The Trashy Pd Has To Survive As an Idol: 문찐 [139+]

The man who had just said that plopped down onto the sofa across from him, chuckling.

"Ugh, but seriously, you made me wait way too long. I've been loitering around for, like, a week. I almost died waiting since you wouldn't show up."

"...What did you just say?"

"The hotel staff kept glaring at me. I barely talked them out of kicking me out."

A baffled sigh escaped from Sung Ji-won's mouth. That explained why the receptionist kept sneaking glances ever since this guy sat down in front of him.

One strange thing, though—those looks weren't suspicious, but rather… moist. Almost emotional.

"Oh, and just so you know, we're pretending to be long-lost half-brothers who were separated as kids. Makes it easier to avoid annoying questions and even earns us some sympathy."

"...."

The lunatic who had suddenly appeared said it like it was no big deal. Ji-won couldn't help but let out a scoff.

His hat made it hard to see clearly, but he looked a bit older than Ji-won.

'Still… a little young to be a D.go staff member, maybe?'

Was he a scammer? Someone from D.go? Ji-won didn't care to find out.

Everything just felt annoying. Honestly, what did it matter which he was?

"My name isn't Chul-soo."

Oh, yeah? Then is it Young-hee?"

The man crossed his legs and stared him down from beneath the brim of his cap. Then, in a practiced motion, he reached into his inner pocket, rummaged around a bit, clicked his tongue, and stopped.

"Tsk. I don't really wanna drag this out either. Just hand over the keycard."

"...."

"Wait, did that sound threatening? Hm, I just really need it. Can you help your big bro out?"

Why would he want the keycard?

How does he even know about it?

Ji-won tightened his grip on the card in his hand.

"What for?"

"Oho, dropping honorifics now?"

"…What are you going to do with it?"

When Ji-won switched to formal speech again, the man smirked, resting his chin on his hand and slouching deeper into the sofa.

"Oh? You're curious about that?"

He was smiling, but his eyes were cold, and his tone was mocking.

Like he was looking down on Ji-won.

"Why would a perfectly able guy choose such a filthy path? People like you are the hardest for me to understand. Why~?"

The voice was light, but the words cut deep. He sounded like someone who knew exactly what Ji-won was doing there.

Every word felt like a spear, jabbing right into him.

'Wow. This guy is unbelievable.'

"Just give me the card and go home. Wash your feet, get in bed, and sleep it off."

Ji-won wanted nothing more than for this guy to disappear.

He had to go upstairs before it was too late and take photographic evidence.

And seriously—what made this guy think Ji-won would hand it over so easily?

But the man shamelessly held out his hand.

"Why would I trust some random guy who showed up just to pick a fight?"

"…Wow."

The man let out a snort, then brushed his eyebrow with one long finger.

'You've got quite the mouth on you, huh?"

"I must look like your long-lost half-brother."

Even though Ji-won was clearly being sarcastic, the man only laughed louder.

In fact, he looked even more intrigued.

"You're prickly. Don't let a single comment slide, do you?"

"Get to the point."

"Right, so… the person you were supposed to meet today—I have some business with them. Some bastard screwed things up, and I'm here to clean up the mess."

As Ji-won listened to the man's elegant vocabulary, he kept his eyes fixed on his hand, gently tapping the keycard.

The man then leaned forward, trying to meet his gaze. But with the brim of his hat in the way, all Ji-won could really see was his chest.

"You know why you're here, don't you? You came to debut, right?"

"...."

"Do you really think you'll debut just by going upstairs? Okay, say you do debut. Then what? That job's gonna control your life forever—are you okay with that? Will you be able to hold your head up high in front of fans?"

His tone, which had mocked him moments ago, now tried to coax him gently.

Ji-won didn't feel like arguing.

'I already know.'

Going upstairs had nothing to do with debuting.

It was just that he didn't have many choices left—and among those few, this was the one that might leave a scratch on D.go's image. He'd planned to gather as much evidence as possible and expose everything.

At that moment, a default ringtone rang from the man's pocket.

He pulled out his phone, checked the caller ID, and hung up without hesitation.

