"Answer anything?"
"What's that?"
When I asked, Kang Giyeon answered.
"You pretty much reply to almost every post on your fan café. Can’t we do something like that?"
Just like he said, I’d been answering in Spark’s fan café like some FAQ sun god.
≫ Guys, did you finish all the snacks after the live?
└ There were a few left, so we clipped the bag shut. Today’s most popular snack was Honey ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Pizza! :)
New posts didn’t come in fast, so thirty minutes a day was enough to cover nearly all of them.
The original poster probably wanted a reply from some member other than me, but still—information is information. I figured they wouldn’t feel bad about it... and posted anyway.
"Right. That’s good."
Giyeon’s idea wasn’t bad. While talking about the other members, I could also lower the focus on me.
"Then we should collect questions for you?"
"I’ve got a stash I’ve been keeping. Just gathering a little more as an event should be enough."
"Why do you even collect that kind of thing in the first place...."
Giyeon shook his head like he couldn’t understand. As if anyone collects because they want to.
Like that, I thought I’d gotten over one hump.
That was before I heard the bolt-from-the-blue: that I had to shoot the self-content first.
"Me first?"
Pointing at myself, I asked the manager.
It was his first line upon coming to the practice room today: "Looks like self-content will start with Iwol!"
I was dying to say, "The leader is Jeong Seongbin, so why?" But I’m an adult who’s had plenty of birthdays, so I held it in.
And the manager stomped my adult restraint to pieces.
"Yeah. Iwol, your birthday is the earliest. We’re going in age order."
In times like this, still talking about age—could he be any more old-fashioned?
As a matter of propriety we should push the captain out first and send the rest by skill, shouldn’t we.
So, for the crime of merely being born in February, I ended up filming a video no one would probably care about.
Since it’s come to this, all I can do is offer myself up and pray the other guys’ view counts spike.
"But who would care about my self-content?"
If I were a fan of this group, I wouldn’t even want to glance at the weak link you can spot from a single fancam—a clumsy hole member.
It’s not like I’d half-ass it just because no one’s watching, but if the Video Team is supporting the shoot, I need results to match. This is bad.
"What are you muttering about by yourself?"
Choi Jeho sauntered over and asked.
"I’m thinking about what to do for self-content. Filling a solid twenty minutes alone is harder than it sounds."
"Hmm."
I’m seriously chewing on it, and he’s just breezy.
But wait a second. You’re not exactly in a breezy position yourself, are you?
A bit thrown, I asked:
"You’re not worried?"
"I can probably fill ten minutes with a dance medley."
This little shit?
"What’s with that attitude? Planning to walk around with a screw loose already?"
When I said it dead serious, Jeho’s expression got odd. Not just annoyed—kind of flustered.
"Hey, I’m not trying to half-ass it!"
"Our album doesn’t even hit ten minutes including b-sides. Talking about a medley with two or three songs—if that’s not half-assing, what is?"
"I meant cover dances!"
Ah. That’s what he meant?
As dance line and center, Jeho always had demand for cover dances. I’d watched until my eyes watered before; how did I forget?
For Jeho himself to suggest something that commendable—was there a processing error in my brain? But this one was clearly my mistake. I apologized properly.
"Sorry. I misunderstood."
"Forget it. But hey, something up with you?"
"Me? Why?"
"You’re touchy. Since yesterday."
Me?
It wasn’t something I’d even considered. I actually mulled over whether I’d understood him right.
I mean, sure, the system had put my mood on a roller coaster since yesterday...
This hit me even harder than when Jeong Seongbin noticed my discomfort.
We’re talking about Choi Jeho. The guy’s more oblivious than a polar bear. If he thought I was prickly, I couldn’t even imagine how uncomfortable the others must’ve felt.
"I guess I was tired. I’m fine now."
"Then good."
He turned his back and went to do his thing.
A dorm where the kid who caught the last train in—skills the weakest—and wields age as a weapon to nag people, walks around broadcasting “I’m edgy right now.”
"This is the worst."
A sigh welled up from my gut. Apparently I’m the one missing screws.
I was deeply disappointed in myself for not managing even my mood properly.
So, as a reflection, I filled three pages front and back with an apology journal. I thought my fingers would break.
I also apologized to the members for messing up the dorm atmosphere. Being gentle souls, they all stuck to, "We didn’t really notice! You don’t have to apologize!"
To fix my warped attitude, I voluntarily tended to the others in secret.
I bought dehumidifiers for the shoe cabinet and scrubbed the balcony floor with water. Without anyone knowing, no less.
