“Ugh, pleaseee....”
The pitiful voice echoed through the lobby of WH Entertainment’s headquarters early that morning. It came from Lee Jihyun, who, after pulling an all-nighter working from home the previous day, had shown up for work only to realize she’d left her ID card behind.
When she went to the reception desk to ask for help, a staff member so burly he could be mistaken for security flatly told her she couldn’t enter until her identity was verified through her superior.
“I can connect to the intranet on my laptop and show you my employee info. I really do work here.”
“No. Until I get confirmation from your supervisor, you’re staying here.”
Why so strictly by the book?
She’d already tried calling the Daepaseong planning team leader countless times, but he wasn’t picking up. She had even shown her business card, work laptop, and company phone, but none of it mattered. Sweat trickled cold down her back.
“I’m really, really sorry, but I’m going to be late for a meeting like this. I’ll come back later with proof—”
“Wait here.”
Lee Jihyun was about to lose her mind.
She was already anxious about inconveniencing her fellow planning team members, but what weighed heavier was that The Dawn would be present today.
Especially Seo Hoyun.
He’d been relatively lenient with her so far—but only when she behaved properly. He was the type who picked at even the smallest mistake.
If she was late, she knew for sure he’d tear into her.
“Lee Jihyun-ssi?”
“Eek! Se–Seo Hoyun-ssi?!”
Speak of the devil, and he appears.
Startled by his voice behind her, Lee Jihyun nearly jumped out of her skin. But then she realized this might be her chance to salvage the situation—if she got in with him, best case; if not, at least she’d look like she’d tried.
“Ah, hello! I know I’m being a bother, but could you maybe come in with me—kyaaak!”
That attempt was crushed instantly.
Her eyes locked onto Seo Hoyun—and froze in shock.
‘What the hell??’
Lively eyes, radiant skin, lips curved in a gentle smile.
There had been rare moments before when Seo Hoyun looked to be in a good mood.
At those times, some of the Daepaseong employees who’d known him used to say things like, “The Dawn must be doing better, so he’s loosened up,” or, “Now that they’re getting attention, he’s more careful with his image.”
“...You’re really Seo Hoyun-ssi?”
But today was on a whole other level.
Seo Hoyun arched a brow and smirked.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Though she didn’t feel any real danger, Lee Jihyun instinctively took a step back.
He didn’t seem to care and strode casually to the reception desk.
“Lost your ID?”
“Y-Yes, I’m so sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
Leaning one arm on the desk, he tilted his eyes sweetly at the staff member.
“Good morning.”
After a few years working near him, Lee Jihyun had come to recognize it.
That was the soul-stealing smile.
The one he wore whenever he wanted something.
“Sorry to ask, but could you issue her a temporary pass? She has a meeting this morning.”
She didn’t expect much.
That staff member was the type with zero flexibility.
But then the man, staring at Seo Hoyun, nodded.
“Yes.”
Excuse me?
This was WH Entertainment—where even artists of the company got turned away without their ID cards, where face recognition had a double security layer. There should have been no exceptions.
Yet the staff, clearly charmed, muttered, “Just this once,” and handed her a temporary card.
Just minutes ago, he’d been parroting “No exceptions” like a broken record.
Lee Jihyun, stunned, could only trail behind Seo Hoyun.
“Forgot your card? What happened, rushing this morning?”
“Y-Yes... I pulled an all-nighter at home yesterday, so....”
Answering automatically, she wrinkled her nose at a sudden faint scent.
“...Perfume?”
At ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ first, she thought it was from the lobby or someone else nearby, but no—it was from Seo Hoyun himself. A sweet yet refined fragrance.
He had always smelled faintly of soap at most.
The unfamiliar scent threw her off, making her stiffen.
“It’s from the ad shoot I did as a model.”
“Ah, I see... You really use it yourself, huh? The advertisers must be thrilled... but don’t you have no official schedule today? Not even a live?”
“Yeah. Technology’s so advanced these days that scent comes through the screen too, you know.”
“...Stop teasing me.”
She bit back the apology that almost slipped out.
And that wasn’t the only strange thing.
If her eyes weren’t deceiving her, the disposable cup in his right hand held a black liquid with ice clinking inside.
He never touched bitter drinks. Caffeine, maybe, but never unsweetened.
Completely bewildered, she asked hesitantly:
“...Is that... fermented fish sauce??”
Seo Hoyun stopped mid-step and glanced at her.
“...Rough week at work?”
“Huh? I-I mean, I’ve had a lot on my plate, but why are you asking—”
“Because you’re talking nonsense.”
He grinned, slamming her flat.
Mouth snapping shut, Lee Jihyun trailed after him.
As they walked, Seo Hoyun sipped casually through the straw and added offhandedly,
“Sometimes I need this too. To get my head straight.”
When they reached the meeting room, thankfully no one was there yet.
As they discussed ideas for New Year’s content with Seo Hoyun, Jung Dajun walked in. Seo Hoyun greeted him and handed over the still half-full iced Americano.
