of creation. It would suit his aptitude too.”
“But is that what Cheonghyeon wants? Or is it what you want him to become? Being respected is surely a great experience. But I believe the experience of being loved is no less valuable.”
If you cannot give him that love, then you should step back. You cannot demand, ‘Since you’ve experienced love, now try earning respect’—because you never gave him that love in the first place.
Cheonghyeon’s father avoided answering. I pursued the retreating father one step further.
“In the future that you and your family envision for Cheonghyeon, how much of his own will is included?”
“…He is still young. He is not at an age where he can make proper judgments.”
“He is brighter and smarter than anyone, but it seems he is like a child only in that aspect.”
“Mr. Iwol.”
“And what if Cheonghyeon never develops an interest in academics? By then, it’ll be too late to return to being an idol, will that be all right?”
“He’ll throw himself into it soon enough. Just help him build a habit.”
“He won’t. Cheonghyeon is already old enough to go out and explore just how many fascinating things the world holds.”
Our gazes met in mid-air. It was a hard and cold, yet angry gaze.
To Lee Cheonghyeon’s father, there was just one thing I wanted to say.
“Can’t you trust Cheonghyeon just half as much as you believe in his abilities?”
Because it was pitiful.
Because it was a pity that everyone in that house only saw his potential for growth but never truly looked at him.
Because it pained me that they didn’t know Cheonghyeon loved the sea, that he enjoyed making music, that praise from close ones meant more to him than any card.
Because it angered me that they didn’t realize what drove him was not ambition for honor, but the urge to create—and that all his inspiration, no matter its source, ultimately returned to music.
“I believe Cheonghyeon will become the best at whatever path he chooses, even without anyone pushing him. As you’ve said yourself, he’s an extraordinary child.”
His father said nothing. Whether because he thought it obvious or because he felt no need to respond, I couldn’t tell. So I kept talking on my own.
“I once went to the sea with Cheonghyeon. He’d said he’d never been to the beach, so we went together. The weather was wonderful. It was nice to just spread a mat and lie down.”
“……”
“He said it was his bucket list.”
I recalled the sea of that day. And Lee Cheonghyeon, who, even while writing a song under pressure, was smiling foolishly, happy, and said he was content just to be quietly looking at the sea.
“For someone not even twenty, to compose and arrange music is never easy. And yet, Cheonghyeon enjoys the work. He even knows how to relieve stress. It proves he’s not just stubbornly insisting on being an idol.”
“Once he succeeds, he’ll be able to get whatever he wants…”
“But it seems he can’t relieve the stress that comes from conversations with his family.”
When he ran out in tears, no one walked him back to the dorm.
If you’d only cared enough to check before he came to me, you’d have known there had been an assault incident at Spark.
And yet, you let him come alone in a taxi.
That’s…
Like bandoning a child who won’t obey.
The scars on my back ached faintly beneath my shirt.
“If the family refuses to accept him, how can Cheonghyeon accept the family’s opinion?”
“……”
“Is what you want really for Cheonghyeon to gain the world’s recognition? Or is it not rather the family’s recognition he craves?”
Perhaps because it had cooled, the tea was cold. I fidgeted with the teacup and asked.
“Sir, how do you want Cheonghyeon to live?”
Not ‘what kind of treatment’ he should receive, but ‘how’ he should live.
A long silence followed the short question.
His father was silent for a long time.
Then he spoke in a small, trembling voice.
“I.”
The large-jeweled watch he was stroking shone coldly.
“…I don’t want him to be ridiculed.”
“……”
“I don’t want him to waste his life singing silly songs, dancing past thirty, pandering to others’ whims.”
His voice cracked and rasped.
“And later…”
His father’s voice cracked dryly.
“Later on…”
The end of the cracked voice trembled slightly. I could see the sincerity that the middle-aged man had difficulty bringing out.
“It would be nice… if he could show us that our thoughts were wrong, that his choice was right.”
“Oh, he can certainly do that.”
I smiled brightly and reassured Cheonghyeon’s father. However, he did not let his guard down easily.
“The lifespan of glory can be short. Even if he fills his contract period, Cheonghyeon will be in his mid-20s.”
“If his lifespan as an idol ends then, please suggest academics again. He’ll only be in his mid-20s. As you said, it might be difficult for an idol once they’re over thirty, but life is long. And academia knows no age.”
“By then, his brain won’t be as sharp…”
“It might be difficult for it to spin as fast. But if he can reach glory in his twenties, why couldn’t he do it again in his eighties?”
I grinned.
The father across from me let out a sound of exasperation.
