The Beginning of the Rebound

‘That’s right. Soloists often split their studio albums into parts for their promotions.’

In the current idol-dominated music industry, solo artists naturally faced higher risks relative to the investment required. Releasing a full album all at once was a heavy burden, so to minimize risk while maximizing public exposure, many chose to split one album into multiple promotional phases.

“I don’t think an idol group has ever done a full album like that, but… it might work? That way, we could delay some of the production work. People might complain that we’re just trying to sell more albums, but in this situation, it’s a good solution.”

“Are you really going to propose that?”

Ha-neul blinked as she watched her boyfriend take her casual suggestion so seriously. She hadn’t imagined Yong-ha was already calculating the possibilities in his head.

‘If we split it into two parts, there might even be a chance for Ji-ho to join halfway through.’

Yong-ha didn’t have the confidence to convince the A&R Team—who had been treating Ji-ho like a ghost throughout the album preparations—but that was a problem for the Business Team to solve. Yu-jin, who had fought until the end to reverse Ji-ho’s hiatus, would surely back Yong-ha’s argument.

‘See that, Jung Ji-ho? This Hyung had a plan all along. Am I not a manager who looks out for his members after all?’

Yong-ha recalled his long-forgotten resolution to be a friendly manager who cared for his artists, just like his mentor, CEO Hyeong-jun. Thinking that he had found a way to help Ji-ho, the crumbs of guilt that had been weighing on his heart seemed to dissipate.

“Excuse me, the Management Team has a proposal to make.”

Enthralled by his role as the dedicated manager protecting an estranged member, Yong-ha addressed the staff with a surge of motivation he hadn’t felt in a long time.

*************************************************

After receiving permission from Ji-ho to stay at his family home for a few days, Jae-in immediately unpacked. His proactive attitude made it look like he was planning to move in permanently.

And Jae-in, who claimed he had always wanted to try countryside living after watching variety shows, naturally—

“B-Bug! Ji-ho Hyung! A weird bug came out! Agh, it’s coming toward me! Why is it so big?!”

—found it difficult to actually adapt to real-life country living.

As the sun began to set, Ji-ho watched Jae-in with an exasperated expression. The boy had already slept there for four nights, yet he was still screaming at insects. While Ji-ho didn’t blame him for being scared of bugs, he found it truly questionable that Jae-in kept wandering outside instead of staying in the relatively safe room behind the screen door.

Especially when he was throwing a fit over a bug on the dirt path.

“It’s just a rhinoceros beetle. People keep those as pets; they were a huge trend a while back. Usually, even little kids think they’re cool.”

“Are you seriously comparing me to little kids? I’ve seen them on MeTube, but they look so gross in real life! Ugh, Hyung, what are you doing? Catch it, quick!”

“Catch it? This is his territory, and you’re the one trespassing. Just walk around him.”

“I’m scared he’s going to chase me!”

Ji-ho understood that Jae-in, a city boy born and raised in Seoul, would find many things uncomfortable in a rural village.

As just noted, he was constantly terrified of all sorts of insects, and because the electric water heater was old, getting a warm shower was a struggle. Putting aside Wi-Fi, even mobile data would cut out, and since Ji-ho didn’t have a car, even a trip to the corner store required a long walk. There was a cattle shed near the village, so depending on the wind, they had to deal with the smell of manure, and the atmosphere turned eerie once all the lights were turned off at night.

“Hyung, hurry, hurry! I wanted to pick lettuce myself today. But I can’t go into the garden because of him.”

The problem was that despite these hardships, Jae-in’s curiosity about country life never faded.

“Why are you even trying to pick lettuce?”

“You know I can’t eat meat without wraps.”

“It’s not that… even if you’re in an off-period, shouldn’t you be managing your weight? I feel like we’ve eaten way too much over the last four days.”

“It’s not like I have any schedules coming up, so can’t I gain a little weight? Besides, you’ve been making me train all day saying I’ll lose my edge if I rest. I must have burned an insane amount of calories today. What about the pork we bought yesterday? We agreed to make suyuk (boiled pork). Please? Hyuuung.”

Furthermore, perhaps due to the influence of media, Jae-in was obsessed with the formula that “countryside equals delicious food,” constantly starting new culinary projects.

Ji-ho recalled the dynamic food challenges Jae-in had attempted since the day he arrived.

On the first day, Jae-in asked if it was possible to grill meat on a real cauldron lid, leading Ji-ho to borrow a lid-shaped cast-iron griddle from the village leader’s house. The next day, Jae-in found a video on how to make handmade noodles, but because he added too much water to the dough, they ended up eating kal-guksu with broken noodles.

