Episode 101: Magical Days (2)
“Oh, Magician!”
While I was waiting for the elevator that had gone all the way up, a voice came from behind me.
Magician.
That was the new nickname that stuck to me the day after Hylliy swept all four music shows with 1st place.
The origin was a single post that went up on Hylliy’s fan café, ‘Hello & Hylliy.’
Excluding all the GOAT-this and light-that modifiers that are too embarrassing for me to even say out loud, a light summary of the post’s content would be:
1. Created Hylliy’s career-defining song <Mysty> + brought out vocals that perfectly matched it.
2. Had major involvement in choreography and styling. Ex) Choi Eun-woo’s silver blonde.
3. Booked Ji Se-hyuk as showcase MC + led the <Mysty> challenge wave.
4. Accomplished all of the above while simultaneously handling his own song work and launching a new boy group.
5. Pushed them to career high while saying out loud, “It’s all because Hylliy did well.”
Something like that.
‘It was dizzying.’
Even I—who’ve lived as a top-class idol and confidently claim to have experienced every level of cheesiness—found that post so cringeworthy it made my head spin.
The post concluded with: “All these magical days we’re experiencing right now are thanks to Han Yujin, made possible under the full support of CEO Seo Yoon-je.”
From ‘Hello & Hylliy’ it spread to Hylliy’s minor gallery and various idol communities, eventually reaching EUJN, and that’s how I ended up saddled with nicknames like “Wizard” and “Magician.”
Well, embarrassing nicknames have followed me almost daily for sixteen years, so thinking of it as just a few fans’ excessive affection doesn’t feel particularly burdensome.
The problem arises when praise bordering on worship comes from insiders I have to actually work with.
In fact, the post contained quite a few detailed elements that only an insider would know.
For example, the part about me saying “It’s all because Hylliy did well”?
That was something I said when I turned down the invitation to join the wrap-up dinner after <Live Music Center> filming.
‘Thanks to that post, <Blue Poem> is cruising between 4th and 5th place…’
At least it’s fortunate that even outsiders find the origin post excessively burdensome, so not many people openly call me by that nickname.
Unfortunately, it’s not zero.
And of all people, the worst offender happened to overlap with my commute.
“Wow, I really know how to pick people.”
That worst of the worst was none other than Seo Yoon-je.
Unlike Ah-jeong—who at least restrains herself for Zia’s sake when we share schedules—or Madam Moon Sook-hee—who I can simply avoid by not going to the café—Seo Yoon-je is a natural disaster-level threat who could swoop in at any moment.
‘Just let me find out who wrote it…’
There’s no real way to track them down, and even if I did, with the nickname already spreading, there’s nothing I can do about it now.
“Magician. Music’s sorcerer… I’ve never heard anything like that before. As expected, Yujin-ssi is amazing.”
Even now, Seo Yoon-je continues without hiding his trademark slyness.
If he were just teasing, I could at least put on a straight face to shut it down—but it’s not purely that, so I can’t bring myself to do even that.
“You’re a little late coming in today?”
That’s about as far as I can go to change the subject.
“Hm. Had to step out briefly for the Orion investment matter.”
But that struggle was far too weak to escape the swamp of slyness.
“You know what? Actually, not that much money came in for the <Mysty> investment at first. But after the articles went out, people are lining up to throw money at it voluntarily? You really are a walking lucky charm, Yujin-ssi.”
Of course the conversation circles right back around to that.
No matter how much of an exceptional whale Ah-jeong is at MyWay, in a capitalist society, more money is always better—endlessly so.
Seo Yoon-je’s expression couldn’t possibly be any brighter.
“Well, I’m not saying you have to worry about things like that. Just do whatever you want without any pressure. I’m genuinely curious what kind of magic MyWay’s magician is going to show next. Come on, let’s go up.”
With that, Seo Yoon-je stepped into the elevator that had just arrived.
‘Basically a blank check…’
The little tag-along comment at the end is a bit annoying, but overall, it can only be welcome news.
Even though MyWay is a company that prioritizes artists’ wishes to the maximum, that’s still within the realm of “respect.” If they truly gave everyone everything they wanted, the company would’ve gone bankrupt long ago.
‘In that sense, the only person who can truly do whatever they want is Ah-jeong sunbae.’
Even CEO Seo Yoon-je is no exception.
I still can’t go as far as Ah-jeong does, but at least I’ve earned enough “expectation” to be given this level of freedom.
That alone is plenty encouraging.
However,
‘I feel a little sorry now.’
The first thing I’d write on the blank check Seo Yoon-je handed me is probably something a bit different from what he expects.
Since you said I can do whatever I want—may I say it?
“Hm. Go ahead.”
“Once Orion’s debut promotions wrap up, I’d like to take it a bit easy in the first half of the year.”
“Huh?”
For a split second, I’m pretty sure I saw a crack appear in Seo Yoon-je’s smile.
“I was planning to tell you slowly, but since it came up, I figured I’d say it early.”
“Uh… um… this isn’t revenge for the nickname or anything… right…?”
Come on, what kind of person do you think I am.
Of course there’s no way I feel zero emotion about it,
“Orion’s debut schedule ends mid-May. After that, anything I can do is basically out of my hands anyway.”
“Hey, but you didn’t take a break after Hylliy!”
“<Mysty> needed me to personally light the fire from the start, so I got involved. At the current pace, Hylliy’s heat is high enough that even if they stopped promotions, they’d carry influence for at least another week. And the anticipation for Orion is already on par with a major idol group launch. So why push harder? Right now, it’s better to trust the know-how of MyWay’s staff.”
“Uh… uh… wait. Why does that make sense? Why am I being convinced by Yujin-ssi right now?”
It sounds like sophistry, but it’s not completely nonsense.
