Why the hell is he here?
And not even at the Seoul dorm, but at the rented pension for schedules—how did he even find out?
“You’re looking at me like I’m a ghost.”
Joo Woosung, blinking at my stunned face, adjusted Nyangnyangie in his arms and casually plopped down on one of the terrace chairs.
“...You followed me? Even brought Nyangnyangie?”
“What the—hey, am I crazy? Why would I waste ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) my time following you all the way out here?”
Guess he’d completely forgotten about that time he followed me all the way to LA because he was bored.
I flicked my eyes toward the living room—luckily, the members hadn’t noticed Woosung’s arrival on the first-floor terrace.
So I sat opposite him. Nyangnyangie stretched leisurely, then padded toward me with slow, elegant steps.
As I scratched under the cat’s chin and listened to it purr, Woosung finally started explaining.
“With Black Call’s comeback prep overlapping with WH Concert rehearsals, I can hardly go home. I don’t like letting people into my house, but relying on a petsitter has its limits... so I figured I’d leave her with my cousin in Jeju for a while. Nyangnyangie’s mom is there, you know.”
He rambled on as if it were a grand excuse, but every sentence was riddled with holes.
Didn’t like letting people in? He’d been way too casual when I dropped by. And it wasn’t like this was his first time being too busy to go home.
I narrowed my eyes and shot the real question.
“Forget that. Why are you at this pension?”
“What, I can’t come here? Besides, isn’t it a good chance to talk about the collaboration?”
Woosung added that WH staff would pull the stars from the sky if he asked, so finding where I was staying was nothing. He grinned.
So, he’d sweet-talked some staffer into giving him the info.
“What do you think, Nyangnyangie? Don’t you miss your mom~?”
I thought he’d at least explain after hanging up on me mid-call earlier, but he just sat there chuckling like a balloon full of hot air.
“Ah, Jeju’s air is so nice~.”
With the icy wind biting so hard my teeth chattered, he brushed back his tousled brown hair and gave a fresh, glowing smile.
Does he really love team activities that much? His face looks alive again.
If he was this thirsty for Black Call promotions, why had he wallowed in that slump at the start?
His condition still seemed to waver, but if things were okay with his members, maybe it’d be fine.
“What are you staring at? You’re making me uncomfortable.”
That you’ve actually changed for the better.
I swallowed the thought and switched topics.
“Since you came all the way to Jeju, I have a request. Sign an autograph for Kim Sunghyun, take a picture with him, and give him some advice. He’s a die-hard Joo Woosung fan.”
“For the last time, I didn’t come here because of you.”
“Just do it. He might even be a Bloy 1st gen.”
“Not a chance.”
Woosung snorted, but I found it fairly plausible.
“Anyway, now that we’re collaborating, it’d help if you gave him some advice. He works hard but his skills don’t improve. You’d know better about that.”
“What are you, his parent?”
“Tone down the sarcasm.”
I remembered he’d flat-out refused my earlier request to check Sunghyun’s dancing.
Whatever he saw on my face, Woosung raised both hands like telling me to calm down.
“Whoa, whoa. Listen. Do you know why I keep refusing?”
“Because you’re petty?”
“Damn it.”
He clicked his tongue, folded his arms.
“Kim Sunghyun needs to shed me.”
Then, staring into the distance, he added quietly:
“...Before, or not long ago, I hated that he had talent, effort, and luck all aligned. Even if his popularity was way below mine, it still got to me....”
“You really are petty.”
“That’s not it! Didn’t you notice it too? You said it yourself—he’s working hard but not improving.”
I shrugged, silently pushing him to answer. He scratched his cheek and finally spoke flatly.
“Right now, anything I say won’t help. He needs to find his own dance.”
I’d thought the same—change was necessary.
“So what, send him to California to study abroad?”
“What kind of bullshit is that? No....”
He hesitated, then suddenly scowled at me.
“...Forget it, Clumsy. You wouldn’t get it even if I explained.”
“Wow, you really know how to piss me off.”
“Who do you think I learned it from?”
Watching him chuckle drained my energy. Maybe I should just dump Sunghyun on him and get some sleep—
But then he grabbed my wrist.
“...Anyway—”
And in a low voice:
“—Hoyun, don’t you worry about anyone? I think the one really in trouble is someone else.”
That ugly twitch of his lips made it obvious he was just mocking me.
I bit back my rising anger, but he burst into loud laughter and hugged Nyangnyangie, making the cat knead me with its paws. Agitated by the strange place, Nyangnyangie suddenly lashed out, clawing Woosung before leaping to the floor.
“Argh! Damn, such a temper!”
The cat rubbed against my legs, ignoring his cries.
“God, who did she take after, being so temperamental and cranky....”
“Good girl, good girl.”
I stroked her back while Woosung fussed over his shredded sweater.
“Let’s see if you can act like that during practice.”
I pretended not to hear, and he tucked the cat back in his arms while waving toward the others. Looking up, I saw the members greeting him; Sunghyun was already grabbing his coat to rush out.
