Getting chewed out in turn by the SPARK bastards was a pretty near-death experience.

First there were Dance Incarnate himself, Choi Jeho, and Kang Giyeon.

Those two looked at me like I was some kind of fascinating alien lifeform.

They pulled this shocking teaching method where they’d show a total beginner like me a dance packed with flashy moves once and then go, "You get it?"

To make it clear that their teaching style was nowhere near enough for someone like me, I gave them my very best clumsy performance. Both their faces went pale.

But what could I do. I’d been a purebred office worker my entire life.

My head was so full I almost blurted out in front of Choi Jeho, "Center Emperor Choi Jeho, am I even moving properly right now?"

After mentally simulating the look of pure contempt he’d give me if I did that, I’d even started secretly practicing calling him without the nickname in my head.

After the two stone-faced boys, the next ones to go down were Jeong Seongbin and Park Juwoo.

The two premium vocalists tried to pass on their knowledge in a more human way, unlike the artists who’d come before them, to me and my violently broken movements.

Unfortunately for them, my stamina was better than theirs, so they were the ones who collapsed first.

Watching all the disasters unfold, Lee Cheonghyeon met my eyes and gave me a thumbs up.

"Hyung, you’re really incredible! Fighting!"

Then he even winked. His personality was perfectly optimized for being an idol.

You should’ve done that wink a lot more in your self-filmed content. If you had, I could’ve made a wink compilation of you in a single day.

Thanks in part to Lee Cheonghyeon’s sparkly encouragement, I managed to reach the point where I could look straight ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ ahead and still stretch my arms out evenly to the sides. It only took about four hours.

When I glanced to the side, Kang Giyeon was clapping with his lips clamped tight.

I’d seen that exact face once before, looking at the boss’s kid who’d come in to "help out" at the part-time job. My second life really wasn’t going to be easy.

At this point, I couldn’t help but wonder.

What on earth had the casting manager seen to cast me into UA?

I figured the SPARK guys had to be just as curious as I was.

Wouldn’t you be suspicious if some kid who joined as a trainee out of nowhere a few days ago couldn’t even control his left and right feet?

Nobody showed it on their faces, but I knew. One of my few talents was reading the room.

Still, there was nothing to be done. There was no way an office worker whose whole life had been fiddling with web spreadsheets was going to learn to dance well in a single day.

Especially not when the so-called reward only gave me 20 EXP at a time.

I’d actually been in a situation similar to this before.

Back when Department Head Nam had dumped five years’ worth of unsorted documents on my desk and told me to have them organized by the end of the day.

What you had to do when you couldn’t believe the situation you were in and no matter what you tried, you couldn’t come up with a better plan.

That was...

"Brute-force repetition."

My eyes felt a little watery. It was like the sweat I’d shed back then had synced up with my tear ducts.

Still, there was definitely one improvement. At least Department Head Nam wasn’t here.

If there were even people willing to help me, I should be grateful.

Even if that "help" was coming from my first life’s mortal enemy squad.

With them putting in the effort to teach me, it would’ve felt wrong not to at least try to learn. Using my anger as fuel, I threw myself into doing exactly what they told me.

If I thought of it as a 20% raise in my annual salary, it was a pretty big percentage. Mental victory really was all about how you framed it.

Who knows how long I moved in a state of no-mind.

When I heard rough breathing around me and looked up, the SPARK bastards were slumping down one by one into the corners of the practice room.

Pathetic. With stamina like that, they’d never be able to carry management’s thermoses up Bukhansan.

Taking advantage of the lull in the lectures, I grabbed a bottle of water and took a drink.

That was when the practice room door opened and someone vaguely familiar walked in.

At the same time, the SPARK bastards, who’d been sprawled out like exhausted office workers doing overtime, jumped to their feet.

The way they snapped to attention was exactly the same as SPARK in their early debut days. My stomach lurched.

"You’re all working hard on practice, huh?"

"We’re fine!"

"Fine, my ass. This is the first time I’ve seen you since I cast you, Iwol. Have you said hi to the others?"

Neat business-casual that didn’t look like a trainer’s outfit, and a friendly tone.

And above all, that line was what turned my suspicion into certainty.

So it’s you. The person who dropped me into this pit of evil.

I wanted to grab him right then and there and ask what on earth had made him think I looked like I could be an idol. Was there really that little talent walking around Hongdae that day?

"Yes, everyone’s been helping me a lot."

But I held myself back. It was thanks to patience honed to the absolute limit.

