The stage set was of a respectable quality.

The low-set baseball stadium lights and the vibrant background, lavishly decorated with interwoven colorful nets, were bright and pleasant. She’d heard that some stadiums hang international flags for special events, and sure enough, Spark’s stage had them too.

Looking at the scoreboard, Spark was winning against a team with a blank name. A score of 5:0? Did they set it like that because it was a May comeback? Won Chaehee, exhausted from the long wait, was starting to have all sorts of random thoughts.

“Everyone, we’re here!”

Just as they received the third one-sided notification that the recording was delayed, Lee Cheonghyeon popped out from the side of the stage as if he’d been waiting. He’d gone full ‘youthful high school baseball player’ concept with soft pink makeup and glitter piled on. Won Chaehee had a feeling Cheonghyeon’s face cam would break its previous view count record again.

“You’ve all been waiting a long time today, right? We’re sorry.”

Jeong Seongbin hurried out after Lee Cheonghyeon. Wasn’t orange hair a color that rarely suited people? And yet, for some reason, there wasn’t a single color, be it blonde or orange, that didn’t look good on Jeong Seongbin.

And that turtleneck—so ascetic. Won Chaehee knew from her years of fangirling experience that sometimes, covering up was even sexier. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

As she was admiring the way shadows formed and disappeared around his collarbone, a cheer erupted from near the entrance.

“Hello, everyone!”

Kim Iwol had come out with his hair styled into cat ears.

Wasn’t he supposed to be a panda? Or an eagle? Did he decide to change his image after “IRREGULAR”? Not that she’d complain—it suited him absurdly well.

“My hair... it’s interesting, right?”

“Cute!”

“I never imagined you could do this with short hair.”

“Right, cute!”

No real communication was happening at the venue. The Sparklers were simply too busy exclaiming how cute he was. Their eldest member had shown up with literal cat ear hair.

Moreover, his skin was so pale and flawless that, even seeing it again, it was hard to believe he was human. In the idol scene, where they used to use the expression ‘flour dough’ to describe pale people, they had started using the term ‘snowman,’ with Kim Iwol as the new benchmark.

For a new standard or modifier to be coined within idol fandoms meant that a certain level of recognition and influence had been established. In that respect, you could say Kim Iwol had reached a realm beyond even steamed white rice cake.

Even after all six members had gathered, Spark apologized for the delay at least five more times. The veteran fans, who knew the delay wasn’t the idols’ fault, shouted for them not to apologize and to straighten their backs. In the first place, the longer they got to see Spark, the more the fans benefited.

“The stage is going to look so pretty today. The stadium is packed with spectators for the game, you see.”

At Lee Cheonghyeon’s charming banter, the person next to Won Chaehee squeezed her eyes shut and silently repeated his words. That person, Chaehee thought, would probably open her phone’s notepad the moment the pre-recording was over and jot down what he had just said for her fan account.

“By any chance, are we doing that thing today? The reverse flash...?”

Park Juu asked. He was talking about a fan chant event.

It was an event adapted from baseball games where fans cheer with their phone flashlights on and turn them off when the game resumes. In a reverse of that, fans would wave their light sticks and then turn off the lights only during a specific part. It was a cheering method that Park Juu absolutely loved, saying the sight of the extinguished lights all coming back on at once was beautiful.

Well, it was their final stage—of course they’d do it. Won Chaehee fiddled with the spare batteries in her pocket.

The three consecutive performances made it more than worth using her precious vacation day. She’d watched Kim Iwol’s dazzling smile from his face cam countless times, but seeing it in person had an entirely different impact.

“Because you make my heart race!”

Who told you to laugh like you owned the world, with your head held high against that colorful and blue background? And with cat ear hair, no less. Is this truly a 22-year-old talent?

The background didn’t look like blue stage lights—it looked like actual Hawaiian skies. Won Chaehee could’ve collapsed right then. She had never been so grateful for assigned seating.

The members told plenty of stories in between takes. The person next to Won Chaehee seemed to have given up on remembering everything they said.

Let go. Just free yourself. Trust the collective intelligence of fandom.

“The nickname hyung gave Jeho hyung was really funny.”

“There’s another funny nickname besides ‘Center Emperor’?”

At the conversation between Lee Cheonghyeon and Kang Giyeon, all the Sparklers’ attention focused in one direction.

Unable to handle the flood of gazes, Kim Iwol made an excuse.

“It’s a little... insulting... so I need Choi Jeho’s permission to reveal it...”

“I don’t care.”

Choi Jeho shrugged his shoulders, which completely filled out his baseball uniform. Won Chaehee vividly remembered how the fan reaction on private social media accounts had exploded when a still cut of those shoulders was posted.

“It’s Zestralo Erectus... it’s a nickname limited to ‘Unmanned Rest Area.’ It’s not what I think of Jeho normally!”

“Don’t you think of him like that normally?”

“Still, it’s a relief that it’s for a limited time, Jeho hyung!”

The venue erupted in laughter at Lee Cheonghyeon’s cheeky remark. Choi Jeho himself, however, seemed completely unfazed.

