The members’ eyes all swung to Kim Iwol at the out-of-nowhere question about the dorm’s shared laptop password.
Kim Iwol, squarely in the spotlight, was unbothered.
“Yeah, so what is the password?”
At his breezy tone, Lee Cheonghyeon and Kang Giyeon pounced.
“Did you stick that Post-it there?”
“When?”
“I put it there to report you to the Sparklers. You’re the only one we never told the laptop password.”
“Sorry, but if you take it that direction, we are never going to lose.”
Cheonghyeon folded his arms and took a stand opposite Iwol. The picture they made—Kim Iwol upright with a straight back, Cheonghyeon cocking a hip and standing crooked—was almost artistic.
“I’m the only one who can’t read the meeting minutes right now.”
“What are you going to do with them right now? Just rest, will you?”
“You trying to turn me into a man of leisure?”
From the fan seats came a steady chorus: “Iwol, be a man of leisure! Work less, earn more!”
“Fine, let’s split into teams. If you think we should tell Iwol the password, stand on his side. If not, stand on mine!”
“You’re really going to divide the team like this?”
Iwol sounded incredulous. When a majority of the members actually moved to Cheonghyeon’s side, he looked even more floored.
“Seongbin, after everything I’ve done for you, you do me like this?”
Face full of despair, he appealed to Jeong Seongbin—who was firm.
“Please think of this as the way we show we care about you.”
“You should see your face right now.”
It did not look like a face that came from caring. If anything, it was the kind of face that hires someone to lock a person in an underground jail.
At least Choi Jeho, as a friend, stayed by Iwol’s side.
Iwol looked back at him.
“Why are you... here...”
Not that he looked reassured.
Jeho didn’t exactly look like a man with deep convictions.
“If they still don’t tell you the password, you’re just going to borrow another one from the office.”
“...You heard that?”
“Yeah.”
Jeho answered like he couldn’t even be bothered to be tired of this anymore. Apparently he’d overheard Iwol telling a staffer he’d borrow another unit.
People say Iwol’s ruthless; I didn’t know it was to this degree. What, is he possessed by the ghost of someone who died from overwork?
Only after the members and the fans teamed up to figuratively pound their runaway workaholic did Iwol back off the plan to rent a second laptop.
If only the assistant manager on my team worked half as hard as Kim Iwol. It hurt a little, but Won Chaehee decided to switch off her brain and just enjoy the happiness of the moment.
“Right—did you see our new self-content episode?”
“Saw it!”
Chaehee had seen it, too. It was the one where Spark went to a daycare.
Those adorable kids were all over short clips; there was no way not to watch. The tall men flailing along behind them were a bonus.
But Spark themselves looked surprised.
“Really? You really saw the daycare one?”
“Yeah!”
“How?”
How else—on MeTube...
Neither members nor fans could figure out what was going on. Then Jeong Seongbin pointed to the projector.
“Are you sure you saw this ‘behind’?”
It was a thumbnail I’d never seen: “Spark’s Hilarious Daycare Survival—Behind the Scenes.”
“Nope, didn’t see it!”
“First time!”
“Play it now!”
Messing with the fans, are we? Time to discipline them with an overpowered reaction. The Sparklers steeled themselves.
The video that rolled was pure chaos.
“What kind of hairpins would you like, customer?”
“Do I... still have any space left to stick pins in...?”
Even from the start, cactus-like Park Juu’s presence was something else. And his reasons for choosing pins were... delicate.
“Then since it’s fall, how about a chestnut...”
“No. Watermelon.”
...All of which the five-year-old salon director, Director Park, summarily rejected. Still, they got to experience “making a choice.”
Someone two seats over clutched a chinchilla plush and bit their lip. Looked like a Juu-bias. That chinchilla plush is absolutely getting a watermelon clip on its head.
Still, for someone so introverted, he really tried to play his best with the kids. Especially when he retied one side of a child’s hair after the band came loose—groans of fondness rose from every direction.
And Seongbin—what a sight. Fans who knew only his gentle leader mode had to watch “Strict Seongbini” meet small children who, unlike Spark’s grown men, wouldn’t listen and kept turning away, and see the deep gulf between them.
“I don’t like it when teacher keeps scolding me!”
“But if you don’t brush your teeth, you’ll get...”
“I don’t like brushing either!”
Seongbin’s eyes were sending out distress flares. Watching him become a childcare pro was very satisfying.
He’s kind by nature. The kids picked up on that quickly. When one of them said they wanted to grow up to be like teacher, the Seongbin on screen—and the Sparklers off screen—both barely held back ugly crying.
But the highlight of the daycare self-content had to be Choi Jeho.
That’s my take, anyway. No one expected Jeho—who does one-word replies even with his own members—to communicate smoothly with kids.
“Teacher’s legs are so long~ and hands so big~!”
The kid was talking about his hands and legs, but the camera was glued to his face. As if someone had whispered, “Focus on his face... keep focusing on the face...”
Through it, a voice that was ninety percent breath, ten percent base instinct drilled in from behind.
“Damn he’s good-looking, damn...”
