Chapter 166

Chapter 166

“Your phone please.”

I took Big Sejin’s phone and looked through one of the articles. It was aggressive, describing Park Moondae as weak stock in its title.

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Park Moondae, who participated as an amateur in the previous season of Relisted! Idol Incorporated with no prior experience and won, encouraged the contestants by saying that “limitations could be overcome.”

[...]

A staff member on the show said, “Everything is left to the viewers, and it’s impossible to predict who will win. That’s one of the show’s key strengths. We are grateful for TeSTAR, who agreed to make an appearance.”

[...]

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“Hmm.”

I understood what was really going on.

This article was released by Idol Inc. The title suggested the article was about me, but I wasn’t actually the focus.

They wanted to draw attention to the dramatic side of the show. Their goal had been to describe the unpredictability of the format—like biotech stock, for instance—which allowed for someone with no background in the industry to win. This didn’t seem like a very good strategy to me, though.

They went a little overboard. I’d been placed in gold when I got my first rating, and in the evaluations, I’d ended up in platinum. I’d gone on to always be on the most talked about teams, and my family background had been a hot topic toward the end right before I won. This all combined made me a pretty standard audition winner. I wasn’t the contestant who would best showcase Idol Inc.’s unique charm.

They just seem full of unnecessary hot air. They could have simply emphasized how fun the show was, but apparently, the production team had started to develop a strange sort of ego regarding this ridiculous audition show.

Seems they’re no longer at the top of their game anymore. Maybe they had jinxed themselves to ruin every even-numbered season.

We’ll definitely need to keep our distance from them. We stood to lose a lot by displeasing T1, affiliated with them as we were. I needed to arrange a good reason for us to refuse any further appearances, collaborations, and whatnot.

The first thing I needed to do was check what impact the article was having.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Okay! It wasn’t too bad, was it?” Big Sejin asked.

“Nah. Not bad.”

I would start by looking over our fan’s reactions. Returning Big Sejin’s phone, I began to explore on mine. I was taken aback by what I saw.

- Those bastards at Idol Inc. hardly ever showed us how hard Moondae worked, going without sleep, and so on. And now they showed a glorious three seconds of it for the new season LOL

- Moondae spoke so quietly, but it was clear from what he said that he loves his work... I was moved to tears on the subway and everyone was staring at me

- Given Moondae’s personality, he probably didn’t show how much he suffered so he wouldn’t worry the fans. That is so painful to think about. I’m so glad I bought Moondae’s stock, and he got to debut

- I f*cking love Park Moondae T_T. I’ll go to my grave his fan

Wow, that’s a little... embarrassing. Even those fans who’d grown less passionate about me after the previous season ended were suddenly uploading posts.

Apparently, something had tugged at their heartstrings. I’d expected half of the reactions to be irritated with Idol Inc., and the other half to still be happy that they just got another opportunity to see our faces again. But the fans were coming together in a way I hadn’t foreseen.

I guess it’s a good thing...? It was hard to believe, but definitely not bad. I decided to just accept the situation as it was.

Now for the public’s reaction. There was nothing of note. The celebrity articles didn’t allow comments, and most articles were centered around promoting Idol Inc., which meant the focus wasn’t on me.

The most anyone had to say about me, rather than the show, was that I’d spoken well. I could have gone through the negative reactions and tried to collect them in one place, but I didn’t think that would be a very meaningful use of my time.

They all went something like the following.

- He didn’t say anything special, really. What’s with Tnet?

- They’re praising him too much LOL

- Well, he was just a middle school graduate and an amateur. I suppose he would have never debuted without the show

- He’s obviously gone through a lot to get to where he is now. He’s just the sort of guy that audition shows love

The commenters themselves wouldn’t even think they’d said anything mean since they hadn’t cursed me out. I didn’t need to pay them any attention, since they were just saying whatever came to mind.

So it’s all good, then. It was irritating that I was being taken advantage of, but I could live with the results since the fans were getting some excitement out of it.

I’ll just arrange for the group to distance itself from the show. I shrugged. The most recent comments on social media caught my eye as I was about to lock my phone. It was from a post sharing an article titled, Park Moondae gives sage advice for fourth season of Idol Inc.

- I bet Park Moondae would be stupid as hell if you really tried to have a conversation with him... He says whatever he thinks sounds cool, and his agency does the rest through the press!

Oh? There was something kind of odd about this comment. It wasn’t just written by someone who hated me, but a person trying to manipulate public opinion.

Stupid as hell? That wasn’t something people usually described me as. And stranger still, it wasn’t like this comment would really damage my reputation all that much.

It would be much more effective to question Idol Inc.’s fairness and link that with T1’s use of the press. This suggested that the commenter had some other objective in mind.

Hold up. I checked the account, which had participated in a few online events, shared rumor posts, and uploaded the occasional post along the lines of “When will lunchtime arrive?” and “I want to go home.”

Hmm. I searched for keywords like “Park Moondae,” “stupid,” and “middle school graduate” to confirm the existence of similar accounts. These accounts had nondescript profile pictures and account handles, and their posts didn’t suggest they had any clear interests or personalities.

Pretty skillfully done. I used a completely different keyword to search social media this time.

[Golden Age Hankuk University]

This led to a whole pile of results. The post that had been shared the most often was titled, “Idols that give off rich boy/rich girl vibes.”

That’s not what I’m looking for. I scrolled down to the posts that had been shared less often and checked the accounts who’d shared them.

[Idols who attended Hankuk University]

They found the same unremarkable accounts I’d seen earlier here and there.

Gotcha. I smirked. I was sure of it now.

