The Trashy PD Has To Survive as an Idol - Chapter 137

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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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137

“I’m really torn about this.”

The Japanese cover had been recorded long ago, and two of the original tracks kept getting scrapped. It was because Kang Yi-chae wasn’t satisfied with them.

“I can’t quite grasp the vibe, you know?”

On top of that, there was a bonus track.
In Japan, idol songs were occasionally used as anime opening or ending themes.
As we prepared for our Japan debut, Dae Pa-sung finally brought us something decent, and while we’d need to go through several complicated processes and final approvals, they said the bonus track had potential to be adopted as the ending theme for a new anime if we pulled it off right.

“Does this sound anime-ish?”
“Nope.”

While genres varied widely, Japanese music—especially J-POP—had a distinctive characteristic: you could instantly recognize its particular color.
And those were the songs that typically blew up in Japan.
This track came with an additional mission: it had to fit an anime.
But a song made by Kang Yi-chae?

“It just reeks of money in the beat.”

It was pure Kang Yi-chae taste—a sleek, polished beat through and through.
Until now, The Dun had thrived on that atmosphere, but these Japan tracks needed to be different.

“…I never thought I’d be worrying about something like this.”

Kang Yi-chae tilted his head, clearly struggling to find the right direction.
He seemed reluctant to strip away his strengths, and besides, this guy had zero interest in anime—games were another story entirely.

“How do I remove the money smell?”
“I love the money smell way too much, so don’t ask me.”
“…Someone other than Rabbit, please come help~.”

At Kang Yi-chae’s call, Jung Da-jun, who’d been spinning around in a wheeled chair some distance away, asked Kim Sung-hyun to push him over, and he came sliding across in an instant.

“Hyung!! Didn’t you watch Tempest Ninja Grand Festival when you were little?”
“Tempest… what’s that?”
“…I don’t want to have a conversation with someone who knows nothing.”

Jung Da-jun, who had grown up properly(?) as a drama enthusiast but had devoured anime as a child, gave Kang Yi-chae a cold stare for knowing nothing, then snatched the laptop and pulled up YouTube.

“Look! The moment you hear it, you get pumped up, your chest swells! For some reason, listening to it makes you want to run across the athletic ground with a tire strapped on, turning your back to the setting sun of a summer evening! It’s like that thrilling youth you buried deep in your heart five years ago is bubbling back up!!”
“So what was our Da-jun doing when he was fifteen~?”
“I was going to English academy~.”
“…You were going?”
“This is seriously too much??”

Jung Da-jun and Kang Yi-chae bickered back and forth.
In any case, Kang Yi-chae listened to a few more related songs to get a sense of the vibe, then nodded.

“Ah, um, okay okay.”

Then he hummed a bit before immediately laying down a beat.
It wasn’t like a factory or anything—under the blazing sunlight that erupted in an instant, drenched in sweat, he pulled out a beat that seemed to contain a single strand of cool breeze blowing from somewhere.

“Whoa!! This is exactly the vibe!”

‘Insane….’

Kang Yi-chae, who had been roughly matching the melody with his mouth to the beat, shifted his gaze to look at Jung Da-jun.

“…Is it good?”

It didn’t seem to be his taste, so Kang Yi-chae tilted his head while resting his chin on one hand.

“Maknae, but that ending song anime—I don’t think it was actually about running around the athletic ground with a tire or anything like that… what was it? A Japanese trainee challenging K-pop… something like that, right?”
“…Oh, yeah?”

Jung Da-jun, caught off guard, snapped his mouth shut.
The Korean Wave craze that had swelled up so grandly seemed to be fading, but in recent years, the K-pop craze had begun blowing again.
Eventually it even became a subject in manga, and the anime that The Dun was working on this time dealt with the story of Japanese male trainees succeeding as idols in Korea.

“Well then, I’ll just make it with my own taste.”

Kang Yi-chae’s mood brightened at the mention of being able to inject his own taste—even the clicking sound of his mouse carried a cheerful rhythm.
The oppressive, sweat-drenched track that had reeked of youthful passion vanished, replaced by a crisp, refreshing deep house EDM piece that sparkled with energy.

‘Damn….’

That’s insane.
No matter how inspired someone was, could they really overhaul an entire song’s structure in mere minutes?

