Episode 102: Magical Days (3)
“Cherry blossoms. They’ve all fallen already.”
Ailee muttered while gazing out the window.
Only then did she notice that the cherry trees lining the street, once landscaped so beautifully, had already turned fully green.
“Ah, yeah… they have.”
On Gong-myeong, the manager who had been supporting Ailee, scratched his messy hair and agreed—then added the inevitable reason.
“At this rate, when would we even have time to go home? My hair’s gotten this long too.”
Ailee let out a small laugh at the statement that would horrify any normal office worker.
“Doesn’t your girlfriend say anything, Manager On?”
“We passed the stage of flower-viewing dates a long time ago.”
On Gong-myeong and his partner had been together long enough that marriage talks were starting to come up naturally.
It wasn’t that he disliked spending time with his girlfriend, but it was also true that they’d long passed the phase of cherishing every little event like that.
“Every time she comes to drop off clothes, I’m here—so there’s no room for suspicion. Plus, she says she feels safe knowing I couldn’t cheat even if I wanted to, looking like this.”
“Pfft. Still, you’re in the good times. I don’t have anyone waiting at home, so it’s fine for me—but it’s not the same for everyone else.”
Ailee said that and casually glanced around.
The other members of the A&R team were just as busy as she and On Gong-myeong.
However,
“But why does everyone still look so alive?”
In a situation where it wouldn’t be strange if they were moving like zombies, the spark in their eyes puzzled Ailee.
Unlike her and On Gong-myeong—who hadn’t gone home in nearly three weeks—the others had at least stopped at overtime.
Compared to the worst-case scenario of eating and sleeping at the company, it was nothing—but it still wasn’t something one would happily accept.
“How could anyone complain when Ailee is leading by example like this?”
“…”
At On Gong-myeong’s supposed answer, Ailee silently furrowed her brow.
She was the type who absolutely despised outdated practices like reading the boss’s mood.
Knowing that full well, On Gong-myeong shrugged.
“Just kidding. It’s all thanks to the ‘magic’ brought by the ‘Magician,’ isn’t it?”
He casually brought up the one reason that—at least for him—was completely sincere.
“Who could’ve predicted Hylliy would blow up like this?”
Hylliy.
The name that had once been dismissed as just another girl group had completely flipped in status.
If it had ended after just one week, the heatwave <Mysty> ignited wouldn’t have been called a “syndrome.”
Music show producers, blinded by ratings, aggressively courted them. Hylliy—who had been thirsty for exactly that—accepted and extended promotions by one more week.
Naturally, four more trophies with Hylliy’s name were added.
Of course, Hylliy wasn’t still holding the absolute top spot on the charts.
Like last year’s wandering street performer who refused to die and crawled back up the ranks, the appearance of the “cherry blossom zombie” brought a pink spring breeze that finally pulled <Mysty> down from number one.
But the Hylliy members—and the MyWay staff—didn’t feel any regret over it.
No—they didn’t even have time to feel regret.
[7. Hylliy – Mysty]
They’d lost the top spot on the chart, unlike <Scarlet> which had plummeted to outside the top 50, but <Mysty> was still holding strong at 7th.
The flame of the Hylliy syndrome showed no sign of being extinguished by the pink spring wind. That flame soon returned in the form of love calls shouting “Shut up and take my money.”
[2025 University Festival Booking #1: ‘Hylliy’]
Spring.
The season of festivals.
The desire to see Hylliy—who had briefly dominated SNS and YouTube—in person exploded demand, and as a result, Hylliy’s booking fee nearly tripled from the previous year.
And that wasn’t all.
[Champions Field’s New Victory Fairy! Hylliy’s Levi & Luri!]
Levi—who was already famous among baseball fans—and Luri, who had tearfully but steadfastly given her acceptance speech while her sisters cried, became the new symbol of victory for some team’s fans.
[Hylliy Eun-woo Appointed Official Ambassador for Fashion Brand ‘Ain Soph’]
The luxurious image Choi Eun-woo gained from her first-ever bleaching was captured in photoshoots and shown to even more eyes.
[MyWay × XCAT Hylliy Collaboration Skin Released]
The narrative of not reaching the top for so long turned out to be a story that worked perfectly in the gaming world too—the fire spread to unexpected places.
