Chapter 266

Chapter 266

Eugene was used to conversing in a language that was not his native tongue, but that didn’t mean he was perfectly fluent. There was always room for misunderstandings, which was why he tried to be as straightforward as possible.

“They only ask about bad things,” he said, now in Korean.

“The documentary production team?” Park Moondae asked.

“Yeah!” Eugene said, nodding and shoving some ice cream in his mouth. Then he began to grumble to himself quickly in English. “What damage has the accident done? How hard has it been preparing for the concert? Are there any safety issues or injuries? Have I ever felt disillusioned with my line of work? I feel like I’m being interviewed by a prison officer!”

Park Moondae flexed his fingers and said, “So they kept on asking you if you felt like things were going badly.”

“Yes!” Eugene exclaimed in Korean.

Moondae understood him. This was why Eugene enjoyed talking to him.

“Why do they have to be like this?” he asked, and then continued in English, “They’re not giving us any room to show people the best that we’re capable of. Besides, I’m happy!”

Eugene wanted to share joy, not pain and negative energy. He had a philosophy when it came to his work. He didn’t want to live like some celebs did, capitalizing on personal events in his life for the sake of fame. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Incidentally, Moondae was doing the same thing as he listened to him speak.

“That’s why I’m not going to apologize,” Eugene said, switching back to Korean. It was a dramatic statement, but the pink-haired member sitting opposite him grinned.

“You must have felt pretty hurt by what Lee Sejin said.”

This was precisely how Eugene felt.

“Of course I did!” he said in English.

“Lee Sejin said that for your sake. If the documentary contains a scene of you slapping the camera away and only that, it wouldn’t look good for you. People would misunderstand.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” Eugene answered in Korean.

“You should care about the team, because we care about you.”

Park Moondae was trying to say that they were worried about both the team and Cha Eugene in a roundabout way, but Eugene only understood the latter and nodded right away.

He’s worried about me. It was a useful linguistic misunderstanding.

“And the production team… probably just wants to show the public that we go through hard times as well. Everyone has already seen how successful and amazing we are.” Moondae slowly steered the conversation in a different direction. “Everyone feels pain, and sometimes seeing it in someone else makes them feel a connection. It also makes someone seem more real.”

Eugene respected his intelligent team member and hung to his every word. Moondae’s words also showed that he respected Eugene in return.

“But we can’t be forced to show everyone our pain if we don’t want to.”

This was the answer.

“Right.” Eugene growled in English, “And they’re all damned liars.”

“Liars?”

“I was very clear with them in the first interview that I didn’t want to answer any questions regarding injuries, pain, or personal affairs. I told them to ask the agency about those things, not me!”

“Hmm…”

“They nodded and told me they’d be careful, but you saw what they did!”

“Yes, I did.”

Eugene had seen them doing their best to capture the unpleasant or painful side of the job, and trying to record him showing discomfort. Then there was the way they talked about the accident without end.

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, sorry about that. We’ll be careful.”

The production team always promised to be careful, but then attempted to ask similar questions whenever they saw an opening. This showed the lack of respect they had for him.

“They did the same thing so many times! Over ten times!”

Moondae regarded him silently. It was nasty of them to have switched targets after Eugene had grown upset with them.

“Eugene has recovered very quickly… Tell me, was there anything in the accident prior—”

They had clearly had every intention of asking Park Moondae about the time that he had been in a coma.

How can they ask someone mid-way through performing a concert about something like that without asking for permission first? It was rude in the extreme.

“They were being so rude. They made a mistake. And I stopped them from carrying on with it.” Eugene reverted to Korean to emphasize what he was saying.

Moondae, on the other hand, seemed to be lost in thought. He answered before long, however. It was exactly what Eugene had been waiting to hear.

“You’re right.”

“…!”

Yes!

“Good. I understand now.” Moondae concluded simply, “We’ll go insist on an apology from them. They’re obviously in the wrong.”

“Yes!”

Eugene raised his hand for a fist bump, followed by a handshake. Moondae didn’t see why this was necessary, but he went along with it, anyway.

Now this is what’s great about being on a team! Eugene laughed cheerfully, flourishing his hand in the air. There was something to be done first, however.

“I need to finish my ice cream,” he said.

“Yeah. Eat up.”

Eugene spent the morning relaxing on the beach with Moondae. It was quite a pleasant way to spend his day off.

***

“Let’s get pizza! The pizza here is good!”

“All right.”

Eugene had recovered fully by the time the sun was high in the sky. He’d been talking about pizza for the duration of their trip back to the hotel, so we bought some.

