When I was little, I went hungry a lot.
It wasn’t because we were poor. I’d already figured out from the national scholarship income bracket that my family wasn’t in poverty.
It was just that none of the adults in the house cared whether a kid ate or not.
Back then, if even one snack disappeared while a grown man watched TV, or if the groceries in the fridge went down, I’d get cursed out like there was no tomorrow.
The “home” of that time was full of things I couldn’t understand.
Why is there food but I’m not allowed to eat it? And why do I get hit for saying I’m hungry?
No matter how much I wrestled with it, the questions never got answered and only my stomach stayed empty.
So I kept sneaking a cup ramen, cooking and eating it in secret, then making a covert trip to the apartment recycling station. I did that over and over until I earned my own money and could eat outside.
After that, “hunger” became a word tangled up with very complicated feelings for me. It’s just... it tugs at me.
There wasn’t even an adult yelling that we were “wasting rice,” and yet these kids had to starve this much. I felt a little bad for them.
It’s not like they’re the kind to lie back and say “do your worst” after stuffing themselves, either.
I hesitated, then shot them a quick look and said:
“...Then order one chicken and share it.”
“Huh?”
Jeong Seongbin stared at me with rabbit eyes.
“Grilled, with water instead of soda. If that’s fine, order.”
“Oh, of course that’s fine!”
As if he’d never been gloomy, Lee Cheonghyeon shouted, full of life again.
Jeong Seongbin, half-doubting, started a full-on survey of preferred chicken brands.
And then the kids gathered the last of their conscience and ordered exactly one charcoal-grilled chicken. From the place with the fastest delivery.
It was a sharp contrast to a colleague of mine who kept saying he’d [N O V E L I G H T] really cut back on coffee, then put three coffee mixes in his tumbler again the next morning.
While they bustled around setting the table, I opened the first box to arrive. Then I split the steaming chicken evenly onto five plates.
I was carefully allocating parts when the kitchen got noisy.
“What. What’s up?”
When I asked, the kids around the table turned their bodies and looked at me.
In a trembling voice, Lee Cheonghyeon called me.
“Uh, hyung.”
“Yeah. What?”
He reached into the bag Jeong Seongbin was holding.
What came out in his hand... was cola.
“The owner threw it in on the house, and we can’t not drink it... What do we do?”
“Nice try. Don’t pull anything.”
And that’s how we ended up having a late-night chicken party with an unexpected freebie.
Ah, not “we,” correction: “they.” I didn’t eat.
Still, if I ran along the Han River with them, I’d done my best. I even ran the longest, so that says it all.
That night, for the first time, I had the rare experience of sneaking out to the recycling station not alone but with a group to toss late-night snack trash.
And I went to sleep hoping the Spark members wouldn’t be the type whose faces bloat from a few salty chicken bites.
With just Yoo Hansu out of the picture, everything fell into place. The Spark kids hardly caused trouble, so everything got satisfying fast.
“Hey Iwol, you’ve been through a lot, huh?”
“Thanks to the company being considerate, I’m fine now...”
“You went through it. Wow, I didn’t think PD Yoo was like that...”
Except for the part where the sympathy from all sides felt burdensome.
Because of the matter with Yoo Hansu, whichever meeting I went into, people would ask how I was and then get to the point. It was attention I didn’t deserve.
It was the same in today’s conference room.
So many people patted my shoulder and told me to speak up anytime if things were hard. I barely had time to lift my head because I was bowing ninety degrees, saying thank you.
Loaded with warm looks, I headed back to the practice room when Lee Cheonghyeon suddenly waved at me.
“Hyung! Perfect timing. Our teaser’s out!”
“Teaser?”
I knew why it felt familiar.
Those were the exact words he said when Parte’s debut teaser dropped. Who knows how long it’s been since then.
“Yeah? How is it?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t watched yet.”
With that, Kang Giyeon shifted to make space.
“You haven’t watched? Why?”
“Felt like you’d get here any minute.”
No way—does that mean they waited to watch it with me?
I glanced around. The kids were already buzzing, “Should we play it now?” “Should we watch on the laptop?!”
I don’t get it. Wouldn’t you want to watch your own debut teaser as fast as possible?
I told them to do as they liked and sat in an empty spot.
Once the commotion quieted, Jeong Seongbin said:
“Then I’ll play it.”
When he hit play, the dark screen split top and bottom.
In the slit, we saw Lee Cheonghyeon’s ankles, wearing mismatched unlaced canvas shoes, running.