“And about pandering to others’ whims.”
“……”
“Cheonghyeon is really good at social life. He is loved wherever he goes, and is told that he works hard.”
The harshest critic of Cheonghyeon was Cheonghyeon himself. Whatever others say didn’t shake him much. Because he quickly recovered with the praise of the members.
“It is absolutely not that he bows down because he has no pride. Cheonghyeon is confident in the songs and stages he creates.”
His father’s pupils wavered. Likely he had said something belittling the stage. No wonder the boy had come home sobbing.
The finger-pointing of others and the finger-pointing of family were different. The latter hurt a little more. If you want your son to be loved, you have to love him even more at home.
“With more years and a solid career, once Cheonghyeon gains influence, there won’t be a need to pander to anyone.”
“……”
“I promise you this. Our team can make Cheonghyeon everyone’s muse. Instead, please give Cheonghyeon a little time to see the world. I’m asking you.”
While I was refilling my teacup, Lee Cheonghyeon’s father muttered to himself.
“That’s a sophism.”
“The fact that this conversation is happening in a place where the person in question is absent is the biggest sophism, haha!”
Who told you to come alone without your son?
Just as I was about to sip the last of my tea, Lee Cheonghyeon’s father said to me.
“…Okay.”
In a subdued voice, shortly.
“I’ll leave it to you.”
And very politely.
Outside the window, the bare branches of a tree swayed. The wind must still be strong.
* * *
“So you really dressed up and went to a PT session today?”
As soon as I returned to the dorm, Lee Cheonghyeon popped out like a ghost. I didn’t forget to put the wax container I had bought in the bathroom and washed my hands.
“Of course. You don’t know how hard it was.”
“What did you do? How many sets?”
“It was a competitive PT.”
“You went to work, hyung?!”
Maybe because he’d once been dragged into that emergency meeting when I was working on the OST, Cheonghyeon instantly understood what I meant.
“What happened? There was no meeting today.”
Even Jeong Seongbin came running out of his room with his phone in hand. The calendar app was already open on his phone.
There weren’t many things worth hiding in this world. Except for things like my embarrassing past or bug corpses.
“I went to see your father.”
“……Huh?”
“He said he wanted to meet me.”
I was about to take off my coat and put it in my room, but Lee Cheonghyeon grabbed me.
“What did you two talk about? No, why did Dad see you…”
The look on his face was pure fear.
“He said he hoped you would quit Spark and focus on your studies.”
There was a clattering sound from the kitchen. Stainless steel dishes were scattered at the feet of a pale-faced Park Joowoo.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop… You guys can keep talking.”
Park Joowoo squatted down and hurriedly picked up the dishes. Then he practically threw the dishes onto the table and approached us.
“I’m really sorry, but… I can’t pretend I didn’t hear.”
“……”
You innocent fool. You could have just pretended to go to your room and secretly left the door open to listen. Not that I was planning to hide it—I was saying it right in the living room after all.
“What did you say to him, hyung?”
Lee Cheonghyeon’s voice trembled with anxiety.
“I said, ‘Please give Lee Cheonghyeon to Spark!’”
“What?”
“They all say that in dramas. No?”
At my words, Lee Cheonghyeon was horrified.
“Don’t give me that drama nonsense! You’re not the kind of person to say something like that! You’re the one who lives by the words, ‘Life is always a battlefield’ and ‘Society is nothing but a ruthless jungle’!”
“Actually, it was my first time meeting your father, and he made a great impression. I think you take after your father.”
“I take after my mom!”
Lee Cheonghyeon shouted in a burst of anger.
“…What did Dad say? Did he say anything to you?”
“He said to take good care of Cheonghyeon.”
“Huh?”
The guy stared at me with a blank face.
Is there a need to be specific? That was what I thought, so I just gave a rough answer. I didn’t want to plant any more resentment in the guy who was still connected to his family.
“…What?”
“He said to take good care of you. So you don’t go through too much hardship.”
Lee Cheonghyeon fumbled for words. Then he muttered with a deathly pale face.
“Is Dad sick somewhere?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s no way Dad would say something like that unless he was sick. I’m gonna go make a call.”
And with that, he bolted for his room. Just a while ago, he’d come in sobbing his heart out, but the second he thought his father might be ill, he reacted like this. It was touching.
“Dad, it’s me. Um… you’re not sick anywhere, are you? No, it’s just…”
Through the not-quite-closed door, Lee Cheonghyeon’s rambling voice could be heard. He was probably the most devoted son in the world.
Park Joowoo gave me a look, asking silently if things had turned out okay. I answered with a smile instead of words.