He even suggested the nonsense of baking bread in a brick oven—heaven knows what kind of variety shows he’s been watching. Yesterday, when Jae-in said he was curious about how to catch a chicken, a horrified Ji-ho calmed his curiosity by making egg soup using the fertilized eggs he had received from the lady at the weekend farm.

What was most absurd was that they cooked all this food using a fire pit they built in the yard on Jae-in’s first day, despite having a perfectly functional gas stove in the kitchen connected to LPG.

“How can you give up so easily? You posted the photos we took, and the reaction to the livestream yesterday seemed good. You might get a schedule and have to go back up soon. You have to be prepared.”

“You’re as diligent as ever, Hyung. And stiff, too. Well, even back then, you were the pickiest one after Se-han Hyung.”

Jae-in’s mumbling wasn’t the snark he used to throw whenever they met during promotions. It was closer to a friendly exchange of shared memories.

“And you were never good at managing your diet back then either. Remember the day I caught you and Choi Go-hun sneaking out to a Chinese restaurant?”

“Agh, you still remember that? I really, really wanted jajangmyeon back then. I had held back for so long until the weigh-in day…”

“It was the day before the weigh-in, and you guys had even ordered sweet and sour pork and fried dumplings.”

“Why do you remember it in such detail! Seriously, I’ve felt this for a long time, but your memory is insane, Hyung.”

Though Jae-in, who had unilaterally pushed Ji-ho away, had offered a sincere apology and Ji-ho had accepted it, it wasn’t easy for a relationship that had been distant for three long years to return to normal instantly. Sometimes an awkward silence would hang between them, and they would feel like strangers as they noticed how much the other had changed.

“Pwahaha! And then Noah Hyung got so pissed he kicked Lee Ha-un out. He sought refuge at the studio apartment we were staying in. What else happened then? There was something else…”

“Ha-un knocked over the clothes rack while he was sleeping and got buried under it.”

“That’s right! That was so funny. He was screaming, asking if a burglar had broken in.”

“But aside from that, there were more ‘accidents’ caused by you than by Ha-un. Maybe it’s because he was compared to you, but Ha-un seemed more mature back then. Even though his physique is much more mature now.”

“Seriously, I got so many goosebumps watching Lee Ha-un as a music show MC. He was totally acting like the youngest, acting all cute. Sometimes I feel like he’s trying to copy the old me.”

However, the feeling of the other being a stranger vanished quickly whenever they talked about the old days. Recalling memories and sharing the emotions they felt back then was the best way to bridge the distance.

Furthermore, as they caught up on all the news they hadn’t shared, they never ran out of topics. As colleagues in the same industry, there was plenty of information to exchange.

“…So, the CEO has a lot of money, but in return, his word is absolute within the agency. I found out later that was why he scouted me—I was a ‘CEO pick.’ He likes the ‘Refreshing Idol’ concept, so even though the concept is super cringey, he never lets us change it. Pentagram’s new concept is actually pretty cool, though.”

“I think your group’s style looks good, too. It’s a concept you can’t really do once you get older. It suits you well. Didn’t your debut album do well, even if this last promotion ended early?”

“Hmph, you’re always just complimenting me. Oh, right. Where is your dorm, Hyung?”

“Huh? The dorm? Oh, it’s the same place. It’s much better than the debut days. Back then, we lived split between a one-bedroom and a two-bedroom apartment.”

“Didn’t you guys climb the charts and sell a lot of copies of this album? It’s a bit much that you’re still in a regular apartment.”

The conversation that had started with a rhinoceros beetle eventually reached heavier topics.

“Our agency’s media play makes it sound like they have a hands-off approach, but in reality, it’s completely suffocating. They only communicate through the one Upstar group account. Prohibiting personal phones is part of the contract until we hit number one on the charts.”

“I heard the trend these days is to get rid of those conditions; that must be frustrating. Then how do you use Balloon?”

“On a shared tablet. But only when the manager is there. Isn’t censoring Balloon a bit much?”

“Ugh, that is a bit extreme.”

“Right? Star Ent was great in that regard. Looking at Ha-un Hyung, he seems to use Upstar however he wants.”

“Our SNS was supposed to be managed by the company now too… did they not change it yet?”

“What? Hyung, you really are living completely cut off from the world, aren’t you? I knew it when you said you didn’t have a phone, but… ugh, I could never do that, it’s so stifling. You’re amazing.”

“I thought it would be better that way. I told you.”

“…The psychiatrist recommended you do that, right? I don’t not understand. Look at me. I could just not look at the internet, but here I am, still glued to my phone even after coming all the way down here.”

Neither of them showed any sign of wanting to avoid the other or stop talking. Even though they had drifted apart, even though it was occasionally awkward, and even though they had changed from who they used to be, the common ground between them quickly bound them together.

Because of that, four days were more than enough for them to become close again.

And that was also when Jae-in’s misfortune began to fade.