Episode 30: Kang Hyun-jong, One Box of Soul’s Eye
A lifetime of unpaid labor, organs on the line.
It was, quite literally, an all-in bet with everything I had.
How childish must I seem to CEO Kim?
Like an elementary schooler proclaiming, “I’ll be president someday! If I don’t, I’ll walk on my hands for life!”
The reckless bravado of a greenhorn who knows nothing of the world.
Like a boot camp recruit who thinks training is the whole military experience, convinced that once discharged, they’ll be the perfect son and achieve their dreams sleeping four hours a night.
That kind of vibe.
But he didn’t scoff at my resolve. Instead, he fixed me with a serious stare, his eyes piercing.
For the first time, I felt the charisma of a CEO radiating from him, not just the lightness I’d seen so far.
I shrank under his gaze.
It felt like his eyes were boring through my veins, searching every corner of my being.
I tried to meet his stare to show my conviction wasn’t just youthful bravado, but despite my efforts, my pupils trembled uncontrollably.
He called my name, still locking eyes.
“Hyun-jong.”
“Yes.”
“You know, idol trainees think they’re the best in the world. They grow up hearing, ‘You’re so handsome, so pretty, you’re born to be a star.’ But do you know when they first face a reality check?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s not a test, so relax and think. When do you think?”
“Uh… their first shoot? Or maybe their first audition…”
“Exactly. At auditions. But not the audition itself in front of judges—it’s seeing the other contestants. They thought they were the best, but then they see dozens, hundreds of others just like them. That’s when it hits: ‘I’m a frog In a well.’ And once the audition starts, that despair grows.”
I got what he meant, but what lesson was he trying to impart?
That I’m a frog in a well too?
That he’s seen countless manager wannabes like me who think they can make stars?
Intimidated by his charisma, I waited silently for his next words.
“I’m not saying they’re all flops. Some are exceptional, and even if they look rough now, others show potential. Take our company: GraceOne was built from the top 11 exceptional talents. They’re not perfect in every way, but in their specific skills or talents, they’re born for it.”
“I agree.”
“Free Sense has one top-tier member in her field too.”
“Ah-hyun?”
“Right. What was the name of the show she won?”
“The Singer Junior.”
“Yeah, that. Did you know I scouted Ah-hyun?”
“No, first I’m hearing of it.”
“I knew she’d win ‘The Singer’ the moment I saw her perform. I told Han-yong to contact her, but she went to another company. We’d just gotten funding and registered the corporation, so we had nothing to offer back then.”
“Oh, I see…”
I’d thought all Free Sense members were picked by Jung Han-yong since he pushed for a girl group while Kim wanted a boy group.
There was this behind-the-scenes story.
“We ended up bringing her here. Han-yong and I are opposites in many ways, but one thing we share is possessiveness—once we set our sights on something, we have to have it.”
“So who scouted Seung-ah?”
“Everyone except Ah-hyun was picked by Jung. But there were members who left, right?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t like them from the start. Not about skills or visuals—something about their vibe felt off.”
“Oh… Seung-ah too?”
“Seung-ah’s the type to blend in anywhere, a solid all-rounder. I meant the other three.”
If he’s telling the truth, his knack for reading people is as sharp as he claims.
“But back then, Jung was leading production, at the peak of his arrogance, so he wouldn’t listen to me no matter what I said. I’d only handled actors before, so I wasn’t confident enough to push hard on idols either.”
I nodded emphatically to show I understood.
“But look, my gut was right, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Jung’s great at making music but has no eye for people. I’m not dissing him; I’m just stating facts. Maybe I inherited a bit of my mom’s shaman instincts, but while I can’t always spot the good, I’m usually right about bad vibes.”
“Seems that way.”
“It’s the same with Team Leader Jeon. I brought him from my old company. We go way back.”
So Jeon Min-yong, who I thought was in Jung’s camp, was actually with Kim from their actor days.
Learning about the company’s tangled relationships was oddly fun, but I was getting impatient.
What’s he building up to with all this?
If he were my friend, I’d have snapped, “So what’s the point?” by now.
He paused, staring at me again, then pointed at me with his index finger, a sly smile curling one corner of his mouth.
“I look at you, and I know you’re the real deal.”
Whoosh!
(Insert Gevity relief meme here.)
That was the conclusion of his long buildup.
I’d passed his test, and it meant he’d give Free Sense the push I wanted.
Done with the preamble, Kim got to the point.
“So, you need two more members?”
Like a dog diving nose-first into a food bowl, I answered eagerly.
“Yes. I’ve already found one.”
“Oh, really? Who?”
“I told Team Leader Jeon…”
I whipped out my phone and showed him Seon-yu’s photos.
