Seeing Cheongryeo at an awards show wasn’t exactly surprising. Whether VTIC or TeSTAR, they’d never failed to earn nominations post-debut. But from this vantage point—camera in hand, shooting him from the audience—it felt like ages since I’d seen him here.
‘...Hmm.’
Cheongryeo was wearing a suit. He still looked like someone who commanded a high fee—after decades on that stage, why wouldn’t he? Of course, he no longer needed to be “sold” at a premium, but I habitually captured a few frames anyway.
Then—
“...!”
Cheongryeo turned his gaze. Slowly, he raised a hand.
“.......”
A casual wave. Yet, he pointed it almost exactly toward my section of the audience. Through the viewfinder, I could’ve sworn our eyes met.
‘...No way.’
Did he notice? No, there was no way he’d pick up a hint in this situation. Unless there was some residual GM function somewhere—
A popup appeared.
[Hyung! Are you here?]
Big Sejin.
“...! Yeah.”
I answered aloud and ignored the glance from the fan next to me. Inwardly: ‘Did the VTIC member beside you speak up?’
[Uh... no? They didn’t say anything. Should I try?]
‘No.’
Just stay out of it.
[Phew.]
He sounded relieved. I shook my head and replied inwardly, ‘No need to worry about that. Just sit quietly and look good.’
Unlike the radio broadcast, there were no lines for him to read—only one job: sit there looking sharp.
[Right?]
Exactly. Oh, right.
‘When other artists perform, pay close attention.’
A yawn or frown would go viral on WeTube.
‘Even if he relaxes once or twice...’
[...I will never relax!]
I wanted to say that wasn’t necessary, but it was his best pep talk. I cheered him on inwardly.
I lowered my camera and turned it back toward the artist seats. Cheongryeo had already shifted his gaze back to the stage.
‘Just my imagination.’
I clicked my tongue and shot a few more of TeSTAR. Big Sejin—Park Mundae—looked focused too. If that was his act, it was convincing.
‘...This must be how it feels.’
I kept firing the shutter in silence. Photographing Park Mundae myself felt oddly strange.
“Excuse me, could you move your arm?”
“Yes.”
My elbow had bumped the neighbor’s a few times—they were shooting quite aggressively. I pivoted and glanced at the person who spoke. Their framing was strikingly similar—they were photographing TeSTAR too.
“...!!”
I recognized the face. And the problem was, Ryu Geon woo did too.
‘...Ryu Seo jin.’
My senior from the university photo club—sibling of artist Ryu Seo rin. In other words, a home-ma who shoots me and Big Sejin.
‘Terrible lighting.’
Ryu Seo jin grumbled as she adjusted her camera. All around, people with similar rigs stood ready. This spot produced consistently good shots.
‘And since the awards rarely film audience cameras, it’s convenient.’
Shooters clustered openly. Her neighbor was the same: a well-built man in a black mask holding a camera. His black suit was odd—too neat and “professional.”
‘Insider?’
No badge around his neck, but maybe it was in his pocket. If I knew his age, I might guess more, but...
‘Who cares.’
Too busy photographing idols to worry about the man next to me. I refocused on my camera.
‘I wonder if they fought.’
With that distance, capturing a decent two-shot of Sejin and Mundae seemed unlikely.
Then the stage began.
[Hot Performance of the Year: Spacer.]
Bands and artists streamed on. Out of hundreds of groups active last year, only about twenty made this stage—and even among them, hierarchies emerged.
‘Need to hit my exchange target.’
She’d arranged trades with other home-mas—she shot several teams carefully but refused to cover any she didn’t follow. After work, she had no stamina for extra favors.
‘Time to stop.’
TeSTAR had vacated the artist area briefly. She massaged her shoulder and lowered her camera—only to catch sight of the suited man beside her.
click
He was shooting with dazzling skill.
‘...That’s.’
He framed flawlessly: stable support, fluid movements, deft controls. From his angle...
‘He’s only shooting the highest-demand members.’
Not just the popular ones, but those whose data supply couldn’t keep up with surging demand—timed to perfection. Like Park Min ha from Mirinae, whose variety-show appearance had spiked her fandom.
Or those whose stage prowess kept demand constant. He’d zeroed in on exactly those idols.
‘What the hell.’
Impossible without knowing the whole data game.
‘Insider or data dealer?’
A current first-tier idol turned data broker. The unknowing twin home-ma just clicked her tongue in disappointment.
‘Wish I’d sat on the other side.’