"Tch. Damn it."

But just as the man tried to speak again, his phone kept ringing. Eventually, he cursed and turned it off.

"So, about the keycard—"

Watching him quietly, Sung Ji-won took off his cap out of frustration.

As he ran his hand through his messy hair, his eyes met directly with the man who was stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

"..."

"…Oh."

The man stopped speaking and let out a small breath.

As the silence stretched, Ji-won tilted his head slightly in confusion.

"What's got you so desperate that you're doing all this?"

"…Sorry?"

The man spoke again.

"…Hey, how old are you? You look pretty young."

"Why are you asking that out of nowhere?"

"Just tell me."

"…Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one? Ah, well, if you're trying to debut, then…"

The man's eyes scanned Ji-won from head to toe.

"Same age as him…"

What?

Ji-won squinted at the man suspiciously.

He stroked his chin with one hand and seemed to fall into thought for a moment, then spoke again in a gentler tone.

"Let me ask you something. Were you forced to come here?"

"Why?"

"Answer me."

"…Even if I say yes, would you believe me? It's not like anything would change."

The man burst into laughter.

"Why wouldn't it?"

"What?"

Then he locked eyes with Ji-won.

"The keycard—if you give it to me, I'll turn the whole thing upside down for you."

"What are you even talking about…"

"Judging by how tightly you're holding it, I'm guessing you're trying to do something on your own. But it's pointless, so don't waste your energy. Leave it to me."

"..."

"I'm good at stirring shit up. People in my team say I basically have a PhD in being a punk."

It sounded ridiculous, but the man was completely serious and brimming with confidence.

Maybe that's why—Ji-won started to think he might actually be able to do it.

"So just hand that over to me and forget about it. I'll take care of the rest."

"..."

"Got it?"

Looking down, all Ji-won could see were his own feet, unable to make up his mind.

He'd never seen this man before. Didn't know his name, his job, or even his age.

There was absolutely no reason to trust him—but for some reason, Ji-won wanted to. It felt like being lured in by a devil's whisper.

"You don't have to worry about anything."

As if sensing his hesitation, the man tapped Ji-won's hand—the one holding the card—a few times, then slowly took the card from his grip.

"Good job."

He whispered in a low voice, gave Ji-won a light pat on the back, and stood up, disappearing without another word.

Ji-won sat there blankly for a long while after the man left.

'…Why did I let him take it?'

He couldn't understand himself.

Everything had happened so naturally.

As if it had all been planned from the start.

Letting out a sigh, Ji-won rubbed his face with dry hands and suddenly realized something: if that man used the keycard in any way, the consequences would fall entirely on Ji-won. After all, he was the one the card had been issued to.

There was no way he could just go home like this.

'Get it together.'

He didn't want to screw things up over something stupid before even getting the chance to expose D.go.

He had to find that man and get the keycard back—or at least figure out what he was going to do with it.

He spent about thirty minutes wandering the lounge.

Just as he debated whether to head upstairs, it finally occurred to him that there might be another exit.

He went to the receptionist—the one who had glanced at both him and the man earlier—and using the same "half-brother" excuse, asked if there was another way in.

Sure enough, there was a backdoor that led to the parking lot, connected by an emergency stairwell.

As he stepped outside, raindrops began to fall one by one from the pitch-black night sky.

His steps quickened with the growing worry that he might've already missed him, but before anything else, a thick smell of cigarette smoke hit his nose.

"Don't make me do this shit, fuck."

It was the voice he'd heard earlier.

"I'm honestly confused about what my job even is anymore. Did I get hired to clean up other people's messes? —Ugh, what the hell do you mean 'how'? All that bastard's got is money, always talking about 'how much do you want.' Thinks he's something special. We all rot the same when we die."

In the secluded smoking area outside the hotel, the man's refined vocabulary once again shone brilliantly.

If anything, he must've been holding back earlier—Sung Jiwon had never realized there were this many kinds of curses in the world.

"—Anyway, I handled things here, so forget about it. Just take care of the meeting we talked about. And give the kids some damn time off."