‘I’d be frustrated too if I were in her position.’

This genius bastard.
I finally understood why Lim Hyun-sung had wilted under the weight of reality. With each passing day, Kang Yi-chae’s songwriting prowess and sensibility soared to new heights, and now he was even weaving narrative coherence into his compositions.

“…Yi-chae.”

The other members continued to marvel—a sight that never grew old no matter how many times they witnessed it.

“Why did you just… leave things hanging like that?”
“I thought I’d experience the bitter sting of life for once.”

Don’t lie—you just didn’t want to do it.
Kang Yi-chae chuckled and rose from his seat, heading into the recording studio. He was about to lay down a guide vocal.

“What even is he?”

The way he pulls beats like that.
I figured the company would handle attaching Japanese lyrics well enough, so I hummed along while mentally replaying the beat. Kim Sung-hyun glanced at Kang Yi-chae through the studio window and spoke.

“You know what?”
“What?”
“Kang Yi-chae’s been getting tons of love calls from other idol group agencies. They want him to produce tracks for them.”

I’d vaguely heard about it through the manager before.

“At first they tried going through the company, but when that didn’t work out, they got his personal contact and reached out directly….”
“And?”
“He shot them down hard.”

…Why? Why turn down a chance to make money?
I wasn’t particularly opposed to Kang Yi-chae creating a different song.
Jung Da-jun, seeing my bewildered expression, suddenly bounded over to my side and waved Kang Yi-chae’s phone at me.

“Look at this.”
“…?”

Jung Da-jun deftly unlocked Kang Yi-chae’s lock screen.
He navigated to the messaging app, scrolled down, selected a particular conversation, and handed me the phone.
It was a lengthy message—explaining how they’d barely managed to get his contact, mentioning they’d reviewed his work and were reaching out in case he was interested, and assuring him the compensation would be more than fair.
But Kang Yi-chae’s response was absolutely priceless.

[Kang Yi-chae: Oh no ㅠㅎㅎ]

Scrolling further, there were more messages from Kang Yi-chae.
No matter how persistently they pressed.

[Kang Yi-chae: Ask the company!!]

Even when they asked if there were specific conditions he wanted.

[Kang Ichae: Lee Chae doesn’t know that kind of thing ㅠ]

…That was the extent of it.

‘Kang Yi-chae….’

He speaks in third person even to people he’s meeting for the first time?
I felt a pang of sympathy for the other company’s employee, who clearly seemed frustrated after texting with this sharp-tongued twenty-two-year-old rapper, and handed the phone back to Jung Da-jun.

“I was playing a game on Yi-chae hyung’s phone when this notification popped up, so I clicked it… and he was sending replies like this. When I asked the hyungs yesterday if I could show them, they said to do whatever.”
“Why not just do it? He’d make good money and it’s a win.”
“Right?”

Unless it was a rival group, Kang Yi-chae working on tracks for another idol group wouldn’t create much of a stir. If anything, it would satisfy our fans knowing that the person who wrote such a song was a member of our group.
Besides, it wasn’t uncommon for idols who showed talent in composition to work on B-side tracks for other groups.

“Why do the hyungs always say things in such a hurtful way?”

The quick-witted member who had slipped out of the recording studio caught on to the conversation topic just from observing our atmosphere, and his lips quirked up.

“Is it okay if my work gets passed around to other people?”
“….”
“….”
“…I heard Ho-yoon was keeping tabs on me, and it’s gotten worse.”
“Being the leader is genuinely an extreme job….”

Kim Sung-hyun grimaced and walked away.

‘Is it really?’

Or is he just being lazy?
Kang Yi-chae sprawled back onto the sofa.
Whining for two hours about not wanting to do it, then getting inspired for a minute and sending over a five-minute guide recording—it really reminded me of someone….

‘Hmm.’

Kang Yi-chae could be arrogant at times.
Not from ignorance, but because he was someone with such precise self-awareness that it made it worse.
A resilient mindset, sharp instincts, dazzling talent. It would be strange for someone with such abilities to be humble, but….

‘But even Lim Hyun-sung hit a slump.’

That meant Kang Yi-chae might face that period someday too.

“I wish our composer would come back soon instead of sending messages like this. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen him.”
“Didn’t he go looking for love?”
“Why on earth is he looking for love in California?”

