Free Web NovelOne cannot live doing only what one wants to do.
Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to.
That’s why my philosophy is: if you have to do it anyway, you might as well enjoy it.
“Let’s have some fun with this, Han-jo. It’s embarrassing, but... what choice do we have?”
“Yes. I’ll do my best to enjoy it.”
As Han-jo and I exchanged that, the members watching around us whispered.
“What’s so serious about this?”
“It’s embarrassing, though. If it were me, I’d be rolling on the floor in shame.”
“But watching them is pure entertainment. Hehe.”
Han-jo and I both spun around, grinding our teeth.
“These ungrateful brats...”
Who do you think we’re shooting a commercial for, huh?
When we glared, the younger members squealed “Grandpas are angry!” and scampered off to a corner of the studio.
...
I took a deep breath and looked around. This was the studio we’d come to for today’s shoot: a 30-second CF for MiTube. The advertiser was HyperStudy, Korea’s largest test-prep company, who’d booked us thanks to that meme clip from last year’s TBC Year-End Music Festival.
“Everyone!”
“Yes, director!”
Fourteen of us hurried over to the director. He looked from me to Han-jo and said,
“You two are the main focus, so do well, okay?”
“Yes, we’re ready to give it everything—even if our bones shatter!”
“Then I’ll—also prepare to get shattered...”
The director traced the camera path with his finger.
“Listen up. The basic setup is just like when you filmed that VCR. You two walk in from either side, deliver the lines as in the storyboard, and the rest of you just give reaction faces from behind.”
“Understood!”
“Nice energy. Once you’re ready, I’ll call ‘action,’ so stretch out first.”
The younger members began loosening their necks and rotating their shoulders. I swung my arms to stretch, and Han-jo watched curiously.
“Oh, I think we learned that in elementary school. Does it loosen you up?”
“It works like a charm.”
“In that case, I’ll—”
We launched into the national calisthenics together, chatting as we moved—mostly about our new lodging and recent schedules. Mid-exercise, Han-jo shifted topics.
“By the way, today’s the day, right? Idol Show episode two.”
“...Yes.”
“I’m excited. I enjoyed the first episode so much. I meant to just monitor how other groups do it, but you all were hilarious and so skilled.”
“I heard you laughed hardest at my cat-letter bit.”
“Oh, um...”
“That’s disappointing. Was our friendship only worth that?”
“No, no. That’s slander. Namu laughed loudest.”
Han-jo pointed at Namu off to the side, arm-in-arm with Ji-ho, giggling at something.
“We didn’t expect much from Namu anyway... but our guys have really bonded with the Street Boys.”
“They have. They’ve closed the distance.”
Maybe thanks to the Mint Chocolate Squad, Street Boys and our members treated each other very warmly. They were friendlier toward us than vice versa—apparently because our success improved the company’s standing. It was a nice sight. The first real friends we’d made since entering the industry... kind of. Though we weren’t on “speech-drop” terms yet...
“Namu hyung!”
“Ji-ho!”
“It’s so great we can talk casually, right?”
...They did it. They dropped speech levels. As they all relaxed into casual speech with peers of similar temperament, Han-jo and I blinked. We turned our heads, caught each other’s eye, and winced.
“Shall we—also switch?”
“Y-yeah...”
After an awkward pause, I suggested,
“Let’s give it some time first.”
“Okay. That sounds good.”
Both sighed in relief just as the crew called us.
“Time to prepare for the shoot!”
Staff came over to comb our hair, spritz it to hold, and remove every speck of lint from our clothes. Transformed spotless, we headed to the center of the studio.
HyperStudy’s “2015 New Years Package.”
MiTube 30-second CF rough cut.
Black screen.
Heartbeat sound rising in tension, then ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the screen brightens. Two lines of students in school uniforms appear at either end of a hallway.
On the left, nine science-track students in blue ties; on the right, five humanities students in red ties. Urgent BGM crescendos, mirroring that viral clip from the end-of-year music show. After quick dialogue like that festival:
Woo-joo: Got it. Want to take an online lecture with me?
Han-jo: Sorry, I’m humanities.
Now with a new line added:
Woo-joo: Doesn’t matter if you’re humanities.
Han-jo: Could it be... the unlimited package with no track restrictions?
Woo-joo (winking): That’s right.
The two groups behind us react in cheesy acting, then a gold-bordered caption appears:
HyperStudy 2015 New Year’s Unlimited Lecture Package
Fourteen idols stand below. The two leaders speak, and everyone thumbs up together:
All: Students are the future—HyperStudy!