Good thing we’re in an off-cycle now.
If we were promoting, I’d be mopping the living room floor with one hand, writing project proposals with the other, and practicing steps with both feet.
If I got caught doing it alone, the dorm rules would make everyone do chores, so this morning I was secretly cleaning the dorm like an unseen husband who tidies up...
"What are you doing there?"
I went to the kitchen to boil barley tea and ran into Choi Jeho and Lee Cheonghyeon standing there awkwardly.
"We, uh... were seeing if there were any dishes to wash!"
"I already did them earlier."
There aren’t many dishes here to begin with. Someone has to actually eat for there to be dishes.
Caught in a flimsy lie, Cheonghyeon backed off immediately.
I looked at Jeho and asked with my eyes. Roughly: So what excuse are you planning to use?
Jeho answered without hesitation.
"Cheonghyeon said he wants kimchi pancake, so we came out to check."
"Ah, hy—"
"So you two were plotting."
Outside, a fine rain was falling. Maybe because it was still morning, all you could hear from outside was the sound of rain.
On a day like this, it’s hard not to think of jeon.
Staring at the sheepish two, I asked:
"Want me to make it?"
"Huh?"
"Jeon. I can’t guarantee it’ll be good."
Regrettably, I’m more of a skewer-fritter specialist.
Even so, Cheonghyeon’s face lit up. Like an armful of flowers had bloomed.
While I bent down to find a frying pan under the sink, Cheonghyeon asked Jeho:
"Do you know your mom’s kimchi pancake recipe?"
"No."
"Why? Is Jeho’s mom’s kimchi pancake that good?"
I asked, and Cheonghyeon nodded hard enough to make his head fall off. Then he launched into a rapid-fire rap about how delicious Jeho’s mom’s kimchi pancake was.
"I’ve had it exactly once, okay? I’d never had kimchi pancake that good. You know how the best part of jeon is the edge? But Jeho’s mom’s pancake is crispy in the middle too. It’s definitely not burnt, either."
"...Is it that good?"
"That good? Wow, come on."
When Jeho muttered sourly, Cheonghyeon snorted like he couldn’t believe it.
"You must not understand the value of your mom’s kimchi pancake. Even Juu said it was good."
"Park Juu?"
At the unexpected name, Jeho looked a little surprised. I was, too.
"Has he ever said anything was good?"
Jeho asked, genuinely curious.
"That guy eats to live, you know? Like, he eats because there’s food. If even Juu says it’s good, that’s a guarantee."
Fair point.
Maybe taste follows personality, but Park Juu prefers light to greasy, mild to strong.
If Giyeon eats salad without dressing for self-management, this one puts the dressing aside to taste the vegetables themselves.
If soda is the only thing to drink, he’ll wait until it goes flat.
Though I think at Chuseok he said the mini meat patties were good. Maybe those passed because they’re store-bought.
Anyway. Having decided to be a voluntary servant, and after hearing the young masters would like kimchi pancake, I couldn’t just let it slide.
I grabbed Jeho by the shoulder and turned him toward me.
"Hey."
"What?"
"Go get the recipe from your mom."
"Hello? Uh, Mom...."
Bullied from both sides by me and Cheonghyeon, Jeho finally called his mother.
See, wouldn’t it have been nice if you’d just learned cooking from her earlier.
While Cheonghyeon and I were wiping the window frame with satisfied smiles, there was a loud clatter from the kitchen.
"Hey, did you break something?"
"Did the sink cave in?"
We tossed our rags and ran to the kitchen.
There, we found Jeho crouched between the sink and the table, and a pile of frying pans that had crashed down in front of him.
"Ah, I spilled some stuff. Mom, which frying pan should I use?"
Jeho grabbed a big pan in each hand and furrowed his brow hard.
What followed on the call was nerve-racking.
"Batter mix? I don’t know. Can’t I just use flour?"
"Kimchi that’s ‘just right’ fermented? How fermented is ‘just right’?"
"I’ll know when I eat it? We only have one kind of kimchi at the dorm."
At his last question, an enormous sound burst from the other end. It sounded like his mom’s patience hitting rock bottom.
For a moment, I had the odd illusion I’d seen the future.
Six thick, pancake-like lumps of kimchi-flour bread, eaten swimming in oil.
By the time my thoughts reached the five guys with mouths gleaming with kimchi grease, my hand was already tapping Jeho’s shoulder.
"What?"
Jeho asked.
“What,” my ass.
Hand me the phone, you little shit.