Kang Yi-chae muttered and picked up his phone. Yet the fact that he wasn’t reaching out first showed he still had decent social awareness.

“But did you hear about that!?”
“What?”
“Why Composer Chung-beom is Blue Tiger.”
“Huh? Why?”

I wasn’t really curious about it at all.
As I pushed away Kang Yi-chae who was pressing closer, Jung Da-jun, who had been memorizing the Japanese lyrics of the finished track, clicked the pen cap and spoke.

“My first love—”

This is already getting tacky.

“—apparently had a blue tiger tattoo.”
“Wow….”

Ugh….

“Honestly, if anyone else said that, it’d be absolutely ridiculous, but coming from a composer like you, it actually looks cool.”
“Right?! It’s no joke, is it?!”

Why on earth are they like this?

‘Why is Chung Beom being so pathetic?’

I’d worked with Lim Hyun-sung for a long time in the original world, but I’d never heard such talk even once.
Of course not. I couldn’t allow such nonsensical gossip to reach my ears.
Sung Ji-won asked with a sly smile from beside me.

“Should we get a group tattoo too?”
“…Is it really the same because you’re saying it, Brother Ji-won?”
“Want to carve The Dun into your skin?”
“Seriously, don’t even joke about that shit.”
“Ahahaha.”

A group tattoo? Not even a group ring, but a group tattoo?
The youngest members burst into laughter at my exasperation, then hurriedly grabbed their wallets and disappeared, saying they were going to the convenience store to buy snacks.
Sung Ji-won and Kim Sung-hyun also left soon after, saying they were heading to B Live….
Left alone, I sprawled out on the black leather sofa, sucking on a candy.

“Why is everyone acting so crazy these days.”

I clipped paper onto my clipboard and, lying down, clicked my pen while organizing my notes.
The factors for expanding into Japan were activity period, content, and local recognition.
As for the track, I’d leave that to Kang Yi-chae….

“Hmm, this is going to be important.”

Backlash against overseas expansion from within Korea.

To be honest, this situation was something I’d anticipated.
After that final year-end stage, I’d gauged the overall situation by observing the reactions that followed.
I rolled the candy in my mouth once, muttering to myself.

“I really did sweep and clean the floors well, didn’t I?”

If Jung Da-jun had heard that, he would’ve asked if I’d actually cleaned—it was such an obvious remark.
With my pen, I drew lines across the page, adding names beneath the Japan activities section. I’d destroy it all anyway, but I wrote it so no one else could recognize it, yet I could still read it myself.
I jotted down the initials of the people I remembered, then drew lines through them, added question marks, or underlined them.
And there was one person who stood out unmistakably.

[ㅇㅈㅎ]

That person who must be experiencing stress-induced stomach pain by now.

.
.
.

And a few days later, Lee Ji-hyun’s stomach was indeed beginning to ache.

‘The Japan radio deal is done. Sent the negotiation email for the anime soundtrack collaboration.’

I crossed off the tasks on my to-do list with sweeping lines. The Apocalypse trilogy had wrapped up, and Lee Ji-hyun wanted to move forward with a five-part series, but the company had strongly discouraged it.
Lee Ji-hyun shook her head bitterly, propping it up with her hand.

‘These clueless idiots…!!’

But I had to admit it. I knew that one more step forward would be pushing it too far, so Lee Ji-hyun decided to shelve the plan for now.
Over the past year, The Dun had worked like tireless machines.
Beyond the tightly-woven Apocalypse trilogy, there were the fan-service-heavy home video projects, and an endless stream of ingenious—or rather, unhinged—self-produced content.
It was the perfect collaboration born from Lee Ji-hyun’s planning prowess and Seo Ho-yoon’s execution.

‘This is the critical turning point right now.’

Within K-pop’s oversaturated landscape of stagnant trends and recycled concepts, The Dun had successfully captured attention and established a foothold.
But I couldn’t stop here. This moment was absolutely critical if I wanted to climb rapidly through the mid-tier ranks.
A new concept, a new universe, and this time I needed to capture the public’s heart—

‘Japan activities….’

That’s what weighed on me most. At this stage, I should be solidifying our domestic position, so I worried the fans would lash out at us for pursuing overseas activities instead.