Lemon Entertainment, Management Team 4 office.
“Why the long faces again?”
“I keep imagining how psyched our soufflés will be when this CF airs—and I can’t help but smile.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’m serious. I’m genuinely happy.”
When I flashed a bittersweet grin, Seok-hwan burst out laughing. After a while, he teased,
“If someone didn’t know, they’d think we were forced. You volunteered for this.”
“That’s true... but there’s always a bit of a crash afterward. Like a strange emptiness after building fame on an embarrassing moment.”
“Just be grateful. Other groups would kill for even a commercial like this.”
“Of course I know that, Manager.”
Because I understood that, I’d given everything during the shoot.
“How’s prep for the other ads going?”
“We’re going over storyboards with the kids and rehearsing.”
Having won two rookie awards last year, we were indisputably 2014’s top newcomers. Naturally, more ad offers came in for the new year: three existing contracts—with a mid-tier airline, EverDream school uniforms, and a domestic clothing brand—plus three more added recently: a pizza chain, red-ginseng, and another test-prep company. The red-ginseng deal was the best: they sent so much product saying they wanted us to consume it on camera. I’d been hesitant to eat ginseng in front of the soufflés, worried it’d look like we demanded gifts, but now I could enjoy it freely.
“Hehe.”
Seeing me so happy, Seok-hwan tilted his head.
“Why the grin all of a sudden?”
“It’s... something, hyung.”
I cleared my throat.
“By the way, what was that pile of papers you said to pick up?”
“This.”
He unlocked a drawer with his key and handed me a thick stack of documents.
“What’s all this? Scripts?”
“They’re proposals for variety shows and TV programs we could appear on—not many on major networks, mostly cable or general programming. I want you to review them.”
“I see.”
I flipped through the titles: dating shows, chase-games, quizzes, brain-teasers.
“Quite the variety.”
“Your popularity’s risen enough to branch out. Especially after your variety skills on Idol Show got praise backstage. Plus program schedules are being revamped.”
Seok-hwan continued:
“We want to lighten the image-making burden. We originally planned to keep you mysterious and cool, but...”
He sighed wryly.
“You’ve generated so much embarrassing history that the mystery’s gone since you appeared on ‘Who’s the Trainee.’”
I stared into space. Was it my imagination or was everything hazy? He offered a warm smile.
“So since we’re here, let’s reposition you as a boy group that feels like friends to the public.”
“Like grandparents recognizing you as NewBlack?”
“Your impression of my voice-mimicry is spot on...”
“I watched ‘All-Family Diary’ on MiTube yesterday.”
He laughed at himself.
“Anyway, that’s the idea. But carefully—don’t let it become too clownish.”
“Of course not...”
Just then something flashed through my mind and my mouth went dry.
“Uh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, hyung, there’s a bit of a problem... something’s coming up on Idol Show episode two.”
I hesitated. How to explain? I opened and closed my mouth before he tilted his head.
“What’s happening there?”
“Didn’t Min-gi or Won-seok tell you?”
“They said to expect something funny. What was it... oh, a rhinoceros beetle, I think.”
“Yeah, that beetle...”
But I couldn’t go on. This wasn’t something you could explain away. So I simply said,
“You’ll know when you see it.”
After talking with Seok-hwan, I went down to the practice room and saw a strange sight.
“Nyaaah!”
“....”
“Nyaaah! Hyung! Stop stepping on me!”
...What am I looking at? Bi-ju was stomping on Ri-hyuk’s back—holding him by the shoulders so his legs were spread nearly 180 degrees.
“Hyung, you’re here?”
Bi-ju, don’t smile so brightly. It’s terrifying.
“What are you doing?”
“Ri-hyuk’s lost a lot of flexibility. If we’re doing choreography, he needs to stretch.”
“Nyaaah! If this comes out, I’ll kill you all!”
Despite the absurd sight—like a white crane flapping angrily—I only smiled warmly. I squatted and caught Ri-hyuk’s eye, teasing him.
“See, you should’ve been stretching diligently at Director Jo’s instead of goofing off.”
“I wasn’t goofing off! I was busy studying foreign languages! Nyaaah!”
Watching him writhe, I turned to Bi-ju.
“If it’s too much, Bi-ju, let me take a turn.”
“Okay, hyung.”
“Nyaaah! Stop chatting cutely together!”
“Keep going.”
