Became The Leader of a Girl Group Destined To Fail - Chapter 92

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 92.

It was all planned from the start.
After all, what broadcast isn’t rigged to some degree?
This one was obviously no exception.
In truth, I believed that to escape Director Kim, finding another producer was the immediate priority.
I would have preferred to handle the producing myself, but Colors wasn’t the kind of company to entrust a group to a twenty-year-old rookie.
It was only natural—I’d never actually demonstrated any producing ability.
In my past life, I’d self-produced out of necessity because I had no money.
This time, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.
It was frustrating, but there was no helping it. I had to find a way.
The real question was who to bring in as a producer.
They needed to be persuasive enough to push Director Kim aside in Colors’ eyes, and willing to take us on.
Someone in this industry who would actually go against Director Kim and take us under their wing.
Where would I find someone like that?
Realistically—

“I’d have to look within Colors itself.”

I only confided this much to Ryu Bora.
She was the one who’d had the most exposure to this industry, after all.

“Our company only has three or four producers capable of overseeing everything, doesn’t it? They’re probably too busy managing the senior artists.”

That was true enough.
And from what I’d verified, there wasn’t a single producer at Colors who struck me as particularly appealing.
If someone had decent credentials, there was no reason they’d take us on.
If someone would take us on, their reputation or character didn’t sit right with me.
So I’d need to bring in a completely new producer.
Someone entirely fresh… for instance—

“What if we looked among the senior artists?”
“…The senior artists?”

Ryu Bora’s expression made it clear she wasn’t thrilled with the idea.

“Each group does have a producer role, of course. But I’m not sure if there’s anyone willing to step up and take us on.”
“No, there is. One person.”

I smiled to myself and searched for someone.
Then I showed the result to Ryu Bora.

“…!”

Ryu Bora thought for a moment, then nodded.

“I see why you picked this senior. She has the most seniority, and she has considerable influence at Colors.”
“Remember what Ju-hong mentioned recently? ‘I want to aim for an outside director position eventually, like Lee Sol senior.'”

Exactly.
The person I showed Ryu Bora was Lee Sol.
The main rapper of Greysh, the same group as Do Hee-young, and the one handling composition and production for the team.
A member talented enough in songwriting to have given numerous tracks to other idols.

“She recently became an outside director, didn’t she….”
“I heard Lee Sol senior even received stock settlements when Colors was struggling. She probably holds a significant stake.”

I know this because Lee Sol becomes the executive director of Colors ten years from now.
Back then, I simply thought, ‘An idol interested in management too?’
But now I see that this ambition didn’t emerge overnight.

“The problem is… would Lee Sol senior even want to take us on? I heard she’s in the middle of a world tour. I’m not sure if she can manage us while being so busy.”
“Since she just became an outside director, I think this is exactly when she’d want to demonstrate her capabilities.”

I said that and picked up the USB containing Kim Geum’s and my work.

“And I don’t need Lee Sol’s time—I need her name.”

Now there was only one problem.

“But… we can’t make such a proposal first.”
“She might think we’re being presumptuous.”
“Right.”

“I need to borrow your name, senior. In exchange, I’ll give you the opportunity to leave an achievement.”
How could I possibly propose something like that?
Any reasonable person would naturally refuse.
A rookie.
Director Kim.
Those two factors alone made it an overwhelmingly difficult condition, and now they’re telling me not to get involved?
There was absolutely no reason to agree.
There was absolutely no reason to listen to him.

“So… it would be better to make them propose first.”

***

“Oh, it’s Lee Sol?”

Kang Writer looked at me with a surprised expression.

“I know the senior is incredibly busy and it might not work out. Still, I’d really appreciate it.”
“I know you’re incredibly busy, senior, so it might not be possible. But I’m still going to ask.”

Kang Writer was quite a good person.
And talented too.
On top of that, he had the ability.

“Kang Writer is great in every way, but there’s no charm in how obedient he is for someone so young.”

The fact that Oh PD couldn’t easily let go of Kang Writer, even though he spent all day badmouthing her, was proof of that.

“Let me give it a try. But if I may ask, what’s the reason you’re trying to recruit me?”

No matter how good Kang Writer was, I couldn’t tell them everything about our plan.
It wasn’t that I was worried Kang Writer would leak our plan.
It was simply that we weren’t at that level of closeness yet.
Secrets were burdensome for the listener too, after all.
So I gave them a hastily prepared excuse.
For this reality show concept, we wanted to learn tips about being an idol directly from our Colors seniors.
And I thought Lee Sol would be perfect for that.
But I think Lee Sol would be perfect for that role.

“An idea like that… I think it could work. We were preparing something similar anyway.”
“That’s fortunate, then.”