While the two chatted, Lee Jihyun deliberately looked away.
‘That’s it. Stop paying attention to Seo Hoyun.’
He was both the idol who had given her career its turning point and a terrifying shadow since her rookie days.
She tried hard to ignore him and Dajun, and soon Sung Jiwon and Kim Sunghyun entered, followed last by Kang Ichae, yawning lazily. The Dawn was complete.
“Hiii~.”
“Ichae hyung, good morninnng~.”
“You’re here?”
“Ichae’s sooo tired.”
Kang Ichae naturally plopped down next to the maknae, ruffling his silver hair to annoy him. Dajun snapped at him, but Ichae just cackled and kept it up.
Seo Hoyun’s gaze lingered on them for a moment, then shifted away as staff began filling in and the meeting started.
***
Two days earlier—the day I confessed everything to Seo Hojin—I’d broken into a sweat.
“Sorry.”
Even after I’d soothed him for quite a while, the brat just wouldn’t stop crying.
After ten minutes of his bawling, my legs ached, my shoulder was damp, and my thin patience was at its limit.
“Hhhhgghh... huuuhhh....”
“...”
“Hic... sorry, I’m sorry....”
I patted his back gently.
“When are you going to stop?”
Sniffling, Seo Hojin glared at me with red, swollen eyes.
“...You really are my brother. Cold and unfeeling—there aren’t many like you.”
“So what?”
“I’m just saying....”
I smirked and sat him upright. Aside from tears streaming like a broken faucet, he seemed fine. I guided him to the sofa, and after darting his eyes around nervously, he swallowed and asked,
“...So, what exactly happened? Why was I like that?”
“Mm.”
Explaining that it was just a side effect of the “Nugu Actor Tycoon” system—harmless, but messy—took a lot of time to phrase without sounding dangerous.
“Hah, this is insane... What kind of fucked-up world is this?!”
Worked up, he chewed his lips and shot up from the couch.
“Wait... when I went to the ER sick, was that because of this too? ...Don’t tell me you—”
“No.”
I cut him off sharply. He faltered, mumbling, “Oh, really?” before sinking back down. His nails clicked against his teeth—mind clearly in chaos.
I grabbed his hand, stopping him, and cut his thoughts short.
“Doesn’t matter. What counts is we’re back to normal.”
What was left was the grand prize.
We’d missed one award show that fit the Main Quest requirements, but there were still ceremonies in January.
As long as we won something there, this story would finally end.
“...What happens if you win the grand prize?”
“The game will end.”
Almost.
I swallowed the last word.
There was still Kang Ichae’s scenario quest, but no need to burden Hojin with that.
“Then, um, after that...?”
“We go back together, to the way it was.”
“Ah... r-right....”
He mumbled with downcast eyes, looking troubled.
“I’ll handle it. Just focus on your own life.”
“Mm....”
He was confused enough already.
I stood and ruffled his hair.
“Smile. I’m heading out.”
“So soon?”
“I’ve got practice.”
Lighter at heart, I headed to the door, Hojin trailing behind.
“...Hyung, you’re really something. To be thrown into idol life and make it this far.”
“As you know, without my charm I’m nothing.”
“...Right....”
His face went stiff, then softened into a faint smile. Soon he was chattering nonstop.
“How are the guys these days? On TV they look even flashier than before.”
They were the kind who’d survive even if stranded on a deserted island.
“I had fun when I met them. I want to see them again.”
“Drop it.”
What a terrifying thought.
Back when you were still connected with Kang Ichae, I had to suffer penalties in your place, even lying about going home to take care of you while hiding out in Min Jiheon’s apartment.
“Quit hanging around with them. You told Kang Ichae everything.”
“Huh? W-what did I?”
“You told him I edited family videos as a kid.”
That bomb had dropped the day my third fan song MV went public—also Ichae’s 23rd birthday. I nearly had a heart attack.
“Me?”
But Hojin looked blank.
Clicking my tongue, I realized it might have been another ripple from his memory loss, so I explained briefly.
“Yeah. You told him I was still good at editing.”
“...Me?”
Still lost, he fumbled.
I poked his forehead seriously.
“...Did my little brother turn into an idiot?”
“What’s that supposed to mean!”
He slapped my hand away and jumped. His drooping brows screamed injustice.
“It wasn’t me! Until recently, I kept forgetting things, all the old stuff mixed up... even Uncle too.”
The more he insisted, the colder my gut felt.
“I’m serious. I never told Ichae that.”
My mind raced back to my conversation with Kang Ichae.
Roughly six months ago, in Hawaii, after the workshop reward trip.
At sunset, dripping wet from the sea, towel in hand, he’d pulled a mischievous grin and asked—
“Hyung, didn’t you use to edit family videos sometimes?”
Had I confirmed it back then?
“...He said that?”
I’d been too preoccupied by the fact Hojin still remembered such things, and after a long silence, I’d barely replied.
“...Ah, fuck.”
I’d stepped on a landmine.
