Assistant Manager Kim Hates Idols

How long had my eyes been closed?

In the split second where I couldn’t tell if I’d actually dozed off, a familiar voice came out of the dark.

“Anyway, young people these days are weak in the head. No grit. How do they plan to live being that fragile?”

Blunt, rough, emotional.

Manager Nam’s favorite refrain.

I didn’t have to look to picture the office air. Manager Nam grumbling at some online article alone while everyone else pretended not to hear and kept working.

Someone whispered right beside me. Deputy Manager An’s voice.

“An employee in a nearby office died. He’s like that because he heard.”

He swallowed a sigh.

“I’m sick of that ‘young people’ crap. Talking like they’re losers. Do you know how hard everyone fights just to keep going?”

It was right when his own team members were handing in resignations one after another. And he was one of the few who didn’t spit curses at people on their way out.

“I heard that’s how it is now. They get so scared of the consequences of quitting that they start thinking in extremes. Backed into a corner. No matter how much folks tell them to rest, does it even register? When your heart’s exhausted, your thinking dulls...”

He spoke calmly, but his words were deep and dark.

“Still, the world is big. This isn’t the only company. So.”

That day.

The first day I went back to work after seeing my sister off.

I remembered the last thing he said, soothing me.

“Assistant Manager Kim, don’t be like that.”

Cold seeped up through my soles. I heard a very small trickle of water.

I opened my eyes, and far-off city lights came into view.

A few high-rises still lit were dazzling.

“Hannam Bridge?”

I knew it easily—I’d passed it so often.

There were differences, though. At commute hours the bridge would be jammed, but now there wasn’t a single car.

The road was empty; the streetlights flickered, heavy with the damp pre-dawn air.

The night sky was ink-black.

‘What time even is it...’

I fished in my pocket and closed a hand around my phone.

4:10 a.m. Not even time for the first buses.

Walking along the sidewalk left a chill on my forearms. When I rubbed them, my fingers brushed a crackling shirt fabric.

On impulse, I turned and checked the way I’d come. Buildings with most of their lights out. About an hour down that road stood Hanpyeong Industries.

I turned back and took a step in the original direction—

My whole body went cold. My chest cinched tight.

The wind blew but I couldn’t breathe.

Beyond the narrow railing was a black, open sky.

So dark the river and the sky bled into one.

My stomach lurched. The hand clamped over my mouth trembled. The wind made my steps reel so badly I had to grip the rail hard. I thought I might fall.

Without meaning to, words I hadn’t planned slipped out.

“Sis.”

My other hand reached for the rail. The black water flowed, gently.

I was staring at the view I’d seen at twenty-eight. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Something I’d forgotten—a “deleted feeling of mine”—caught in my chest.

“Am I supposed to keep living like this?”

Back then I’d asked myself that at the silent river.

I couldn’t say I’d lived diligently, but I hadn’t lived lazily either.

I had no dream, but it wasn’t like I had no hope.

I thought I was just... living decently enough.

Life twisted in an instant. After the accident I hadn’t expected, I moved on inertia.

Open my eyes when the alarm rang, go in when it was time, feel nothing even when I got chewed out.

Then when the hour came, go home and fall asleep alone.

Everyone else kept saying they were going to live a changed tomorrow; I alone stayed like a rock wedged in place.

Maybe that sight offended people—picking fights with me from all sides. I hated it, so I kept hiding underground. I put down roots only in barren ground and didn’t move.

No drive, no wants. Nothing in my head.

Someone slipped in where the shield had vanished. Even when that person dug through my wounds, I didn’t resist.

I gave up thinking. I didn’t believe I could live a better future.

The more aware I became, the more I felt the empty place. Because my sister didn’t even have a future anymore.

Because it hurt.

She was the only one who ever told me, “Try living well.” Now there was no one left to give me courage.

I couldn’t breathe.

I forced out the blocked air. A harsh sound scraped up my throat. My breathing sped.

I bowed my head for a long time.

Even when the wind whipped my hair over my face, I didn’t fix it. I didn’t straighten my back.

Like I was trying to see the bottom of the invisible river, my gaze fell, lower and lower.

Then a faint buzz came from my pocket.

A familiar saved name, a familiar tone. And...

Manager

[I’m going to a client first and then coming in tomorrow]

[Assistant Manager Kim, you handle the new hire’s onboarding]

[Come early and do the setup]

...The kind of treatment I felt like I’d receive for life.

