Idol of the Heavenly One - Chapter 5.2
Yoo Myeong-jin left behind a document envelope and even a business card from the company’s legal team, where I could get advice on reviewing the contract. He reminded me several times to get in touch as soon as possible.
Judging by how urgent Yoo Myeong-jin seemed, it looked like my chances of joining this group called YEARZ were quite high. DIAI had debuted, and then a few months later YEARZ was announced, which meant their debut was just around the corner.
*…What was his name again? I can’t remember because she only ever called him “our Jae-heon.”
Anyway, Jae-heon, Lee Ji-eun’s new favorite, was in the group YEARZ.
If it were confirmed that this “our Jae-heon” was in the debut lineup, I would have signed this contract without hesitation, making all my earlier worries seem pointless.
“We should take out 500 insurance policies on our Jae-heon’s face and have him designated a national treasure.”
“If he becomes a national treasure, then he’ll be our Jae-heon too.”
“How did they know he’d grow up this well and snatch him away when he was a kid? CZ, those crazy bastards. They did well.”
‘You mean he was literally kidnapped?’
“Yeah. They apparently followed him after school when he was thirteen and brought him to the agency.”
“Oh, I thought you meant an actual kidnapping.”
The “our Jae-heon” Lee Ji-eun showed me had such outstanding looks that just seeing him made me think life would be way more fun if you looked like that.
If the group he was in was the one debuting, then even after deducting 300 million won from the first settlement, there would still be another 300 million left over.
“Would he really be there…?”
But in this reincarnated world, while the big things stayed the same, many of the small details had changed. For example, DIAI still debuted, but Lee Ji-eun’s former “my baby,” Hyun-jun, was no longer a member. Or how there were two unfamiliar people at the place where I used to work. Which meant there was no guarantee that “our Jae-heon” was still in YEARZ’s debut lineup either.
Someone might say that even if “our Jae-heon” wasn’t there, signing the contract wouldn’t be a loss anyway , but after living fifty years in my past life, I knew better than to sign something that looked like a losing deal.
I wouldn’t have to repay the 300 million won, but I’d have to stay a trainee until debut. If I failed to debut, I might be tied down and unable to do anything else until the contract expired.
The contract period stated five years. Three hundred million won might seem like a big deal right now, but if I failed to debut, that would mean throwing away five years of my youth. Living fifty years in my previous life taught me something:
Time was more important than money.
Not that money didn’t matter, but betting five years of youth on this was a ridiculous gamble.
Still, if “our Jae-heon” was in the debut lineup, this gamble might be worth taking. If I debuted alongside “our Jae-heon,” it would be a jackpot. Besides, they had said my chances of being included in the debut lineup were high.
So before signing, I had to be sure.
Sure of whether he was really there.
[Hello, this is Ji Myeong-hyeon. Before I sign, I would like to personally see the company’s facilities and how the training for trainees is conducted before making my decision.]
Since they were willing to offer me a contract worth 300 million won, they would gladly show me the training process.
[Ah^^ Myeong-hyeon~ In that case, would you like to come to the company you visited last time at 6 p.m. tomorrow? I’ll show you the trainee program^^]
And of course, they would show me their brightest cards.
“Hello.”
*……Hello.”
“Your name is Ji Cheonmyeong?”
“I’m Ji Myeong-hyeon.”
It could have been tough. Of course, it’s not like Joo I-rip was ugly, but compared to “our Jae-heon,” it was a stretch.
“That’s practice room A for dance, and over there is practice room B for performance.”
“Oh, there’s Ji-hak practicing over there. Ji-hak!”
As I trailed after them, absentmindedly being shown around the company, Yoo Myeong-jin suddenly called someone. Then, from room A, where a boy had been practicing in front of the mirror, one kid came out.
“Hello!”
“This is Kwon Ji-hak. He’s been a trainee for five years and is the best dancer here.”
He looked really young, maybe a middle schooler at best. But seeing him training so seriously, it was surprising that he had such a clear goal at that age.
But wait—his name is Ji-hak? What is this? Why do I feel such a strong sense of déjà vu? It’s like… I almost know something, but I don’t… wait—
“Ah…!”
“Hm? What’s wrong, Myeong-hyeon?”
The reason Yoo Myeong-jin was showing me these people was probably because their debut was already confirmed. But their names were Joo I-rip and Kwon Ji-hak. And the group that was debuting was called YEARZ.
The identity of this group was age, time—and the members’ names were age itself.