Looking back now, I probably should have questioned it.
Why would Rider Entertainment hire someone like me to manage one of the biggest idol groups in the country?
I wasn't some industry expert.
I wasn't famous.
I didn't have years of experience working with celebrities.
I was a teacher.
A videographer.
An ordinary guy who happened to send in a résumé at the right time.
There had to be people more qualified than me.
People with better connections.
People who actually understood the entertainment industry.
Yet somehow, they chose me.
At the time, I didn't think about any of that.
I was too happy.
Too grateful.
Too desperate for something good to finally happen in my life.
And that was probably my first mistake.
---
The morning of my first day, I woke up before my alarm.
I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the wall.
Not because I was thinking about anything important.
I just needed a moment to process it.
This was real.
Today, I was going to Rider Entertainment.
Today, I was starting a new job.
Today, I was becoming Rider's manager.
The thought alone made me feel slightly dizzy.
After a few minutes, I finally stood up and walked to my closet.
Immediately, a new problem appeared.
Nothing looked right.
I picked out a shirt.
Put it back.
Picked out another one.
Also wrong.
A suit that looked perfectly fine yesterday suddenly seemed terrible.
Another looked too formal.
Another looked too casual.
I spent almost twenty minutes standing in front of my closet having a silent argument with my clothes.
Eventually, I reached for my lucky suit.
The one I'd worn to every important event in my life.
Job interviews.
Graduation.
Important meetings.
The suit that somehow convinced me I knew what I was doing, even when I absolutely didn't.
I held it up and nodded.
"You've got one more job."
The suit, unsurprisingly, had no response.
"If this goes badly," I continued, "I'm blaming you."
I laughed at myself.
Then I got dressed.
---
The city looked different that morning.
Brighter somehow.
Maybe that was the strange thing about happiness.
It changed everything around you.
The same streets I'd walked yesterday seemed full of possibilities.
Even the traffic didn't annoy me.
Which was honestly impressive.
By the time I arrived at Rider Entertainment, I was smiling.
Then I stepped inside.
And immediately forgot how breathing worked.
My palms started sweating.
My heart sped up.
The familiar feeling of not belonging somewhere wrapped itself around me.
I hated that feeling.
No matter where I went, it always seemed to find me.
I took a deep breath.
"You belong here."
I repeated it quietly.
Then I walked toward the elevator.
The doors slid shut behind me.
And suddenly, I remembered.
This was the same elevator.
The exact same one.
The elevator where I'd first seen Rider.
The elevator where Charlie had stood directly in front of me.
The elevator where I'd stared at him like an idiot.
I covered my face with one hand.
"Please don't remember me."
The elevator, like the suit, offered no helpful advice.
---
My meeting with the director lasted almost an hour.
By the end of it, my brain felt overloaded.
There were schedules.
Meetings.
Interviews.
Travel arrangements.
Rehearsals.
Photoshoots.
Emergency contacts.
Project folders.
The amount of information they handed me was honestly terrifying.
The folder alone looked heavy enough to cause physical injury.
I flipped through the pages while trying to remain calm.
Inside, however, I was panicking.
How am I supposed to manage all of this?
The responsibility felt enormous.
One mistake could affect an entire team.
An entire company.
Possibly my own future.
But backing out wasn't an option.
I needed this job.
More importantly, I wanted this job.
For once in my life, I wanted to prove that I could do something bigger than people expected from me.
So I straightened my shoulders.
"I'll do my best."
The director smiled.
"That's all we ask."
---
The rest of the morning passed in a blur.
I organized files.
Updated schedules.
Memorized names.
Created folders.
Triple-checked contact information.
Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I focused on one task at a time.
That was how I'd always survived difficult situations.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Eventually, I looked up from my desk and noticed another manager nearby.
Trying to sound casual, I asked,
"When will Rider be back?"
He didn't even look up from his computer.
"They're on a modeling job."
My stomach tightened.
"Oh."
"Two days."
I blinked.
"Two days?"
He nodded.
"Yep."
Then he returned to his work.
Meanwhile, relief flooded through me.
Two days.
I had two entire days.
Two days to learn the system.
Two days to settle in.
Two days before I had to stand in the same room as Charlie and somehow act like a professional.
I could handle two days.
Probably.
Hopefully.
At least that was what I told myself.
I thought two days would be enough.
I was wrong.
The hospital's number appeared on my phone just after lunch.
The moment I saw it, I sat up straighter.
Not because I expected bad news.
It was simply a habit.
Whenever the hospital called, I answered.
