Chapter 80
When Taeri came out of the interview booth with a stern face, Juha approached with surprised rabbit eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Worry was plastered all over Juha’s face. He hadn’t meant to make him worry like this. Still, seeing Juha’s face made his depressed heart feel much lighter.
“Ah, um… Yeah…”
Taeri answered awkwardly, pretending to be fine.
The team members gathered together and watched Taeri and Juha approaching. Since they didn’t know Taeri’s family situation, they seemed to consider volunteering at Semun Hospital a huge advantage.
“Should I ask the production staff to arrange a different hospital? If we say it could cause unfairness issues doing it at your hospital, they might take that into consideration.”
At Juha’s words, thinking only of Taeri, Taeri unconsciously let out a dry laugh.
“It’s already all settled. Don’t bother.”
“Still.”
When Juha couldn’t settle down, Taeri stopped walking.
“Lee Juha, if I drop out because of this, how happy would my father be? My father is someone who would drag me off stage saying it’s embarrassing if I performed at Semun Hospital.”
“Then what do we do?”
Juha looked up at Taeri blankly like a rabbit with drooping ears.
“We have to do it. I’m on the same team as Lee Juha. Let’s go, the kids are waiting.”
Taeri walked ahead toward the team members. Choi Musin, Baek Cheonsan, and Go Suhyeok, who weren’t yet close with Taeri, watched him with expectant eyes.
Nam Suchang started talking loudly as if telling them to focus on him.
“Hyung went to Semun Central Hospital before, and it was huge, right? Which ward are we performing in?”
Nam Suchang deliberately used ‘hyung’ instead of just referring to himself as ‘I,’ showing that he was the eldest.
“There seemed to be three or four buildings.”
Choi Musin added to Nam Suchang’s question.
Everyone’s attention was focused on Taeri. Semun Medical Foundation operates 7 hospitals nationwide, and among them, Semun Central Hospital is the largest. With a large main building and 4 annexes, they said people could get lost if they went there without knowing, so everyone seemed nervous.
“We’ll probably do it in the main building. The main building of Semun Hospital has a square structure, and there’s a stage in the middle of the first-floor lobby, so we’ll likely do it there.”
“Ah, there’s a separate performance stage. Taeri would know better than hyung. What’s the stage like?”
Nam Suchang spoke as if he was giving Taeri the floor.
“Since many teams come to do performance volunteer work originally, you don’t need to feel too burdened. The stage is bigger and sturdier than you’d think.”
Taeri spoke matter-of-factly. While listening to the answer, Juha glanced over at other teams’ situations. The team that chose the military base looked surprisingly peaceful. Looking closely, the leadership of that team’s meeting wasn’t with team leader Kim Namhong but with Yeom Sangyeop.
‘They’ll do well.’
Juha smiled seeing reserve soldier Yeom Sangyeop passionately leading the discussion while boosting his teammates’ fallen morale.
“First, let’s think about what we should focus on. Hyung thinks we should bring the original song’s atmosphere as much as possible…”
Clearly Taeri was the team leader, but Nam Suchang, being the eldest and experienced, kept leading the conversation. Everyone didn’t particularly complain, but Juha was annoyed by Nam Suchang’s attitude. For some unknown reason, there was a strange self-righteousness buried in his speech pattern of putting ‘hyung’ at the beginning of every sentence.
None of the team members could easily come up with ideas. Though the hospital seemed easy at first glance, the biggest problem was that the target audience wasn’t specified. Other teams had specific targets from children to youth to elderly, so they could tailor their stage to those targets. But hospitals were places where truly ‘general public’ gathered regardless of gender, age, occupation, or background.
Moreover, how many people would gather was also a problem. If it was a large hospital main building, it would be a place with considerable foot traffic. Like a subway station, they had to keep people passing by in their seats. Plus, there would be more people with difficult and upsetting situations than those coming for happy reasons, so assimilating those people’s emotions was a big key to the hospital mission.
“First, I think who we target will be most important!”
When no one spoke, Choi Musin stepped forward first.
“That’s obviously important. What hyung is asking is who we should target. Other teams can gather people, but it’s important that we make people gather.”
Again, again. Nam Suchang’s annoying speech pattern strangely grated on Juha.
“If we show them preparing, won’t people get curious and gather? We’re somewhat known now too.”
“Being too noisy in a hospital wouldn’t be polite either…”
Choi Musin and Go Suhyeok exchanged a few words. Jo Munseok, who was originally quiet, just listened silently, and Baek Cheonsan was also quiet, still figuring out the atmosphere.
“It won’t be like that. The main building lobby has so many people passing through that there’s actually a lot of noise. It’s not an atmosphere where people would complain that young boys coming to bring vitality to the hospital are noisy.”
Taeri calmly answered their questions.
In the ongoing conversation, Juha considered the given mission one by one. The reason the production staff put forward this mission under the pretext of ‘volunteer work’ was simple. In short, go out and promote. The evidence was limiting the song to only ‘My Job is Idol’ and no other songs. They even said costumes must be the “My Idol” uniform school uniforms.
There was no reason for elderly people or soldiers to like the song ‘My Job is Idol.’ But choosing this song was not for the listeners but for promotion. Plus filming scenes of trainees struggling hard while doing ‘good work.’
As episodes progressed, the production staff’s schemes were becoming tongue-wagging.
It was fortunate they didn’t blatantly ask them to bring back sponsorship money.
Excluding the fact that it was Taeri’s family hospital, ‘hospital’ as a venue had quite a few advantages, but the problem was song selection. “My Job is Idol” was choreography for group formations dancing the same dance in lines. If they presented this song as is, it could really look like a talent show.
