Jeong Seongbin laughed his head off for a long while.
Then he sniffled, wiped his tears, and said to me, “Iwol.”
“Why?”
“If you’re the one selling it, I’ll buy a bottle of Octagonal Ion Carbonated Water.”
“Just try buying that anywhere and bringing it back. I’ll make you clean the bathroom with it.”
I laid down a firm threat and left the emergency exit with him.
Not many days later came the system’s Double EXP Week—Jeong Seongbin named it that. He said it’s a phrase people use a lot at PC rooms—and we all practiced like mad.
I figured at least one punk would question whether we had to go that hard, but the moment they heard me out, they all said okay.
Is it because they’re the types who practice on their own if you leave them alone?
Or maybe they’re just not curious about me.
Ah, the student cohort did look a little regretful.
“Can’t we skip school and practice too?”
“Giyeon, don’t send my blood pressure up. Go to school.”
I talked them down and sent them to class. So this is the hardship of being a parent, huh.
Because the schedule got tight, I had to slice my twenty-four hours on a 5-nanometer process.
Here was my day to raise proficiency by 3 points.
3:30 Wake up
4:00 Wash and do planning work
4:30 Toast, then head to the practice room
5:00–10:00 Dance practice (1)
10:00–16:00 Vocal practice (including shower, lunch, meetings)
16:00–19:00 Dance practice (2)
19:00–21:00 Training
21:00–23:00 Dance practice (2)
23:00–00:00 Go home, wash, monitoring
00:00–00:30 Worries about the future
00:30 Sleep
Thanks to the grit honed at Hanpyeong Industries and the system’s Labor Support feature, I was grinding down my body. Never thought I’d live to be grateful to both.
Of course, I didn’t make the members live like this. They can’t receive Labor Support.
Thanks to that...
“If you’ve hit your hours, everyone go home.”
“What about you?”
“How many times do I have to say it, Cheonghyeon. My road is long, so I’m staying a bit more.”
“No, you’ll collapse like this!”
...We’ve been having this back-and-forth for a week.
Do they think I’m that sloppy. If I were going to collapse over this, I would’ve collapsed back at Hanpyeong Industries.
“Cheonghyeon, look around.”
Saying that, I set a hand on one of his shoulders.
Time: 10 p.m. The hour when everyone had finished dance training and hit their five hours of dance practice.
At this point I was the only one still standing upright.
The rest were all glued to the floor... No, Choi Jeho was at least sitting.
Anyway.
“I’m the only one fine, right? That’s why you all need to head home now.”
“Where does this hyung even get his stamina?”
“I already gave up trying to understand.”
Hearing shell-shocked Lee Cheonghyeon, Kang Giyeon shook his head.
Whether those two said that or not, I hustled them to pack their bags quick and go.
Then, as he stood with his bag, Choi Jeho asked, “You sure you don’t want to clock out with us? What if you run into Yu Hansu?”
“No, that guy clocked out at four.”
I’m freakishly good at knowing when a boss clocks out.
So take the kids and get to the dorm fast, I said, pushing Jeho’s back and closing the practice room door.
Once they left, the room went quiet like it had never been noisy. Only then could I let out a small sigh.
I fought the queasiness in my gut and rubbed the corner of my mouth a couple times.
Honestly, I wasn’t in great shape. I was just less tired than they were, that’s all.
I opened the system and checked my cumulative fatigue.
.
.
Cumulative Fatigue: 35% (Labor Support Service in effect)
I’d had a nosebleed once I crossed 40%, so I needed to make sure it didn’t climb higher.
I’d like to avoid dumping a bucket of nosebleed in public and drawing everyone’s eyes.
To do that I had to use every trick in the book to find the maximum-efficiency rest.
But thinking about it pissed me off. If only this had existed back in the Hanpyeong Industries days, how great would that have been?
Granted, Manager Nam didn’t blink even when I puked and crawled out of the bathroom on all fours.
If I don’t want to rejoin Hanpyeong Industries, I should shut up and work hard...
Half resigned, I drank some water.
At least the members hadn’t caused trouble lately.
If those punks had run away like before debut, fought, or gotten sick, my fatigue would’ve shot up by another twenty points from the stress.
Right, them practicing quietly is something to be thankful for.
I decided to applaud their sense to know when to cause trouble and when not to.
But as if to mock this peace, the next day a rock was tossed straight into the lake of my heart.
“We might have to delay the comeback?”
Jeong Seongbin asked. It was because of what Director Min Ju gyeong told us after calling us together.
