Only after seeing my ridiculous plank did Jeong Seongbin allow me to come along. All that forearm training finally paid off.
On a peaceful afternoon, Seongbin and I went to an unfamiliar studio. It was a place Jang Junhu had given us in advance.
In front of the entrance, Seongbin took a deep breath.
It made sense to be tense. Just deciding to come this far on his own was impressive.
"If you want to turn back, you can. He’ll always be waiting for you right here."
"Ha-ha..."
Not a joke. Junhu probably feels like he’s standing on a cliff edge right now.
Even though I opened a path for him to back out, Seongbin chose the braver route.
We went up to the studio door and rang the bell. Without a word, the door swung open. Junhu, face stiff, stood there.
"Hello, Mr. Jang."
"Hello."
I greeted him brightly, and Seongbin echoed me in a smaller voice.
"...Right."
Surprisingly, Junhu accepted the greeting. Maybe it was rare; Seongbin’s eyes went wide.
Seongbin and I sat side by side on the long couch, and Junhu took the chair at the computer. After that, no one spoke for a long time.
Before we came, I told Seongbin exactly one thing.
'You know the mood won’t be comfortable, right?'
'Yeah...'
'Still, don’t shrink. Don’t read the room, and don’t force yourself to lighten it. If you don’t want to smile, don’t.'
It was the opposite of what I always drilled into the kids.
But this situation was different. I didn’t want the victim cowed by the offender.
Seongbin followed that to the letter.
Instead of forcing a smile and worrying about Junhu’s sour mood, he sat quietly—very quietly.
Junhu’s gaze flicked to me once, to Seongbin once.
This bastard still hasn’t come to his senses. He wronged Seongbin, yet he’s watching my face more than his.
I was going to see how long he kept his mouth shut, but then Junhu spoke.
"I’ve thought about it, and I might’ve gone a bit too far with you."
That was it. Nothing followed.
He looked at me again, eyes asking for a reaction.
I chose to keep my mouth shut. Then he started talking in a rush.
"I did it because I thought about you. I mean, maybe from your position it felt hard..."
Back when I told Seongbin to gather anything he had as proof of Junhu bullying him,
he scraped up everything from texts to half-written diary pages and handed them to me. There were a lot of hard-to-read stories in there.
How do you “think of” a far junior and then do that to him? How could that not be hard, heavy, and cruel?
If he knew how many pages of the diary had wrinkled edges from getting wet and drying out, would this bastard still be talking like that?
Seongbin’s two fists, neatly set on his thighs, trembled.
I laid my hand over them and slowly stroked his fists.
"Mr. Jang."
"..."
"Sounds like you’ve never written an apology."
Both Junhu and Seongbin flinched. My left hand, still smoothing his hands, began to tense.
"Not a single ‘I’m sorry.’"
I scoffed, and Junhu’s face twisted.
"Seongbin, want to wait outside?"
I suggested it in case the coercive mood triggered bad memories, but he refused. Instead of getting up, he looked straight at Junhu.
"From the way you’re talking, it sounds like you think you did Seongbin a favor and that’s why we’re here."
"Don’t be sarcastic."
"It’s obvious you’re trying to paper it over and pull your foot out—how am I supposed to let that slide? I’m here as ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) his guardian, in my way."
At that, Junhu averted his eyes.
"You know this as well as I do—our Seongbin is good. Talented, diligent, pure, and he looks after people."
"..."
"If you wronged a kid like that—if you set this up just to ease your own mind—then at least ask properly for forgiveness."
Who knows when the self-esteem Junhu crushed out of jealousy will come back. All because of one irresponsible adult.
Even so, Seongbin came to give him a chance.
If that’s the case—if Junhu is really reflecting...
"Isn’t that the bare minimum of respect for the kid who came all the way here?"
Junhu lowered his head.
If he were the sort to feel shame after a few words from me, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
So that posture was “anguish”: figuring out how to get past me and wring forgiveness from Seongbin.
Then Seongbin stood. He lightly took my forearm.
"Let’s go."
