Episode 148: My Lord (1)
Waking up before the sun has even risen and starting the day like that isn’t exactly pleasant.
No matter how used to it you are, having your circadian rhythm thrown off never feels good.
And for people who aren’t used to it at all, it goes without saying.
But apparently, there are exceptional beings out there for whom that common sense doesn’t apply.
“As soon as I did what you told me, the fatigue really melted away, you know?”
The moment I stepped into the waiting room, Jin Ro-a came bounding over like a puppy wagging its tail, chattering away excitedly. She was the one who had led last night’s (or more precisely, just a few hours ago) madness-filled squat party.
‘Even for a morning person, this is a bit much…’
I’d heard that among Team Y’s members, she was the strongest in the mornings and woke up the earliest, but I hadn’t expected it to be to this degree.
If I’d known it would be like this, maybe I should’ve just gone all out and worked them hard yesterday as my mood dictated.
Of course, the only one whose condition was bouncing off the walls was Jin Ro-a. The other four were exactly in the state I’d predicted, which was a relief in itself.
‘Even if they weren’t, I couldn’t have done that anyway.’
Come on.
I might’ve once been called someone who “doesn’t understand people’s feelings,” but I’m not heartless enough to drain the kids’ energy the day before an important stage.
I just took the minimum measures needed to get them through the sleepless night and came back.
“I seriously thought just closing my eyes would be enough! If I’d known this a little sooner, how great would it have been!”
What I’d told them was simple: even if you can’t fall asleep, just lie still with your eyes closed, and it produces an effect similar to actually sleeping.
And no, it’s not some mere placebo.
This method has actually been explained multiple times on TV by fairly prominent neurologists and has proven somewhat effective for sleep disorders.
Apparently, simply blocking visual information tricks the brain into thinking it’s in a sleep state, producing effects close to real rest.
“I spent the whole night completely clear-headed, and I’m not tired at all! It’s insane!”
“That’s good. From now on, if you can’t sleep, just do that.”
“Yes!”
Of course, I’d also heard that making it a habit could actually interfere with sleep in the long run, but there was no need to mention that right now.
“Ro-a, how long did it take you to fall asleep yesterday?”
“After Teacher left… about 10 minutes? She was snoring right away.”
I quietly approached Chae-kyung, who shared a room with Jin Ro-a, and asked in a low voice. Sure enough, the answer was exactly what I expected.
‘I’ve rarely seen anyone who claims they stayed up all night clear-headed actually do it for real.’
Since one of the main purposes of having them keep their eyes closed—inducing sleep—had worked properly, it was clear the method wouldn’t reach the point of actually disrupting sleep.
After all, the only reason they couldn’t sleep properly last night was the intense pressure from today’s stage—their “first stage.”
Nights like last night, where tension keeps you awake, will soon become nothing more than fond memories.
“What about you, Chae-kyung?”
“It didn’t take me long either. I heard it was similar in Nari’s room.”
“Still tired, though?”
“Yeah, a bit… but seeing Ro-a’s energy is making mine rise too, so I think I’ll be fine.”
“That’s good to hear.”
After lightly checking Chae-kyung’s condition and confirming that what she described matched what I could see with my own eyes, I felt relieved. Just as I was about to check on the rest of the kids—
“Excuse me.”
A man with a face I’d never seen in person stepped into the waiting room.
No—more precisely, it wasn’t a face I’d never seen before.
This was just the first time meeting him face-to-face; I’d already committed his appearance to memory from photos.
“President!”
“Ro-a, how’ve you been? Wow! I almost didn’t recognize you?”
“Ehehe.”
After exchanging light greetings with Jin Ro-a, he walked straight over to me and extended his hand casually.
“Nice to meet you for the first time. I’m Kim Heung-rok, CEO of Pressure Entertainment.”
He offered the handshake with such a warm, friendly face that I could almost picture the exact expression he must have made two years ago when he cast Jin Ro-a locally and brought her to Korea from a place she’d never left.
I lightly took the hand he offered.
“Han Yujin.”
“I’ve wanted to come greet you in person for a while… but I’m only getting the chance now.”
It had already been two weeks since Jin Ro-a came under my care, yet this was the first time I was meeting him—because of the contract tied to Project Trinity.