Even though it was somebody else’s mutter, I nearly nodded along. When Jeho brought over a tail comb and hairpins and styled the kids’ hair to match his own, the frame could barely fit his forearms. At this point I couldn’t tell if this was a fan meeting or an eye-therapy clinic.
Flower Class superstar Kang Giyeon and Flower Class maestro Lee Cheonghyeon were outstanding, too. What’s wrong with people in this world—why is nobody booking Spark with kids for commercials...
“The babies are so tiny.”
The last to appear was Kim Iwol.
And at the same time, he put on a whole circus act just trying to take a single proper step between the zooming kids, staggering and dodging as he went.
Watching alongside us, Lee Cheonghyeon burst out laughing.
“Why were you walking like that, hyung?”
“I didn’t want to bump into them.”
“Fair—those kids were tiny.”
Hearing that from a man who’s 183 cm tall? Peak happiness.
After that, Iwol kept up a running whisper from the corner of the frame about these small beings.
“Hold on and I’ll wipe your face... wow, your cheeks are so squishy. That startled me.”
“I saw earlier—she was holding a cup this small with both hands. Her hands are really baby hands.”
“Why do you have a handkerchief tied around your neck? Drool? ...Ah, to keep from catching a cold? Babies, all of you.”
“Is this your snack tray? Oh no, it’s too cute.”
Iwol being a shameless compliment machine isn’t new.
But that’s always been aimed at grown boys, with “so handsome” or “forged by the gods” as his main vocabulary.
Iwol walking around with “cute” permanently on his tongue? That’s not common.
Because you could feel he genuinely found the kids adorable, the fans happily took in Kim Iwol’s “our babies are so, so cute, right?” talk show.
“I... honestly wish he’d just clock in at a daycare every day...”
Leaning back into the comfy chair, Won Chaehee thought, dead serious. It was tear-inducing bliss.
After the games and everything else, it was nearly time to wrap.
“Sparklers, what are you doing after the fan meeting? Do you have somewhere to be right away?”
“We booked this place for way longer than the program...”
Giyeon and Juu talked about going overtime like it was nothing, and their faces showed zero fatigue. Spark hadn’t bragged about their practice hours on Royal Secretariat for nothing.
The fans who’d planned to head to a tripe joint and wave the bulk-bought plushies for an after-party were the only ones crying tears of joy and despair at the same time.
“How long will it take you to get home? We don’t want to keep you too long.”
“I’ve got my own car, so stay as long as you want!”
Was that the straight-punch fan from before? At this point, everyone looked like a professional straight-puncher to Chaehee.
“Anyway, it’s about time...”
She ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) checked the time.
It was time for “that” to happen.
“Then let’s chat and play a little more. Okay?”
Just as Jeong Seongbin was about to drag a chair to the front edge of the stage, every light in the hall went out. Part of the prepped fan event.
“Huh?”
Startled voices went out over the mics.
Got you, kids. Anyone would be thrown if the lights died out of nowhere.
Right then, Kim Iwol’s voice came.
“Everyone, looks like there’s a brief issue. If we all move at once in the dark, someone could get hurt, so please remain in your seats for a moment. Staff, could you check the situation outside?”
His voice was calm and composed.
“If anything’s wrong, we’ll guide you out immediately. Would you wait just a little? We’ll take care of it as fast as possible. Sorry for the scare.”
He must have taken the mic away from his mouth, but I clearly heard him tell the members, “Don’t panic.”
And the response came fast. The fan-prepared reverse VCR started to play.
“Congratulations on Spark’s First Fan Meeting — VCR
(Special note: may be clumsier than what Iwol would have produced)”
“What is this?”
Jeho asked, sounding dubious.
“A present!”
At the fans’ answer, the members gathered one by one in front of the projector.
Photos and cheer messages slid by to the instrumental of Spark’s debut track.
“Best eldest Iwol—thanks for always being the roof over Spark♡”
“Jeho, you are Spark’s identity! Spark shines because you’re here!”
“Thank you for being a leader fans can trust and rely on. Love you, Seongbin.”
“Juu—start and end every day with your voice! Let’s sing for a lifetime!”
“Cheonghyeon, the brightest in the world—may your future out-shine even you!”
“Our last treasure we can’t do without—Giyeon, don’t ever forget everybody cares about you.”
When the video ended, the lights came back on.
“We love you, boys!”
A wave of cheers rose from the seats.
The looks on the members’ faces as they turned around said everything.
—
Profile
Name: Kang Giyeon
Birthday: December 29
Birthplace: Incheon
Height: 176 cm
MBTI: ISTJ
Nicknames: King-Cute Giyeon, The North’s Crown Prince (self-confident), Ice Tanghulu, Model Delinquent
Likes: comic books, delicious food, running
Dislikes: sad movies, injuries, people you can’t communicate with
Motto: Today’s effort makes a better tomorrow
Favorite food: snack-bar staples
Preferred scent: off-the-shelf fabric softener scent
Music genres he enjoys: hip-hop
Favorite sport: American football
Body part he’s confident about: abs
My personal habit: when the members are practicing, sometimes I watch quietly from behind
