Becoming An Idol Wasn’T On My Plan [EN]: Chapter 359

The laughter and teasing from Yaeon only stopped when Junseong arrived and grabbed his shoulders. Junseong, Yaeon’s only restraint and now a middle-aged man, gently chided him.

“When are you ever going to grow up?”

“Hyung [older brother or close male friend], it’s only been a little over ten years since I was born…”

“If you go around saying that, no one will understand.”

“Save me, Sajangnim [company president or CEO].”

Will he ever fix his habit of calling him whatever’s convenient—Juin-nim [master], Hubae-nim [junior colleague], Sajang-nim?

Ji Donghwa pulled Bongju behind him, or rather, behind the chair, and frowned.

It was as if a child was about to eat food covered in dirt, and he was taking it away, saying, ‘No, dirty.’

Thanks to that, Chae Hamin and Bongju awkwardly met eyes.

“…Should I push to the side?”

“Will you? Let’s work hard together in place of Donghwa’s feet!”

Ji Donghwa verbally jabbed at Yaeon, then sighed as if to say, ‘What nonsense is this now?’

“So, why does Donghwa look like this? Will I become a traitor if I release him?”

Junseong looked at him with eyes that seemed to say, ‘Why are you always suffering when I see you?’ Ji Donghwa, overwhelmed with disillusionment, leaned back in his chair. He looked like an ideal medieval nobleman with a languid air.

“In return, you can get my thanks and a reward.”

“Oh, that’s tempting. The more I owe you, the more I benefit…”

“You’ve become materialistic since becoming a director.”

“I know, it would be terrible if you started resembling Director Jang.”

Junseong stuck a straw into a chocolate milk carton, an odd choice with his suit, and drank it. Then, he ate a meat skewer next to him and laughed.

As he said, it was Team Leader Jang, no, Director Jang, who ultimately seized the company’s power. Power within the corporation can control the flow of money, so we’re living with very generous support.

Indeed, a fox riding on a tiger’s back is the most comfortable [relying on someone powerful for comfort and security].

“Ah, I almost forgot. We gathered for your birthday party, but is this really how you look?”

“I know.”

“Then what I bought is useless.”

Only then did the group focus on something Junseong was carrying on his back.

As if responding to their attention, Junseong unwrapped the packaging and took out a championship belt.

As soon as Ji Donghwa saw the cheesy phrase ‘Composer of This Era,’ he tried to jump up, but failed because he was tied to the chair.

“Must be uncomfortable.”

“……Ha.”

However, Junseong, saying that, looked at Ji Donghwa with pleading eyes, revealing his expectation, ‘Won’t you give me a ride [carry me on your back]?’

Annoyance and lamentation welled up: Why are all your gifts like this?

He had no idea where their standards for choosing gifts had gone wrong. He knew that every year, it was becoming more of a festival of torment disguised as gifts.

“This is an annual event, Bongju. You have to get used to it.”

It was Ji Mokwha, of course, who first realized that Ji Donghwa was secretly weak to the word ‘gift.’

Seeing him cherish even useless gifts at home, he thought, ‘Ah, our hyung values the memories contained in gifts.’

This information was like welcome rain to the Blossoms members, who seriously agonized over what to give Ji Donghwa each year.

He dislikes extravagance but has a high aesthetic sense, meaning fashion items are tricky to give as gifts.

Director Jang directly supports most music equipment and keeps it up to date. So, it’s hard to give practical things.

His hobby is making handicrafts like cross-stitch or knitting, but he enjoys making them, not receiving them.

Giving a gift to Ji Donghwa is like a task given on New Year’s Day every year.

They would hold a TF [Task Force] meeting starting a month before his birthday and struggle for days without a good idea, writhing in agony.

And then, like a divine revelation, Mokwha’s advice: ‘Hyung would prefer a gift that will remain as a memory, wouldn’t he?’

From then on, preparing gifts for Ji Donghwa became a time to contemplate how to mess with him.

Gradually, it spread, and when it reached Yaeon’s ears, it became a kind of competition to see who could bring the funniest and most absurd gift.

…Bongju listened to this explanation with his mouth open.

This is the real darkness of the entertainment industry.

He had taken it for granted when other friends said it, but the reality was stranger than he had imagined.

“It’s a secret from Donghwa hyung.”

That’s not a secret. He seems to know, no matter how you look at it.

Even in the midst of this, Ji Donghwa clicked his tongue once and put on the championship belt around his waist.

Since he was tied up anyway, what couldn’t Ryu Iden force him to wear? It was better to put it on himself than to be forced by the chair.

“You look used to it.”

“Has it been about four years?”

A dazzling chair, and a championship belt, it’s getting weirder and weirder.

“Did you start giving gifts without us?”

At that moment, the door opened again, and Yoon Sungho and Hoyeon entered.

Yoon Sungho, as if it were natural, took out a pure white robe from the shopping bag, the kind a clergyman in a fantasy novel would wear.

Hoyeon took out a staff purchased from a cosplay shop and casually handed it over.

“But, why are your feet…”

Pause, to put on the robe, he had to stand up, but no matter how you looked at it, this was a crime scene. Ji Donghwa and Yoon Sungho began to have a long conversation with their eyes.

A conversation that could be summarized as ‘Do you need help?’ and ‘I don’t know’ ended with…

“Ha.”

