Between A and B C2

Chapter 2

In truth, there were many reasons why we were doomed to fail from the start.

The first reason was Kang Mandeok—our agency’s CEO—who said he wanted to shake up the entertainment industry, which he described as formulaic and unimaginative, like a success formula repeated endlessly. He believed the public hungered for something new and wanted to do what no one else dared.

At first, I somewhat agreed with him. In a fiercely competitive idol market, to stand out, you had to offer something special. Though I knew that unfamiliarity always came with risks, success was nearly impossible without taking a chance.

But later, I realized there was a vast gap between what the CEO thought was something new and different, and what I believed to be a meaningful differentiation from others.

“Seoju, since you’re the oldest, you’ll be ‘Won’.”

This was when we were picking our stage names before our debut. ‘Won’ wasn’t a bad name, but it wasn’t something I loved either, so I hesitated to answer. Then what came next emptied my mind.

“Jinhyuk, since you are second, you’ll be ‘Tu’.”
“Eh?”
“Tu.”
“…?”
“No, Tu is not impactful enough… let’s call you Tutoo.”
“?”

The CEO’s gaze shifted from a bewildered Jinhyuk, who looked like he was hearing Arabic for the first time, to Yunoel, who visibly recoiled with shoulders rising ten centimeters as if appalled. I clearly saw him start the conversation with a dazed look.

“Sir, you wouldn’t mean ‘Threethree’…”
“‘Threethree’ doesn’t roll off the tongue well… How about Seoksam?”
“Huh? Seoksam?”
“For Kang… let’s call him Popo. He’s the youngest and it sounds cute. Good, right?”

Thus, our stage names were set by age as Won, Tutoo, Seoksam, and Popo.

Recalling those moments now sends chills down my spine. I rubbed my goosebump-covered forearm and shuddered.

Is this reality? But no, this isn’t a dream. This was real. Truly, we were Won, Tutoo, Seoksam, Popo…

“Damn it…”

Of course, we weren’t entirely silent about it. But words failed us, and we had no choice but to debut with these names. Our group name was Another, which was the only saving grace. If our group name had been just numbers too, that would have been…

No, maybe it was better to call it a concept and say they were numbers? I shook my head to dismiss that pointless thought.

That was the first reason.

The second was something we learned much later—that our CEO was a former gangster. He had heard that the entertainment business made good money and rushed in without knowledge or preparation.

He thought an idol group was simply gathering a few handsome and pretty kids to sing and dance. Kang Mandeok was such a clueless thug that he openly admitted this to us.

There were at least 4,576 other bizarre things he said and did, but thinking about them made me only bitter, so I stopped dwelling on it.

Then there was a third reason—an incident that marked the beginning of our steep downfall.

Suddenly hearing footsteps, I turned my head to see a familiar face.

“…?”

Segawon?

Though familiar, the face was awkward, so at first, I thought I was mistaken.

“…”

The figure standing quietly outside the practice room door looked visibly surprised when our eyes met. Instead of looking away and turning back, he bent at the waist to greet me, which made me equally surprised.

“Uh, yeah…”

I couldn’t just ignore his greeting, so I weakly raised my hand and lowered it. I thought he’d leave, but instead, he stood rooted to the spot, staring again.

What was this?

I stared back puzzled, and he finally spoke.

“Hello.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

What the hell…

Was that guy… spying on me?

After all, Segawon was our junior in the same agency, but he was one of the reasons Another was turned from a flop to a big company’s failed idol group.

After the CEO Kang Mandeok messed up Another, he revamped it under Byeolbitdalbit Entertainment’s second group, Battle Brothers (BB). Honestly, the group name gave me a bad feeling, but BB’s debut song swept all the major music broadcasts and charts, winning rookie and grand prizes all at once, becoming, in an instant, one of South Korea’s representative idol groups.

Thanks to that, Byeolbitdalbit Entertainment renamed itself MD Entertainment after Kang Mandeok and moved into a new building, growing from a small-time company to a major corporation.

Though BB and we were from the same agency, we rarely crossed paths and remained distant. When we did, sometimes we didn’t even greet each other, or just nodded awkwardly, making it even more uncomfortable. But thinking back, others seemed to have greeted Segawon well.

Segawon, standing at the door, began walking toward me at a steady pace. The sight of him crossing the practice room’s center felt like a scene from a movie.

He looked casual and unmade-up, as if he had no schedule, but it was always pretty amazing to see him. I admired how someone could look that way naturally.

But why was he coming this way? Maybe he left something near me or had business with me… I was about to turn away when Segawon stopped beside me.

“…”

“…”

I stared into his pitch-black eyes, but his tightly sealed lips wouldn’t move. Unease crept over me, and I frowned.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you have something to say? Why…”

Why did he walk all the way here and then stand beside me like a lamepost?

I swallowed the unsaid words, and suddenly, a look of embarrassment flashed across his pale face. He had come here willingly, but you’d think someone pushed him.

Ah, could it be…

I looked at Segawon with disbelief, clamping my lips shut and scowling.

Now that I thought of it, I’d heard rumors from the others recently that Segawon had been loitering around the practice room. Since he was part of our company, it wasn’t my business where he went, but the problem was that one of the BB members had once told the CEO we were just sitting around the practice room doing nothing.

Who said that, I didn’t know, but I remembered how furious the CEO was about someone complaining to a junior in the practice room.

Honestly, if we were just lounging around, we wouldn’t even be upset…

Anger boiled inside me, but I took a deep breath to calm down. Then Segawon, who seemed about to say something but held back, suddenly asked me an odd question.

“What are you doing here?”

“What?”

“Well…”

“…”

Was this jerk really here to spy on me? Given what happened last time, he was far from looking friendly. Watching my face darken, Segawon stayed silent for a moment before asking again.

“Were you practicing?”

“…”

He definitely came to spy on whether I was practicing or not. No matter how popular someone is, this industry is no excuse for such bad manners. Even though I’ve only been here two years, I’m senior to him. Is it right to spy on whether I’m practicing? Is that really okay?

Our CEO wouldn’t do that…

“I’m about to practice.”

Then I heard Segawon mumble like an ant crawling.

Hearing that calmed the anger that had surged earlier. So he wasn’t here to spy… but then why come here? If he wanted to practice, why would he come here? We have different practice rooms; he had no reason to come this way.

Though I was full of questions, I nodded and said nothing.

“Oh, okay.”
“Yes.”
“…”
“…”

What now? What the hell is this?

Why didn’t he leave and just stood there?

Finally, I couldn’t hold it in and sighed, asking,

“Do you have something to say?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you come and stand here like that? Like a dog waiting for a pee.”

I frowned, and Segawon’s eyes suddenly widened.

“A dog?”
“What?”
“You just called me a dog…”
“…”

Was this guy drunk?

So dumbfounded, I instinctively covered my mouth with my hand. Watching Segawon talk nonsense with wide eyes, I leaned in slightly to smell if he had been drinking.

Startled, Segawon jumped two steps back.

“…”
“…”

Staring into his trembling black eyes like an earthquake, I sighed and patiently asked again,

“I’m not talking about the dog thing. Why are you just standing here? If you came to practice, why don’t you just go practice? Do you want me to leave? Want me to move?”

I was irritated, not understanding what he was doing. He shook his head and stepped two steps closer.

“We have a new song coming out.”
“Oh, congratulations.”
“There’s a difficult part in the choreography.”
“…?”
“Please teach me.”
“…”

He wanted me, who hadn’t even properly promoted a new song in two years, to teach him the choreography for their upcoming song?

Is he seriously mocking me?