The beginning of the meeting was a straight-up skit.

Yoo Hansu smoothly explained the materials he’d had me research all night as if they were his own work. He didn’t deviate an inch from the script-like explanations I’d written for him.

Ideas someone else bled their brains out to produce became Yoo Hansu’s proposal in an instant with just a few lines from him. A real alchemist of language.

I couldn’t help but be impressed by how brazen, how assertive—no, how downright natural—his performance was.

“So that’s why there are reviews saying employees had all their items stolen by Yoo Hansu.”

Good thing my job is idols; if I’d been on the same team as him, my insides would’ve been flipped long ago.

The mood shifted when the CEO cut the PT for a moment and threw out a question.

“Can a graph even come out like that? The highest proportion there—that really is the year before last?”

At the CEO’s question, Yoo Hansu was visibly flustered.

“The numbers are missing, that’s all; the graph itself should be correct, sir.”

No. That graph was completely fucked.

It happened because he’d misidentified the point itself.

“If you want the dataset you’re talking about, we’d need a full enumeration, which is unrealistic, PD. Unless we’re a statistical agency, it’s hard to investigate every idol who debuted domestically.”

“Just inflate it roughly. Strip the units and numbers off the graph.”

From the moment he spouted that kind of bullshit, I knew it would end up like this.

In an idol market where the trend shifts by period, multiplying a few counts doesn’t give meaningful data. If you don’t know, at least don’t try to run a con.

Back at Hanpyeong Industries, I would’ve stayed up all night or begged him with tears of blood and still laid down clean data.

Even if Manager Nam chewed me out, if it passed at the executive level, I could get yelled at a little less that day.

But this time I had no intention of doing that.

I’d given him one chance; when he didn’t listen, I became sure I couldn’t work with that guy.

Sitting at the far end of the conference room, I watched how cornered he was.

Then our eyes met.

Spotting me, he suddenly put on a stern face and said,

“Iwol, did you check these numbers?”

Oh. So you’re going to shift the blame like that?

Not an unexpected choice.

Manager Nam was a real pro at slipping out like this.

Thanks to that, I got a full taste of the bitterness of society.

Here, if I say...

“Ah, yes. I definitely did as you told me to put them in...”

...then he’ll obviously go,

“When did I ever—sigh... I’m sorry, sir. Looks like there was a mistake. Iwol, let’s talk separately later.”

...and play dumb.

As if he’d never given such an instruction even once.

Keep calm.

“Ah... I’m sorry. Looks like I put it in wrong.”

Don’t panic; stay calm, and pretend to have “noticed my own mistake and gotten flustered.”

“There were a few changes, and I didn’t get to reflect them all. I’ll fix it.”

Slip in just enough for him to nitpick.

Of course not making mistakes is best.

But people make mistakes.

And outwardly, I’m a twenty-year-old who hasn’t even started working life. A mistake like mine can be tolerated to a degree.

Then what about someone roughly twenty years older than me, with long time-in-seat, in a managerial position over me, doing a PT with “his” item in hand?

“Right, Iwol, fix the data after the meeting. PD Hansu.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can proceed at least at the level of explaining the flow, right? Keep going.”

“Pardon?”

There’s no way he can.

He wouldn’t have gotten any meaningful conclusion from the raw data.

If he’d read the data, there’s no way he would’ve come up with that garbage argument.

“Give him a file, he can’t read it; give him an idea, he rejects it; make materials, he doesn’t even review them...”

Zero as a superior—zero.

I watched the sweating Yoo Hansu with interest.

“What are you doing? Not proceeding?”

“I’m sorry. The numbers suddenly got mixed up in my head...”

He lies without even wetting his lips. When there’s nothing in his head at all.

The CEO propped his chin and tapped the table a few times with his fingers.

“Hm...”

Hellish silence flowed through the conference room.

How many seconds passed like that?

Watching him, mouth clamped shut and only riffling the materials, the CEO called me.

“Iwol.”

“Yes.”

“Do you roughly remember the data that should go in here?”

At the same time, Yoo Hansu’s gaze swung to me.

Don’t worry. I’m not about to play the genius trainee with a brilliant memory here. I can’t act anyway.

“I don’t remember it, but I brought all the files I used when I made the materials.”

“Good. Hand them over.”

The CEO reached his hand out toward me.

I walked over right away and handed him the printed Excel documents.

Flipping the file back and forth, he asked,

“Why does it say ‘approx.’ before the summary count here?”

“Because it’s an approximation...”

I answered in a tone that sounded even more cautious, bothered by the earlier mistake.

“Approximation? Didn’t you say full enumeration?”

“Well...”

When I hesitated, the CEO looked like he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

I did my best not to let my gaze drift to the ghost-white Yoo Hansu beyond the CEO’s shoulder.

Then, holding my curling mouth in place, I said,

“I arbitrarily scaled up the sample survey values so the PD could check, so that’s how I processed it.”

“Arbitrarily? Is that how statistics are done?”

“...”

The CEO’s brows drew together.

I didn’t need to turn my head to know. The conference room atmosphere was getting messy.

Who gets nailed here depends on the CEO’s judgment.

Even if he decides I inflated the data on my own, I can still give the impression “PD Yoo didn’t even check the contents of his own proposal?”—I’ll be satisfied with that.

Best case is a conclusion like, “It’s a bit early to give PD Yoo full authority.”