Maybe he couldn’t stand the mood any longer.
But when he looked up at me with concern, his expression was far from timid.
If anything, he looked solid.
"I thought this meeting would be to move things in a better direction."
"Hey, Jeong Seongbin."
Junhu hurriedly called to him.
But he didn’t waver. He spoke calmly.
"But I guess not."
"..."
"If this isn’t the conversation I had in mind, I don’t think I have anything more to say."
He bowed once and turned away without hesitation.
At that moment, a loud noise came from where Junhu was.
The flung chair skidded into the wall, and Junhu dropped to his knees with his head bowed.
"I’m sorry."
"Mr. Jang."
"I was wrong."
When I was caught practicing with a nosebleed and went to my knees to apologize, Seongbin had desperately tried to pull me up.
Now he was different. He only looked down at the prostrate Junhu with a complicated expression and did nothing.
"I hope you’ll forgive me..."
Junhu’s hands shook.
He was probably feeling, for real, that Seongbin had changed.
But this wasn’t enough.
If you’re an adult—if you’re the one at fault—you should know how to take responsibility.
With a ‘proper apology.’
"What is it you want him to forgive?"
At my question, Junhu snapped his head up. His glare could have killed.
"What, exactly, is he supposed to forgive?"
I hit each word slowly.
He looked up at Seongbin. The shadowed face looked back.
"I... cursed at you, threw things. I smacked your head when I passed by. Your takes were fine, but I nitpicked them anyway. I embarrassed you in front of people. I was wrong."
He stammered.
"Why did you do it?"
I asked again.
He bit his lip. The fingertips braced on the floor went white.
Seongbin stared at him for a long time. When he still wouldn’t speak and Seongbin went to turn his foot—
"Because I was jealous."
His words caught Seongbin mid-step.
"A kid way younger than me—no, you being good—made me rage. If I admitted that a brand-new middle schooler was better than me, I thought, how much would he look down on me inside?"
"..."
"I vented. When things didn’t go my way, taking it out on you was the fastest, easiest. I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t in my right mind."
Ugly inferiority spilled out in a stream. The look on Seongbin’s face as he listened was hard to put into words.
"I won’t ever do it again."
"..."
"I promise. I’ll beg like this... I’d like you to forgive me just once."
He added that, and his forehead touched the floor.
Seongbin ended it with a “I’ll think about it,” then left the building with me in silence.
He stayed quiet until we reached the car. I didn’t force conversation.
He finally spoke in the elevator up to the dorm.
"It really wasn’t my fault."
His voice was dry. I pretended not to notice and answered while looking at the mirror opposite.
"Of course not. Are you the kind of kid who goes around hurting people?"
Even at that, he didn’t give his usual little laugh or fluster. He just sniffled and lowered his head.
When the doors opened, instead of taking him into the dorm, I steered for the emergency stairs.
The metal door opened and shut, and it went quiet around us.
Only then did he bury his face in his hands.
"You did well."
I pulled him into a hug and slowly stroked his back.
He cried for a long time—until the iron smell from the rusted hinge seeped into my T-shirt.
"Seongbin’s been insanely busy lately."
Lee Cheonghyeon muttered as he watched Seongbin talking with the manager.
"He’s always sorting something even in the room."
Kang Giyeon chimed in. Park Juu nodded along.
After Junhu’s apology, Seongbin got a little brighter than usual—and far more proactive about everything.
"...I was worried he’d be down, but I’m relieved."
Park Juu smiled softly. He must have been worried about his friend.
Then Seongbin ran up with a bright expression that melted Juu’s worry like snow.
"Guys! Our schedule for this month just got set!"
"Oh! How many?"
Cheonghyeon craned to see the paper in his hand.
"Well, we have to decide that from now."
"Huh?"
Seongbin laid the sheet he’d gotten from the manager on the floor.
One look at the page, packed like a cram sheet, and we knew.
"A few of them overlap, so we’ll have to drop some events or interviews. And for programs where only part of us go, we have to decide who appears."
Spark had blown up.
And now... all that was left was to run like dogs and work.