The camera director who had been filming the next team moved positions and now filmed Juha’s team.
‘It’s not an atmosphere where people would complain that young boys coming to bring vitality to the hospital are noisy.’
Juha focused on Taeri’s last words.
“Since hospitals are places that need energy, how about a cheering song feel?”
Breaking through the team members’ murmuring discussion, Juha spoke. Then Choi Musin’s eyes sparkled.
“I was actually thinking the same thing!”
At Juha’s words, Choi Musin’s eyes lit up as he spoke.
“Eh, you suddenly?”
Nam Suchang spoke teasingly, but there was a clear nuance of looking down on Choi Musin. Before Juha could speak, he had been in the middle of preaching that they had to preserve the original choreography to properly promote “My Idol” while persuading the young trainees.
So Nam Suchang seemed to think young, low-ranked Choi Musin was ignoring him.
“It, it might be hard to believe, but I really had similar thoughts too.”
Choi Musin’s voice quickly shrank.
“Hiya, in my day, I couldn’t even imagine interrupting when hyung was talking.”
Nam Suchang glanced back and forth between Juha and Musin, speaking sarcastically as if joking. Juha pressed down the surging emotions and spoke with a smile.
“Eh, hyung, I wasn’t like that in my day either. Your company must have been pretty scary.”
To block the ‘back in my day’ attack, Juha threw up a preemptive smokescreen. Nam Suchang had been in this industry for a total of 3 years including trainee and activity periods, but Juha was in his 6th year as a trainee. Though he hadn’t debuted, no matter how much younger Juha was, in terms of years, Nam Suchang couldn’t dismiss him saying ‘back in my day.’
Everyone laughed thinking it was Juha’s light joke, but Nam Suchang’s face stiffened slightly. He wasn’t someone without sense, so he noticed the thorn in Juha’s words.
“Are you and I the same? You’ve only been a trainee the whole time, and I’ve debuted.”
“…”
“…”
At Nam Suchang’s counter-provocation, even the somewhat friendly atmosphere froze. Dismissing Juha with ‘you haven’t even debuted’ was an attack no different from hitting a poisoned arrow into a wounded spot. Juha also acknowledged that Nam Suchang was skilled enough to debut, and that having debuted once versus being only a trainee was a world of difference. However, the moment he uttered those words, Nam Suchang had attacked Juha.
Since the camera director came directly to sketch the team atmosphere, his statement was captured entirely on camera.
“That’s right.”
Juha smiled awkwardly with a bitter smile and lowered his gaze. Since he had already beaten Metabolic, it wasn’t much of a blow to Juha, but it was a measure to plant some guilt in Nam Suchang. It would be even better if public opinion formed to stop him every time Nam Suchang tried to stir things up.
Juha knew well this type of human that inhabited this industry. Even during trainee days, such people were always the problem. Self-esteem thieves who put others down – such people would always say everything they wanted to say then make only the listener seem strange with ‘it’s a joke, just a joke.’ If you let it slide once or twice, at some point they’d make even you think you were strange – the worst kind of human you should never keep around.
When all the team members seemed to sense Juha’s hurt feelings, only then did Nam Suchang seem to realize his mistake.
“Sorry, sorry. Did that hurt your feelings? It’s a joke. Getting upset over something like that.”
“…”
The atmosphere froze once again. When Taeri, who had been lost in other thoughts beside him, suddenly tried to stand up, Juha pulled him back down with effort.
“I’m not upset. So Musin, what were you thinking?”
Juha lightly ignored Nam Suchang’s reaction and asked Choi Musin. Choi Musin, who had been frozen while watching Nam Suchang’s mood, gained strength again from the given speaking opportunity.
“Not many people come to hospitals for good reasons. So, with the exciting feeling like at university festivals or baseball cheering squads.”
“Oh.”
“That’s not bad?”
Everyone reacted positively to Choi Musin’s opinion.
“Isn’t that too tacky?”
Nam Suchang, who had been listening, frowned and grumbled.
‘Here we go again.’
“It’s not tacky. Cheering songs focus on energy.”
Jo Munseok, who had been just listening, bluntly said a word.
“But if it’s a cheering squad, what do we have to do? Hold up surgeries or something?”
Then Nam Suchang continued sarcastically. Since everyone already knew Nam Suchang’s character, there was no particular response.
“I know. I was on the cheering squad at school.”
Then, 17-year-old Baek Cheonsan, who had been quiet for a while, raised his hand.
“What is it?”
Juha and Choi Musin asked simultaneously.
“The life of a cheering squad is ‘sharp angles.'”
Baek Cheonsan emphasized ‘sharp angles’ as he spoke.
“That would be pretty cool?”
Jo Munseok smiled and looked at Baek Cheonsan as if he was cute.
“But aren’t you 17? What cheering squad did you do?”
Nam Suchang spoke to Baek Cheonsan in a talking-down manner.
Ah, but that bastard really. Juha held back the curse that was about to come out by biting his lips.
“School baseball team.”
“Can we trust that?”
“The teacher in charge was a former Y University cheer captain.”
Even at Nam Suchang’s continued annoying remarks, Baek Cheonsan answered steadfastly.
“If it’s a regular stage, the cheering squad concept might be a bit burdensome, but if it’s just once, I think I’d be okay with it.”
When Taeri, who had been silent, stated his opinion, everyone agreed.
“Ah, no matter how I think about it, cheering songs are tacky…”
When Nam Suchang dragged out his words to the end, suddenly Jo Munseok stood up abruptly.
“Hyung, look at me for a moment.”
When Jo Munseok, a former youth taekwondo national team member, glared at him with his presence, Nam Suchang shrank back in fear.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