Since the rumor is going to spread in the company anyway, even better if it reaches the vocal coach’s ears.

Ever since I worked my limited brain a bit for the monthly eval, that teacher has been watching me closely in every lesson.

Looks like he wants to guess how far ahead I’m seeing the situation...

I do hope he hears my shameful tale of self-made error and thinks, “That Iwol kid, really. Making such a beginner mistake—he’s a total rookie.”

Anyway.

Wearing the most apologetic face I could, I waited for the CEO’s next words to fall.

“Iwol.”

“...Yes.”

“Leave these materials and head out first? We’ll continue the meeting among staff.”

To the eye it was an expulsion, but it was the same as a not-guilty release.

It means: you can go now, and we’ll go lay into Yoo Hansu!

No verdict could have satisfied me more.

Laughing only on the inside, I answered in a sunken voice,

“Understood. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Then I quietly left the conference room and savored that head-to-toe feeling of coolness.

It felt like the dark circles piled up thanks to Yoo Hansu were washing away all the way down to the basement practice room.

Not long after the meeting ended, I was summoned to the rooftop.

The vibe wasn’t much different from that day I’d been called to the break room, so I put my hands together politely and stood straight.

Leaving me standing, he lit a second cigarette. Then he took a long drag.

“Hey.”

“Yes.”

“You answer well, huh?”

“Assistant Manager Kim.”

“...Yes.”

“Our Assistant Manager Kim answers so well. Right?”

Why do elders of our world all have the exact same repertoire.

Back in the Hanpyeong Industries days, the only difference was that the place I was called to was the break room instead of the rooftop; the conversation unfolded almost identically.

Next line would be: Assistant Manager—no, Kim Iwol, did you set out to fuck me over.

“Iwol, you know you almost completely screwed me over, right?”

Told you.

What’s the system even doing. Won’t it give me a hidden task like “Guess your boss’s psychology!”

Honestly, I was half expecting it, but the system didn’t show its nose.

“That’s not it. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sorry at all, but still.

Since I’d ended up embarrassing him in front of a lot of people, I apologized nicely.

Then he tapped ash off right in front of my shoes. Should I be thankful he didn’t blow smoke in my face.

“You must be too young to know this, but when someone asks you for something, you have to really check it carefully before you hand it over. Got it?”

A correct statement. So did you, sir, pretend to listen to my suggestions?

During my short tenure at Hanpyeong Industries I never once made a mistake in review; do you even know how much I wrestled with myself before I committed a deliberate mistake?

I fought off the instinct to refuse a dumb task and did it exactly how you asked, and you still have this much to say.

“Not going to answer?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“See? You answer well again.”

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

I’ve thought this for a long time, but with people like this, I really don’t know what they want me to do.

“If I hadn’t salvaged it, you would’ve been truly fucked. Be grateful.”

And even then, the part about him having salvaged it almost made me clap. What a piece of work. I’m only curious how he wriggled out of that mess.

“Still feels like it got waved away a little too easily.”

He’s maintained his career purely through office politics; sure, he’d slip out somehow, and yet something gnawed at me.

Whether I drifted into thought or not, he kept dragging on his cigarette and said,

“The CEO’s fond of you, so I’ll let it slide this time, but if you mess up again, that’s it. If you don’t ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) want your string cut, get your head straight.”

“Yes.”

I’d like to object to the part about the CEO being fond of me.

It’s not fond; I’ve earned the faintest sliver of trust. About as much as my pay raise last year.

Maybe he liked the sight of my bowed head, because he added,

“If you can’t do both, take your hands off early.”

I don’t even have to look to know. That bastard’s corners of his mouth are twitching.

I snapped my head up like I was all drilled and disciplined.

Sure enough, I could see his lips trembling.

“Yes, PD. I’ll work hard!”

“Good. Take it to heart and go practice.”

As if to encourage me, he patted my shoulder a couple of times and then gripped hard.

This level of grip strength is nothing.

I’m someone who watched Choi Jeho crack walnuts barehanded on live stream.

After giving a pitying look to a Yoo Hansu who hoped this would get to me, I left the rooftop with a light heart.

A few days later.

I flung open the practice-room door with hot-off-the-press breaking news from the Planning Team.

“We’re keeping our concept as is!”

“Really?!”

Uncharacteristically loud, Jeong Seongbin; behind him, Lee Cheonghyeon bounced.

I had no particular intention of stopping Lee Cheonghyeon.

 [SYSTEM] “Task” has been completed.

▷ Reward: EXP (20)

▷ Cumulative EXP: 20

▷ Cumulative Points: 0 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

 As long as my EXP came in, I was good.

While I was fully enjoying my satisfied mood, Lee Cheonghyeon came up to me.

“I just lost ten years off my life. Right?”

“Not ten years.”

You guys didn’t even last seven before disbanding. Who are you kidding?

“It is ten years. The debut lineup’s even confirmed—when I go home my mom’s going to ask if we’re preparing well for debut... ugh, with that concept I absolutely can’t say it’s going well with my chest out.”

Lee Cheonghyeon grimaced.

“It’s confidential anyway, so you can’t really tell her much.”

“But there’s still a thing called feelings!”

Then he started grinning. He must’ve been really excited.

“More importantly, are you going home? When?”

“What do you mean when. Chuseok is the week after next.”

Chuseok, huh.

Time... when did it get to that?