“I’m going to rewrite the song.”
That day, the moment we got back to the dorm, Kang Ichae dropped a bomb.
Before anyone could even react, he’d already taken refuge in the workroom, and afterward, as soon as schedules ended, he disappeared again without a trace.
Even when we tried hovering around offering help just to make small talk, Ichae would smile faintly and put up a wall, saying he was fine. For those of us who knew his usual personality, it was deeply unsettling. But seeing how tense he seemed, no one dared to touch the subject lightly.
I also decided it wasn’t right to press him without evidence, so I limited myself to quietly checking his progress from time to time and otherwise left him alone.
Instead, I decided to use that short gap to confirm something that had been bothering me for a while.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’
Strangely enough, every time we filmed a survival program, some sort of trouble would hit all at once as if it had been waiting for us. Especially the incident during Shining Star Season 2, when Seo Hojin collapsed—just remembering it made my teeth clench.
If everything that had happened until now was mere coincidence, that would’ve been nice.
‘But there’s no way.’
Just as my KakaoTaxi pulled up at the entrance of Hojin’s apartment complex, I spotted him crouched beside a flower bed. Getting out of the car, I approached, but he didn’t notice me at all, head bowed low.
“Hey.”
“...Huh?”
When he looked up with wide eyes, I saw a notebook filled edge to edge with handwriting in his hands.
“W-what are you doing here? You need to grab something from home or what?”
I quietly reached out, grabbed both his cheeks, and turned his head this way and that to check his condition.
“Waaah! My neck! You’re breaking my neck!!”
Hojin flailed and smacked at my arms—he looked perfectly healthy.
When I finally let go, he quickly stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck, wary eyes flicking between me and escape routes. I couldn’t help but smirk.
“What the hell was that for?!”
“I just thought you looked even uglier since the last time I saw you, so I wanted a closer look.”
“I’m not that bad-looking!”
“Most people would disagree.”
Hojin pouted but didn’t argue further.
Satisfied that he was fine, I was about to ruffle his hair and ask if he’d been eating properly when—
“Hojin!”
Someone called his name from behind.
Turning around, I saw a man walking toward us, both arms straining under a couple of heavy shopping bags.
“I brought all the books you asked for from the library!! But seriously, can’t you just leave me alone on weekends? You might not know this, but I actually have my own weekend plans—”
That friendly face looked oddly familiar—then it hit me. He was the young man who’d called me when Hojin was taken to the emergency room.
“Oh? Seo... Hoyun-hyung?!”
Dropping the shopping bags, Woo Gyeongun froze, startled, and quickly lowered his voice.
“Long time no see.”
“Whoa! Meeting you here like this—what an honor!”
He hurried over and bowed deeply, awkwardly twisting his body in embarrassment. Hojin, meanwhile, stared at him like he’d just swallowed something bitter.
“...You make your friend run errands like that?”
“N-no, sir! I’m retaking the bar exam, and Hojin offered to tutor me in return for me doing odd jobs for him.”
Odd jobs, huh? Looked more like unpaid labor.
When I turned to look at Hojin, he averted his eyes and mumbled,
“He was the one who offered first...”
That was the last kind of similarity I wanted to find between us as brothers.
I sighed quietly, and Gyeongun, reading the mood, gulped and rushed to defend Hojin with an anxious smile.
“Sir, really, it’s not his fault! He just wanted to help me out. I’ve been learning a lot—Hojin’s a great teacher, you know!”
‘Well, at least the kid’s decent.’
Hojin had never once brought a friend home growing up, so I’d always worried he didn’t have anyone close.
Nodding faintly, I listened half-heartedly to Gyeongun’s waterfall of chatter, when he suddenly stopped and looked between us in amazement.
“Whoa... but, hyung.”
“What is it?”
“I didn’t notice before, but you and Hojin look exactly alike.”
“That’s not exactly a compliment.”
I laughed through my nose, and Hojin scowled, lightly jabbing me in the ribs.
Gyeongun only got more excited.
“I’m serious! Like a more mature, calmer version of Hojin! Though, of course, you seem a lot kinder and gentler!”
“......”
“......”
An awkward tension spread through the air.
I kept quiet, feeling like I’d just met a fan fooled by my fake nice-guy act, and Hojin looked so dumbfounded he couldn’t even speak.
Unable to stand the silence or the weight of our stares, Gyeongun scratched his head with an embarrassed laugh and tried to excuse himself.
“Anyway, I’ll get going now.”
“Wait, Mr. Woo.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve worked hard in this heat—it wouldn’t feel right to just let you go like that.”
Did I have cash on me?
As I pulled out my wallet, his shoulders flinched.
“Study hard—”
“Hyung!”
Hojin quickly stepped between us, frowning deeply as he jerked his chin toward his friend.
“Hey, Woo Gyeongun. Thanks for the books. See you later.”
“Ah, y-yeah! See you!”
I was about to scold him for being so cold to his friend, but before I could, Gyeongun bowed ninety degrees and bolted off.