Eventually, Ji Donghwa, reaching resignation, received the key from Ryu Iden, put on the robe, held the staff in one hand, and sat back in the chair.

“…Next year, please make it something normal.”

Ji Donghwa muttered, looking at the pure white and luxurious robe, even embroidered with his birth flower, the snowdrop, in silver thread.

“Donghwa, let’s put the belt on your shoulder. It’ll look prettier that way.”

Don’t style me, you crazy bastard.

Knowing that this chair was Chae Hamin’s idea, the hand holding the staff trembled.

This is metal. He realized as he carefully touched the end of the staff. Can’t hit him with this.

Since he had decided to accept it anyway, Ji Donghwa put the belt on his shoulder instead of hitting Chae Hamin with the staff.

Pressing his temples once, Ji Donghwa called Chae Hamin in a low voice.

“Hamin.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go drink juice.”

Chae Hamin smiled without replying and pulled the wheelchair. Yaeon, watching the scene, burst into wild laughter and filmed Ji Donghwa with a high-performance camera he had prepared.

Leaning tiredly on the dazzling chair, wearing a pure white robe and staff, and with a belt on his shoulder, Ji Donghwa.

What should this be called?

“A sickly nobleman is actually a hymn composer?”

“Shut up, Yaeon.”

“Sajangnim, if you call me that, I’ll be even happier and run wild!”

“Sunbaenim [senior colleague], please stay still.”

“That also has a taste that evokes memories!”

It’s chaotic. Bongju was just too unfamiliar with this whole scene.

He had expected to see many new people, but he didn’t expect to see a new side of his teacher in it.

“A birthday party with Bongju has an immediate effect. The tolerance range is so wide. Donghwa hyung has become endlessly generous.”

Ryu Iden made a crying face at Lee Hyunjae’s words. Bongju watched that too.

“No matter how you look at it, this is discrimination. And yet, you rejected my crown…”

“Hyung, a tiara is a bit… To say it’s discrimination, hyung’s failure to calculate the tolerance range is a bigger problem.”

“It’s cold and sad. The youngest is betraying me like this and only taking Donghwa’s side…”

It’s noisy here and there. Noisy, but not so bad.

This place is literally to express gratitude to the teacher, and those bizarre gifts were merely ‘to leave memories.’

No evil intentions, only the single-mindedness to create memories. Thinking that way, even the noisy sounds didn’t sound so bad. Even this noise would be part of the memories.

He was also leaving a trace in these memories. When the teacher looked at those bizarre things after many years, he would remember him.

Bongju approached the grand piano placed on one side as if possessed. He opened the lid and pressed any note.

Um, a pretty sound.

If he was going to enter this memory as a part of it, he wanted to remain as background music.

Since there are so many bizarre things, I want to remain as strange background music too.

Kapustin’s Sonata-Fantasia, a piece that is both classical and jazzy. The bouncy notes of Allegro Molto would fit well with this strangely cheerful place.

Bongju finished drinking his strawberry milk and began to play in the beautiful banquet hall, dressed in a tuxedo.

Whenever he wanted to recall this day, he could play this song again. Depending on the situation at that time, he might cry or laugh.

Even after a few more guests arrived, Bongju talked, ate food, drank juice, and occasionally played cheerfully.

Every time, the image of the teacher slowly approaching and listening next to him was clearly imprinted in his mind.

* * *

The cat suddenly realized while listening to the story.

“…The last performance I heard.”

Ji Donghwa also put down the book he was reading and nodded.

“Yeah.”

The medley Bongju had played when he was on his sickbed. He replayed the songs he had played at the banquet, asking if he remembered them.

The image of Bongju silently crying slowly was clearly imprinted in Ji Donghwa’s mind even after quite a long time.

“…It feels strange.”

The fox also floated around in the book, leaving a short comment.

A place where the rabbit and dinosaur had fallen asleep, and the dog brought a blanket and covered them, a warm warmth lingering.

The sun gradually declined.

The cat casually opened the book he always carried with him.

Inside, a terrible situation was unfolding in real time, where Gijisaeng was giving children a harsh reality check during his early childhood education practice.

The cat sometimes observes like this, wondering how he is doing.

Isn’t it too different from Ji Donghwa in the story just now?

He’s clumsy when it comes to dealing with children. Well, the only ones he’s taught are guys like them who already know everything…

“Can you read other books too?”

The fox slowly landed next to Ji Donghwa and asked.

Ji Donghwa stroked his fur a few times and asked.

“What kind of book do you like?”

“…Simba. That, the tiger.”

Pause, Ji Donghwa’s hand stopped stroking. He understood the context.

“Okay.”

The moment he answered, or rather, without knowing when, a thin book with the name ‘Simba’ was placed on the table.

* * *

“…Yes, zookeeper.”

Ji Donghwa woke up suddenly in the middle of his sleep and answered the phone. Yet, his voice didn’t waver at all.

─That, Donghwa-ssi [Mr. Donghwa].

At the ominous voice, Ji Donghwa bit his lip slightly for a moment.

“Yes.”

─Simba’s, um, condition has worsened since last time.

“……Yes.”

─I wanted to let you know.

In the midst of the words that he could come anytime and the reply that he was grateful for letting him know, Ji Donghwa let out a deep sigh.

Although there was no direct mention, he could tell.

The connection that had been continuing would end within a few days.