Becoming An Idol Wasn’T On My Plan [EN]: Chapter 202

But even as the interlude ended and the second verse began, Lee Hyunjae’s voice was nowhere to be heard. Puzzled, I opened my eyes to find him burying his face in his hands.

Well, this is a problem. Lacking the skill to comfort him, I couldn’t even think of turning off the MR [music recording, a karaoke-like track], so I just left him alone for a moment.

“…I just, I love this song so much.”

Lee Hyunjae mumbled, his words piercing my ears honestly through the speakers, making me feel inexplicably embarrassed.

* * *

Lee Hyunjae sang, feeling relieved, yet unable to stop the tears from welling up.

The past self, who felt the gazes of everyone, including his parents, as sharp and cutting, the self who once needed psychiatric counseling because of those gazes, came to mind, and he couldn’t hold back the tears.

From the song Donghwa *hyung* [older brother or male friend] initially wrote for him to this arranged version, imagining the shadow of a giant tree or the heavy snow pressing down on the earth, he couldn’t help but think of that time.

The expectations of others and his own anxiety about not meeting them—it felt as though he was finally free from all of that, which should have brought relief, so why was he like this?

Lee Hyunjae could only murmur, saying that he loved this song, the song that had brought him relief, so much. More precisely, he was so grateful to the *hyung* who had silently supported him through every difficult moment.

“…Come out and get some water, Hyunjae.”

It was a blunt way of speaking, as if he didn’t know how to offer shallow comfort, but Lee Hyunjae knew how considerate he was on the inside, which only made the tears flow even more.

“*Hyung*, I’m, really, so grateful.”

“Yeah.”

He spoke so nonchalantly, but inside, he must be feeling embarrassed, which made Lee Hyunjae chuckle slightly this time.

“If *hyung* told me to die, I’d think about it a couple of times.”

“…Okay.”

The fact that he replied with “Okay” again, and the silence before that response, which clearly showed his embarrassment even though he tried to hide it, made Lee Hyunjae laugh again.

“Of course, I’m not going to die.”

“Don’t state the obvious, just get some water.”

Donghwa *hyung* told him to come out quickly, sounding disgruntled, and turned off the MR. It felt like the final check before filming the making-of film ended abruptly, but since he had cried it all out now, he would be fine during the filming.

“Ha… What would I be doing if I hadn’t met *hyung*?”

“You’d be preparing to become a university professor.”

“Nah, that’s something only smart people like *hyung* can do.”

Lee Hyunjae said, leaving the recording booth to take out an ice pack from the studio refrigerator. *Oh, if it swells, it’ll be a disaster*, he thought absentmindedly.

And as he left the recording booth, the moment his eyes met Ryu Ideun, who was filming all of this with a camera, Lee Hyunjae immediately frowned.

“…What is it, *hyung*?”

Seeing the table with coffee and small grain cookies, he knew why he was here, but the words came out gruffly. It was because he had used up all his honesty a little while ago.

“Hyunjae, my beloved youngest. If someone else told you to die, would you perhaps think about it a few times?”

Lee Hyunjae made a face, wrinkling his eyes as if he was utterly disgusted.

“Why are you listening to that? I’d pour water on their face and walk out.”

“Then, if I told you to!”

“Once.”

Lee Hyunjae said, waving his hand as if swatting away a fly, and walked out. Ryu Ideun, satisfied, saved the video and smiled brightly, pressing the ice pack he had prepared beforehand against Lee Hyunjae’s face.

“Oh, our youngest! So impressive!”

“…*Hyung*, move.”

Ji Donghwa, who had been observing this whole scene, simply clicked his tongue once.

* * *

Life is inherently full of more tiring and discouraging moments than sweet ones. Enjoyable moments like working and filming with Lee Hyunjae, cheering on Chae Hamin, Ryu Ideun, and Seokjun, passed by in an instant.

“…Life.”

“Oh, Donghwa-ssi, you’re so philosophical, just like a professor.”

The day I absolutely didn’t want to come has arrived—today is the day of the first episode of ‘Ji Donghwa’s Mental Class’ filming.

I’m almost afraid that the shenanigans in Hongdae last time were just sources for the trailer and intro. What kind of crazy things will I end up doing in the main episodes?

Will there really be people who watch this and laugh? This isn’t just a video for my fans, is it? Does laughter really come from things like this?

Countless thoughts were knitted together like yarn, as if weaving a long winter scarf.

“Ah, this is all being filmed right now, Donghwa-ssi.”

“…Should we start?”

“Yes. Please come back, our mental helper and professor of Mental Education at Hanwoon University.”

“…Yes.”

So, this will be edited and remain as a video. I took a deep breath in and out. It’s just a series that will end in two months anyway. Let’s do our best and forget about it.

“What’s the topic of today’s mental education, PD-nim [PD is short for Program Director]?”

For the record, I’m wearing a full suit again today. My hair is waxed and slicked back. I’m going to a place where these clothes absolutely don’t fit… I don’t know. There are too many candidates.

“It’s a secret, of course! Shall we get going!”

Is there even a show in the world where the *chulyeonja* [performer/cast] isn’t supposed to know anything? Even surprise cameras introduce the setup to deceive you.

A light interview proceeds in the car.

“Professor, for the record, our program loves the truth.”

“I’m willing to die if it’s not the truth. The greatest authority in mental education, Alfred Hitchcock, once said the following: Only death and truth are eternal.”