I wanted to tell him to ease into it gently, but we had an overseas showcase next week: an awards show where we’re rookie nominees, then we fly to Taiwan at dawn to meet the local soufflés and perform. Though “Masquerade” rehearsals were abundant, flexibility was crucial for choreographic detail...
“Nyaaah!”
It would hurt, but it had to be done.
At that moment, Jung-hyun—practicing choreography in a corner—grabbed Ji-ho and came over.
“Hyung, what’s that you brought?”
“What? A script? Is that a script?”
“It’s not a script. Wait, Ri-hyuk, Bi-ju—come look.”
Once Ri-hyuk escaped our main dancer’s grip, I explained what Manager Seok-hwan had told me. Curious hands immediately reached for the proposals.
“Wow, there’s so many. All for us?”
“That’s right.”
“No way.”
For a moment our faces glowed with the happiness you see when finishing a diet and heading for meat.
“So we pick whichever we like?”
“I want to see too, hyung.”
They laughed as they collected the stack, then quiet focus fell as they examined the proposals. The rustle of papers echoed through the practice room. I’d thought about urging caution, but seeing their seriousness, I held back. I too studied the proposals closely, imagining how we’d appear and excel. I looked for programs that suited us well.
Last year, we’d accepted any TV gig to boost our recognition. Now we needed more selectivity. While prime-time major-network variety was still out of reach, cable or general programming was now an option. For example:
“Love & Match...?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s on a general-programming channel. Celebs get paired by a ‘love arrow.’”
“...Let’s drop that.”
We removed other absurd or image-damaging concepts, leaving about a third of the proposals. Narrowing to shows all five of us could appear on cut it to about another third.
As we sifted through the few left, Ri-hyuk suddenly cried out like he’d discovered gold.
“T-this is it!”
“What is it?”
“I found exactly what I like!”
He swallowed hard, fist clenched in excitement, which only made us more apprehensive.
“He says it’s what he likes, but why do I feel uneasy?”
“Right? It must be something weird. Like ‘Is Your Home Healthy? Here’s a Home Doctor!’—some cleaning-variety show.”
Yet curiosity gnawed at us. What had him so flushed?
We all blinked in unison.
“...Sok-Sok History Expedition?”
On Ri-hyuk’s proposal: “Sok-Sok! History Expedition!” A childish name, perhaps, but then we saw the program category proudly on the first page.
“Ri-hyuk, this is a kids’ educational program.”
“I know that. Listen to the premise. It’s awesome.”
Ri-hyuk explained.
“Each episode teaches a historical event of our country, not by explanation but by acting it out.”
“...Wait, acting?”
Our youngest was already ninety-percent sold.
“They even do simple makeup.”
“Makeup!”
...One-hundred-percent sold.
“They act out the event—dressing as kings or ministers, filming on location at folk villages or palaces.”
“Oh, that sounds fun.”
Not just our youngest, we all felt interest. Though it was a kids’ show, the format was fresh. And broadcasting on HBS, a major network, was a huge merit. Above all, it wasn’t a one-off appearance but a regular, ongoing role—our most attractive point. We exchanged looks.
“This is good, right?” freewёbnoνel.com
“I think so. Seems fun.”
“Let’s try becoming ‘Presidential Idols’ with this.”
We reviewed the other proposals, but the clear favorite was “Sok-Sok History Expedition.” I decided to relay our choice to management.
“Ugh, my back’s stiff.”
Maybe from two hours sitting reading proposals—circling up and massaging each other’s shoulders.
“Ah, that’s better... but guys, doesn’t it feel like we’re forgetting something?”
“I know. Something feels missing.”
“Did we miss anything?”
“No... except watching Idol Show episode two later.”
“Huh?”
One by one, the shoulder-rubbing hands froze.
“Huh?”
“Huh...”
“Wait...?”
“Huh!”
It was 7:00. Idol Show, which started at six, had already ended.
“We should’ve monitored it!”
We all rushed to our phones charging in the corner, glancing at incoming messages.
Kim Deok-soon: “You two were at it again today”
Han Tae-hyun: “lol private property? lol”
Ignoring the vexing messages, we found where our soufflés had gathered. Sure enough:
Ji-ho’s growth pains okay?
Beetle lol
Da-gil, are you seeing this? Your friend is a beetle
Mom and Dad, this is my favorite idol... no, not a cicada but a rhinoceros beetle (shy)
Next fan meeting: not Soufflé Day but Beetle Day
...Something had exploded.
At the same moment,
“....”
Yoon Seok-hwan stared silently at the ceiling for a long time.
“....”
A headache... crashed over him.
