Second Try Idol - Chapter 173: Joy (10)

As soon as the Graduating shoot wrapped up and we got into the car, Goh Yoo-Joon was out like a light. Through the rearview mirror, I noticed our manager catching sight of Goh Yoo-Joon’s peaceful slumber before his gaze shifted toward me.

“Hyun-Woo, aren’t you planning on catching some sleep as well?”

To acknowledge his question, I gave him a small nod and answered, “Sleep vanished during the shooting period. But what about you? Don’t you ever feel worn out?”

Throughout our rehearsals and shoots, we could snatch brief periods of rest here and there, but our manager consistently kept pace with us, vigilantly overseeing our every move without a hint of fatigue. Even today, he had been by the director’s side during our interviews for the sixth period of the shoot, attentively monitoring every moment.

The worries about whether our comeback would succeed and when our manager actually found time to rest had become a recurring theme among us. He rarely took a moment off for himself, so we were really concerned about his well-being. Like usual, he casually shrugged off any implications of tiredness with a simple nod.

“I’m not tired at all.” He assured me with a serene expression that belied the hectic pace of our schedule.

Too tired to argue, I accepted his reassurance with a nod, my thoughts drifting as I gazed out the window. The world outside passed by in a blur. After that, I tried to steer the conversation toward something that had been on my mind. “I had a brief chat with Kun-Ho during PE class.”

“I noticed,” he replied, his tone noncommittal.

“In passing, he mentioned something funny… Is there something we haven’t been briefed on yet? Something work-related?” I asked.

“Something you haven’t been informed about?”

“Yes, about our work.”

I couldn’t deduce much from Kun-Ho’s cryptic remarks. However, his comment of “you haven’t heard the story yet” hinted at impending news destined to reach us.

After a brief pause, the manager glanced at me through the rearview mirror before softly confirming. “There is.”

“Oh?” My interest was piqued.

“It’s about an event scheduled after the inauguration ceremony. We planned to discuss it with you later, given the current demands on your schedule.”

It was clear that the agency was being considerate and mindful of our status as newcomers in the industry, so they didn’t want to overwhelm us with too much information. After all, we were already juggling a lot of stuff: from comeback preparations, variety show appearances, and the impending inauguration ceremony. Adding more to our plate would just overwhelm us, especially for Joo-Han, our diligent leader.

“Is it something significant?”

“It’s definitely important, at least to all of you. Would you like me to share it now?” He offered, his tone suggesting it was more out of courtesy than a necessity to keep it under wraps.

I immediately nodded as I was eager to know.

“Yes, please do share,” I urged, believing that being forewarned was being forearmed, no matter how much more there was to manage.

“It’s regarding your schedule after the second album and the inauguration ceremony. All of you have received an invitation to appear on Again After Rainfall Season Two, whichwill involve performing a number of songs and stages with other idols and singers.”

“…We are set to appear on Again After Rainfall Season Two?” I asked, as I could hardly believe my ears.

“Yes, we are still working on the details, but your participation is confirmed.”

“…Incredible.” I was momentarily stunned. Somehow, we were slated to feature on one of South Korea’s most esteemed sentimental variety shows, which was renowned for catapulting its relatively unknown cast members into the limelight.

It seemed Chronos’s trajectory was set for a significant shift.

In my previous life, even after Joo-Han’s compositions topped the Billboard K-POP charts and Jin-Sung made his mark on variety shows, Chronos had never secured a seasonal variety show centered around music that was specifically tailored for them. Their fixed appearances on variety shows were predominantly on entertainment programs.

This development signified a substantial change in our agency’s promotional strategy and the broadcasting industry’s perception of our group.

The manager must have mistaken my silence for shock and glanced back at me once more. “It is still quite far away, so for now, please concentrate on your comeback and the inauguration ceremony.”

“Understood… I will keep this to myself for the time being,” I said, not wanting to overburden the others with this news, especially Joo-Han.

“Yes, just keep it to yourself for now, Hyun-Woo. I will let the others know when things are less hectic.”

As the manager uttered these words, the car smoothly rolled into the parking lot of the practice studio and came to a gentle stop. Then, the manager’s phone rang with a tone that signaled the end of our peaceful ride.

“Wake Yoo-Joon up and head up first. The rest of the members are probably deep in practice by now.”

“Alright.” With a nod, I watched as he grabbed his phone and stepped out of the car, leaving me to rouse Goh Yoo-Joon from his sleep.

“Hey,” I called out, playfully tapping his thigh with just enough force to jolt him awake. Goh Yoo-Joon’s eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and groggy, fixing me with a glare that was more amusing than intimidating. I couldn’t resist giving him another playful whack.

Smack.

“Ow, why?” he groaned.

“We are here. Time to get moving,” I announced, as I stepped out of the car and stretched my limbs, feeling the stiffness of the long ride start to dissipate.

The day’s agenda was clear in my mind. I had to focus on perfecting my vocals, especially the high notes that Kun-Ho had pointed out as being particularly unstable during live performances. I was determined to tackle that challenge head-on today.

***

“Ah!”

The sudden exclamation was followed by a flurry of apologies from Jin-Sung/ “Sorry, sorry! Are you okay? I really didn’t mean to!”

“It’s fine, really,” I reassured him, brushing off the minor mishap.