"Hey now. We’ve got high hopes for you too, Iwol!"

He really should’ve seen the dead eyes on SPARK just now.

If he had, there’s no way he would’ve said that. Even I, who only had resentment toward SPARK and nothing else, was starting to feel sorry for them.

If the system buddy would just allow it, I’d happily rewrite my résumé right now and apply to be SPARK’s new rookie manager instead.

But there was no response from the system. Typical—only ever quiet at times like this.

Our sudden visitor said he was here to film a group choreo video of the five SPARK members and pulled out his phone.

"Since we’ve got a new trainee, we need to re-check the picture, you know. Once you’ve got the choreo down, we’ll shoot again with you in it too, Iwol."

If you can’t do anything else, at least answer promptly.

So I said okay for now. Whether that day would ever actually come was another question.

While SPARK got ready to film, I moved to stand in front of the mirror on the opposite side, next to the staff member.

The scene that unfolded in front of me really was something.

Even to my untrained eyes, the way the five trainees hit every beat in perfect sync looked damn cool.

"Back when I was making edit comps, all I thought was that the guys my age sure had some sturdy joints."

Seeing them up close, I got it for real.

These bastards, at least when they were doing their jobs, had serious impact.

Considering they managed to keep the group going for seven years despite having more scandals than staff members, the public might’ve been right: it really was their faces and skills that held them up.

For the first time, I watched their flashy trajectories to my heart’s content, free from the obligation of editing video.

I just made sure not to look above their necks. If I saw their faces, the rage would boil over.

For the record, the move I’d spent hours learning and earned 1 measly welfare point for was over in a flash.

From how it felt...

About 1.8 seconds?

"At this rate, I’ll have to roll around for a full two weeks just to get through one song."

Whether rolling around would ever give me that kind of impact was a separate issue.

Apparently, it really was just a simple monitoring video, because they finished in a single take.

"What do you think, Iwol?"

"Sorry?"

"The kids, I mean. They’re good, right?"

What a brutal question.

My answer was pre-determined. The only thing I could possibly say here was, "Yes, they’re fucking insane."

The problem was that no matter how much I praised them, as long as the speaker was me, I doubted anything would ever get through to SPARK.

"Yes, I think they’re incredible."

I put as much soul as I could into my answer, doing my utmost to sound sincere, without sounding like I was trying to show off.

It made me think of my early days right after I’d joined Hanpyeong Industries.

Back when I lived off reading the room for every meal as I learned how to function in society. Not that I missed it, even a little.

Fortunately, my safely bland answer didn’t seem to leave any impression at all.

It was thanks to speech skills I’d honed for twenty-nine years, fueled by a lifelong desire to never, ever stand out.

There was only one thing that still bothered me. After hesitating for a moment, I finally forced myself to speak.

"But..."

All eyes turned to me. It was the kind of look that said, surely the clueless newbie wasn’t about to nitpick this amazing dance, was he.

I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

"Giyeon, is it okay for you to be dancing?"

"Huh?"

"You looked like you were having a bit of a hard time."

The fact that a clumsy guy who couldn’t even control his own body was adding commentary on top of that made every eye in the room, including Choi Jeho’s, snap straight to me. It was the same look I only ever saw in close-up fancams from fansigns.

I hadn’t wanted to say anything precisely because I knew it would make me stand out.

In my defense, the situation was a bit much to just keep my mouth shut and pretend I hadn’t noticed.

If it were something else, maybe. But looking away when someone looked like they were hurting didn’t sit right with me.

When he was teaching me one-on-one, I wasn’t sure, but seeing several of them dancing the same choreo together, there was no way not to notice.

Nobody was telling him to take a break, so I’d wondered if maybe no one realized.

Maybe my guess had been right, because all the eyes that had been on me shifted straight to Kang Giyeon.

"Giyeon, are you hurt somewhere?"

"Not at all. I’m fine."

In response to the staff’s question, Kang Giyeon answered with a face that looked no different from usual.

But he couldn’t fool my eyes.

That bastard was lying, 100%.

Even before I went back in time, Kang Giyeon had stood there with that exact same expression saying, "We’ll keep working hard in the future."

And less than a year after saying that at the New Year’s concert, they disbanded? You shameless shits.

"Giyeon says he’s fine?"

"He doesn’t look fine to me. His left ankle."

Twisted up inside, I clung to his words with a face so worried it was almost touching.

