“Eh?”
The MC’s puzzlement came through even in that single word.
“Mr. Iwol, do you like potato chips?”
He looked at the torn-open bag of potato chips sitting all alone on the table and asked.
“Yes, that’s a snack I have often.”
In truth, I ate dried seaweed the most.
No special reason; I was just too lazy to buy or prepare separate snacks.
But putting only a tub of dried seaweed on camera felt way too half-hearted, and I worried it might get stuck in my teeth, so I gave up on that.
Instead I brought my next most-eaten item—the 2+1 regular’s choice, potato chips. I didn’t think chips would throw them off, but here we are.
Well, a recent guest did eat canapés topped with truffles, so I guess the gap would feel huge.
“Oh, Mr. Iwol, do you drink often?”
“A little. Since dorm life started, today is my first drink!”
“Really? Then since you became a trainee you haven’t had a single sip?”
“Right, most of our members are minors. I figured it was best to avoid drinking if possible.”
“Mr. Iwol, you’re considerate. Just for today, don’t worry about your younger members—let’s unwind. How about it?”
“Sounds good. Ah, and I did mention another snack...”
“Of course. Potato chips couldn’t be the whole story, right?”
As I set it up, the next snacks arrived, and color returned to the MC’s face.
It is a shoot, after all; just potato chips would look sad. Especially on a show that ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) films the drinking spread.
So I played an impromptu “favorite foods world cup” I never asked for and hunted down what suited my taste.
Namely: convenience-store fishcake and a small cup ramen.
“...Mr. Iwol, your taste is almost the same as our uncles’.”
“Haha, is it? I just think these are good!”
Fishcake I ate while knocking back one more bottle of soju alone at a convenience store after delivering a completely plastered Deputy Director Nam home.
And the cup ramen I ate with a single pack of soju on the day he tore into me like crazy.
I couldn’t eat them often because they reminded me of Nam, but both were delicious enough to make me forget that day’s misery.
Watching me smile, lost in nostalgia, the MC put a hand on my shoulder and said,
“I know fishcake soup and ramen are good too. But, sigh... this won’t do. Mr. Iwol, next time I’ll treat you, as a senior, to some truly good snacks.”
“Really?”
I appreciate it, but why all of a sudden?
I’m thrown off. Even if it’s modest, this spread isn’t exactly cheap. The fishcake is even a premium store brand.
It’s not about price. Some guests brought nostalgic foods like roasted ginkgo or spicy peppers.
I figured it was the kind of polite thing people say on air, and then it clicked.
“I mean it! First, let’s toast! Cheers!”
“Y-yes!”
Led by the MC, we filled each other’s glasses and downed soju. The mood couldn’t have been warmer.
Until the system showed up.
I had two goals for today.
One: present myself with a bit more honesty than usual, the amount viewers expect from a drinking talk show.
Two: even so, do not lose my self-control.
“Hey, Mr. Iwol.”
“Yes, Sunbaenim.”
“Why do you drink so well?”
But it all collapsed. Because of that damn system.
▶ Assistant Manager Kim, get over here and have a drink! Don’t make me wear my arm out!
[SYSTEM] ‘Short-Term Task’ has been assigned.
▷ Finish at least five bottles of soju
▷ Reward: Self-PR score +1
▷ If not achieved: Higher chance of a ‘Behavior Controversy’ event
+
A behavior controversy event?
That kind of event will blow up soon even if I don’t drink—because I’ll start punching the air.
And since when is “drinks well” one of an idol’s virtues? Haven’t you been helping me work hard at being an idol?
Getting wasted and making a spectacle is what would really cause controversy. My head was a mess.
But there was no time to hesitate. The cameras were still rolling.
Drinking five bottles in itself isn’t that hard.
Even when I worked overtime to death at Hanpyeong Industries and showed up late to a team dinner, I still drank everything Deputy Director Nam handed me. All the more now, in my twenties, I’ll be fine.
The problem was, since it was just me and the MC, it was hard to gauge how much I alone was drinking.
If it’s the system, it’ll mark me as a failure even if I’m short by a single drop from five bottles, so I had to be strict here.
Can’t calculate?
Then there’s only one answer.
Overwhelm. Win by decision.
After that, I kept drinking without letting my glass go dry.
I didn’t stoop to shouting, “Sunbaenim, my glass is empty!” at the top of my lungs.