We were practicing a segment of our routine where, as I leaned forward, Jin-Sung would gracefully leap over me. Although my back wasn’t injured anymore, we still approached the move with caution, opting for a simulated run-through rather than fully committing to avoid any potential injuries.

However, as we went for the real deal today, Jin-Sung’s hesitation led to a misstep. This resulted in him kicking my backside instead of clearing it.

“Ahahaha! Hyun-Woo got kicked right in the butt!” Goh Yoo-Joon, far from being concerned, burst into laughter at the scene.

I shot him a look before turning to soothe an overly worried Jin-Sung. “It’s okay, Jin-Sung. I’m not hurt, and I can definitely handle your weight. Just go for it next time.”

“But what if I end up breaking you or something?”

“…” He must have seen himself as some kind of muscle-bound hero amongst us—the supposedly frail members.

Joo-Han, who had been watching the rehearsal intently, finally spoke up, “Jin-Sung, half-hearted attempts are more dangerous. Have the courage to jump fully.”

“Got it!” Jin-Sung directly nodded, his usual stubbornness replaced by compliance, likely due to Joo-Han’s visibly fed-up demeanor regarding injuries.

“Also, if you feel like you are going to make mistakes again on the stage, talk to Hyun-Woo and change the moves.”

“…”

“Why are you not responding?”

“Oh… okay!”

“Let’s get our heads in the game and try this again,” Joo-Han commanded, and we all realigned for another run-through.

Just as we were getting back into formation, the manager checked the time and announced, “Let’s run through it one last time before we call it a day.”

“Already?” Yoon-Chan sounded surprised.

It was only 9 PM, long before our usual stretches until the early hours of 2 AM. Indeed, a mere two hours of practice seemed almost too brief, but the manager sounded resolute. “Wrap up everything by 10 PM at the latest. We need to be in top form for the music video shoot tomorrow.”

“How about till 11 PM then—”

“That won’t do. Let’s start the music,” the manager interjected, decisively shutting down any further negotiation by hitting play on the track.

I had plans to meet with Kun-Ho at the company later, and Joo-Han was likely to dive straight into working on a song for the inauguration ceremony as soon as we got back. Given everyone’s after-practice routines, like showers and ice baths, the manager’s schedule made sense if we had to go to bed by 11 PM.

The final run-through went smoothly, with Jin-Sung jumping over my back without a hitch. We wrapped up practice without any further incidents.

***

“That’s pretty impressive. Not so much talent, I guess… but you’ve clearly put in a lot of effort. It took you six tries before you hit a sour note,” Kun-Ho commented.

“Thank you, Senior!” I was grateful yet amused by the situation.

In school, Kun-Ho seemed like just another senior, but here at the company, he couldn’t shake off the aura of being a teacher as he was dressed in our school-like attire.

It was an ironic twist. It seemed Kun-Ho was still getting used to seeing me in a professional setting, treating me more like a student than a colleague.

“I really appreciate juniors like you, Hyun-Woo. You might look like a genius on the outside, but it’s the hard work that truly sets you apart.” As he mentioned this, his eyes reflected genuine respect.

“All the members are so talented. If I don’t keep up, I will fall behind quickly,” I replied as I acknowledged the high bar set by my peers.

“Exactly. To keep up, let’s maintain our rhythm and give it another go,” he suggested, and I found myself nodding in agreement, ready to dive back into the grind.

I resumed by diving straight into hitting all the notes up to the high point. This was a new approach for me. Kun-Ho offered me a kind of guidance that I hadn’t received from my usual trainers. It was practical and tailored to the realities of performing live.

“I usually reserve these tips for our students, but you’re so earnest, so I can’t help but share them,” he said, his tone warm.

His teaching was a departure from what I was accustomed to, filled with insider tips that only someone with an idol background could provide. It wasn’t just about singing well but to make it look effortless. Kun-Ho likened it to smartly navigating the stage, a skill as crucial as any vocal technique.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, it was past the 11 PM mark we had agreed upon with the manager.

“If you want a long career in music, you’ve got to learn to use your voice flexibly,” Kun-Ho advised, signaling the end of our session.

“Thank you, Senior. I really appreciate this.” I expressed my gratitude, genuinely moved by his willingness to help.

“We will leave it here for today. You’ve got a great voice. Don’t be a stranger, and come by anytime. I’d be happy to help you hone it further.”

“I’m grateful, but I worry about imposing on your busy schedule.” I hesitated, not wanting to overstep.

Kun-Ho brushed off my concerns with a wave of his hand and revealed a secret. “Actually, my girlfriend is a big fan of your voice. She asked me to look out for you, so consider this me fulfilling a promise.”

“Your girlfriend? I… What do you mean she asked you to do this?” I asked, puzzled by this new piece of information.

Kun-Ho didn’t clarify, instead, he swiftly changed the subject and ushered me out, leaving me with a swirl of unanswered questions. Each encounter with him seemed to deepen the enigma surrounding him.

As I stepped out of the company building, I was greeted by the manager’s icy stare, a silent reprimand for the late hour. I sheepishly lowered my gaze and quietly got into the car. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, feeling the weight of his unspoken disappointment.

“Just remember. If you doze off during the music video shoot and show up on camera with a puffy face, don’t expect any sympathy from me,” the manager warned half-jokingly before ensuring I was safely tucked into bed, ready for the big day ahead.

With the music video shoot looming, I prayed for a smooth day—free from the manager’s scolding and full of perfect takes—as I drifted off to sleep.