“......Hmph.”
The live has ended.
“Ugh...”
I stared at the black monitor, catching my own reflection for a moment. Tugging down my fallen bangs, I let out a long sigh.
“Ah, damn it.”
There had been so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get any of it across properly.
Before I started the live, I’d neatly organized everything in my head—how I’d been, what I was going to do next, even a message to tell them to look forward to the future.
But once the stream started, the excitement swept me away completely.
Couldn’t I have been calmer?
Still, I’d done what the fans used to like best....
After mulling it over, I finally accepted that there was no turning back time. Scratching my head, I stood up.
“Not easy.”
I carefully picked up the bouquet, making sure not a single petal fell. I planned to dry each flower and give it to them at our comeback later.
After ruffling my hair, I headed downstairs. I’d been planning to grab a few coffees from the company café and head back to the dorm, but I could feel eyes on me.
Not just because of the bouquet—but something sharper, more malicious.
—“Oh, that’s Seo Hoyun... Is he at the company today?” people whispered.
When our eyes met, they quickly turned away as if nothing happened. I smiled brightly and walked straight into the café.
That’s when I saw someone sitting by the window, long legs stretched out.
“Kim Sunghyun.”
Our leader looked a bit worn out.
While I’d been doing the live, he’d stayed behind in the management office to stall for time and keep WH from barging in.
“You waiting for me, baby?”
“.......”
Kim Sunghyun twitched an eyebrow when he saw me approach, ignored the comment, stood up, grabbed a frappuccino that was obviously mine, and started walking beside me—still holding my bouquet.
“You mad at me?”
Still no answer.
We got into the elevator, exited to the parking lot, and climbed into the car.
Click. He locked the doors before even starting the engine, turned sharply toward me, and asked,
“—Was it okay?”
“You were ignoring me just now.”
“Ah. That’s because there were too many eyes at the company... Anyway, you didn’t hear anything weird, right?”
Well, well.
Instead of giving him a straight answer, I tilted my head.
“And you? Did you manage to stall the management office?”
I’d turned on that live stream without WH’s permission.
I wanted to greet Noeul as soon as possible—but WH blocked it.
So what does that mean?
It means I’m being a pain in the ass before renewal season.
It was March now; The Dawn’s contract renewal was in July.
Renewal season hadn’t even begun, yet the media plays were already starting.
When I first regained consciousness, they’d left me alone, thinking an unstable guy might do something crazy.
But as time passed, they started tightening their grip again.
Even though Eternal Idol Tycoon had already begun, I’d been stuck in place for months.
Bunch of washed-out idiots.
If we didn’t promote, The Dawn was finished.
And so was my life.
“Did you get a lot of hate?”
“...Eh, sort of.”
Trying to lighten the mood, I joked like it didn’t matter.
Kim Sunghyun exhaled softly, leaning back against the seat.
“So what. It’s just hate comments.”
He said it so casually that I couldn’t help but glance at him in surprise.
Noticing my stare, he frowned.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing...”
After a moment’s thought, I muttered,
“I just thought... the baby’s all grown up, not even crying anymore.”
“...Get out.”
Kim Sunghyun groaned but started the car, pulling out of the underground parking lot.
At that moment, The Dawn’s song began playing on the radio.
【I think I’m starting to understand
How to finish our flight all the way to the end】
Our song hadn’t left Korean radio for months.
So «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» many people kept requesting it that it never dropped from the top of the charts.
Looking at the sunlight breaking through as the rain stopped, I spoke.
“The others?”
“Jung Dajun and Sung Jiwon are practicing. Kang Ichae’s still in the U.S.”
“When’s the mini-album wrapping up?”
“Already done. He might come back today. He was bawling that he missed home.”
Bawling, my ass.
When I gave him a disbelieving look, Sunghyun chuckled, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.
“He’ll come back in style.”
New song, new album, new choreography.
After returning from Prague, Kang Ichae had outdone himself, writing several masterpieces.
And if I wanted to survive, I needed those songs.
[Quest arrived!]
...And here comes another ridiculous one.
When I saw the words reflected on the window, I almost swore aloud but forced a grin instead.
This is just how we make a living, I told myself—then heard Sunghyun murmur beside me.
“...Seo Hoyun.”
“What.”
“Are you really okay?”
When I turned, Sunghyun licked his lips nervously.
“Just... you know. Things have been weird lately. Lots of strange talk.”
“......”
There was a reason he said that.
Even after I’d returned and we’d paused our activities, The Dawn’s popularity was still sky-high.
But internally, the problems never stopped.
[ERROR!]
One of them was the system.
After miraculously returning to life, I’d checked the system’s settings—and raised an eyebrow.
