EDIT: Big thanks to hiraiiowow, Lichterson, Xempher, yuryboy79, elarcon and Pigsrule1111 for subscribing to this series. I aim to please by giving more chapters but always feel free to provide feedback!

Ever since the end of my disastrous first day, I have resorted to hunkering down in my office, only leaving the safe confines of my restricted haven to acquire nourishment or to simply use the loo which was a major improvement from my hometown’s latrines. At first, the girls have shown some degree of concern as they would occasionally knock on my mahogany door, asking if I’m alright. Like that one song from the Script,  I’m alive but I’m barely breathing … under the pressure of being an above-and-beyond idol group manager. Then bit by bit, their concern for me wavered as the knocking and the questions declined in frequency until I have nothing but silence to myself.

I read through the damn fella’s dossiers and stacks of paperwork; he’s got every single aspect covered. From the last time they had a group hotpot session to their mobile game-related expenditure on a monthly basis down to the last cent. Bogum was nuts. I collapsed atop a hill made of archived papyrus and huffed annoyingly. Do I really need to do all of these things to fulfil my job? I didn’t sign up for this. The angel in me pleaded to continue down the path of the previous manager but my inner devil screamed at my foolishness and sudden development of empathy for people that I have barely met. My shoulder drooped flat onto the table, feeble from carrying both the imaginary entities that have been plaguing my eardrums with their incessant chatter.

“But this is more than just doing a good job in front of the bigheads back in your uncle’s circle of connection. This is about the craft of being a manager and taking care of their own people.”, my winged form chimed in from the left side.

My horned self began prodding my right cheek with his own pitchfork. In protest, he shrieked, “You don’t have to sweat the small stuffs for them to show results and numbers! They’re a girl group, not a group of day-care admissions that you have to slave for. At the end of the day, their bosses only care about the numbers … the sales and the revenue! Does keeping track of when their last barbecue sesh was really amount to anything much? It won’t even show up as a significant factor to their success or even be equivalent to money! It’s just fanfare created by Bogum because he wasn’t looking at the big picture! Now look at where he is now – kicked out by the company and burnt out by the unnecessary work he had set up for himself.”

Well, . Goody two shoes’ argument about it being a craft is beginning to crumble under the pragmatism of Mr. Devil.

Leaning to my left as if I was prepared to make eye contact with a voice on my head, I questioned my good side, “Why should I go beyond the menial duties of being a group manager then? After all, I could just handle the administrative stuff and be done with it. What happens after work is well … kinda their own problem now, ain’t it?”

A miniscule sigh echoed in the Eustachian chambers of my body. “That’s because what makes them … them is what happens after work as well! You just can’t expect them to kick into idol gear the moment they step into the stage. Your caterers didn’t just serve good food because they were wearing the uniform. They were able to be your top guys because of everything else that amounted before they even stepped into the hotel. It’s the same with your nine girls here.”

I plopped my head and screamed at a page of a thick folder, its girth muffling my desperate yelp for a solution. Moments later, the familiar sequence of fists hitting the door emerge and Tzuyu’s voice came out of nowhere. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”, she asked in a somewhat terrified tone. Not wanting to make her worry any more, I waved off her perturbation and off she returned to her noona’s embraces.

Angel Me had a point but at the same time so does Devil Me.

Both their arguments are so strong that even I could not make a definite stance on what do. I began to question my practicality when it comes to my occupations and pondered … had I been always so outcome-oriented the whole time? It was true that I worked hard to achieve results but I believed I had considerations for the people under me … to some extent. Maybe… maybe not. I don’t know.

At the end of the day, whether or not I go above and beyond or do the bare minimum, I was pretty sure that TWICE would still do so well that I could just lift a finger or two and the head honchos would be on their way to promote me. It was just a matter of … which philosophy do I adapt? There was only one way to really choose here – let fate take its toll on me. Fishing out a single coin from my mason jar of changes, I designated which side is which.

Heads means I Bogum up … Tails means … I don’t Bogum up.

And tossed the coin I did. Similar to Bogum’s home videos of Mina doing ballet in their living room, the coin reached for the skies, revolving and rotating within its own axis. It then clanged against my desk, going for another try to gain height before dropping once more and resorting to a spin. My heart raced as the revolutions got slower and the coin got closer to a standstill. And finally … it stopped.