I guess that’s done with. I’d decided to let him do whatever he wanted today, no matter how absurd. He didn’t need to lose any weight, either, so a little pizza wouldn’t hurt.

“Eighty-nine dollars,” the cashier said.

“Here you are,” I answered.

As I paid for the pizzas, I mentally made a summary of the situation at hand. As expected, Eugene had spilled everything that had happened after I fed him something sweet on the beach.

No wonder he was so angry. Based on what I’d heard, the production team had been even ruder to him than they’d been with me. They’d obviously tried harder to annoy him, and their reason for doing so was easy enough to guess.

They probably did it because Eugene seemed to be the most open in personality. He appeared to be the most straightforward and honest one in our group, which probably aligned nicely with their goal of drawing out the nasty stuff. And then they’d pushed him to get footage they could use for the documentary.

Come on… I remembered something I’d heard in a photography professor’s general class at university.

He said when it comes to taking pictures of people, it was best to take them first, then ask for permission after. The reasoning was that the best opportunities for a great photo would vanish if one tried to stop and ask for permission. Perhaps the reason I remembered this so clearly was because there had been controversy regarding this statement on the university community site afterward.

In any case, if this belief wasn’t widespread in this industry, then we’d simply had bad luck landing with this particular production team. They didn’t seem to know when to stop.

It’s about time we drew a line in the sand.

Walking with great excitement, boxes of pizza in hand, Eugene said, “Moondae! I have a question. How are we going to talk to them?”

“We don’t have to say anything to them,” I said casually.

“The agency will handle it. All you have to do is stand by and wait for an apology.”

The things he’d told me suggested there were many ways we could turn the tables on the production team.

“You go on up and eat. I need to make a phone call,” I said.

“Got it!”

I called the agency as soon as we arrived back at the hotel. After the recent deal, the employees in the management office had been replaced with slightly more responsive staff. We didn’t need to get involved in this ourselves or worry about the damage that could be done to our reputation.

“Hello… Yes. You heard that I found Eugene, right?”

“Yes! We were informed of your location.”

“All right. So there are a few things that Eugene told me that I wanted to let you know.” I neatly summarized what Eugene had told me on the beach, focusing on what I felt was the most important aspect. “…is what they’re doing. The production team isn’t supposed to be doing that, are they?”

“Ah…” The manager’s tone had changed slightly. “I understand what you’re saying.”

There was an oddly confident note to his voice now.

I finally feel like I have an agency at my back. Until now, I’d been of the opinion that perhaps Chungwoo needed to be paid extra since he was doing all the work of a manager, too, so this was a welcome change.

I wrapped up the call and went upstairs. As soon as I arrived at Eugene’s room to check on him and get some pizza for myself, the members waved at me, all holding slices of pizza in their hands.

“Moondae!”

“Welcome, Moondae!”

It seemed they’d been waiting in Eugene’s room so they could catch him when he returned.

“Over here!” Eugene called to me from where he was sitting in the center of everyone. He seemed to be in a fantastic mood. It seemed he’d already filled them in to some extent, and the air had cleared. If they needed an interpreter, Ahyeon had probably played the role adequately.

“W-we left you some pizza here, Moondae!” Ahyeon said.

“Oh. Thanks.” I sat down between the members, who were gesturing at me over-enthusiastically. “Did you guys talk it out?”

“Of course we did! Aww, Eugene, you were hurt because I didn’t even ask you what was going on before telling you to apologize?” Big Sejin said.

“Yes!”

“That’s because it would have been disastrous if you didn’t. I’m on your side, Eugene! That’s a no-brainer.”

“It’s fine! I didn’t discuss it with you guys, either. Sorry about that”

“Yeah! I’m sure we’ll handle this better next time!”

The members quickly reached an amicable solution in no time at all. Bae Sejin seemed uncertain whether the matter should be closed so quickly, but he gave up quickly and focused on his pizza. Raebin was the only one who still wore a grave look on his face.

“Eugene, from now on, you need to tell us before you go somewhere. Even if you’re having an off day, we’re in the middle of official business, so it’s best we be careful.”

“Hmm, okay!”

“Right.”

Raebin seemed taken aback by the easy agreement for a moment, but eventually smiled to himself as if proud of the result.

You two are getting along well these days, huh? Chungwoo, however, seemed lost in thought as he watched the scene.

Hmm. His expression seemed comfortable enough though, so I supposed it was nothing serious. Some really serious consequences were about to befall the production team before long.

I’m looking forward to it. I tried to picture what would happen as I ate my pizza.

