The origin of the incident was like this. Let’s go back 30 minutes.
ID had already issued a press release announcing that AIM’s junior group would debut soon, and preparations were almost complete.
But last night, a single phone call triggered an emergency at ID Entertainment.
The CEO, who was on an overseas business trip, hurriedly returned for this reason.
‘I told him to be careful with his behavior.’
As the ultimate boss appeared, employees waiting nearby followed him.
They had to manage the situation before rumors that the rookie group was going to fail before debut reached the investors’ ears.
“There are no reporters following yet since it’s pre-debut. But a few sasaengs might have witnessed it; it’s hard to confirm.”
Trainees at a major agency—especially those already confirmed for debut—sometimes had sasaeng fans stalking them even before debut.
“Where is the guy who caused the accident?”
“Well… his phone is off, so we can’t reach him…”
The elevator opened, and the CEO’s office door sign, written in English, was visible at a glance.
Across from it was the secretaries’ desk, but no one was there.
“It’s troublesome if you keep doing this here. If it continues, we’ll have to call security.”
“Please, I have something important to tell the CEO.”
“Well, I’ve told you several times—the CEO isn’t here right now!”
A scuffle broke out in front of the CEO’s office entrance. The secretary team, though stern in tone, did not have the heart to harshly send away the trainee who appeared looking unwell.
“What is it?”
Suddenly, a voice sounded, and the three turned with surprised faces, apparently too focused on their argument to notice.
“The CEO…!”
A pale-faced secretary hurried over. The man who raised a hand to stop her approached Harang.
The girl with him reportedly had surgery, but this guy looked fine except for gauze on his face and arm.
‘Park Harang. He was supposed to be the main vocal of the new group.’
The man’s eyes, sweeping over Harang, were cold.
‘Not anymore, though.’
Troubles had to be nipped in the bud. Even if a seemingly fine trainee debuted, accidents happen as soon as they gain experience in this industry. Carrying a ticking time bomb that could explode anytime?
‘Only a madman wouldn’t see it.’
The man saw Harang’s lips move slightly. Whatever was about to come out was obvious, but the man asked,
“What do you want to say?”
Harang knelt on the cold marble floor.
His hands, neatly placed before the man’s polished shoes, trembled noticeably. Yet the man’s gaze remained cold as he looked down at Harang.
“Well, I’m sorry! Please give me just one chance.”
The line couldn’t have been more predictable. The man let out a dry laugh.
Besides them, many eyes were watching, but neither Harang nor the man cared. Harang wanted forgiveness; the man had no intention of granting it.
“Please, just once, one more chance, and I promise this won’t happen again…!”
“Alright. I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from this.”
The man interrupted Harang’s repeated apologies with a rather positive tone, which gave hope to Harang’s eyes.
But what followed was despair.
“I won’t demand a penalty fee. Still, the fact remains that you worked hard enough to be in the debut team of ID.”
A ruthless termination notice.
“We don’t have the right to control Park Harang’s life, so if you want to debut at another company after leaving here, we won’t stop you.”
“C-CEO……”
“But our connection ends here. So it’s best for you to leave peacefully when we say so. The more you cause trouble, the more it’ll work against you.”
It was a thinly veiled threat disguised as a warning. Tears welled up in Harang’s eyes. A sorrowful sob escaped, and the man who looked down at him turned his back.
His face was full of irritation.
The man irritably loosened his necktie. Because Harang was sitting right by the door, it was awkward to push past him.
“The CEO of Jung just arrived.”
“Oh, yes. They’re conducting a joint evaluation in the big practice room now.”
He expected just a few staff members to be sent but was surprised.
His face tightened further at the obvious purpose behind coming all the way to another company.
‘For someone who’s a CEO, he sure has no shame.’
US had also started assembling a debut team, and it seemed they were serious about it. But maybe this was also an opportunity for him.
Because of the recent incident, ID urgently needed a main vocal. Though they wouldn’t fail if they debuted as is, it was disappointing.
‘It’s not too late even now.’
Having made up his mind, the man chose a destination.
“Let’s go there.”
Though not common, if interests aligned, trainees could be handed over anytime.
Though their affiliation would change, it was a guaranteed debut opportunity. Rather than trembling with anxiety waiting for an uncertain future ID group, joining another company’s debut team was better for them.
As far as he knew, ID had no trainee with vocals good enough for immediate debut. So the talent US wanted was probably limited to dancers.
‘Their best was likely hidden, but we have to make a deal.’
They had time; we didn’t.
Arriving at the practice room, beyond the wide-open door, pale voices echoed.
The man asked the employee following him,
“Who is that? I don’t recognize him.”
The man’s eyes intensely fixed on Baekya. The head of rookie development, nearby, answered the question about whether Baekya was a US trainee.
“He’s a trainee at our company. He’s been here just over two weeks.”
“His vocals are decent. Is he from an academy?”
“No. He’s never had lessons. His voice is good, so we expect more in a few years. He’s following the training well.”
“I see.”
Though the conversation ended, the man didn’t move.
The staff, surprised at the CEO frozen right outside the practice room, watched helplessly. The man just stood there until Baekya’s song ended.
When the voice stopped, he spoke again.
“Let’s go with him.”
“……What do you mean?”
The team leader asked again, clearly not understanding the man’s words.
“The mask is fine… and it would suit him wherever we put it.”
A smile appeared on the man’s lips as he looked at Baekya. Apparently not hearing the team leader, he murmured to himself while stroking his chin, then turned.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“No. There’s no need now. Let’s sign a contract with him and start training immediately.”
“A contract? Are you really saying Baekya should join the debut team? But he’s very lacking in choreography.”
But the man was firm.
“Choreography can be memorized. Dance skills will improve over time.”
“Well, that may be so…”
It was the moment the shortest trainee in idol history was born.
After signing, Baekya headed to a small studio inside the company. Standing before a white wall surrounded by camera equipment, he took several test shots.
From close-ups to upper body, side, and full body shots. They needed Baekya’s profile photos immediately for the planning and art teams.
「Actually, this group’s preparation period was quite long. Much of it was already done, and only concept photos for the album remained….」
The team leader explained that one member had to leave due to personal reasons, and Baekya would take their place.
He also said the members had prepared for a year, but Baekya had only three months to finish.
「The schedule is tight, but we’ll support you as much as possible.」
Baekya finished his brief recollection. He recalled Dongman, who got teary-eyed with emotion, but quickly shook it off.
“Baekya, your height is about 175, right?”
“Yes? Yes! 175.2 cm.”
When told the shoot was done, Baekya approached the monitor. Seeing his unfamiliar face filling the screen, it looked awkward and stiff.
The photographer selected a few of the better shots and added Baekya’s physical stats below.
[Height 175 cm / Weight 60 kg]
He had said 175.2 cm, but 0.2 cm was omitted.
Though trivial, that number was precious to him, and his resentful eyes trembled slightly at the man. The man even wrote down a weight he didn’t know.
“How did you know my weight...?”
When Baekya cautiously asked, the man shrugged.
“You get a rough idea after doing this for a while. Good work.”
“Y-yes… thank you…”
Baekya answered weakly.
Unable to let go of the decimal point, he didn’t dare mention it to the photographer who didn’t even look at him.
When their eyes met briefly, the man just said the shoot was over and told him to go down to the choreography practice room.