Immediately.
"Hello?"
"Is this Kim Sok-joo?"
The nurse's voice was gentle.
"Yes."
I heard papers rustling on the other end.
Then she laughed softly.
"Your grandmother is asking for you again."
A smile appeared on my face before I could stop it.
"Again?"
"I'm afraid so."
I leaned back in my chair.
"What's she saying this time?"
"She keeps asking for Mr. Snuggles."
I laughed quietly.
Of course she was.
My grandmother had Alzheimer's.
Some days were better than others.
Some days she remembered my name.
Some days she didn't.
But no matter how much the illness took from her, there was one thing she never forgot.
Mr. Snuggles.
Me.
To this day, I had no idea where the nickname came from.
I'd never asked.
Maybe I was afraid the answer would disappear if I questioned it.
Whatever the reason, it belonged to us.
And that was enough.
"She's been restless all morning," the nurse said. "I think she misses you."
Something tightened in my chest.
My grandmother was the only person who had loved me without conditions.
The only person who never made me feel like I was too quiet.
Too strange.
Too different.
Even now, when she sometimes forgot who I was, she still reached for my hand whenever I visited.
She still smiled when she saw me.
She still loved me.
"I'll come after work," I promised.
"I'll let her know."
The nurse sounded relieved.
"Thank you."
When the call ended, I sat quietly for a moment.
At least someone in the world was always happy to see me.
Unfortunately, my coworkers weren't quite as enthusiastic.
At first, it was small things.
Little things that could easily be dismissed.
An older manager dropped a stack of papers onto my desk.
"Rewrite these notes."
Before I could respond, he'd already walked away.
A few minutes later, another file appeared.
"Check the formatting."
No explanation.
No details.
Just more work.
Then another.
And another.
By mid-afternoon, my desk looked like a small mountain of paperwork.
Most of it wasn't even part of my job.
I knew what was happening.
I wasn't stupid.
I was the newest employee.
The easiest target.
The person least likely to complain.
So I did the work.
At least for a while.
I kept my head down.
Focused on my tasks.
Told myself it wasn't worth making enemies on my first day.
Then things changed.
I was updating Rider's schedule when the older manager stopped beside my desk again.
He glanced at my computer screen.
Then at the papers beside me.
And loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear, he said,
"You've barely started this job and you're already being lazy."
The office fell silent.
Every keyboard stopped clicking.
Every conversation ended.
I looked at him.
Then at the pile of extra work he'd been leaving on my desk all day.
Then back at him.
Slowly, I put down my pen.
I stood.
The manager looked surprised.
Maybe he expected me to stay quiet.
Most people did.
For years, staying quiet had been my specialty.
But I wasn't twelve anymore.
And I was tired.
Very tired.
"Just because you're older than me," I said calmly, "doesn't mean you can speak to me like that."
His eyes widened.
The entire office seemed to stop breathing.
"You've been giving me work that isn't part of my responsibilities all day."
I gestured toward the stack of papers.
"We both know that."
His face darkened.
I continued before he could interrupt.
"I'm a manager."
Not a clerk.
Not an assistant.
Not a personal errand runner.
A manager.
"If this continues," I said, "I'll take it to HR."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The older manager stared at me.
Then, without saying another word, he grabbed the papers from my desk and walked away.
The second he disappeared, the office erupted into whispers.
I ignored them.
Mostly because my heart was currently trying to escape through my chest.
I sat back down.
Opened my laptop.
And pretended I hadn't just challenged someone on my very first day.
Inside, however, I was panicking.
---
A few minutes later, someone stopped beside my desk.
I looked up.
One of the younger managers.
He placed a canned coffee on my table.
"For surviving."
I blinked.
"What?"
He shrugged.
"You looked like you needed it."
Then he walked away before I could thank him.
I stared at the coffee.
Then smiled.
Maybe not everyone here was terrible.
---
The office gradually returned to normal.
Phones started ringing again.
Keyboards resumed clicking.
Conversations picked back up.
But something had changed.
The way people looked at me was different now.
Not necessarily friendlier.
But different.
Like they were seeing me for the first time.
Maybe they had expected me to stay quiet.
Maybe they thought I would let people walk all over me.
Maybe I would have once.
The younger version of me definitely would have.
The boy who spent years making himself invisible.
The boy who apologized for existing.
The boy who thought taking up space was selfish.
But that version of me was getting harder to find.
And for the first time all day, I felt oddly proud of that.
The office had expected the invisible boy.
Unfortunately for them, I was getting tired of disappearing.