“Anyway, you really do love teasing people...”
With a prim little glare, Kang Yeonhoo stormed out of the meeting room first. Left alone, I chuckled quietly and looked at the closed door before pulling out my phone.
Since Kang Yeonhoo had gone out of his way to warn me, I thought maybe I should drop by WH’s management team. But I quickly gave up on that idea. The team leader there, Jung Seonui, wasn’t someone easily swayed — even if I tried to provoke her, she wouldn’t flinch. She was always busy and hard to reach, and lately, it even felt like she was deliberately avoiding me.
‘Why is the team leader harder to meet than the CEO?’
Still, there was someone else I could see more easily.
Someone with more experience than me and who happened to have decent connections among WH Entertainment’s executives.
I scrolled through my contacts and sent a message.
[What are you doing?]
Not even a few minutes later, I got a reply — just one line telling me to come upstairs. I stepped out of the elevator onto a slightly unfamiliar floor.
“Oh, Seo Hoyun-ssi! Hello!”
“Hello.”
I greeted the staff politely as I walked down the hall toward Black Call’s private training room. Grabbing the black doorknob, I pushed it open, and pounding beats blasted into my ears.
In the center of the mirror-walled room, someone was lying flat on his back, eyes closed, barefoot. Even in midwinter, his T-shirt was soaked through with sweat — he’d clearly been practicing for a while.
I turned off the speaker, strode closer, and spoke.
“Am I interrupting your practice?”
“It’s fine. I was waiting for a rude junior.”
“Oh, you mean that charming, talented one?”
When I played dumb, Joo Woosung let out a breathy, incredulous laugh.
“Hoyun, ever heard this saying?”
“No, and I don’t want to.”
“A genius can’t beat a hard worker, and a hard worker can’t beat someone who enjoys it.”
Then he suddenly sat up straight, flashing a cocky grin.
“But what can I say? I’m all three.”
So what?
I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. He wasn’t wrong — just unbearably smug.
He went on, half-joking, “A genius who loves hard work? Damn, even I scare myself sometimes,” before twisting the cap off his water ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) bottle and glancing up at me.
“So, what brings the great Seo Hoyun to my humble little corner? You usually ignore all my calls.”
His tone was teasing as usual, but up close, he looked strangely worn out. Not surprising, given his emotional ups and downs, but still.
I smiled, keeping my tone light.
“I was just curious how you’re doing. How’s the comeback prep going—”
“Cut the crap.”
He downed the whole bottle in one go, lips curling into a bitter smile.
“You’re here about the awards, aren’t you?”
I hadn’t said a word about that.
I only raised a brow. He waved his damp shirt for air, eyes still fixed on me.
“I know how you think. You’re probably going, ‘The Dawn should’ve swept trophies by now, so why haven’t we? Something’s fishy. WH’s acting weird. Let’s see if Joo Woosung knows anything.’ Am I close?”
“...Why would you think that?”
“Because that’s the only kind of thing you care about.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Reading the answer on my face, Joo Woosung grabbed his hoodie from the floor and kept talking.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t heard anything. Sure, I’m the company’s crown jewel, but that just means the higher-ups treat me like a brainless mascot. Which isn’t wrong — ever seen a diamond with a brain?”
“Hm...”
His voice was sharper than usual, but it didn’t sound like he was lying.
As he pulled the hoodie over his head, I watched him for a moment, weighing options.
‘...No other leads, huh.’
All the numbers pointed toward The Dawn’s success.
Even amid the K-pop album sales inflation, our profits kept climbing.
But complacency was the enemy.
If possible, I wanted to check every weak point in advance — and take care of any loose pieces early.
“...—Hey, stop.”
Joo Woosung’s voice broke through my thoughts. He was frowning at me, three deep lines creasing his forehead.
“I don’t know what shady plan you’re cooking up, but don’t. Don’t start any weird blackmail crap like before. I’ve been meaning to say this — you really need to learn some self-preservation.”
He slapped the floor beside him.
“Our company’s terrifying. It runs purely on profit. Forget ‘valuable artists’ — they treat people like numbers. If there’s a defect, they throw you out.”
That’s what companies were.
Places that turned living beings into replaceable parts.
No wonder people looked half-dead the moment they clocked in.
Still, hearing it so bluntly from WH Entertainment’s brightest star was... refreshing. It showed he’d learned the ropes of corporate life just fine.
“...What’s this, advice from experience?”
“Yeah, you bastard. I’ve been called in a few times myself.”
Scratching the back of his neck, Joo Woosung dragged his palm down his cheek like kneading dough.
“...Still, compared to others, that’s nothing. They didn’t say much because I was irreplaceable, you know?”
He sighed into his hand, then pulled a sneaker toward him and started tying it.
“But imagine if I hadn’t been. Or if I’d screwed up worse than just dating rumors. They would’ve replaced me in a heartbeat. You know how many seniors vanished that way?”
He trailed off, staring at the ceiling, then exhaled sharply.
“...Ha, hearing myself say it out loud is depressing.”
What a waste of time.
Still, he was human — he could feel restless sometimes. But in truth, Joo Woosung had nothing to worry about.
He really was irreplaceable, both now and in the future.