His angle matched hers so closely she didn’t need to buy his data. Well, if method applies, he’d probably focus on Cha Yoo jin among TeSTAR.
She checked her own data inventory, then realized—
‘...?’
This suited man’s shooting habits felt oddly familiar. Shared club tips—stance, setup—glimpsed here and there.
‘And his build seems familiar too....’
She turned, about to inspect his face, when—
“Seo rin!”
A voice behind shouted. Startled by the famous name, she reflexively turned toward the stage.
And there was Yeong rin, stepping onstage.
‘Already?’
By rank and schedule, she should have come later—TeSTAR’s performance was supposed to go first. But it was a surprise feature.
‘Oh.’
Yeong rin slid gracefully into the choreography. Her solo success aside, this reminded everyone she was once part of a group.
‘She’s overshadowing her juniors.’
If that was the intention, the agency failed. Ryu Seo jin evaluated coolly.
Yeong rin spotted her and gestured.
“Ahhh!”
“Yeong rin!!”
The arena went wild, surround-sound screams exploding. Fans thought Yeong rin had locked eyes with them. Usually that’s illusion.
‘Hmm?’
Ryu Seo jin frowned /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ slightly. It wasn’t that Yeong rin spotted her.
‘Did Yeong rin see the data dealer beside me?’
[Thank you!]
I snapped a few more shots of TeSTAR receiving their award. Habitual—but also to monitor Big Sejin’s posture again.
‘He’s good.’
I judged him solid yet kept the camera on his face. Another reason:
‘Hide my own face.’
In case Ryu Seo jin recognized me. I wore a mask, and it’d been years, but better safe.
‘Until the swap ends, stay cautious.’
I decided to photograph every idol. My automatic ranking of resale value kicked in—one of the top female idols appeared earlier than expected.
‘Yeong rin.’
The subject of my first viral fan-cam that paid a semester’s tuition. That rain-soaked video made her a name.
‘I filmed that on a rainy day.’
I stared through the viewfinder, lost in thought. Then—
Yeong rin pointed at my camera.
“......!”
I froze, camera raised. If not mistaken—
‘Does she remember?’
Impossible. That was ten years ago. Even if she recalled, how could she spot me now?
‘But....’
Before the final ending, displeased by broadcast cameras missing her, she turned back.
-Remember me
Eye contact, then a hand sign. The signature gesture from the rain fan-cam I took.
This wasn’t a mistake.
“.......”
The crowd roared as the performance ended and her gaze vanished into the lights.
But I felt strange.
‘How does she remember?’
I wasn’t even a fan then. I’d filmed her at events since, but she never reacted like this. I assumed great eye-contact in fan-cams was seat luck.
Maybe...
‘...I made an impression.’
The audience member with the camera that shot her breakout fan-cam. Before, I’d have called that nonsense—but now I knew it was possible.
‘Because we do the same thing.’
Feeling the audience’s response, seeking your own fan-cams, sensing the camera gaze.
If she sees a familiar fan-cam camera after years, she’d feel something.
“.......”
I lowered the camera and checked the clock at the top of the screen.
-PM 11:21
‘Ah.’
It was time. I inhaled deeply and counted down.
3
2
1
Then—
Blink.
“...Huh.”
My eyes opened. The scene and sound had changed.
-Whoa!!
Cheers from a seat farther away, not beside me. I was now in the artist area next to the speakers.
A hand tapped my shoulder. Ryu Cheong woo.
I looked up; the others, glancing at their watches, had noticed too.
“...! Mundae hyung,”
“You okay?”
Of course. I nodded, scanning casually. The members gave subtle smiles or offered water, greeting discreetly. Had we not been seated among artists, they’d have made a bigger fuss.
‘And they’d ask if the swap ended.’
I was curious too...
“.......”
I dismissed the popup. Any distractions from the stage should be cut off.
‘Same for him.’
Cheongryeo’s old VTIC spot was right nearby—but now empty; he’d left to prepare the stage.
‘Good.’
Perfect timing. One urgent matter remained: the time had come.
[Artist of the Year / Album – Q2]
[Congratulations.]
[TeSTAR / Savior]
A few minutes later, I headed backstage to go onstage for the comeback I’d waited for.
“Excuse me a moment.”
“Yes, yes?”
“Oh right, Ryu Geon woo.”
“...??”
“Long time no see. Still doing this, huh?”
‘...Hyung!!’
He never guessed Big Sejin had just endured all that in the audience.
