Thanks for the system, I truly made a full recovery in two weeks. Everyone marveled at my miraculous bounce-back.
If it were up to me, I would’ve turned off the work-assistance service and, while fully recharged, signed up for a jiu-jitsu class, but I held back for the sake of all the worried looks around me. Before the year is out, I’m going to be a self-defense master.
There was more good news.
With the system’s restrictions lifted and Yu Hansu out, UA’s support widened a lot.
UA apologized for not supporting us properly before and promised to spare nothing for the final stage.
We used the chance to hire an entire dance team. Spending company money really is the most fun thing in the world.
Even though the doctor officially cleared me, I stuck to the plan to join only from the middle.
Since I’d be coming in from the dance break, I learned just the break from the dance coach and spent verses one and two watching the guys rehearse from the side...
“What the?”
I could tell at a glance.
Their spirit was on a different plane than before.
The way their weight landed, the squeak of their shoes, the angle of their fingers and the feel of their waves—everything was unified.
They’d said they’d have everything perfect up to my entrance, and they did. They could have gone on stage right then.
While Jeong Seongbin paused the music, Kang Giyeon came over to me.
“You come in here.”
“Can I not?”
“Get in there before I have to carry you.”
I trudged to my mark.
“You learned the choreo, right?”
“Yeah. But I want to run it slow first when we match it.”
“Got it.”
He nodded and went back.
Then, from the line beside me, Lee Cheonghyeon shouted:
“Ah, finally six of us!”
I looked forward. In the huge mirror facing us ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) were Spark—and me.
Across the mirror, Seongbin met my eyes and gave a small smile.
They were so cool as five. I can’t be the one to mess this up.
For the first time in a while, I felt responsibility. It didn’t feel bad.
The positive effects showed up beyond money.
“The costume order is done?”
“Yes. We sent the concept over and the Planning and Production teams moved fast.”
With Yu Hansu and the production team lead completely removed from duties, the organization finally started running smoothly.
As someone who knows how hellish one trash person can make things, I was moved too.
Now that the process is in place, we won’t have to grind from the floor up like before. What a relief.
Most of the ancillary tasks wrapped while I was still in the hospital. Naturally, my late nights disappeared.
These days I can lie down the moment practice ends. What a luxurious life.
“At this point... I should take stock of where we are.”
So much hit at once, and I’d been busy, so I’d neglected status checks. But I can’t ever lose sight of the goal.
Lying on my side so my wound wouldn’t touch the pillow, I reviewed the chain of events.
First, there’s hope I can contact my parents.
I used to think the system had cut the cord between me and them altogether, but this showed me that wasn’t true.
They still don’t want to be involved with me, but that’s something circumstances can change.
I even drafted questions so I won’t be flustered and can ask what I need the moment I get through to them.
Next, I need a clear sense of the boundaries of my safety.
As far as I can tell so far...
...that’s the summary.
This time, national insurance literally saved my life, but there’s no guarantee next time.
I need to stay alive if I’m going to save my sister. I’ll have to approach this far more carefully.
The third thing isn’t information so much as a question.
What exactly is the reason the system is doing this to me?
This kind of fundamental reflection would’ve been better earlier, but I’m not great at multitasking. Only once I had some time and headspace did I get to think about it.
If you ask whether the system is 100% negative for me, I can answer no.
I can’t forgive it for nuking my degree. But if that was the price for a chance to bring my sister back, it wasn’t too high.
And while the method was brutally unkind, the system did warn me before Yu Hansu attacked. Without it, I might have been hovering at death’s door.
So is the system purely for my sake?
“That doesn’t feel right either.”
Keeping me alive and constantly making me do things suggests the system has its own objective. If I figure that out, maybe I can use it better.
I’m founding a union and taking revenge on the system. Let me hit that final KPI. I’m giving Virtual Career Planet a 1.0 star.
My boiling anger only cooled after thirty minutes. When the thinking time ended, the forgotten headache crept back.
“How does it even repair body and nerves separately?”
At times like this, I really feel how unreal the system is.
What’s the point of healing in two weeks when the pain lasts eight?
It was much weaker than right after the incident, but not gone, so I curled up under the blanket with my head covered.