The night view was so far away, but the phone’s light was so close. Blinding.

I stepped back from the rail.

It felt like the heart that had held me up had died.

At twenty-eight, burned out with only a shell left, I gave up on living as a human being named Kim Iwol.

Around 4:30 a.m., he stared at the text for a long time.

Then he smiled with a sad face.

He murmured:

“Living is too hard, Sis...”

He took a step. Staggering, heavy steps with no will and no aim.

And I woke from the dream.

Only night-darkness like water remained.

“Ah...”

I should’ve just not remembered.

I should’ve left it buried.

Those days when I didn’t want to do anything—I would’ve been better off never recalling them.

“Ah... ah...”

My emotions heaved.

I bit my lip hard, pressed both eyes with my palms, trying to soothe the surge.

Nothing changed. Not the pain, not the deep gloom.

I tore through my suitcase like a madman. I took out the hidden headache pills and swallowed them.

No time to get water—I gulped them down with spit. Then I slept again, fleeing reality.

Morning came.

I wanted to quit everything. My shoulders felt crushed.

I sat still on the bed. Lee Cheonghyeon came down the stairs and greeted me.

“Good morning!”

My sister’s face flickered over his.

“Hey, you’re up early?”

On the first day after I regressed, her face had been nothing but a blur. Just from opening one little piece of ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ memory data, it had gotten so much clearer.

Which made it hurt more. The hand hidden under the blanket shook.

Against my heart, the smile I’d carved into my face rose on reflex.

I’m an idiot.

“Yeah. Morning.”

A first-rate idiot. A dunce. A moron.

Whether I’m happy or not, I only ever put on a smile in front of others, can’t even say “I like this” or “I hate that,” and just bury it.

A spineless fool who’ll die doing only what he’s told.

“Hyung, are you done with that?”

Kang Giyeon eyed my salad tub. A dressingless salad sat half-eaten.

“Yeah.”

“...Are you sick?”

Even Park Juu—who eats light himself—looked at me.

“I’m just sick of plain salad, that’s all.”

“Fair.”

Lee Cheonghyeon chimed in. As for Choi Jeho... judging by the fact he was polishing off a third salad on his own, he clearly did not relate.

“But you didn’t eat anything this morning either.”

“Are you two monitoring me now?”

“We’re at the same table—wouldn’t it be weirder not to notice?”

Giyeon narrowed his eyes and scolded me.

If I’d baked the bread myself I could’ve lied and said I snagged a piece while baking. Unfortunately, I still don’t have clearance to bake.

“Still, you should eat something. You need your meds too.”

Even Jeong Seongbin tried to coax me in that gentle tone that makes it hard to brush him off.

“With all this loving nagging, I think I’ll get better without meds.”

“So you’re not taking them right now?”

“I always take my meds on time, you know.”

I hate headaches. Ever since I had a bout of migraines back then, I learned the value of a clear head.

Even now the pain was gone, but I was still working through the full eight-week course.

‘Ugh, it’s starting...’

In the middle of the dumb back-and-forth, bile surged.

I stood, saying I’d step out first, grabbed my salad tub and trash, and left.

I sorted the trash outside the practice room and headed straight for the restroom.

I went into the last stall and locked the door.

“Urgh.”

A retch ripped up. The salad I’d just eaten came right back.

This is why I can’t eat. What’s the point, if I’m just going to throw it up?

If I didn’t have to eat with the Spark punks, I’d rather have skipped.

“Ugh—hurk...”

My stomach had been like this for days. Every time I put food in, within minutes I’d be gagging. Just wasting good food on nausea.

It happened a lot around twenty-eight. It felt like not only my head’s memories but my body’s were back.

‘At least I’ve got some tricks now.’

On the first day I blanked on the past and used oriental dressing; I threw up wrong and almost wrecked my nose. Since then I’ve forced myself onto the Kang Giyeon diet.

I thumped my chest with a fist a few times; the nausea eased slightly.

Even this was getting hard. Maybe because my intake was nothing but my energy burn stayed the same, my head spun more and more.

‘But if I show I’m not okay at work...’

I felt like cold river water was rising from my feet. If I turned around, I half expected to see the straight road to Hanpyeong Industries.

“Urgh!”

Both hands went back to the bowl. Only after dry-heaving till I was dizzy could I lift my head.

The system was floating above the restroom wall.