“What are you talking about?”

Are you trying to provoke a physical altercation? You told me to say whatever I wanted. How can you ask me such harsh questions when I’m being faithful to the contract? You know it’s nonsense. Why are you doing this?

“…It’s a lesson to always live truthfully.”

“I see. Anyway, our program loves the truth, so if your heart rate gets excessively high compared to normal, we’ll have no choice but to give you a penalty.”

“I don’t think there was anything like that in the contract.”

“Are you flustered?”

“Not at all.”

I just smiled.

“What is the penalty?”

“Ah, it’s a secret, of course.”

“Just a moment.”

I took out a white flag from my inside pocket and waved it. It was a flag given to me to wave when I felt I couldn’t endure the concept, and it could only be waved three times during filming. Waving it would immediately end the concept and give me a break.

“PD-nim.”

“Yes?”

“Would it be okay to report this as an unfair contract?”

“Wow, you’re using those three chances like this!”

“It’s the moment I’ve wanted to quit the most since my debut, so I couldn’t help it.”

“Ah, just a moment. Since the concept is stopped, we can laugh too, *pfft*, *cough*. *Khehehe*.”

“Is the goal of this program to torment me?”

“Hey, torment you? No way.”

No, you’re lying right now. From that laugh to your expression, your eyes, and your gestures, everything is screaming that it’s a lie.

“Can I ask just one more question?”

PD-nim simply nodded.

“If I meet someone else, do I have to keep talking nonsense?”

“Wow, I’m always amazed, how do you come up with that nonsense on the spot? We sometimes think you’re talking about real people.”

Please grasp the point of the question, PD-nim. Can’t you feel my desperate heart asking if there’s a knife at my throat right now?

“I just blurt out whatever I don’t know either.”

“Okay, time’s up. Please come back, Professor.”

I straightened my posture and put a smile back on my face. I feel like I’m getting cramps.

“Ah, we had a little commotion.”

Life.

* * *

A restaurant. It looked like a pretty expensive one too. Let’s stick to the concept. I looked at the camera.

“This is a restaurant that has adapted traditional food that I used to eat often when I was studying in the Kingdom of Sardinia to suit the local Korean palate. It perfectly recreates the taste of my memories.”

For the record, the Kingdom of Sardinia was destroyed in 1861. Oh my god, I’m thinking up and spouting out this kind of nonsense myself, not even from a script. I want to die, damn it.

The writer-nim [writer] , who searches everything I say, covered her mouth tightly after seeing the search results. The staff-nims [staff] are quite desperate because they have to buy coffee if they laugh.

“Do you eat Sardinian food often?”

“Of course. This morning, I ate pickled cabbage mixed with blueberries with black coffee.”

Yeah, they’ll edit it out even if I spout nonsense like crazy. That’s the comfortable thing about it, unlike public broadcasting. When I appear on public broadcasting, I think about every word I say several times, but it’s so comfortable to just say whatever comes to mind that I want to die, damn it.

“Shall we go in?”

I politely opened the door for the cameraman-nim [cameraman] to go in first, and one of the writers snickered. I quietly gestured politely with my hand, and the PD-nim nodded, checking it off. My wallet is going to hurt today.

Before entering the restaurant, I took a breath. Don’t laugh, don’t panic, stay calm no matter what happens.

And as soon as I entered, a foreigner opened his mouth.

“Bonjour.”

I didn’t expect them to have such thorough research. How did they know I could speak French? German is quite well-known, but only the members knew I could speak French. Did Chae Hamin leak it?

“Bonjour.”

I replied without saying anything else, and the waiter took a moment to breathe.

“(How many people?)”

“(Just me, or rather, I don’t know if I should include the staff in the count. For now, just me.)”

And then came the silence. A sudden commotion spread among the writers and PD-nim. What is it? Is it common sense to count the staff too?

The waiter looked around in embarrassment, then spoke to me in slightly clumsy Korean.

“Um, do you, speak French?”

Wait, am I, ruining the show’s plan right now?

“(…Yes, I can.)”

PD-nim watched the situation unfold quietly, then pressed his lips shut again.

“Okay, I’ll show you to your seat.”

“(Thank you. You’re kind.)”

“You can speak Korean…….”

“(It’s to torment the staff.)”

There are many people covering their mouths at the ironic situation where a (presumably) French person is speaking Korean, and I, a Korean, am speaking French.

All of this will be edited to classical music. Our show is officially going to be a cultural program. Anyway, it’s the height of disharmony.

Mysterious, the YouTube world.

After passing the first hurdle without any problems, I sat down. I’m ruining a show’s content like this, I’m so proud of my past self who studied French.

“Here’s the menu.”

“Thank you.”

When I opened the menu, all the dishes were listed as ‘Hell’s Bitter Taste.’ I suppressed the urge to take out the white flag and wave it, and quietly pointed with my finger.

“Can I have one Hell’s Bitter Taste?”

Smile on, don’t forget.

“Yes! Please wait!”

I sat down with my legs crossed. It’s a crazy act to maintain the damn identity of ‘elegant professor.’ This is just the beginning, isn’t it, of this damn program trying to screw me over.

Soon, the door opened and two men and one woman walked in. They sat around a table where food was already set up, as if they had ordered in advance. Since there was only me and that group in this space, I couldn’t help but pay attention.