[Cannot open character settings.]
[■haracte■ se■tings cann...]
Then it blew up.
I stared blankly for a moment, waited, then tried something else.
“...Item Shop?”
[Cannot open item sh■p—.....]
Boom. Again.
The entire interface broke like a dying computer.
After flickering and stuttering for ages, the system finally sent a message.
[Mr. Seo Hoyun, sorry, but this really isn’t working.... Everything’s a mess since the configuration update. I expected the quest difficulty to rise, but the item shop and character menu are impossible now.]
All the conveniences I’d relied on—the shop, the character screen, everything—were gone.
According to the system, I was left with only two things:
Quests, and an endlessly apologizing system window.
[We’re trying our best, but, uh.......]
“So basically, live on my own now?”
[...Yes, sir.]
The overly kind world that once surrounded me was gone.
“Just like that, huh.”
Maybe that was why—why all the malice around me had grown so thick, just like Sunghyun said.
The internet was full of hate comments.
Relatives had started stirring again.
And the bastards I’d once buried started crawling back out.
Still, that was nothing.
Watching Sunghyun sneak glances at me, worried, I ended up laughing.
“Hey.”
“...What.”
“I’m Seo Hoyun.”
Who are you worrying about?
We drove out of the parking lot, the road opening ahead.
Across the bridge, the Han River stretched wide, cherry blossoms fluttering in the breeze.
The dazzling sunlight rippled across the water.
The last traces of snow had melted—spring had come in full.
“I’m totally fine—”
I smiled faintly at the view of drifting petals.
“I’ve got this.”
Sunghyun went quiet.
I waited for the nagging, the scolding, the worry that usually followed—but none came.
He just tapped the steering wheel lightly and said,
“...Me too.”
“...?”
“This much? After everything we’ve done, it’s nothing.”
He stopped at a red light, glanced my way, and smiled, dimples deepening.
“Let’s do it. One more time.”
***
“Waaaahhhhhh.”
“What’s for dinner?”
“Sunghyun cooked!”
“Thank god it’s not Dajun.”
When I returned to the dorm after work, an unpacked suitcase sat by the door.
A redhead was sprawled on the entryway floor, sobbing dramatically about how “It’s been so long, I missed you all sooo much!”—even though it had only been three days. No one paid attention.
“So anyway, I’m taking the qualification test again tomorrow, so I need to stay in top condition today—wait!!! Kim Sunghyun! Did you sprinkle sesame seeds on the braised ribs? That’s a deduction on the Korean cuisine license exam, you know?!”
“Eat quietly.”
“Heheh. It’s delicious though.”
The Dawn lived in a small but secure apartment, so the dining table was tiny. Every night, they gathered close together for dinner.
Sunghyun poked at the steaming galbi and asked,
“Maknae, how much did you spend on exam fees again?”
“With the retake fees, I could’ve bought a house in Seoul!”
“...Hoyun hyung, stop exaggerating. Jiwon hyung, stop laughing. If you’re not gonna help, just eat quietly.”
When I poked Dajun’s puffed cheek, he grumbled twice as loud.
Then Kang Ichae, who’d been collapsed by the door, shuffled to the table. Dajun dropped a rib into his bowl and suddenly changed the subject.
“Oh right, hyungs, you guys haven’t been home much lately.... You won’t be around much from now on either, right?”
“Well, yeah. We’ve got more solo work, lots to prepare.”
“Really?”
Dajun swallowed his bite and spoke cheerfully.
“Then I’m moving out.”
Everyone kept eating, not thinking much of it.
Sung Jiwon, smiling faintly, asked,
“Where to? Practice room?”
“......”
“......”
“Haha, just kidding.”
Having spent twelve hours trapped in practice, Dajun trembled like he’d seen a ghost.
“No, not practice....”
“What then, a show? Did you get an offer?”
“Hmm? Nope?”
Huh?
Everyone sensed something was off and waited quietly.
Except for Kang Ichae, who suddenly stiffened.
Dajun held his spoon between his lips and said casually,
“The dorm.”
“......”
“......”
“......!!!!”
Clatter!!!
Kang Ichae dropped his chopsticks in horror.
“Hey, manners.”
“Did I... hear that wrong?”
This brat just ignored me.
Looking truly shell-shocked, Kang Ichae stammered again.
“D-Dajun. You mean like... a trip? Camping again, maybe?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m moving out.”
“......!!”
The maknae picked up his chopsticks, wiped them clean with a napkin, then handed a spare pair to Kang Ichae.
And with a bright, innocent smile, he declared,
“Living alone... it’s been my dream!!”
That night, Kang Ichae died.