That evening, just before a group interview with the team was scheduled, we overheard the agency and the production team talking in the next room.

“We’ve confirmed that you completely broke the agreement,” someone from the agency was saying.

“Wait. There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“No. It’s all too clear to us that it’s anything but. We laid down the rules about all of this at the very beginning.”

“Look, you don’t need to be so strict about the filming process—”

“That’s not what this is. The artists themselves told you over and over to come to us. It’s all been recorded. Let’s take a look at the footage.”

“…!”

This was precisely our problem. Eugene had already told them they needed to talk to the agency, and multiple times at that. The artist had refused to speak about a topic and directed them to speak to the agency, but they’d ignored him. This was a breach of contract, since there was a clause relevant to this included.

[Should A make a request during the filming regarding sensitive content, B shall discuss the appropriateness of the content anew.]

There was even a compensation clause included in the event of a breach. Our agency was backed by T1, and a firm statement from them would be enough to leave the production team quaking in their boots—they weren’t a major broadcast station, after all.

The other member who’d been listening in alongside me patted me on the shoulder.

“Smart, Moondae,” Big Sejin said.

“It was nothing,” I said, shrugging.

Now all we needed to do was have the footage deleted by threatening to simply call off the documentary deal if they didn’t agree.

“Yes. We would like you to do that, please.”

The threat seemed to have worked. The production team came to Eugene with an apology that sounded more like they were making excuses before we started filming.

“We’re very sorry if you were distressed.”

They claimed they weren’t trying to gather footage so they could edit things maliciously, and that they were just trying to make better, more honest content.

“Okay! But I’m the one being filmed. Please respect my wishes.”

The matter didn’t become any more serious, since Cha Eugene didn’t have anything more to say, but the production team started being more careful. It was a win for all of the members.

Good. I quickly prevented Eugene from trying to give me a thumbs-up. Filming for the documentary from then on focused more on TeSTAR’s professionalism as a group.

When the interview was over and night fell, we left our separate rooms and gathered in a single large hotel room.

“It’s so big!”

“This place is so nice. Are you paying for it, Chungwoo?”

“Uh, just for today,” Chungwoo said, closing the door. It had been his idea.

“The agency will be handling the costs from now on.”

“From now… on?”

What does that mean?

“Yes. I thought we could spend at least one day every week like this during our tour, in a single room. What do you guys think?”

He seemed pretty serious as he said this.

“I’ve given this some thought. We keep to our separate rooms and hardly do anything outside of our concerts. We don’t get to talk as much.”

“That’s… true.”

All of the members who had been staying in their own rooms for the past few weeks stared at Chungwoo.

“I think the recent incident with Eugene got more complicated partly for that reason. We didn’t have the opportunity to find out how everyone was feeling.” He smiled and concluded, “I think it would be nice if we had time to talk, so we know what’s going through each other’s heads. That’s my suggestion, anyway.”

It was clear what he was saying came from the heart, and some of the members seemed very touched.

“Chungwoo…”

“This is so touching!”

“I-I like this idea!”

“Uh… I don’t mind… if it’s just a day.”

Even Bae Sejin agreed. He’d been ecstatic at the prospect of having a room to himself, so this was basically a unanimous vote in favor.

“What about you, Moondae?”

“Sounds great,” I said.

It was a good call, since it would put a stop to any unpredictable outbursts. Though I nodded willingly, I suddenly realized what this would entail.

Wait, though he phrased it real nicely… This means we basically have a team workshop once a week. We could check in with each other just to make sure nobody was getting any strange ideas and talk about the album, promotions, the concert, and so on.

Actually, never mind. The members were already sprawled out on the floor.

“Our teamwork is the best. I’m so moved,” Eugene was saying.

“I think we should bring a beam projector next time,” Kim Raebin said.

“Why don’t we order room service? Let’s play a card game while we eat!”

I realized we’d come too far together to treat one another simply as coworkers.

This isn’t really work, is it? It feels more like a frat house. I lay back on the sofa and admitted silently to myself that I was too close to them now to think of this as a workshop.

In fact, that’s an understatement. I couldn’t deny that even though I was surrounded by so many people, I was pretty comfortable. Relaxing, I thought to myself, I suppose we can focus just on the tour for the time being.

There remained something I was overlooking, however. While the sensitive footage of Eugene had been removed thanks to the agency’s forcefulness, the rest was shown as-is, without any corrections requested. There would be repercussions after people were shown the “perfectionist idols trying their best to overcome the aftermath of the accident,” and they were just around the corner.