Too many cooks spoil the broth, as they say. To prevent each trainee’s agency from interfering during production, the contract included clauses restricting contact.
That was exactly why the Project Trinity production team had handled everything: the training location, the dorms where the trainees stayed, even the shop in charge of styling before they went on stage.
The production team couldn’t provide the full infrastructure for producing the performance itself, so we had no choice but to use the facilities from the three major agencies and MyWay. However, even the MyWay choreography team—who provided the performance Team Y would be doing on this stage—had no idea about the current state of the kids.
“That can’t be helped. Even our CEO hasn’t seen the kids’ faces in a long time.”
“Haha. So PD Han really sticks to his principles, huh?”
Even Seo Yoon-je probably wasn’t following it to the letter.
Whether Isabella, M2K, or Kim Gun were actually keeping the rule was anyone’s guess.
‘No, the odds are extremely high that they’re not.’
Honestly, it didn’t really matter.
The only team I needed to keep in check was Heo Yul-bok’s Team H anyway.
“I was worried about Ro-a since she came from so far away—like leaving a child out in the water—but after meeting you, Producer-nim, I feel so much more at ease. Come to think of it, the two vocalists were MyWay trainees, right? I’ve heard a lot about how skilled MyWay trainees are, so I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Haha. You’re too kind. Ro-a really is a talented kid. Teaching her has been genuinely enjoyable for me too.”
“You saying that makes me feel embarrassed all over again. Since I’d just be getting in your way if I stayed longer, I’ll head to the stage first. Ro-a, do well. Listen to Producer-nim properly.”
“Yes!”
Kim Heung-rok said that with the same warm, friendly face before leaving, but as I watched his retreating back, I let out a small chuckle.
I saw it.
In that instant when he said, “Come to think of it, the two vocalists were MyWay trainees, right?”—behind the mask of his smile, he couldn’t completely hide the dark undercurrent in his eyes.
If I were to put what I caught lightly into words,
“Don’t let your kids drag ours down.”
Something along those lines.
‘As expected from that man…’
The suspicion—not quite suspicion—that Kim Heung-rok had given Jin Ro-a instructions bordering on sabotage back in the pre-regression Trinity gained a small but solid confirmation.
Well, I had no intention of blaming him for it.
Right now, Pressure Entertainment was just an average mid-tier agency with a few groups under its belt but no particularly standout successes.
If the girl group Trinity had blown up, things might’ve been different—but if it flopped completely, then from Kim Heung-rok’s perspective, he had no choice but to rebuild around Jin Ro-a. Those instructions would’ve been inevitable.
‘I’m not exactly entangled with Project Trinity either.’
When I debuted with Polaris, my own intentions weren’t exactly pure, so it felt hypocritical to blame Kim Heung-rok on some abstract principle like “that spot might have been someone’s hope.”
If anything, the scale in my heart tipped more toward liking him.
The fact that in just two years he’d drilled such perfect pronunciation into Jin Ro-a that no one would ever think she was Chinese was, for me, a clear positive.
‘Of course, if things go the same way in the future Trinity, that story changes.’
Well, that’s something to deal with when the time comes.
I didn’t think it was likely anyway.
From here on out, Trinity’s path was going to look completely different from the pre-regression version.
***
After confirming that the kids’ energy and mentality were fine—no major issues—I left the waiting room and headed toward the stage.
After the rehearsal was done, sure, I might have instructions to give—but right now there was nothing to say or do.
“Ah, PD Han, long time no see.”
Ryu Je-hoon greeted me with a pleased voice as I approached.
“PD Ryu, long time no see.”
“Yeah. Ah, you met him?”
Ryu Je-hoon lightly nodded in response to my greeting, then immediately tossed out a subject-less question.
Of course, I knew exactly who the subject was.
It was about Kim Heung-rok.
“Yes. He came to see Ro-a.”
“He was the very first among all the participants’ agency people to rush over. That guy really isn’t ordinary. Most of the others just sent staff.”
It was news that raised my evaluation of Kim Heung-rok a little higher.
No matter what kind of person he was, it meant he genuinely cared about Jin Ro-a’s future.