Once he was gone, Hojin turned sharply to glare at me.
“Seriously! Do you have to? He’s not a kid! He’s my age! What kind of person gives pocket money to someone their age?!”
“If they’re polite and cute, why not?”
“...Ugh, I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Pressing down on the back of his head, I checked the time on my phone. I had to leave soon if I didn’t want to be late for the next schedule.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go. Eat properly, and be nice to your friend.”
As I turned to walk away from the apartment complex, Hojin hurried to gather the fallen shopping bags and chased after me.
“You’re leaving already? You can’t even stop by for a bit?”
“No.”
“Well, yeah, guess you’re busy. Everyone’s talking about Song Camp lately. I keep hearing ‘Flight’ everywhere.”
Of course. That was the whole point.
I kept walking, listening quietly, when Hojin glanced up at me and asked softly,
“You’re not overdoing it, right?”
“Not really. ...Though maybe Kang Ichae’s pushing himself too hard.”
“Huh? Ichae? Why?”
“Because it’s chaos inside and out right now, obviously.”
“...Is he the type to stress over stuff like that?”
He muttered under his breath, hoisting his bags with a dissatisfied look.
“It’s none of your concern. Just focus on your studying.”
At my firm tone, Hojin groaned and looked away before speaking again.
“......I’ve got a question. Do your members all know about... your situation?”
I stopped walking.
That alone must’ve been answer enough, because Hojin sighed, set his bags down, and pressed a palm to his forehead.
“Ichae knows too?”
“Hojin.”
“Yeah...”
“Did I ever teach you to test people?”
Hojin flinched, biting his lower lip before running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“I don’t want to meddle in your business, but... if he knows everything and still chooses to go through that kind of pain on his own...”
Then, crouching down to pick up the bags again, he murmured quietly,
“...Aren’t you being too harsh on him?”
***
“I’m back.”
“Hoyun-hyung’s back~?”
Following the group chat’s message to meet by the parking lot, I found the van with its headlights flashing. When I opened the door and climbed in, the maknae greeted me first—but the seat beside him, where Ichae should’ve been, was empty.
“Where’s Ichae?”
“Ah.”
Scratching his neck awkwardly, Kim Sunghyun sighed.
“...He wasn’t doing well, so we told him to sit out this schedule.”
“What? He’s sick?”
“Yeah. For once, he didn’t go to the workroom, and when I checked, his whole body was burning up. He’s lost his voice too.”
In the three years he’d been an idol, Kang Ichae had never skipped a schedule because of illness.
“He submitted the second-round song this morning, but after that, he just stayed glued to his laptop for hours until he crashed.”
“Yeah! And then... he yelled at me!”
“Why?”
Pouting like a scolded child, Jung Dajun puffed his cheeks.
“I told him since the crisis was over, he should relax and play a game, but he got all serious and lectured me! And he’s the one who made me play games during exam season!”
Kim Sunghyun frowned slightly as if remembering something.
“Hmm, he’s been acting weird lately. He even told me, all serious, that he respects how hard it is being leader... not his usual tone at all.”
“...You don’t think he was teasing you?”
“I wish he was. At least that would’ve been less creepy.”
Apparently, everyone had noticed Ichae’s strange behavior.
Frowning, Dajun suddenly raised his arms and declared,
“I—I’m worried about him! I can’t just sit here!”
“Uh, hey, Dajun.”
“I’m going to help Ichae-hyung get back to normal! I’ll step up and—”
“Dajun.”
“Eeek!”
Startled by the sound of his full name, Dajun flinched as Sung Jiwon placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I get that you’re worried, but you shouldn’t push him. Wait until Ichae reaches out first. Then help him.”
Shrinking back, Dajun nodded vigorously, and Kim Sunghyun, slouching # Nоvеlight # in agreement, added,
“Yeah. Let’s just focus on finishing the radio appearance for now. Fans will already be anxious once the notice goes out.”
I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Contacting him now might only add pressure. Better to talk after the schedule.
Our road manager started the van, reassuring us that he’d already arranged for another manager to look after Ichae and that we shouldn’t worry too much.
Silence settled over the car. We drove for a long while in heavy air until, suddenly, Sunghyun pointed out the window.
“Hey, guys—look! Song Camp commercial!”
“Whoa, it’s really up.”
On a massive billboard downtown, the Song Camp ad was playing.
The faces of the contestants flashed by, followed by The Dawn’s inverted-triangle logo. Then came a confident, smiling close-up of Kang Ichae.
“Can I... take a picture and send it to him?”
“He’d like that.”
“...Right!”
Encouraged by Jiwon’s answer, Dajun excitedly opened his camera app. Click.
I watched quietly, then closed my eyes.
But behind my eyelids, the image of Kang Ichae—fragile, wavering—refused to fade.
And in my ears echoed Hojin’s words.
As the scene grew sharper in my mind, I leaned my forehead against the cold window.
‘Hojin, of course I know.’
That I’ve been too harsh on that kid.
