Chapter 24

Chapter 24

In the last episode, I took my first step into the entertainment industry, proudly carrying the title of road manager.

Thanks to that, I had to run around most of the venues with my head held high.

Even after becoming a manager beyond just a team leader, I preferred to see faces directly, so whenever it was possible, I visited the sites myself.

During that time, I had the chance to meet a considerable number of celebrities and take a look at their status screens.

However, in the last 10 years, I had only seen three individuals with S-rank vocal potential.

One was a male singer-songwriter lauded as the best vocalist in Korea without question.

Another was a female vocalist known for treating songs not just as music but as a new language.

The final one was an operatic singer who must be mentioned among the Koreans who illuminated the world.

Only one talent capable of carving their name into the world.

A certain talent for inevitable success that shines through all adversity.

That was what S-rank potential signified.

However, among idols, there was not a single one with such S-rank talent.

Perhaps that was to be expected.

The talent required for idols is complex.

First of all, looks must be at least A- level. It’s a baseline that people consider idol-worthy.

Vocals can be masked with technology if you have at least a C+ thanks to advancements in mixing.

But to recruit a friend like that, you must have at least one high-note shuttle in the team.

Dance has to be at least B-level or higher. With synchronized choreography and flashy performances being all the rage, you can’t afford to look like a hole in visibly impactful dance.

These are the minimum conditions I believe in.

There are groups that have debuted without meeting these minimum conditions.

In a time where the pool of trainee talent is shrinking, it’s not easy for a new agency to pick members that meet all those qualifications.

However, it’s not like there haven’t been success stories among those groups.

With a very unique concept or by hitting the lottery of issues, they sometimes manage to make it onto the charts.

But among them, there hasn’t been a case where an individual member has succeeded.

Even if there’s a miraculous breakthrough, to engrave a name in the public mind, one must ultimately meet basic conditions.

Beyond that, when evaluating skills in variety shows, rap, acting, along with personality, will, past experience, charisma, and charm, the requirements for an idol become even more extensive.

Thus, instead of picking specialized talents, it’s closer to selecting a hexagonal all-rounder.

It could be said that it’s not surprising I couldn’t see S-rank potential in idols, including the last episode.

Expecting world-class talent from an all-rounder is just absurd.

That’s why I was utterly shocked by the potential of the part-timer standing before me.

She exceeded my basic minimum requirements while also possessing center-level visuals and S-rank vocals.

This was truly an absurd talent.

It felt like if God were to create a singer, the resulting being would have this kind of potential.

“Customer! Is there something uncomfortable? Should I call an ambulance?”

The part-timer, worried about me staring blankly at the status screen with my mouth agape, was frantically waving her hands in front of me to check if I was conscious.
I was so worried about what I was seeing that I waved my hands in front of her to check her consciousness.

Once I regained my senses, I immediately opened my mouth.

“What’s your name?”

“…My name? It’s Yoo Gaeul!”

Gaeul freely shared her name without any hint of caution.

Before she could start chatting again, I dove straight into the main topic.

“Have you ever thought about becoming an idol?”

“…Huh? An idol?”

I pulled out the business card Cheon Aram had handed me and presented it to Gaeul.

“This is Seon Taeyang, the Team Leader of TwoBear Entertainment.”

The part-time worker studied the simple business card, which only had a name, title, and phone number, as if determined not to miss any of that scant information.

“So you’re the team leader of a planning agency?”

“It’s probably a name you’ve never heard of. It’s a newly established company that hasn’t been around long.”

I began to explain, a result of our attempts to recruit over the past period that had become somewhat formulaic.

“You might feel uneasy about it being a new company, but I assure you, our investment, facilities, and personnel are on par with any larger firm.”

It seemed Cheon Aram was handling the investment and facilities well.

We only had three people, including me, a reincarnator, and Cheon Aram, who had a severe case of human germophobia.

Such a lineup couldn’t be found anywhere else.

I wouldn’t say there was no exaggeration, but everything I said was the truth.

“I saw the talent in you to reach the peak, Gaeul. I sincerely hope you will join us on the journey to become the best idol with TwoBear Entertainment.”

Yoo Gaeul listened to my proposal in silence.

And then, brushing aside her earlier dog-like friendliness, she spoke up.

“Thank you for your kind words! But I don’t find it very convincing.”

In the empty beef soup restaurant where the only person aside from us was the chef, who looked intrigued, Yoo Gaeul continued.

“You only saw me working part-time today, right? That was just a quick order.”

“Gaeul’s right.”

“But what about me made you say I should become an idol? Is it my face?”

She wasn’t unaware of the value of her appearance.

However, it seemed she didn’t quite appreciate the overvaluation.

I began to understand her a bit.

“Is being an idol a light area where you can climb to the peak just by being slightly pretty?”

To call Gaeul’s looks merely “a little pretty” was a severe understatement.

“Gaeul, you are incredibly beautiful. I believe you have the charm to be called everyone’s first love. But that’s not the only reason.”

However, what I needed to discuss wasn’t just about complimenting her looks.

“You love singing, right?”

“…Huh?”

“Not only do you love it, but you also overflow with confidence, to the point where most idols on TV seem lightweight compared to you.”

Gaeul’s mouth moved, her words had difficulty forming at first, but she soon admitted it.

“…Did you feel that talent in me?”

“I sensed talent. But I also felt the time you’ve put in—that is, your effort.”

In her ability stats, the potential for vocals caught my eye with an S rank.