“Well, at least I can play the role of a great senior.”
That smug grin made me uneasy.
***
Of course, he insisted on matching choreography today, now, right this second. Nyangnyangie was left with the others, while Sunghyun, Woosung, and I moved to the biggest room in the pension.
Without even backing music, Woosung demonstrated—and despite my irritation, I had to admit it.
He was the most graceful, beautiful dancer I’d ever seen.
“Hey! Clumsy Seo! Focus!!”
Of course, that awe lasted less than a minute.
If only he weren’t such a damn brat.
Even as I tried, both Woosung and Sunghyun chewed me out, making my voice rise.
“Can you chill out?! In another group I could’ve been main dancer, you know?!”
“And yet you debuted on Earth?!”
So much for being a “great senior.” It was just a ploy to grind me down.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll show you in Seoul.”
Too drained to wipe my sweat, I collapsed on the floor. Woosung strolled over, nudging my leg with his foot.
“Already done? Be grateful you’re in The Dawn. If you were in Black Call, we’d have dragged you up and made you go again.”
You should be the grateful one.
If he’d been my groupmate, I wouldn’t have let him off at this level either.
Instead of replying, I waved him off, but his gaze slid toward Sunghyun.
“...Hm, hey, Seo Hoyun.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re too tired, go get some air.”
A polite kick-out.
I narrowed my eyes, unmoving, until he nudged me again—he wanted to speak to Sunghyun alone.
...Is he actually going to advise him?
“...Sure, sure. Clumsy’s leaving~.”
“Good, scram.”
Dragging myself out, I grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen and wandered down the terrace until I reached the far corner. Light spilled through a window.
Hiding in a chair, I cracked it open just enough to hear inside.
“—Sunbaenim, I spoiled the WH Concert collab during the live. I’m so sorry....”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about that. That’s not what I wanted to say....”
Woosung glanced around, then got to the point.
“...I heard you’ve been struggling. That your dancing’s not improving.”
“Ah... yes. Honestly, I’ve been worried....”
Sunghyun looked more dejected than when he’d been apologizing.
“I thought if I kept working hard, I’d grow. But lately I feel stuck, like that belief is breaking.”
His voice trembled with doubt.
I didn’t believe a few words from Woosung would magically fix him—but I was curious.
Woosung stroked his chin, then answered flatly.
“Sunghyun, that’s a slump.”
“Oh! I see!!”
“And I hope you....”
Sunghyun leaned forward, desperate not to miss a word.
“...I hope you go through a really harsh, painful slump.”
“...What?”
I nearly spit out my water, clamping my hand over my mouth.
Neither noticed—they were too focused.
“To Clumsy earlier, this would’ve been useless. But you need to understand—there’s such a thing as instinct.”
“...Instinct?”
“Yes. Like, not just extending your arm, but how to finish with your fingertips. Not just raising your head, but where to place your gaze. Movements that flow, breaths that connect.”
Oh boy.
I yawned at the sudden lecture, waiting for something useful.
“You need to endure this stage.”
“......”
“So I want you to experience a long, terrifying, dark slump. Just like I did. Got it?”
His tone turned unreasonably soft.
“Gain depth.”
I’d asked him to help—and he dumped ashes on the fire.
What a useless bastard.
Sighing, I headed back. The living room was empty except for Woosung, lounging smugly with Nyangnyangie like he owned the place.
“Why are you back? Anyway, you should thank me. I just gave Sunghyun a mind-blowing piece of advice.”
“...You’re pathetic.”
He froze, then rolled his eyes.
“...You were eavesdropping?”
“Very enlightening.”
“Damn it... Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t wrong! I don’t even know why I’m defending myself!!”
I plugged my ears and hummed.
Forget it, Woosung. I wasn’t expecting anything.
When he finally gave up on excuses, he ruffled his hair and jabbed my side.
“So what about you, Seo Hoyun? You’re in serious trouble too. Want me to stay and help you practice?”
“No.”
Instead, I pulled out my phone and showed him a video.
“WH really is a giant, huh?”
It wasn’t even practice yet, but the dancer’s references already mapped out every camera angle.
Woosung tilted his head.
“This? It’s just stage blocking—”
“......”
“—Wait. No way.”
Exactly.
“Are you seriously only going to practice what’s on camera?”
I smirked.
Even plain moves could look dazzling if framed right. That’s why “camera angle magic” existed.
No matter how hard I practiced, time was too short. This was the most efficient strategy.
“Are you insane? That’ll fall apart the moment a fancam comes out!”
“You think I don’t know that? Unfortunately, WH Concert doesn’t allow fancams.”
“You’re fucking insane.”
But how else was I supposed to survive among dance gods?
I was confident.
Woosung groaned, shaking his head.
“God, watching you do this just makes me feel sad.”
“......”
Bastard....
And so, mid-December arrived—bringing with it WH Entertainment’s no-audience concert recording.
