Episode 79: Kids Without a Holiday (1)
The feeling that this holiday would differ from all the others proved spot-on.
Even in our new, much larger home compared to the rooftop room, the only time we clung together like in the old days was the half-day after returning from the restaurant on the first day of the break.
It didn’t take long to realize this was a sign to conserve energy.
On the second day of the holiday.
A shopping spree began at the crack of dawn.
That day, I finally understood the plight of men who despise shopping.
Zia’s shopping had always been online, so I’d scoffed, “What’s with the whining over that?”
But it took just an hour and a half to reflect, “I repent my past self.”
It wasn’t all grueling, though.
“Ma’am, how about this? This suits you, I think.”
“Would… this work for me…? Should I try it on?”
“Wow, amazing! Yujin, you pull this off too!”
The effort was worth it, seeing Zia enjoy herself.
Whether her joy came from shopping itself or from shopping with a motherly figure like Moon Sookhee was unclear.
Still, that was enough.
‘And an unexpected bonus.’
That bonus was solving my dilemma about ‘Mysty’.
The holiday season and massive golden week overlapped with a sale vibe throughout the department store, where trendy, fast-paced tracks played as background music.
Constantly hearing it like brainwashing led me to a conclusion.
‘Well, the dilemma was more like a mild case of choice paralysis.’
I decided to take it as a positive.
Then, on the third day of the holiday.
Moon Sookhee took us to a ski resort, blanketed with artificial snow.
Spotting Zia hesitate at an outdoor gear store during the second day’s shopping,
“Why? Interested in skiing?”
“Huh? Just a little curious…”
“If you’re curious, you should try it!”
And just like that, the plan rolled out swiftly.
The holiday crowd made it chaotic.
Pretending not to know snowboarding, which I could, was tiring.
But—
“Ahahaha!”
With thick hip pads under her ski suit, Zia kept falling yet never stopped laughing—a walking vitamin boost.
‘It was fun in my own way.’
Snowboarding was my only enjoyed outdoor hobby.
Sneaking to the top slope alone for a speed run eased some stress.
By the end, Zia showed progress, making me think we could return together, even without Moon Sookhee.
Now, on the fourth day—eve of Seollal.
Rarely, I was seeing Zia off.
“Yujin-ah, are you sure you won’t come?”
She hesitated, guilty about leaving me, but no matter how much, I couldn’t follow “there.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry, just go and come back safe.”
“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I happily saw her off. She left promises and glanced back several times before stepping out.
Clack.
‘Making promises she can’t keep.’
Watching the door close, I smiled, that thought crossing my mind.
Today, Moon Sookhee’s schedule was a holiday must for adults.
A bath.
‘Shopping’s one thing, but she knows baths.’
My baths take 40-50 minutes max; Zia’s, at minimum, two hours.
‘Add CEO Moon…?’
Likely three, maybe four hours.
‘That’s fine alone, but…’
This time, Seo Yoonje and his three sons join.
With me out, they’ll move separately, but if I tagged along, I’d be stuck between Seo Yoonje and his sons.
“Ugh. That’s a hard pass.”
Even if Seo Yoonje’s great, I’m not ready for that level of closeness.
Shuddering off goosebumps, I muttered.
‘Still…’
Ahjeong’s with family abroad, and Hylliy’s gone home.
Assuming I’d spend the holiday with Zia, her absence leaves me unexpectedly alone—bored and a bit miffed.
‘Maybe work on some tracks…’
Even as a personal goal, I’d promised Ko Yohan a few songs after ‘You, for a Moment’, and more repertoire never hurts.
As I considered pulling out dormant sheet music—
“…trainees and some artists with schedules will work, but…”
A voice I’d forgotten since the holiday began echoed.
‘Trainees?’
No sane company forces practice during a holiday, not even Starlight or MyWay.
But similarly, no company sends home kids who choose to practice voluntarily.
