8 p.m.
In the city this would’ve been prime practice time, but out here—sun down, no internet—it was the perfect hour for Truth or Dare.
At this point I wondered if the system had foreseen things would go this way and assigned a task like “share secret stories with the members.”
Everyone peeled off their cucumbers and, a bit more dewy, gathered in the living room.
“Ah, you’re supposed to do this holding a candle each for the vibe!”
“Isn’t that retreat-core?”
“It sets the mood!”
For mood-merchant Lee Cheonghyeon, I borrowed a phone from the writer, queued up a video titled “[1 Hour] Fire-Gazing Time,” and handed it to him.
With a cyber campfire in his hands, he shut right up.
“How do we decide the order?”
When I asked, Jeong Seongbin answered at once.
“We haven’t done this week’s compliments yet, so how about we go until someone gets stuck complimenting the person next to them—that person starts?”
“Nice.”
Since he’d brought it up, Seongbin volunteered to go first.
“I want to praise you, Cheonghyeon, for your spirit of service. It was touching how you took charge of stacking the hearth so the hyungs wouldn’t hurt their hands.”
“He just looked like he wanted to do it himself, though.”
Mutter all you like, Kang Giyeon—Lee Cheonghyeon received Seongbin’s praise with great delight.
The compliment relay rolled on. We’d done it a few times back at the dorm, so everyone was practiced at praising a member.
The turn went round and round until it was Choi Jeho’s.
The person to be praised was me. I gestured at him to go on.
Jeho furrowed his brows and hummed.
“Uh...”
“What’s with that silence right now?”
He couldn’t get a word out, like something was stuck in his throat.
At worst you can just praise something from today, like Seongbin did, right? “Iwol, thanks for scrubbing the cauldron lid so hard!” Like that.
Granted, Seongbin’s was heartfelt.
I laced my fingers and fidgeted.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing?”
“No, you got scolded by Seongbin the other day.”
“So, since I only do things to get scolded for, there’s nothing to praise? You go first for the questions.”
I shoved Jeho straight into the pit of Truth or Dare.
Not the best choice. No one dared to throw a question at him.
Right, you’re all scared of what might come out of that mouth.
What got the best reactions from fans when these guys talked again?
No one here is deranged enough to bring up first love in this setting.
School-life questions... let’s skip those too; I don’t think he had many friends.
After mulling it over, I spoke.
“If we end up on schedules out of town or overseas, who do you want to room with?”
Not a question aimed at tonight. We’re all packed into one room anyway.
Jeho answered without hesitating.
“Park Juu.”
“Why?”
“He’s quiet. Fewer touches between us is more comfortable, right?”
“We should hear Juu’s opinion too.”
“I like rooming with Jeho hyung...!”
What a good kid. Park Juu, you’re exempt from folding laundry next time.
You, Jeho—you’re getting 100 hours of “speak nicely” training.
The next main character, having lost the awareness game, was Jeong Seongbin.
The second it was his turn, Lee Cheonghyeon pounced.
“I’ve always wanted to ask this! Do you want five Kim Iwols, or Kim Iwol at five years old?”
Are you running a penalty game on me?
While I sat there dumbfounded, Seongbin seriously pondered it.
Next to him, the bystanders opened a heated floor.
“What kind of question is that? Obviously Iwol at five.”
“Why?”
“You can give him early dance education.”
Over-immersed, Kang Giyeon said something terrifying.
I went from twenty-nine back to twenty—what’s five next? What’s the point of this debate.
After a full five minutes of deliberation, Seongbin declared with a grim face:
“I’ve decided.”
“Oh! Which one!”
“I’ll take Iwol at five.”
When asked why, he squeezed his eyes shut and said:
“If there are five of him, we each have to watch one, but if there’s one, all five of us can watch together...”
“Sorry, are you planning a co-parenting project with me?”
I could only let out a hollow laugh.
Idiots. If it were me, I’d multiply all of you by five and run five times the events.
Once the floodgates opened, every kind of question flew.
Honed by years of drinking games, I escaped the question hell without getting caught once. Past me, good job.
With the delivery of the production team’s morning wake-up mission, today’s recording wrapped.
Since a majority of the team are minors, we had pre-agreed not to do night filming.
Only after the cameras went off did the kids wipe their makeup and return to their natural states.
Maybe because it wasn’t stage makeup, there wasn’t much difference barefaced. Or maybe it’s just that they’re all still young.
By the time I finished washing up and came out last, blankets were neatly laid out, one per person.
We may be used to dorm life, but that was at most three to a room; tonight it’s six to a room. It brutally reminded me of the army.