“The Press and Publicity Team said they’ll be coming out soon!”

‘A-a-a-activities….’

My legs trembled uncontrollably. Even gulping down coffee couldn’t calm my racing mind.
During The Dun’s activities, I’d lost count of how many nights I’d stayed awake, agonizing over every single reaction, crying myself to sleep.
Lately, exhaustion had become my default state, so I’d grown accustomed to waves of accomplishment and emptiness crashing over me simultaneously. But now, anxiety consumed me—I just wanted this to pass without incident.

“Lee Ji-hyun, why are you shaking your leg like that?”
“Oh, well, you see….”
“Nervous?”

The Planning Team Lead asked in a gentle voice. I was about to nod, touched that he actually cared, when—

‘…Huh?’

I met the serene faces of everyone in the Planning Team.
I was the only one in this office who looked anxious and restless.

“T-Team Lead, aren’t you nervous?”
“Hmm?”

The Planning Team Lead took a sip of his coffee and tilted his head slightly.

“Why would we be? You did great work, Lee Ji-hyun.”
“….”
“You’re always so reliable~.”

No, it seemed like they weren’t even concerned at all.

‘…Damn it.’

Lee Ji-hyun finally understood.

‘This damn….’

These few people had dumped everything about The Dun onto her shoulders. So what appeared to be calm born from experience was really just indifference.
Lee Ji-hyun blinked for a moment at those words, then simply bowed her head.

“…Heh.”

To hide the wave of reality crashing down on her again.
She didn’t want to show the hollow laugh escaping her lips.

‘So that’s why people say to take it easy.’

When you enter a company, don’t work too hard. Even if you have an Excel certificate, pretend you don’t know how to make a pivot table. Even if you speak a second language, start by saying you don’t understand….

People didn’t say such things for no reason.
Even if you work hard, few people recognize your value, and kind words are ultimately just pretense to exploit you.

“Oh, the article just dropped!”
“Now we’re doing The Dun B Live. Should we head out?”
“Yeah~.”

As Lee Ji-hyun took a deep breath, they all made a show of glancing at the responses and used the excuse that this was the Press and Publicity Team’s job before hurrying out.
Rather than leaving, I had planned to stay and munch on a sandwich while checking reactions and planning accordingly, but instead I trembled and stood up unsteadily.

‘…Fine.’

“…I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, really~.”

‘I’m not doing this. I won’t!’

With her eyes shut tight, Lee Ji-hyun threw the work phone she’d been carrying around all year, anxiously waiting for a call, into a drawer.

“Let’s go.”

I hastily shoved the items scattered across the desk into my bag and trudged out of the office.
Even at this late hour, the Press and Publicity Team was still working, so the company wasn’t completely dark despite the Planning Team’s lights being off.
The lobby was plastered with posters of Min Ji-heon and The Dun, but I tried my best not to look at them.

‘Honestly, I was being ridiculous. That’s right. What was I thinking?’

“Don’t you have way too much overtime these days?”
“It’s the beginning of the year, so there’s no helping it~.”

I was too exhausted to respond or push back against the Planning Team staff chatting away. Lee Ji-hyun simply kept her mouth shut and made it all the way to the subway entrance.

Whoosh.

“…??”

I turned back around. A startled Planning Team staff member grabbed my arm.

“Where are you going, Ji-hyun?”
“…I, I forgot something.”

No matter how I thought about it, this wasn’t right.

“I left something behind, so I’m going back to check.”
“Huh? Okay?”

I wanted to go back and verify.

‘Dammit…!’

I didn’t want to turn back like this—I wanted to stay until the end and see how they’d react!

‘I know!! I’m being absolutely ridiculous!!’

Lee Ji-hyun hurriedly excused herself and quickened her pace.

“Huff, pant….”

Back in the Planning Team office without turning on the lights, I relied on the glow seeping through the doorway and pressed the power button on the computer.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Click!!

By now, typing her company computer password had become more familiar than her home computer’s. Lee Ji-hyun’s fingers flew across the keyboard, and with a trembling heart, she searched for “The Dun” and “Dae Pa-sung.”
With shaking hands, Lee Ji-hyun clicked the mouse, and as the articles appeared on the monitor, she blinked slowly.

“…Huh?”

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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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