Looks like Golden Age is starting their little campaign. It was just as Choi Wongil had warned me.

“I just overheard them talking about how they wanted to push a young, rich guy image for this guy, you know? They said they’d use you to do it somehow...”

As I’d expected, the agency wasn’t comparing me and the member of their group that attended Hankuk University.

Instead, they’re including me in a group of other idols. They’d used reverse viral marketing tactics to promote idols who had a weak education or background but were still successful. At the same time, they were including the Golden Age member in a list of rich idols with a great education, leaving a strong impression of the member in the public’s mind. Lists like this never failed to gain attention.

Doing it this way escalated the stakes while minimizing any chance for retaliation from angry fans, effectively elevating the member’s popularity.

They did a good job. I wasn’t all that nervous or irritated by it, really. Most agencies did this sort of thing. It was a bit tiresome, though.

I’m already busy enough as it is thinking about other things. I had my hands full, from my status abnormality to the new season of Idol Inc. And once these bastards started becoming more and more bold, cleanup would grow harder and harder. I needed to end things with Golden Age’s agency right now.

Let’s see. As I was starting to think up a list of names, someone spoke to me.

“What are you looking at?”

It was Bae Sejin.

“Oh, I was just checking social media,” I replied.

“Yeah? So... nothing serious is going on?”

“Well, no...”

Bae Sejin looked conflicted for a moment, then said quietly, “Just tell me if you’re worried about anything. I’ve been in the field for longer, so...”

Perhaps being cooperative in front of the camera had made him confident. He was even attempting to behave like my senior, which was definitely not like him.

I appreciate the effort, but... I didn’t really need his help at the moment. Still, it was probably better to explain things to him, at least, since my plan would impact our schedules.

I explained the simplest method I could think of to counter the rumors. “I want to go on a specific kind of show, and as quickly as possible.”

“A show? What show do you want to do, out of nowhere like this?”

I grinned. “There are some people on the internet who are saying I’m stupid. I think it’ll have to be a show that requires using my head.”

“Wh-what! Who do they think they are?” Bae Sejin fumed, obviously getting worked up at the idea that someone was coming for me. He paced back and forth for a few seconds. Then he stopped short, apparently remembering something. “Oh, that’s right! There’s this writer that I know!”

“Huh?”

“The writer from the Culture Division!” His eyes were burning with passion. “The writer who works on the drama I was on recently was on a variety show with him. One second!”

He brought out his phone and began sending texts and making calls. It was 8:30 at night. What in the world was he up to?

“Yes, yes. That’s right. N-no. I’m not looking for a role for me... If you don’t mind...”

Hiding how uncomfortable he was reaching out to people like this, he ended the call and turned to me, balling his fists.

“There! He’s going to let us know when the soonest they can get you on is!”

I tried to stay calm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!”

“But what show is it?”

Bae Sejin seemed to suddenly realize that he’d just launched a minor campaign to get me a show without even asking my opinion. He paled, then blushed.

“Uh, it’s informational... but close to a variety show.”

“Yes?”

“It’s The Past Calls.”

Aha.

“That’s good.”

“I know, right?”

It was perfect. I’d seen the show a few times. The cast would move around a set reenacting a past event and solving the mysteries they were presented with. They would have to use logic to deduce necessary information and solve history quizzes to keep the show borderline informational. The show’s key point was that the cast was usually placed within a scene from Korean history unless it was a special of some kind.

I would have to be a moron if I weren’t able to take advantage of this. I was about to be a former civil service exam student who’d studied rigorously for the PSAT and Korean history exams, among people who’d dedicated all their lives to entertainment. It would be easy pickings.

“I’ll speak with the agency about adjusting my schedule. Thanks, Sejin.”

“Y-yeah.”

I made him some toast as a show of thanks.

“Hey! I want some, too!” Eugene complained.

“Ask Sejin if you can have some then.”

Everything was going splendidly.

***

The day I was set to film The Past Calls soon arrived, and with it came an unexpected meeting.

“Hello, Moondae!”

A guy was bowing before me politely—the main vocalist from Golden Age, the one who attended Hankuk University. He was the same guy who’d been the chicken with the ribbons.

I smiled and nodded. “Yes, nice to see you again. Let’s do our best.”

“Yes, let’s work hard!”

Straightening up, he looked relieved as he said, “I was feeling really nervous since I was sent here really suddenly without any warning. It’s such a relief to see you here! I’m very honored to be working with you again.”

Would you look at that?

“So it was sudden, huh? They also arranged for me to be on the show only recently.”

“Really! I was asked to come today, in fact—oh, but I’m sorry. I’m probably talking too much about stuff that doesn’t matter...”

“No, it’s nice to chat. Let’s have fun filming together today.”

“Right. Thank you!”

The main vocalist soon left to greet the other members of the cast, and the moment he did so, Ahyeon came back from the convenience store.

“I-I’m here!”

“Okay! Ahyeon, we’ll get your hair fixed up in a minute!”

The Culture Division had asked us to send along one more member, if possible, so we’d asked for a volunteer from the group.

Ahyeon gathered the snacks he’d brought and smiled. “M-Moondae, are you looking forward to filming today? Y-you look pretty happy...”

“Oh, I’m having fun.”

I really was. I’d rushed to arrange an appearance on a more intellectual variety show, and this specific member had magically appeared on the cast at the last second. This could mean only one thing.

There’s a rat in our agency. I was excited just thinking about how I could make use of this.

My first priority was finishing this shoot, though. I opened one of the chocolates that Ahyeon had handed me.

Let’s see if my plan holds against someone enrolled at Hankuk University. The filming commenced without any delays.