And typically, debut chances favor those who don’t stop.
‘Shall I check? Who’s there?’
MyWay’s trainee pool isn’t vast but high-quality—I’d confirmed that.
Not visiting since, I suddenly wanted to see how it’s changed.
Perfect timing.
***
Upon arriving at MyWay’s headquarters, I found an unexpected visitor.
“Oh, Yujin-ssi? What brings you here? Ah, to cheer the kids, I see?”
The man, whom I hadn’t anticipated, quickly guessed my intent from the snacks I carried.
“Happy New Year.”
“Same to you, Yujin-ssi. Pass it on to Zia-ssi too.”
Though his presence surprised me, his reason for being here wasn’t hard to deduce.
I stood beside him, the rookie development team leader Jeon Seonwoo, exchanging the usual holiday greetings.
I didn’t ask why someone of his rank was here on a day like this.
“The kids are giving up their holiday to practice, so the head of rookie development can’t just laze around,” he’d likely say.
Instead, I followed his gaze to the trainees.
“More than I expected. Hope it’s enough.”
“It’s fine. I brought plenty, so we won’t run short.”
“That’s a relief…”
The turnout exceeded my predictions.
A few unfamiliar faces dotted the girls’ side, but every boy was present.
The reason was obvious.
“The rumor must’ve reached them too.”
The rumor of a boy group debut being finalized likely spread to the trainees.
“So the boys are on high alert.”
The lineup isn’t set, though Oberon’s four remain the frontrunners. Others’ skills aren’t far behind.
“The girls are spurred on too, working harder.”
The company’s split, but these kids probably hope for Hylliy’s new track’s success.
‘That’d solidify my producer role.’
More debut opportunities arise with more project leaders—a fact these kids know.
Some might call them calculating, but it’s inevitable.
Choosing a path of relentless competition was their decision.
I know this industry spares those who can’t adapt.
One kid, though, might not fully grasp this.
I called his name tentatively.
“Tae-oh…”
“Oh, he called to say he couldn’t come today. Family rites can’t be skipped. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”
“He’s doing well, then. Haven’t heard from him lately.”
Seonwoo smirked.
“I know what worries you, Yujin-ssi. No need to fret. They all get it.”
“That’s good, then.”
I felt a twinge of guilt, offering an awkward smile.
If the debut rumor reached the trainees, so must the one about Tae-oh as main vocal.
The problem? It’s not entirely true.
One less spot in an already uncertain lineup.
I worried Tae-oh might face subtle exclusion.
‘I was accepted fine.’
Polaris’ kindness spared me rejection post-debut.
But such cases are rare—exclusion’s more common.
Seonwoo dismissed my concern.
“They don’t just know—they’re grateful. Without Tae-oh, who knows how long debut would’ve been delayed.”
True enough.
Beyond Oberon’s delay due to lacking a main vocal, a missing key member often stalls debuts in this industry.
I’ve seen countless petty jealousies ignore such logic.
Just understanding this earns these kids points.
‘They don’t even know how valuable he is.’
It’s not just skill.
“Honestly, a parachute like Tae-oh is a godsend,” Seonwoo began.
“He’s got the chops. Built a personal fandom on Blind Singer. If they’re confident in their skills, they’ve no reason to resent a teammate. They’d stick close and ride his coattails. Though they’re probably not that calculated.”
“Right.”
A dominant fandom can cause issues, but—
“That’s only post-success. If they don’t make it, fandom problems don’t even arise. That’s a full-stomach complaint. Right?”
Spot on.
As I nodded, Seonwoo laughed.
“Oh, what am I saying to you, Yujin-ssi? Sometimes I forget. You feel like someone who’s been in this industry for ten years. Haha!”
His outburst drew attention.
“Greetings!”
“Hello!”
The trainees’ voices rang out as they turned to us.
“Oops, caught. Might as well go in.”
“Sure, let’s.”
A glance at my watch—exactly 12 PM.