He swiped through them with a serious look as I explained her basic info and her time at Jeje Entertainment.
“How’d you find her? A friend?”
“No, I saw her on the street while dropping off Free Sense at their dorm. She was so pretty, I got her contact info.”
“Street casting?”
“Yes.”
“Was it just her looks, or did you see something else?”
I approached her purely because of the future video, not her looks or vibe.
But I gave the answer he wanted.
“It’s not just her face… it’s hard to describe, but I got a strong feeling. Like, a star aura…?”
“Aura.”
“Aura?”
After reviewing Seon-yu’s profile pictures, CEO Kim handed my phone back.
With a tone of pride and understanding, like a master addressing a top disciple who needs no further teaching, he smiled and said,
“Man, this one’s got it. This is the kind of standout I’m talking about. Visual center aura, right there.”
“She looks just as good in person.”
“No need to tell me, I can see it.”
“You told Team Leader Jeon?”
“Yes.”
Kim made his decision without a hint of hesitation.
He immediately called Jeon Min-yong, summoning him to the CEO’s office.
Before Jeon arrived, Kim turned to me.
“Two-song mini album. Three weeks of music show promotions, including public broadcasts.”
Thump thump thump thump.
“That’s the best push I can give your team.”
“Thank you!”
“I can tell you and Jeon mesh well.”
“Mesh… how?”
“Like your stars align or something.”
“Oh… yes.”
“What Jeon lacks, you’ve got. What you can’t do, Jeon does well. You two fit. Jeon’s swamped with the boy group prep, so you need to pick up his fieldwork fast and cover for him.”
“Yes, understood.”
“And bring me a written pledge.”
“A pledge…?”
“You said you’d work for free if you don’t keep your promise.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Let’s see… Two songs, three weeks of promotion, marketing costs… I’ll budget exactly 200 million won. If you don’t hit the top 100 charts within a month of the album’s release, you’re paying it back with your body. Got it?”
“Yes.”
As far as I knew, Free Sense had never cracked the top 100 charts.
The future video didn’t show specific chart rankings, but top 100 felt like a piece of cake.
I had no professional sense of how hard it was to chart, but to me, his bar seemed almost too low.
Knock knock knock.
“Sir, it’s Min-yong.”
“Come in.”
I passed the baton to Jeon Min-yong and left the CEO’s office.
At Jeon’s request to wait, I sat in an empty meeting room.
About ten minutes later, Jeon, fresh from his talk with Kim, entered.
The moment he saw me, he frowned and clicked his tongue.
“Ugh, you dumb kid.”
“Huh…?”
“Heard the CEO offered you Team 1, and you turned it down.”
I’d braced for a scolding, but relaxed and gave an awkward smile.
“Yeah…”
“He was offering you his backing. Why’d you say no?”
“Uh… because I like you, Team Leader…? Haha…”
“Fair warning, I’m not into that.”
“Neither am I…”
“God, where’d a guy like you come from…”
“Haha…”
“I set up a meeting with Seo Seon-yu, so you call and arrange it.”
“Yes.”
“He said this is Free Sense’s last shot, so do it right.”
His “do it right” sounded like “figure it out yourself,” which stung, so I asked, “What about you, Team Leader?”
“What about me?”
“Aren’t you doing it with me?”
“Of course I am.”
“Oh… you said ‘do it right,’ so…”
“What, you planning to half-ass it?”
“No, I’ll do it right.”
“But?”
“I’ll do it well.”
“Should I have said, ‘Let’s do it well’?”
“Yeah… I got scared thinking you meant I was on my own.”
“God, you’re such a worrier… You and I are both in the grinder now.”
“I’ll get ground up with gratitude.”
“Oh, and the CEO said the kids were worried about you. Get to the practice room.”
“Yes.”
“Seriously, now they’re asking me about you. Tell them not to do that.”
“Yes…”
“Kidding, you idiot.”
***
With the lightest steps in the world, I arrived at the practice room.
The girls, mid-cover dance practice, stopped the music and rushed over.
“What did CEO Kim say?”
Seung-ah asked on behalf of the group. Like Heung-bu returning with rice stuck to his cheeks, I answered proudly.
“He approved the five-member lineup.”
“Whoa, really? He said that?”
“So we’re getting an album too?”
“Yup. A two-song mini album.”
“Kyaaa!”
“Amazing!”
“And he promised three weeks of music show promotions, including public broadcasts.”
Seung-ah and Ah-hyun screamed, hugged, and rolled on the practice room floor. Jin-ah patted my shoulder, nodding maturely.
“Kang Hyun-jong. One box of Soul’s Eye.”
“Nah, I’ll pass on that.”