Instead, I deliberately left my empty glass at the edge of the table so the camera would catch it, or I one-shotted every pour I got.
Then the staff, seeing the empty glass, would mention it, or the MC would immediately refill me.
“Are you okay? Aren’t you drinking too much?”
“I’m still fine!”
It’s one of those situations where you say you’re fine even when you’re not—but I really was fine. In this moment, I was grateful for my tolerance.
I snuck a look at the crew, and they were muttering, “Look at Mr. Iwol, his complexion isn’t changing at all...”
As a result of pounding it back like a beast—
▷ Reward: Self-PR score +1
+
I recovered a portion of the self-PR points I hadn’t meant to lose.
Thank you, my liver.
It hadn’t been long since group practice started to feel familiar. Strictly speaking, I was still adjusting.
So with one person out, you’d think having fewer bodies would make it a bit easier on the mind.
“Jeho hyung, face front, please!”
Choi Jeho couldn’t focus on practice. Enough that leader Jeong Seongbin had to give him feedback.
What scattered his concentration?
Choi Jeho kept casting his eyes toward the empty spot in the formation.
It was where the member away on an outside schedule—Kim Iwol—should have been standing.
Even during the short breaks, he flicked glances at the place where Kim Iwol usually stood to drink water.
He knew it was unlike him. But he couldn’t help it.
Because of the schedule that had taken Kim Iwol away.
“We got an offer to appear on a Mytube show called Drinking People—have you two heard of it?”
A little while back, the manager had called in both Choi Jeho and Kim Iwol and explained the plan for a solo variety appearance.
He hadn’t heard of it, and honestly he had no interest. He was sick to death of alcohol.
Drinking to the point you can’t manage your own body is disgraceful. That was the biggest reason he hated his father.
Just thinking of his father, his emotions slipped his leash. Jeho loathed that about himself. At the same time, he didn’t want to show that side.
So if he could help it, he avoided anything that reminded him of his father.
But you can’t live just doing what you want.
Choi Jeho had already once blown up a plan.
He didn’t think it was his fault, but no one feels good watching others clean up after them.
Among the many reasons he hated his father was “because it was obvious he didn’t want to take responsibility.”
I won’t live like that. He’d decided as much.
He steeled himself. And just as he was about to volunteer for the shoot—
“Would it be okay if I went? As long as Choi Jeho is okay with it.”
Sitting beside him, Kim Iwol smiled as he spoke.
Some might say of that, “Who wouldn’t want solo activities.”
But that’s something only someone who doesn’t know Kim Iwol would say.
Kim Iwol avoids stepping forward. If you ask him to do something, he doesn’t dodge it, but when a good opportunity comes up, he passes it to others without hesitation.
Even to someone like Choi Jeho, who’d grown up hearing, “Why are you so uninterested in the people around you,” it was obvious.
And yet Kim Iwol volunteered. On purpose.
“As long as Choi Jeho is okay,” as if asking him to understand his choice.
It was clear consideration.
Looking back, Kim Iwol was always like that.
When there was a problem, he’d come by, ask no questions about the reasons, resolve the situation by himself, then calmly go back to his own work. With that signature expressionless face.
A few days later, as he was lacing his shoes to head to the salon, Jeho stopped him.
“Hey.”
“What?”
Dull black eyes turned to Jeho.
A guy who makes that face acts like a different person in front of others or cameras.
So is Kim Iwol essentially a different kind of human from him? Or the same at the core but different in conduct?
He didn’t want to think too hard. That kind of musing didn’t suit him anyway.
Instead, Jeho asked Iwol,
“Need anything?”
I should’ve said, “Is there anything I can do?” But my mouth never runs through my brain first.
Still, with this guy, he’d probably get the gist.
Iwol turned his head, retied his laces, and said,
“Just keep an eye on the kids so they don’t mess around.”
With a quick “be back later,” Iwol left the practice room.
He listened to the younger ones when they talked, but when it came to talking with Jeho, he often didn’t even wait for an answer.
Whether that was resignation or trust—
Jeho didn’t dislike it.
Spark’s members were generally well-behaved.
There were the occasional noisy moments, but they all had sense and could take care of themselves.
So Jeho believed he could easily handle a small favor like Iwol’s.
“Uh, hyung.”
In a rare move, Jeong Seongbin even came to his room...
“I’m sorry, but could you do one search for me instead?!”
...right up until he showed him his phone screen asking for adult verification.