People really do think alike sometimes.
From the start, I’d assumed MEN would want that kind of content.
Why would MEN bother producing a reality show for a rookie idol group?
There were two reasons.
Make a New Color’s popularity and Colors’ reputation.
Since they were trying to ride on those two things for an easy path, I figured they’d also covet the other idols from Colors.
So when I suggested first reaching out to senior idols myself, they were probably quite pleased.

“Oh, but could you add one more recruitment proposal?”
“Who?”
“Day from All Colors, my senior.”

All Colors was Colors’ second idol group.
Eight years into their debut.
Among them, Day was the main vocalist and a composing member.
The equivalent of Lee Sol in All Colors, you might say.
…But their relationship with Lee Sol was very, extremely poor.
I knew this directly from Day herself.

“I’m used to being disliked by someone, but being disliked by Lee Sol… honestly, I never got used to it even as time passed.”
“You and Lee Sol weren’t on good terms? I didn’t know that.”
“We’ve had a terrible relationship since my debut.”
“Why were you disliked in the first place?”
“…That’s something only the adults know about.”
“What do you mean by that…?”

I’d heard about it roughly four years into my own debut.
By now, their relationship was probably still strained.

“I wanted to ask both of them for advice on producing.”

To be honest, I don’t really want to take advice from Day.
I have no desire to get entangled with a male idol.
And it turns out that in my past life, Day and I did a radio show together, so we have some history.
Even then, he wasn’t someone I particularly liked.
The man had talent and good looks.
But there was something about him that irritated me in an inexplicable way.
It wasn’t strange that Lee Sol disliked him.

“Day certainly has talent in producing. However, Yun Chung…”
“Yes?”
“Are you comfortable working with a male idol?”

Kang Writer spoke with a worried expression.
My instincts were right after all.
This person was genuinely good-hearted.
In fact, All Colors was currently one of the hottest male idol groups.
Greysh, on the other hand, felt less like they were “currently” hot and more like they were maintaining stable solo activities.
Day would naturally be far more helpful for the program’s buzz, yet he was asking if I was comfortable with it…
This person operated on a different level than Oh PD.

“So please make Lee Sol my first priority.”
“I will.”
“Oh, and… when you reach out to Lee Sol with the offer…”

I added one more condition.

“Casually mention to Day that he’s also been approached for the offer. And that the theme is ‘producing.'”

To move someone’s heart.
Touching their anger and competitive spirit is always the easiest way.

***

And so it came to pass.
Of course, I hadn’t expected Lee Sol to fall for it so readily.
But I understood her heart.
That day, we played three songs: two by Kim Geum and one I’d composed.
There was a reason we deliberately played Kim Geum’s songs first.
Kim Geum had admired Lee Sol as a fan for a very long time.
She couldn’t help but be influenced by Lee Sol’s music.
Lee Sol must have felt it too while listening to Kim Geum’s songs.
The deep affection that had accumulated over all those years.
I decided to place my bet on that.
People’s hearts have a way of being moved, even slightly, by those who care for them.
Even if it’s pity.

“I said I’d produce for you, but honestly, I don’t have that much free time.”

We were in Lee Sol’s Studio.
We’d visited with six pieces of chicken to discuss our future plans.
We needed to talk about the schedule ahead.

“We were prepared for that.”
“What I can offer is some advice and final direction. Does that work for you?”

That was exactly what we’d wanted from the start anyway.

“Yes, that’s more than enough for us.”
“You sound confident.”

Lee Sol chuckled and pulled out a chicken leg.

“Producing is actually a pretty broad concept. Some people think it’s just about the chicken packaging, while others believe a producer’s role extends to the breading itself.”

Lee Sol took a big bite of the chicken.

“But Kim Mo-gyeong thinks a producer is responsible for everything—the bone, the meat, the breading, the seasoning, the packaging. In other words, he’s the law unto himself, and if you succeed, it’s because of him. Of course, if you fail, it’s your fault.”

I could feel the frustration of someone speaking from experience.

“I’m not like that. I’ll only help with the packaging. I want you to learn by doing the rest yourselves. I’d like you to develop your own concepts, design your future and vision directly.”

Lee Sol urged us to eat chicken.
But none of us could bring ourselves to take a bite.

“I’ve already told the Company. I want to produce you all.”
“!”

So she’d already gone that far.
Since the broadcast aired yesterday, there was no way she could take it back.
At first, I didn’t understand why she’d announced on camera that she’d produce us without any prior discussion.
But soon enough, her intention became clear.
If she’d told Director Kim, he would have simply dismissed her.
This way—making a public declaration in front of the cameras—was far more effective.

“But there’s a problem.”

Huh?
Just as we were finally about to relax and take our first bites of chicken.
Everyone froze.
What problem?

“The Company rejected it.”

Clatter.
Five pieces of chicken fell from our hands simultaneously.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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