Next, Choi Jeho paused while putting a nipper into his bag, then picked up a small hammer and put that in instead—just his hands.
Then there was a shot of Park Juu’s back and shoulders with a backpack, standing still in front of a supermarket fire extinguisher. A noisy instrumental was playing in the background.
Cut to Jeong Seongbin’s eyes, focused as he reads something.
Then the next cut.
Behind the school at the recycling station, Kang Giyeon upends the can/bottle bin, and in a dark space my hands rip a notebook to shreds and toss the pages to the floor.
When Jeong Seongbin reappears and slides a key into a padlock on a storage door—
The screen went abruptly black as if the video had been force-stopped.
Then, with the crackle of a match being struck, a small white flame icon appeared on the black screen, scattered like ash, and vanished.
“Oh...”
With a small exclamation from Lee Cheonghyeon, the kids let out groans and leaned back from the small phone.
Looks like everyone was nervous. Even after all that monitoring on set, that’s how it is.
“It really is different once a pro touches it.”
It was exactly the mood we intended. My trust in the professionals rose again.
“How is it, Iwol? Does it look like what you had in mind?”
Jeong Seongbin asked carefully.
“Yeah. Nicely ambiguous.”
“Huh?”
“I mean it came out exactly as planned.”
Put nicely, you could call it a classic teaser featuring a rebellious character.
By showing only parts of the body, the mystique and cinematography stand out, and the sound design is excellent too.
Put bluntly...
≫ Came here after watching Jang Junhu’s MV lol. Cheering for Jeho!
≫ I came because of the profile photo—so which shot is Lee Cheonghyeon’s, exactly... Please, Cheonghyeon, show your face. I watched it three times and still can’t find you...
You could say it’s not particularly punchy. Completely leaving out a group choreo scene probably contributed.
“I’m going to skim some comments and then join, so you guys start practice first.”
“Can’t we just read them together and then practice?”
“I told you no monitoring for you, Kang Giyeon.”
No need to chip away at your self-esteem before debut.
I herded them to the mirror and sat in an empty corner. I set the laptop on my thighs and scrolled slowly.
As expected, there weren’t many comments talking about the teaser itself.
It’s not like idol MVs about wayward, adolescent youth are rare.
Especially nowadays, with strong concepts trending, it’s even harder to draw attention with a pure, straightforward concept.
If the teaser made people expect that kind of ordinary MV, then it was a big success.
“This one’s actually more interesting.”
I reread a comment I spotted as I scrolled.
≫ Guys, you’re finally debuting ㅠㅠㅠ Please give lots of love to Spark, the land of visuals, everyone ㅠㅠㅠㅠ Lots of support, lots of support!!!
Kim Iwol♡Choi Jeho♡Jeong Seongbin♡Park Juu♡Lee Cheonghyeon♡Kang Giyeon
Since the press releases had gone out, I expected a few people would already have picked their favorite members.
But I didn’t expect someone to leave a comment like that for a group known only by six ID-style profile photos whose retouching level no one could even be sure of yet.
And...
“Of all things, why is my name first.”
I rubbed at my name sitting in front of Choi Jeho’s.
The names they wrote were in order of our ages and birthdays. They must have cross-checked the dates listed on the portal site one by one.
The oldest I knew in Spark was Choi Jeho. Naturally, the fans’ chant always started with his name.
Maybe that’s why a comment that didn’t start with Choi Jeho felt very strange. Like it was aimed at something alien, not Spark.
Guilt rippled through me and passed.
Each time, those complicated feelings came back. I wasn’t sure how to put them away. Another homework assignment.
“Better than being wedged in the middle and clumsily pulled out later.”
I covered my name with my left thumb.
Then, so it wouldn’t look weird to anyone, I pressed and rubbed over my name like wiping dust off the screen.
≫ Guys, you’re finally debuting ㅠㅠㅠ Please give lots of love to Spark, the land of visuals, everyone ㅠㅠㅠㅠ Lots of support, lots of support!!!
♡Choi Jeho♡Jeong Seongbin♡Park Juu♡Lee Cheonghyeon♡Kang Giyeon
“...Yeah. That’s right.”
I let out a small laugh at the familiar sight. Maybe because of the heat, my fingertips stung.
I checked the few remaining comments, turned off my phone, and stood up.
“Hey, land-of-visuals, can I come in now?”
“Of course!”
Still, I should think about it.
Someday when I’m gone, which three-letter word would fit naturally in the cheer where “Kim Iwol” used to be.