Back in my PD days, if I managed to get him on a show — no matter the controversy — ratings were guaranteed. He was professional, never once caused trouble for the staff.
I stared at him for a moment, then nudged the other shoe with my foot.
“WH will keep clinging to you, Woosung.”
“...Huh?”
“You’re irreplaceable. There’s no one else like you.”
His hand froze midair, the shoe slipping from his fingers.
“...Ha, you crazy— shit, are you trying to make me emotional now?!”
It wasn’t meant as flattery — just a fact.
Muttering “Unbelievable,” he rubbed under his nose with a finger, quickly put on the other shoe, and stood up. His mouth twitched uncontrollably with a grin.
“Anyway, this was just old-man advice. Don’t worry too much. Who’s hotter than you right now, huh?”
“Someone standing right in front of you.”
“...Ahem! Well, obviously, I’m in a league of my own.”
This guy was the definition of simple-minded.
“Hey, come on. My treat.”
Before I could refuse, the suddenly energetic Joo Woosung trailed after me all the way to the company café. No matter how I tried to wave him off, he insisted on buying drinks and snacks for The Dawn, shoving the loaded tray into my hands before sauntering off with a grin. “Be grateful you’ve got such a great senior,” he called out as he left.
I felt a bit drained from the encounter, but if that was his way of shaking off stress, so be it.
In the end, I hadn’t gained any useful info, but I shrugged and headed back toward The Dawn’s training room.
‘Guess I’ll just have to watch how things play out.’
As I turned the corner and pushed the door open, a chorus of jeers greeted me.
“Why so late?! Slacking off, aren’t you?!”
“Boo! Get out!”
“I brought snacks and coffee.”
“You really are our best lead vocalist, hyung.”
The sudden 180 from the maknaes made me snort. I set the tray down like I was feeding puppies, then took a seat on the sofa as they dove for the food.
“We were just talking about the Korean Music Awards.”
At the end of January, there was still the Seoul Popular Music Awards, but no idol group besides Black Call had taken home a trophy yet. So everyone figured the Korean Music Awards was their best shot.
“We got nominated again this year.”
“Ah, right!!”
Slurping his iced Americano, Jung Dajun slammed his hands on the table in excitement.
“I already prepared my interview lines!”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself...”
Kim Sunghyun muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, but the maknae didn’t even flinch.
“Want to hear it, hyungs? Ahem! ‘This award is all thanks to our Noeuls. To repay your love, we’ll aim even higher. Am I greedy?’ And here I’ll add a ‘(laughs).’”
“Jung Dajun, did you eat something weird?”
“Well, we did feed him, so technically...”
Dajun just kept going, declaring he’d conquer the world’s most prestigious award shows someday. Sung Jiwon smiled quietly at his ambition, while Kang Ichae stared at the floor.
Blushing furiously, Dajun shuffled over and clung to Ichae.
“Hyung, what about you? What’ll you say in your interview?”
“...Huh? Me?”
Blinking like he’d just snapped out of a daze, Kang Ichae hesitated.
“...I don’t know? I’m fine even if we don’t win.”
“...Eh?”
“I mean, just being here with you guys is enough...”
He trailed off, then smiled shyly and grabbed onto Sung Jiwon’s arm.
“...Saying stuff like that’ll get me scolded by Jiwon-hyung, right~?”
“Hahaha, Ichae, stop shaking me. I’m getting dizzy.”
Sung Jiwon gently pried him off and patted his shoulder.
“No, I get what you mean. I wasn’t fond of my old group either. I’m really happy to be with you guys now. I’m grateful to all of you.”
“How do you drop such beautiful lines in a training room?!”
Momentarily dazzled, Kang Ichae covered his mouth with both hands like he’d just witnessed an angel descend.
“Then, Ichae, you know what that means, right?”
“...What?”
“For the fans!”
= Let’s practice.
The meaning clicked instantly, and everyone froze.
Groans erupted from every corner, but no one could stop Sung Jiwon.
By the time all the lights in WH’s building began to shut off one by one and the halls grew empty, The Dawn were still rehearsing their performance.
Even after collapsing onto the floor, they kept shouting, “We can do it!” and jumping back up.
When the manager came to drag them home for the fifth time, they were laughing about how it felt like those old days when they practiced through the night with blankets. Finally, the kids left the room, chatting about dreams.
“Seo Hoyun, you’re not coming?”
Halfway out the door, Kim Sunghyun turned to look back.
“I’m staying. I need to make up for what I missed earlier.”
“Really? ...Want me to stay and watch?”
“It’s fine.”
I waved him off, and he sighed softly, then followed the others out.
Once I confirmed the room was empty, I sprawled out on the floor.
In the still silence, a glimmering trophy floated before my eyes, spinning slowly in midair.
[‘Unknown Idol Tycoon’ Clear Conditions!
Win a Grand Prize at one of the top 3 music award shows held between December and February. (0/1)
Complete all Main Scenarios. (0/1)]
The quest completion was right within reach.
But there were still loose ends — it wasn’t time for farewells yet.
I lifted my upper body again and muttered,
“Let’s practice.”
So there’d be no regrets left behind.
And one week later,
the Korean Music Awards were held.