In truth, I’ve already poured every card I could play into Hylliy’s <Mysty> promotions.
It’s not hard to play them again, but since they’ve already been used once, their effectiveness would drop by more than half.
“To stay in a true win-win situation, the only option right now is for Orion to ride this rising wave properly—you know that better than anyone, CEO. And once Orion’s promotions wrap up, Ah-jeong sunbae will be coming back. Unless we want an internal war, the only answer is to rest, isn’t it?”
“How many times do I have to feel this? Anyone who didn’t know better would think you’ve been rolling around in this industry for over a decade! Who the hell would call Yujin-ssi a rookie?!”
“You don’t get anything extra just for stating the obvious.”
Mid-June—when Orion’s debut promotions wrap up.
When Ah-jeong’s mini 6th album Victoria’s pre-release track <Love Luck> devours early summer, and then a month later <Victoria> itself dominates the music scene through August.
“If I were to do something, wouldn’t it have to be after July at the earliest?”
In any case—argument won.
There’s a saying that if you keep delaying an album release because you’re scared of the competition at the same time, you’ll end up delaying forever. But if it’s going to turn into an internal family fight, of course it’s better to avoid it.
And,
“Even setting that aside, there’s one schedule at the end of May that I absolutely cannot move.”
In the end, this is the most important part.
The “that day” I can finally enjoy now that I’ve regressed.
And the “that day” that will never come again unless I regress once more.
‘No matter if it’s Orion… no, even if it’s CEO Seo or Ah-jeong sunbae.’
I will never allow anything to interfere with that schedule—so at the very least, late May was going to be completely off-limits.
“Hm? Schedule? What schedule?”
Of course, since it’s not an official schedule for singer Han Yujin, Seo Yoon-je had no way of knowing. I calmly spoke the words anyway.
“May 29th this year. The day Zia and I hit 3,000 days together.”
Ding-dong.
At that moment, the elevator finally stopped.
I stepped out, leaving behind a speechless Seo Yoon-je.
3,000 days.
Just thinking about it makes my heart race—it’s a milestone with such enchanting resonance.
But no matter how dazzling and sparkling the name, with more than a month still left, my ego as a producer—honed since the previous timeline—is far too solid to be blinded by it.
Instead, to ensure there isn’t the slightest hitch in preparations for that day, right now I need to set aside “Han Yujin, lover of Woo Zia” for a moment and summon the “demon Han Yujin” that once made every trainee at Starlight tremble in fear.
“Alright. You guys have just a little over a month left. You know that, right?”
““Yes sir!””
Twelve hours after <On Stage> confirmed their first 1st place, Kwak Sun-bin’s sharpened knife of an article spread across the world.
“Music video shoot, showcase prep, styling checks, all your various treatments. Factoring in all the miscellaneous time—honestly, you don’t even have a full month left.”
Starting with Yeom Gyu-ha’s visibly bobbing Adam’s apple, silence fell over the room.
“At this point, you probably already guessed it. That’s right. Once you’ve come this far, member replacement is basically impossible. Flipping everything over doesn’t make sense anymore either. On my way here, I spoke briefly with the CEO—turns out the investment money coming in for you guys is no joke.”
At those words, not a single face stayed light.
They’re still kids who haven’t even properly tasted society, but their eyes clearly understand just how frightening that is.
‘Back at Starlight, there were tons of kids who didn’t get it even when it was spelled out for them.’
Even the kids Lee Hee-kyung had gathered with her eyes wide open to risk elimination were like that.
I can’t help but marvel at how Seo Yoon-je and Jeon Seon-woo managed to gather kids like these.
In any case, it’s important to hammer these points in whenever there’s an opening.
In an industry full of glittering temptations everywhere, the slightest slack lets things leak in like water.
Fortunately, having lived this life once before, I know better than anyone how to take preventive measures.
“There’s no turning back now. So maybe some of you are thinking, ‘If we’re already this far, can’t we slack off a little?’ Anyone thinking like that?”
““No sir!””
A thunderous reply rings out—military discipline so tight it feels like nearly twenty years of service.
Of course, that lasts only a moment.
“Well… it’s fine if you slack off. Honestly, from what I see, if you debuted right now you could probably take a music show 1st place. I’ve already pulled songs good enough for that, and your seniors have already drawn in a massive tide of attention.”
At those words, the boys exchange glances, rolling their eyes left and right.
They’re probably trying to gauge whether I’m being serious or whether this is a threat disguised as a joke.
No matter how much we’ve gathered only kids with upright character and educated them nonstop, kids are still kids.
“I’m serious. It really doesn’t matter.”
But it’s not a joke.
I genuinely wouldn’t care.
Did that meaning get across?
The hardened expressions of the five boys slowly fill with smiles.
“You’re smiling? Good. Smile while you still can.”
I return the smile and pull a single A4 sheet from the file I brought, slipping it between the clipboard pages.
“This is your schedule for the next month. I’ll explain it simply now, but check it again later.”
Sure enough, I’m a bit of an attention-seeker myself.
Even though the “Magician” nickname felt so cringeworthy that even Seo Yoon-je seemed like a menace for using it… deep down, a small part of me is freshly sprouting with the desire to keep that nickname alive and thriving.
“From now on, tests every other day. I can’t threaten member changes over failing the benchmark like before, but don’t get complacent. There are still ways. If you’re curious what they are, just fail once and you’ll find out. Oh—and from now on, we’ll coordinate with your homeroom teachers to check if you’re sleeping in class, so behave yourselves.”
The magic to create a top-class idol?
It’s simple.
Take kids with real talent and grind them until they break.
‘If you can engrave it into their instincts, they’ll never betray it.’
A little over a month.
More than enough time to unveil a new piece of magic.