It was, word for word, a bolt from the blue that we might have to delay the release of our second album, scheduled for early to mid May.
“Why?”
Unable to hold back, Choi Jeho shot forward.
“Newri is planning a comeback in June, and if you come out in May we might not have enough staff inside the company to support both. That would hurt both sides.”
It meant the schedule for UA’s renowned ballad singer collided with ours.
It’s not exactly wrong. But there was a flaw in that statement.
“But Director, can I ask why this is coming up so suddenly?”
If you were going to say this, you should have said it earlier. Not now, when we’ve already gotten quotes for the album cover.
At my question, Director Min hesitated and averted her gaze. Then she carefully began.
“The truth is, Newri’s album should’ve come out in April, but it got pushed back a lot.”
“I see.”
“It’s also Newri’s first comeback in three years, so the company really wanted to prepare it well. So...”
Her words trailed off.
I get it. It must be awkward to have to tell us this.
Schedules get delayed all the time at companies.
Two months even—sure, five people in charge might be tearing their hair out, but it’s not impossible.
But something kept sticking in my craw.
Would a company that claims to be preparing a three-years-later comeback with such care manage its schedule so sloppily it pushes the date by two whole months?
Even pushing back a group that’s just about to enter the push phase?
And... when they know our next album concept?
My head filled with question marks.
At the same time, a single keyword popped up that could answer all of it.
“Director, I’m worried I might be crossing a line here, so I’m being very careful... but if it’s okay, can I ask one thing?”
“Hm? No, go ahead and ask freely!”
“Is PD Yu over with Senior Newri’s side by any chance?”
At the same time there was a gasp from somewhere. I flicked my eyes over; Lee Cheonghyeon ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) had clasped a hand over his mouth.
Director Min smiled, looking troubled.
“You’re quick on the uptake, Iwol. Yes, PD Yu is handling that right now.”
“Thank you for telling me. Ah, even so, could we still hold our regular meeting that was scheduled for this week?”
“Sure. I’ll make the calls.”
Then Director Min met each member’s eyes one by one and said, “But don’t worry too much, guys. This happens all the time in the industry, and it doesn’t even count as a big deal. The company isn’t neglecting you, so there’s no reason to feel uneasy. Okay?”
It was a warm reassurance. Times like this always reminded me that Director Min is a good person.
She wasn’t wrong either. Even at Hanpyeong Industries, Manager Nam delayed approvals by three months and nothing happened.
But not this time. This is a big deal and we’re fxxked.
If we don’t come back on schedule, Spark will likely miss out on the survival program coming in June. Our name recognition is still lacking.
For immediate buzz, nothing gathers visibility like a survival show, but to get cast you need at least minimal name recognition.
It’s like saying they’ll hire a rookie with career experience, but reality is filthy and petty. If we want a quick first win, there’s no other way.
No wonder things had been peaceful lately. So much for sleep.
I lay on my bed and summoned the system.
And I thought.
“Is there no such thing as an in-house loan for employees? Like guaranteed stamina support.”
Then the system popped out.
▶ Employees are so tough these days. They don’t think about working like everyone else, but they can’t rest easy unless they get everything other people get?
Anger surged, but I held it back. Right now it mattered more to sweet-talk the system somehow and wring a little more out of it.
Then it hit me—how I’d moved the debut date forward before.
I immediately pulled up the scheduler. The date we’d set for our next comeback was clearly written on the hologram scheduler.
How far forward can this go?
The debut had been moved up by a year.
I made a rough pulling-forward gesture, and the date blocks jumped forward a few squares, stopping about a week earlier. The very start of May.
If that’s the case, we can move the date up plenty.
The problem is, what event explodes this time.
Hey, Manager... I mean, system. Is someone planning to run away again this time?
▶ Still, it feels like our department has entered a stable period these days. All the more reason not to kill the mood, okay? Let’s each do our best in our places.
Conclusion: no one’s going to suddenly run off or get into a bloody fight.
If it’s not a human-relations problem, it’s at least less of a headache. With no hesitation, I chose to move the comeback earlier.
Then the tasks that had come in a little while ago came back from the dead.
▷ Secure staff for the comeback
▷ Reward: Increased probability of a stable comeback
[SYSTEM] “New Task” has been assigned.
▷ Improve job competency
▷ Reward: Increased probability of a stable comeback
[SYSTEM] “New Task” has been assigned.
▷ Have secret talks with the members
▷ Reward: Increased probability of a stable comeback
Ha fxxk. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved it up.