You guys are always so consistent, Won Chaehee thought, watching them interact, not overly close but never distant. Please, just maintain this exact kind of relationship in the future. Please don’t let it get to a point where one of you starts dating or gets ‘dead fish eyes,’ forcing another member to desperately run defense for them.

There was a three-hour break until the next pre-recording. Won Chaehee, who had successfully secured a number for both time slots, needed an activity to pass the remaining time.

She spent about an hour standing in line for the ‘return fan’ gift. Today’s gift was a set of apple crumble pies that the members supposedly baked themselves, Greek yogurt with plenty of toppings, a choice of drink, and a watery-type perfume suitable for the upcoming month of June. It seemed Kim Iwol had seen the ‘Give us apple crumble pie too!!!’ comment on the potluck party self-produced content video.

Won Chaehee sat down on a camping chair that Spark had set up under a canopy and sipped the Americano she’d gotten from the coffee truck while checking the rest of the items. As expected, there was also a set of unreleased photocards with handwritten messages on the back.

[Don’t forget about us just because promotions are over! Remember us whenever you spray the perfume!]

Lee Cheonghyeon’s message was memorable. Sure, she’d spray it until the bottle ran dry—so next time, they should just tell her the name of the perfume they used.

While eating the yogurt, Won Chaehee wracked her brain, trying to recreate the members’ comments as best she could. The only thing she could say on her public account was ‘The kids seemed to be in such a good mood today ㅠㅠ’, but it didn’t matter since she could say the rest on her private account.

After taking a proof shot of the return gift and leaving a few comments with the photos from their arrival at the broadcast station, she took a breather, and soon it was time for the afternoon session. She had just repeated what she did in the morning, but it felt like 80% of her energy had been drained.

It was then, as she stepped back into the cramped studio.

“Huh?”

Won Chaehee’s sharp eye, honed by her life as a homma, detected a change.

The same set from “On A High Note” had been transformed, looking as if it had been weathered by a storm.

Even for a double title track promotion, they had never used the same set twice. To suspect that their momentum was flagging just because it was the final broadcast was absurd; it was evident that great care had been taken to create the signs of aging.

The scoreboard, where the lights were out, making it hard to tell if it was a 5 or a 0; the net, riddled with holes and covered in lint; and the international flags, now limp on the floor with their strings broken, and the shattered light bulbs all contributed to the desolate atmosphere.

The color of the lighting was also different. Unlike the previous stage, which had mixed a bit of blue with green, this stage was filled with the orange glow of a wasteland.

Props like the ‘do not enter’ tape were common, yet they had a way of making people tense. It gave the feeling that something had just happened moments ago.

However, Won Chaehee was not given the luxury of examining the background any further.

The man who had earned the titles ‘Banana Leaf Guy’ among Sparklers, ‘Wild Man’ in the ‘Unmanned Rest Area’ captions, and ‘Zestralo Erectus’ from Kim Iwol’s lips.

Choi Jeho had appeared with his dark red hair slicked back without a single stray strand, even wearing reddish-tinted contact lenses.

“Holy sh*t, this is insane.”

The Choi Jeho she had seen this morning was just an ordinary catcher with ridiculously good shoulders, the kind who circulated in ‘please come to our team’ memes. His physique was powerful enough to throw a ball home from the outfield—not that a catcher would ever do that—and he had upheld the honor of the ‘Northern Grand Duke’ group with a build that was not lacking even when compared to active players. And that arrogant smile, the kind you’d only see after winning a game.

But the Choi Jeho of now shook the very foundation of Won Chaehee’s standard model for a ‘hot guy’. The big data she had accumulated over the years was on the verge of being redefined by this one single, anomalous data point.

‘Cyberpunk techwear is just too much, isn’t it?’

Won Chaehee lamented. The various belts and gear fastened over his long-sleeved black turtleneck, with orange highlight lines running across them, showed that Spark was serious even up to the final broadcast. No, seriously, who put a gas mask on Choi Jeho’s neck...?

Hanging from the belt loop of his pants was the walkie-talkie from the music video. The leather gloves, leather pants, and walker boots formed a trinity, all while showcasing Choi Jeho’s solid build.

This was why people failed to connect the ‘Banana Leaf Guy’ from ‘Unmanned Rest Area’ with Spark’s Jeho. Aside from the fans, no one realized they were the same person. Who would believe that the guy who ate ten bananas a day was now /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ standing here dressed like this?

‘A functional matte-band wristwatch, f*ck...’

Her old skill of memorizing every brand her idols wore was returning. He was wearing an extreme sports waterproof watch for the post-apocalyptic concept. Why couldn’t she be on social media and tweeting about it right now...?

Won Chaehee despaired. If it weren’t for her polished patience, she would have become a foolish fan who couldn’t even cheer properly for her idols.

And the moment Kim Iwol stepped onto the stage.

Won Chaehee found herself reflecting on her past self, who had thought, ‘Why even go to a public broadcast if you’re not going to react properly? If you’re going to be like that, just give the spot to someone else.’

His black hair, as if tousled by a gentle breeze; the slim-fit, black ribbed top that revealed the lines of his muscles; and the glossy, black leather pants that hugged his narrow hips and thighs and fell along the line of his legs—it all paralyzed something within Won Chaehee.