Sports, fashion, gaming, and more—love calls poured in from every industry without discrimination.
Naturally, things had to get busy.
“Not just the A&R team—the entire MyWay headquarters is the same.”
“Everyone knows, right? That all of this becomes part of their own career.”
“That’s something I can’t deny…”
Ailee trailed off at the end of her response to On Gong-myeong’s claim.
After all, she herself had been living and eating at the company for nearly three weeks with exactly that mindset.
“But there’s still a limit. Are today’s kids really the type to go all-in just for career points?”
“Pfft.”
On Gong-myeong couldn’t help but chuckle at his leader’s words.
It was the most obvious statement in the world—but Ailee herself was still very much in the age range that others would categorize as “today’s kids.”
In fact, the same went for On Gong-myeong.
If you put career and personal time on a scale, personal time would naturally tip the balance.
But,
“That’s exactly why it’s the Magician’s magic.”
“Huh?”
“Yujin-ssi is showing it right in front of us. What kind of results come from proving your career at MyWay.”
“Tch…”
Ailee pursed her lips and couldn’t continue.
Even though MyWay was an extreme meritocracy that placed someone as young as Ailee in the crucial A&R team position—far younger than most managers at other companies—it wasn’t the kind of place that easily dismissed the weight of age and experience.
If anything, because it was that kind of place, it was teeming with seasoned beasts whose years had condensed into raw power—a true wilderness.
Even Ailee herself had only been able to claim this seat by proving her ability through accumulated experience.
Yet Han Yujin—at just twenty-five years old, and in less than half a year—
Had proven his skill and firmly engraved the influence his name carried within this company called MyWay.
‘Seo Yoon-je’s successor.’
The company that had long been seen as the jewel box of the great singer and producer Seo Yoon-je was now welcoming a new wind of generational change.
“Everyone’s curious, aren’t they? What the second magic Yujin-ssi will show us.”
Unfortunately, anyone who would feel jealous of that genius talent wouldn’t last long at MyWay.
If you couldn’t turn it into motivation to move forward, you’d be weeded out—that was the nature of this company. And once weeded out, you’d personally taste the coldness that meritocracy brings.
Ailee knew that fact too.
But her question still wasn’t resolved.
“…But in the end, that still doesn’t answer my earlier question, does it? What’s so different?”
What exactly was the difference between sacrificing personal time for career and… whatever this was?
“It’s different. Because in the end, that magic comes back as tangible, immediate gain.”
“Huh?”
Ailee tilted her head again, puzzled. On Gong-myeong could only shake his head.
‘Well, she didn’t even notice the cherry blossoms had fallen…’
There was no shaking the feeling that his leader was missing something incredibly important.
“Didn’t you see yesterday’s pay slip, Ailee?”
“Ah, right—it’s that time already.”
“Looks like you really didn’t check. Ailee. This time, the performance bonus for Hylliy’s activities is 150%.”
“Wha—how much?”
“More than enough—enough to turn an apocalypse back into humanity. That’s the kind of magic it is.”
Was there a single employee who didn’t know that the source of that bonus was the investment money pouring in for Orion—the aftermath of the “Magician’s” magic?
If even Hylliy was like this, if Orion exploded too, who could even imagine how sweet the results would be?
MyWay already knew the answer to handling MZ-generation talent.
***
MyWay really was different from other companies.
“Ah, Yujin-ssi. You’re here?”
Even after more than a year, Seo Yoon-je still spoke to me formally.
“Did you see the settlement statement?”
“Yes. I did. It felt like way too much, honestly.”
As much as they prioritized skill, the way they handled compensation for labor was also impeccably clean.
The settlement statement Seo Yoon-je was referring to wasn’t for the songs I sang like <Shooting Star> or <Blue Poem>—it was the producing fee for Hylliy.
“It really felt like too much.”
“Too much? In the end, artists are individual business owners, and we’re the company that makes money thanks to those business owners. You should take what you earned—that’s only fair.”
A sound argument.
But was there any other company that actually lived by that principle?
‘I’ve only experienced Starlight, but…’
Even so.