Still, the blankets are bright and nice.
A glance around showed each of them lying under a multicolored blanket.
I was just about to pull my own over me when someone called from next to me.
It was Jeong Seongbin.
“Hyung, are you going to sleep?”
“Yeah, time to sleep.”
The company lectured us not to deepen our dark circles before the comeback.
If I knew how to control that, I’d get a job at a dermatology clinic.
“You sleep too. We’re up at six tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He answered obediently and crawled under his blanket.
Thirty seconds later, his head popped back out.
“But, hyung.”
“What?”
“Can I ask why your back is like that?”
He glanced over, gauging my reaction.
“What. Worried I’ve been messing around somewhere?”
“No! I never thought that...!”
He flapped his hands, startled.
At the same time we quickly checked our surroundings for anyone awake. Maybe the day’s rural activities had worn them out—no one so much as twitched.
He says he’s not suspicious, but of course Seongbin would worry inside.
It’s hardly rare for an idol to disappear from debut over something in the past.
And I joined as a trainee late, at twenty.
If some kid with an unknown school history shows up with a huge scar on his back, it’s reasonable to be wary.
But I don’t want to talk about a family life with no dreams or hope.
That kind of thing only makes everyone awkward.
While I was thinking how to spin it, the system appeared on the dark ceiling.
▷ Share secret stories with the members
▷ Reward: Increased probability of a stable comeback
Didn’t we just share those with Truth or Dare? What more do you want me to say.
I was pretty puzzled.
The system can be lazy sometimes, but it’s usually diligent about confirming new-task details.
As if reading my mind, it popped out again.
▶ Assistant Manager Kim! You’re not trying to slip out alone, are you? That’d make me sad, huh? You have to be part of this kind of thing for teamwork to improve and all that.
So because I was the only one who didn’t get caught by a question, it didn’t count?
Since there’d be editing, I figured one member not getting tagged wouldn’t show on-screen. Short-sighted of me.
“If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to!”
“Huh?”
Watching me, Seongbin blurted out.
“Weren’t you worried I’d been causing trouble?”
“Not at all?!”
“No? Then why ask?”
“It’s, um, not a big deal, just...”
He rolled his eyes around for a while, then said:
“If it’s something you don’t really want to show, I wondered if there was anything I could do to help...”
“Huh?”
“Like, telling the company in advance when they decide outfit concepts... I’m not trying to step out on my own! Just, I...”
Uncharacteristically for such a precise kid, his preface ran long.
I kept quiet and waited for him to finish what he wanted to say.
Then, hesitating, he carefully put out what he really meant.
“When I brought up your back earlier, you seemed flustered. I’m sorry for touching a part you might hate...”
“...”
“It’s not much of a substitute, but if you’d prefer that never happened again, I’d like to help however I can.”
Only then did I get why he could hardly meet my eyes.
He thought ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ he’d touched my reverse scale and had been feeling sorry all this time. With a conscience that alive, how are you going to survive this cruel world?
A short laugh escaped me.
“It’s not like that. Don’t worry.”
“...If so, that’s a relief.”
“Really.”
I slowly closed my eyes. Beside me came the sound of Seongbin tugging up his blanket.
“It’s not something I got up to no good doing.”
From outside came the chirp of field crickets.
When the crickets paused, I heard someone sleeping breathe; then the crickets sang again.
“...The atmosphere at home was a little rough, and sometimes it went too far.”
I trimmed the words down to the point of excess, but the meaning should’ve gotten through. He’s a smart kid.
Another bug sounded far away.
The vibe of the country night was so unfamiliar it made childhood memories feel like they weren’t mine.
Like I was reading a faded diary that belonged to someone else a long time ago, unrelated to me.
“It happened because I was unlucky. I don’t see my back much, so I forgot.”
I snorted and looked over at Seongbin. His expression looked complicated.
“It’s not pretty, so I’ll hide it well. Don’t worry about it too much.”
“Hyung...”
Saying I was tired, I took my eyes off him again.
Country nights are scary. They make a person slip into flashbacks in an instant.
As I tried to hide my embarrassment and turned over, from Seongbin’s other side came the sound of someone sniffling.
Who caught a cold? Or is it allergic rhinitis from the unfamiliar environment? Or else...
I pushed myself up to identify the midnight sniffling culprit.
A few blankets rustled, then went still in an instant.
“You there.”
“...”
“Don’t tell me... someone’s awake?”
Even at my question, the three heads hiding under blankets didn’t budge.
Then, from behind Seongbin, I heard another little sniff.
No way.
None of you were asleep?
Guys... I’m... a little overwhelmed here...