The man casually pulled the phone away from his ear and scratched around his ear a few times. Even from a distance, it was clear the person on the other end was still yelling.

"Yup, I'm hanging up~."

He cut off the endless rant from the other side like a blade and hung up the call.

Then, stuffing his phone into his back pocket, he took a deep drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips.

"If it's such a big deal, he should've done it himself. Annoying prick…"

Just as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and flicked his ashes, his eyes met Sung Jiwon's, who was standing awkwardly by the back door.

"Cheolsu?"

"..."

He had so many things he wanted to ask or check with the man when he found him, but—

"…I'd rather be Younghee."

That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

The man laughed and casually asked,

"Came to see how the chaos went down?"

"…How bad was it?"

"Worse than you could imagine."

In other words, he wasn't going to tell him.

"Don't worry. I took care of it so you wouldn't get dragged into it."

With the cigarette between his lips, the man's speech was slightly slurred.

"Maybe it's my age, but I keep sticking my nose in even though I know I shouldn't. Don't do crap like this. You'll just regret it."

Right in front of Jiwon, the man pulled out the card key and crushed it with one hand. Then he tossed it into the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts—and even pressed it down with the lit cigarette he was holding.

"Once filth sticks to you, it stays until you die."

It was a clear warning: don't even think about going back in there.

Then he fished around in his pockets and added,

"…There are people like me who jump to conclusions too easily."

It seemed he was talking about the sarcastic remarks he had thrown at Jiwon earlier.

Seeing him a bit embarrassed, Jiwon couldn't help but feel amused.

"Is that your way of saying sorry?"

"Do you really need me to say it out loud? You don't look like it, but you've got a strong personality."

That made Jiwon chuckle a little.

The man pulled out another cigarette, not lighting it—just holding it between his lips—and half-lidded his eyes at Jiwon's smile.

"…So what do I do now?"

"Figure it out yourself, kid. I'm not gonna live your life for you."

The man bit down on the unlit cigarette for a while, then spat it out.

"Your agency's D.go, right? So you're an idol trainee?"

"Yes."

"How long've you been training?"

"Seven years."

"Seven… SEVEN years?! Not seven months?"

The man looked at Jiwon with wide, bewildered eyes.

"Damn, with that face, why?"

"..."

"Is your agency blind or something? Are you tone-deaf? Can't dance?"

I used to be center, even if I got pushed out now. I placed first in the last monthly evaluation too.

Maybe there really are things that face, talent, and effort alone can't overcome.

Swallowing those words rising to his throat, Jiwon just shrugged.

The truth was, Jiwon knew all too well that luck was never on his side.

"What's your name?"

"…Jiwon. Seong Jiwon."

The man repeated the name to himself a few times, as if it left him with complicated feelings.

"You've been a trainee a long time, and you've got good visuals. Just hang in this industry a little longer."

"…Why do you care?"

"Playing hard to get, huh? I can see it in your eyes—you're still full of lingering attachment."

The man gave a faint smile as he untied the shirt from around his waist.

Come to think of it, he'd been wearing it earlier.

"I'm only saying this because it looks like a good opportunity might come soon."

He threw out the cryptic remark and slipped the shirt back on.

Jiwon was about to ask if the guy was a broadcasting staff or something, but he froze.

As the man moved, an unusually pale scar snaking like a serpent across his left arm—just beneath his black short sleeve—caught Jiwon's eye.

There was no way the man hadn't noticed where Jiwon's gaze was, yet he silently opened his umbrella.

"You have an umbrella?"

"I do."

Even if he said he didn't, his grandmother always made sure he packed a foldable umbrella in his bag.

"Just like you look—so prepared. I bought mine earlier."

The man gave a lazy wave and walked off with his umbrella.

Thinking That's it? Jiwon called out loudly to his retreating figure.

"Earlier, what did you mean? That we'll see each other again—how?!"

"Sigh… Kid's already obsessed with me?"

"...."

Just when he was about to regret asking, the man turned around and chuckled.

"Don't worry. You'll know the moment you see me."

He curled one side of his mouth up into a sly grin.