At least in my memory, there isn’t a single company that separately sets fees for producing when the members themselves handle production.
At best,
‘They probably just hand over the full copyright share.’
In terms of taking what you earn, even that much is already a huge achievement. But the fact that labor costs saved by having an artist member take on the responsibility remain as company profit… maybe that’s something one could feel unfairly treated about.
‘Of course, I’m an outsider, not a member.’
In truth, Starlight used to rip people off even in those cases.
It wasn’t until Polaris successfully broke into the U.S. market and filled the void left by Altair’s independence that I finally started getting proper recognition for my work across countless projects, starting with Laira and Pleiades.
Of course, there were times when I acted like a pushover too.
Because Lee Hee-kyung asked. Back then, she was the benefactor who had saved my life.
“Is there anything particularly difficult about working here?”
“No. Everyone cooperates very willingly.”
“Hm. I figured as much. I made sure of that.”
Still, the fact that MyWay is impressive doesn’t change.
Far from trying to exploit me, the staff quietly follow my instructions—a clear contrast to Starlight.
‘Of course, a big part of that is because I acted like a pushover back then too, but still.’
The past month.
“Except for a few who are truly exceptional, everyone’s skill level is more or less the same. What ultimately decides success or failure is luck. And what lets you seize that luck is stamina—and mental strength.”
The training that began with those words was exactly 1.5 times harder than what I put myself through last year when I was building my body.
Put nicely, it was intense. Put harshly, it was downright archaic. Yet not only the members but even the staff followed without complaint or pushback—that was genuinely encouraging.
“I’ve been getting reports. Honestly, that’s just how idols are, isn’t it? The moment there’s a gap, they sleep. They’ll find any excuse to rest. Stamina and mental strength… Looking at it that way, maybe what you did was right. The former team leader even said we should formally adopt it.”
“No. That won’t do.”
“Hm? Why not? It looked fine to me.”
I’m not going to throw it out entirely—but it can’t become the standard.
“It only works because they’re boys. You can’t do this with girl groups.”
“Hm?”
“It’s not discrimination. With girl groups, this kind of training builds visible muscle. Unless you’re going for a full-on sporty concept, bulky muscles don’t really suit girl groups.”
“Ah… I see what you mean.”
Even setting aside whether the kids can keep up.
From my perspective, the upper limit for girl group abs is an 11-line six-pack.
A girl group with bulging arm muscles? That would only last one season as a cult gimmick.
“Even for the overall trainee training program, if we only grind the male trainees like this, it could spark discrimination complaints. If we make it standard, it should only apply to boy group debut teams. I’ll create a separate curriculum for girl group debut teams.”
At that answer, Seo Yoon-je broke into a grin.
“Can I take that to mean you’ll look after the other kids too?”
“Isn’t it a bit early to talk about that? We should check Orion’s results first.”
Well, I said it like I wasn’t confident.
‘As if I’m not confident.’
Truthfully, my real intention leans closer to “I don’t plan to only do producing forever.”
No matter how fairly they recognize the value of my work—and no matter how enjoyable it is—
‘In the end, my essence is as a singer.’
When I’m with Zia, songs can spill out anytime, anywhere.
Once Zia starts acting properly and I see sides of her I’ve never seen before—charming in new ways—the frequency will only increase, never decrease.
‘I should sing my own songs too.’
But,
“Hmm. Why does that sound like whining to me?”
Seo Yoon-je kept that smile on his face as he continued.
‘Hmm.’
Whether he knows my true feelings or not.
What was clear was that Seo Yoon-je genuinely wanted success for me—and for Orion.
‘That’s why he’s the one spreading rumors that I’m his successor.’
He’s clearly desperate to hand me the position of chief producer.
“Actually, there’s something related to that I wanted to say too…”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. You said 3,000 days with Zia-ssi, right? Go take a good rest. We can talk about the rest later. For now…”
Whatever cryptic thing Seo Yoon-je was about to say, it only lasted a moment.
“…we’ll see. Whether you’re just whining or genuinely lacking confidence. We’ll know tomorrow.”
With that, he wrapped up the conversation.
The cherry blossoms had all fallen, and the weather was starting to feel unmistakably warmer.
Orion’s debut was now just one day away.