But her current A- level was also something noteworthy.
The ability stats were definitely worth noticing.

Raising a grade classified into three categories: -, 0, + might seem like a trivial numerical difference on the surface, but it was far from that in reality.

A blister burst, leading to another, then a series of wounds healing before new blisters formed and transformed into tough calluses—only through time and effort could one barely elevate from a B to a B+.

Gaeul’s current ability rated at A- was also a testament to the time she had dedicated to her craft.

For someone who wasn’t even a pro, the amount of effort she had to exert to raise her abilities that high could hardly be expressed by the word “tenacity.”

It required more than mere effort.

Perhaps she truly loved singing.

The immense effort it took to reach that realm was perceived as enjoyment.

“Does becoming the team leader of the agency mean you’ll know everything without even listening to the song?”

“Not everyone can know that.”

“…Are you bragging?”

“Please think of it as my self-PR. I really want Gaeul to think highly of me.”

Gaeul smiled, a mix of understanding and bewilderment.

“…I see you’re rating me higher than I imagined. Thank you.”

She nodded politely.

“And I’m really sorry. I don’t think I have time to be an idol.”

Honestly, I expected that response.

But I still wanted to know the reason.

“What’s the reason?”

Gaeul pointed at herself in an apron and replied, “You probably guessed it by seeing how much I’m working part-time, but I need money.”

“If you become an idol, you could earn hundreds of times what you make now through your part-time job.”

In response to my statement, Gaeul smiled weakly.

“That’s only if you succeed.”

I confidently declared, “If Gaeul becomes an idol at TwoBear Entertainment, she will definitely succeed. That’s so obvious, I didn’t think it needed mentioning.”

Gaeul looked at me with vacant eyes.

It was like she was gazing at some strange creature.

Then she covered her mouth and burst into a small laugh.

“Team Leader Seon, you’re really a curious person. Like you said, if we worked together, I feel like it would be reassuring regardless of success or failure.”

“Well then….”

“Still, I don’t think it will work. I need money right now.”

Gaeul expressed a somewhat regretful look as if she felt sad for having to say that.

“I have a rough idea about the settlement system. I’ve heard that to receive proper income as an idol, you need to think in terms of years.”

That was true.

In large agencies like SS, some could receive settlements just a little over a year after achieving dramatic success.

But that was one of the most optimistic cases.

For most small to medium-sized companies, one typically starts getting paid after about 3 to 5 years.

It wasn’t because they failed or were malicious agencies.

Recovering invested costs and turning a profit was not an easy feat.

“Exactly. Even if you’re aiming for a so-called mega-hit in the music charts, you should think in terms of years at the very least.”

“I can’t endure that long.”

….

“I truly appreciate the offer. But I’m thinking of quitting singing too. My life is simply too busy for that.”
“Thank you, but I’m also thinking of giving up on singing. Life is just too busy to worry about that as well.”

“I assume Gaeul has put in an effort and interest in singing that goes beyond just a hobby. Are you sure about this?”

“In the end, my feelings about singing were only to that extent… When life gets busy, it’s that easy to give up.”

Gaeul said giving up was pretty easy.

But that decision probably hadn’t been easy.

“So it might be better for you to find another friend who has the time.”

Gaeul’s determination seemed firm.

Still, I couldn’t help but ask, lingering on my thoughts.

“If you need money, how much do you need?”

She asked with a serious expression.

“How much do you think it costs to raise a middle school kid with dreams of becoming an artist?”

“…I can’t give you a solid answer since I’m not knowledgeable about art entrance exams.”

“I know. I’ve calculated it.”

Gaeul spread her hands and began to fold them down one by one.

“Food expenses, tuition, academy fees, materials, living expenses, applications, tests, hiring models, tuition… Everything combined, even when cutting corners, it comes out to about 100 million won.”

She slightly nodded and said.

“Yes, the money I need is 100 million won.”

That was way too much to declare or give a definite answer about.

So, I couldn’t respond hastily.

Gaeul smiled softly, as if expecting my silence.

“Do you have more to say, Team Leader Seon?”

It felt like a gentle command that suggested I had no more to say on this topic.

But I still had something to say.

“Can I take out two bowls of sundae soup?”

It turned out I got involved in this situation by running an errand to buy sundae soup.

I didn’t forget my original purpose.

“Sundae soup? …Ah.”

Gaeul blushed and lowered her head.

“I’ll get it right away! Customer.”

Watching Gaeul dash into the kitchen, I thought to myself.

It’s a real shame, but I have to give up on that girl.

Even though I had some money saved from my military pay and side jobs, it wasn’t enough.

I cut off my lingering feelings.

At that moment, a quest notification popped up.

[Spending someone else’s money is always fun. Let Cheon Aram pay for the money Gaeul wants!]

[Reward – Memory of Possibilities]

Wow, they really throw this stuff out there.

The wording was nice.

How great would it be to recruit Gaeul without spending my money?

If possible, I wanted to do that too.

The reward was also appealing.

The Memory of Possibilities was a short-term future prediction that shows the most probable future among the circumstances that would happen soon.

It couldn’t show the distant future, but it had a high specificity regarding the future, making it incredibly valuable.

For someone like me, who remembers significant information from regression, it was a better reward than mere fragments of the future.

I couldn’t even foresee the future just an inch ahead.

But I seriously doubted Cheon Aram was going to pay.

Any sane manager wouldn’t invest that much in just one trainee, let alone simply signing a contract.

And Cheon Aram was definitely a sane manager.

…Probably.

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