"See ya."

And with that, he left the hotel without hesitation.

Jiwon stood there until the man's footsteps faded away, drowned by the now heavy rain.

"…He looks like a different person when he smiles."

In the end, he'd neither asked nor learned anything concrete.

Even if everything the man said turned out to be a lie and it brought trouble tomorrow, somehow, he didn't feel bad at all.

As he stood there thinking about what to do next—just as the man had said—he heard hushed voices nearby.

"Hey, did you see that crazy customer on the 41st floor earlier?"

They sounded like hotel staff on a smoke break.

"It was nuts. He started yelling about a trespasser and started throwing everything he could get his hands on…"

"And the guy he was yelling at? Dude had nerves of steel. Stuff like ashtrays were flying at him and he just smiled. Said something and the jerk completely shut up."

Jiwon instantly knew who they were talking about.

"But doesn't it seem weird? That's the VIP floor. You can't even get there without a registered keycard. So how'd a 'trespasser' get in?"

"Who cares. The jerk left and that's all that matters. I wish that guy would show up every time some asshole comes through…"

"...."

"...."

"...."

Noticing Jiwon standing nearby in the smoking area, the hotel employees promptly shut their mouths and hurried back inside.

A professional troublemaker, huh.

Illegitimate brother. Intruder. Troublemaker extraordinaire.

Jiwon smirked at the thought of the man's confident face.

He took out the umbrella from his bag, opened it, and headed toward his agency.

It was late, and the company lobby was quiet.

After seven years of being a trainee, you learn tricks—like how to enter without scanning your ID or how to turn off the CCTV. Tricks passed down among veteran trainees, for sneaking out to smoke or grab midnight snacks.

He walked in, disabled the cameras, and headed straight for the CEO's office. In the corner, as always, was a putting mat and golf clubs the CEO had recently gotten obsessed with.

He picked the heaviest club and went down to the practice room.

There it was—the mirror he'd faced every day for seven years.

"Hmm."

The face staring back at him felt unfamiliar.

Was this what I looked like?

The reflection staring back at him looked unfamiliar.

Was this really how I looked?

Sung Jiwon raised a hand and gently touched his cheek, then slowly stepped back.

And then—

Crash!!

He smashed the mirror with the golf club.

With the crunch of broken glass underfoot, he moved to the next mirror.

Crash, crash!!

Shards exploded in every direction with a loud clatter.

It didn't take long to break them all.

He threw the club to the floor and looked around.

Unlike before, the practice room now felt small and dark.

And at the same time, he realized—it all didn't matter that much after all.

"I'm going back. Home."

Sung Jiwon suddenly missed his grandmother terribly.

As he was leaving the lobby, someone shouted behind him.

"Hey, you crazy bastard!"

When he turned around, he saw one of the trainees who constantly picked fights with him.

He must've been at the company and come running after hearing the noise.

"You—you've really lost it, haven't you?! Seong Jiwon, you smashed the mirrors in the practice room, didn't you?! I'm telling on you!"

"Hm…"

If they asked for compensation, it's not like he couldn't pay.

Jiwon tilted his head deliberately, feigning confusion.

"Hyeongjo, what are you talking about?"

Then he gave a bright smile.

"You got proof?"

Leaving the dumbfounded trainee gaping behind him, Jiwon walked out of the company.

His slow footsteps picked up speed the closer he got to home.

As soon as he stepped through the front door, he ran straight to his grandmother.

"…Grandma."

"My baby's home?"

"Hehe, yeah."

As her warmth and familiar scent enveloped him, a small tear slipped out.

Even as he buried his nose into her shoulder and sniffled, Grandma didn't say a word—just hugged him tighter.

And with that, the urge to throw everything away finally settled down.

Sung Jiwon knew himself well.

He wasn't someone who could easily give up on the dream he'd held for so long—to become an idol.

"Your baby is home, Grandma."

Even in this moment, all he wanted—desperately—was to stand on stage and sing.

The next day, just as the man had said, nothing happened to Sung Jiwon.

That day, he left the agency D.go for good.