“Now that I think about it, it’s kind of funny. The trainee whose agency CEO came running first and the trainee whose agency didn’t send anyone at all—both are on your team, Yujin-ssi.”
Ah, that.
“Yeah. I heard that’s the case.”
“Huh? You already knew? Who told you? They said to keep it a secret.”
I heard it straight from the person responsible.
“I heard it from Su-jin. Starlight said they weren’t sending anyone.”
“What?”
Ryu Je-hoon’s expression darkened for a moment, so I quickly added,
“It doesn’t seem like Starlight has been in contact with the kids. They told them on the day the member recruitment was finalized: Starlight won’t be sending anyone, so just listen to the producer well.”
“Ah, really? In that case… PD Han must be feeling pretty good, huh? I’ve heard Lee Hee-kyung isn’t your average person.”
“Well…”
There, I couldn’t help but let my words trail off a little.
Hmm.
Was it because she truly trusted the people who would become producers?
Or because she wanted to avoid any potential contract issues altogether?
‘Or maybe she just doesn’t want to face me.’
There was no way to know, but it didn’t really matter either way.
The fact that I wouldn’t have to meet Lee Hee-kyung face-to-face wasn’t exactly bad for me.
‘Time still can’t do anything about this.’
Maybe because of the matters involving Jooyul and E-GIS, the anger toward Lee Hee-kyung just wouldn’t fade.
Even if I had to face her, I honestly didn’t have the confidence to keep my expression in check.
“Well, never mind that story. Anyway, I’m really looking forward to it too. Team Y’s rehearsal. I wonder how much those vocalists PD Han brought have changed.”
While I was lost in those thoughts, Ryu Je-hoon’s continuing words made me tilt my head slightly.
“You must have watched the entire training process, right?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Huh?”
The answer that came back as naturally as my question had been thrown out was enough to leave me stunned.
“I didn’t want to get spoiled. I’m planning to edit Team Y’s footage after finishing today’s shoot and head home. Don’t worry too much—I’ll pull an all-nighter if I have to meet the deadline.”
Even the excuse he gave was absurd, but what could I do?
The man himself was saying he’d stay up all night if necessary to hit the deadline.
‘There’s nothing bad about that.’
Being afraid of spoilers meant he had that much anticipation.
I was confident I could deliver enough impact to live up to those expectations.
The edited result probably wouldn’t be anything bad for the kids, right?
It was while I was smirking at that thought and briefly turning my gaze away from Ryu Je-hoon that my eyes met “that man.”
It wasn’t particularly awkward.
I’d lived as an idol for years—eye contact wasn’t going to faze me.
What was strange was that, while most normal people would look away after making accidental eye contact, he never did.
If a certain writer hadn’t spoken to him, I had the feeling we would’ve kept staring at each other the whole time.
“PD Ryu. Who is that guy?”
It was only natural that I asked Ryu Je-hoon about the man’s identity.
And the answer that came back.
“Ah. The Lord.”
“…Sorry?”
“PD Han, you didn’t know? There are three kinds of Lords in this world: the Lord up in heaven, the building owner Lord, and the advertiser Lord. Hahahaha!”
That’s not why I asked, you know.
As if completely missing the urge I had to retort, Ryu Je-hoon laughed heartily at his own joke before belatedly answering my real question.
“He’s from Our Electronics. Among our Lords, he’s the one with the most power.”
One question was resolved, but almost immediately a new one emerged from within it.
Why was an employee from Our Electronics staring at me like that?
‘Is he my fan?’
Even thinking that, it was clear the gaze he directed at me was slightly different from the ones I usually received.
I couldn’t quite explain the difference precisely, but…
“Team Y rehearsal starting now!”
“Ooh, it’s starting.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep pursuing that question.
Just as Ryu Je-hoon excitedly turned his eyes toward the stage with that exclamation, I had no choice but to do the same.
Because of that, I didn’t realize in time.
“Han Yujin-ssi?”
That he had already approached right next to me.
Even someone like me—who had experienced just about everything—couldn’t help but be startled.
Not because of how he approached, but because of the words he whispered right into my ear.
“I have high expectations for you, Yujin-ssi. We decided on this investment after seeing you.”
From Our?
Not Lee Ahjeong, but me?
…Why?