Then a rustle beside me. The sound of covers being thrown back, and Choi Jeho’s feet hitting the floor.
I held my breath until he left the room.
I figured he was headed to the bathroom, but his footsteps passed it.
Then the fridge door opened. He was digging so hard through the freezer that the clattering carried to the room.
“Is that bastard eating a midnight snack?”
On the eve of the finale? At a time when he, more than anyone, should be burning fat? And this as the group’s center?
I considered storming out to bust him but let it go. He deserved a scolding, but my head hurt too much.
It’s not like Jeho gains weight from one slip. He’s even cramming short-term acrobatics for the final performance, so his calorie burn must be huge.
We don’t keep high-calorie food at the dorm; if he’s sneaking anything, it’s probably just a frozen yogurt stick.
“What do we even have in that fridge that’s edible?”
My imagination was off to the races: Jeho secretly stashing something and sneaking bites whenever he could.
Tomorrow at first light I’m tearing the dorm apart.
I’ll raid his emergency snack cache and make an example of him...
While I clenched a fist and drafted my spring-cleaning plan, he sauntered back into the room.
Then, without closing the door, he came to my bed.
His hand reached under the blanket and grabbed my head. He caught near the wound; I almost screamed in the middle of the night.
“Ow...!”
“What the, why is your head here?”
He sounded startled, voice rising. I pushed the blanket back and lifted my head; Jeho stood there, brow deeply furrowed.
“What are you doing?”
“I was going for your shoulder.”
From the way he said it, his night vision is trash and he just reached wherever.
“Why are you grabbing my shoulder in the middle of the night?”
“You think I wanted to?”
Before I could answer, a chill pressed to my face. Jeho was holding out an ice pack wrapped in a towel.
“For me?”
“If you’ve got it, use it.”
I kneaded the pack without answering.
When I set it near the wound, the pain seemed to ease.
“Nice. That’s cool.”
“Don’t put it straight on your head.”
“I know at least that much. But why...”
“You kept tossing.”
He lay back down. Even after a considerate move like that, turning his back on me looked exactly like him.
I stared at the back of his head and apologized quietly.
“Sorry. I must’ve kept you up.”
“I’m going to sleep now.”
He went silent for a long time, then muttered:
“If it gets bad, wake me.”
How kind. The old man almost made me cry.
As the pain settled, sleep crept in. I closed my eyes and answered.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Every long project ends sometime.
The last day of Royal Secretariat—so noisy and trouble-ridden—dawned.
Maybe because everyone had worked so hard, there wasn’t any puffiness; if anything, their jawlines were razor-sharp. With edges like that, they could all do a paper-cut show with their jaws.
One burden was how many eyes were on me.
I looked the part. They shaved around the wound for suturing during surgery (the doctor proudly said he minimized it, considering I’m an idol), and to hide it I wore a cap—which only made me stand out among the glittering idols.
“It’s not like anyone doesn’t know why I’m in a cap.”
It had been on entertainment and even society news. Of course people were shocked...
“Iwol, are you actually performing today?”
...I didn’t expect even Yur, the MC, to look surprised instead of his usual calm.
He ended up lining us up on the dressing-room sofa and handing out snacks when he came to greet us.
“I’m only popping in and out.”
“Is that okay? I heard you were badly hurt.”
“I recover quickly.”
He told me passion is great but I should take care of my health, and suggested we grab a meal after the show ends.
On top of that, Verion—who’d told everyone what a good person I am—nearly made me cry with their warm check-in. By the time I got back to our room, I was drained.
Spark were the only idols I really knew. When did I end up with this many shiny celebrity acquaintances.
“It was hard while we were doing it, but now that it’s ending, I’m sad.”
Lee Cheonghyeon slid into the seat beside me.
“How can you be sad when you haven’t even performed yet.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
Saying it anyway—his guts have grown.
Once upon a time he was so scared of debuting with his own song he even ran away.
“You’ve changed a lot in less than a year, huh.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t lost my rookie heart.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Face gone pale, he bolted to Jeong Seongbin.
Then he pestered Seongbin, asking if his eyes looked dead. To an outsider, it would look like I’d been grilling him.