Kang Giyeon’s expression went strange. It looked like I’d hit the mark and landed a solid blow.

"Giyeon, is your ankle hurting?"

"Since when!"

The staffer and Lee Cheonghyeon shouted at the same time. Kang Giyeon floundered.

"No, it’s not like it’s bad enough that I need to go to the hospital..."

"What are you talking about, Giyeon. If you’re hurt, of course you have to go to the hospital."

Now even Jeong Seongbin joined in. Unlike fake-ass me, he looked genuinely worried.

Since I’d said it out loud, I figured the rest was up to them and him.

Feeling lighter for having done my part, I turned my back on Kang Giyeon.

And then, suddenly, an image floated up in my mind.

It was of Kang Giyeon sitting alone on a chair, singing on the outdoor stage at Imjingak.

It was because of an ankle injury that had become chronic after he’d pushed through high-difficulty choreo without rest since his trainee days.

Anyone could see that period must have been hell for him, even through the crappy resolution of a public radio video; his face just had no life in it.

As an adult who knew the future, I felt morally obligated to help at least once, so I decided to endure the pain of talking to Kang Giyeon again and said,

"Make sure you go to the hospital."

"Huh?"

"A friend of mine ignored his ankle pain and ended up having a rough time. Once it turns into a chronic thing, it’s a real headache."

I did feel a twinge of guilt for upgrading a guy who’d just been in my class to "friend."

But seeing the way Kang Giyeon’s eyes wavered, whether my words got through or not, I figured his stubbornness would crack. That was enough for me.

Since I was doing this just to get an injured person to the hospital, my classmate would understand.

Thanks, buddy. You just helped save a future dance genius.

After that, well, things wrapped up in a heartwarming way: a manager who’d gotten a late call showed up, and he and Kang Giyeon took a taxi to the hospital.

As I saw Kang Giyeon off, a quiet wave of existential dread washed over me.

Half of me was thinking, why the hell did you worry about those guys. The other half was thinking, but you can’t just ignore someone who’s hurt.

Even if something else happens later, I told myself I wouldn’t get involved next time.

Then again, if I poked at it like this a few more times, maybe I’d get to see all five of them dancing on their feet together at Imjingak.

Assuming I didn’t keel over from bottled-up rage and die of stress first.

Even though things got a little chaotic for a bit, practice went on until ten at night.

"Our trainee days episodes?"

"Do we have any... ep...i...sodes...?"

"I feel like we really did nothing but practice... Sorry, Sparkler. We’re boring, huh?"

Back when I was typing up the transcript for that live, I’d been thinking, "Please, just say something, anything, or I’ll need ten threads of summary tweets before I can sleep."

Now I understood. If you spend all day doing nothing but practicing, of course you don’t have anything to talk about.

When all you do after eating is dance and sing, where are the episodes supposed to come from.

At least now they’d be able to tell the story about how Lee Cheonghyeon tried to piggyback injured-ankle Kang Giyeon and they both wiped out together. It was a touching tale of friendship.

My first day of practice had definitely been rough. But it wasn’t so bad I was about to pass out.

Besides, if I just kept flailing around uselessly, my debut would go up in smoke, so as much as it made me want to cry, I decided to squeeze in a bit more practice before going home.

Fortunately, none of the members tried particularly hard to stop me. I guess my dynamic movements had given them quite a shock too.

In three years’ time, those bastards would be showing up on every ranking of Korea’s top "skill idol" groups.

Which meant, in this group project, I was the only one who had to get my act together.

For the first time in a group assignment, it felt like I’d been given the research role instead of the leader slot.

This free-riding feeling... It was soaked in guilt, but I had to admit it was a fresh experience.

I was good at learning skills through repeated practice.

My ancestors hadn’t given me any special talents, but they’d gifted me a bulldog-like stubbornness that didn’t get bored easily.

The fact that just repeating basic moves a few times ate up two hours told me, once again, that a person’s nature doesn’t change easily.

"Wonder if they’re going to give me any EXP for this."

I smacked my lips in regret.

Who knew—maybe if I collected 1,000 points, they’d give me a free ice cream or something. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

As if it had read my mind, the system popped up again after a mere half day.

This time, though, the source of the EXP was a little different.

 [SYSTEM] "Hidden work (first overtime)" has been completed.

▷ Reward: EXP (20)

▷ Total EXP: 40

▷ Total Points: 0

 "Fuck..."

I didn’t want to curse, but what could I do.

In a situation like this, how was I supposed not to.