Articles related to Spark increased in proportion to our busy schedule. From Choi Jeho’s Naidas promotional products selling out one after another, Lee Cheonghyeon landing a fashion magazine cover, Spark’s carbonated drink commercial, to even my own hidden passion for acting that I wasn’t aware of. Clicking on the entertainment tab of internet news meant seeing Spark pop up about once every two days.

We needed stamina to handle the overflowing schedule. We spent three hours a day at the gym, sucking on caffeine-free red ginseng sticks provided by Kang Giyeon’s mother. It was a form of intensive training.

“Get up, time to work out.”

“I’m really sorry, but could either Seongbin hyung or Joowoo hyung just knock Mr. Kim Iwol out for me?”

Lee Cheonghyeon, whose face was flushed red as he barely managed to breathe, lamented. However, Jeong Seongbin and Park Joowoo, who could have granted their dongsaeng’s request, had also been sprawled out like boiled dishcloths for quite some time.

“Until recently, you were as flimsy as a sheet of paper, too, hyung. Why do you recover so fast?”

“I wasn’t paper. I was a pulp scrubber. I soaked my organs in red ginseng and came back to life.”

“At this rate, you’ll be an ambassador for the ginseng corporation.”

Lee Cheonghyeon covered his face with a towel, looking fed up. I removed it, worried that leaving his sweaty face in that humid state would cause skin trouble, and he threw a fit.

“You really don’t understand the heart of an adolescent teenager at all, hyung!”

“Then want to go to Choi Jeho instead? He’ll understand your feelings even less, but at least he’ll nag you less.”

I pointed toward the other side of the gym where Choi Jeho was wringing out Kang Giyeon. Kang Giyeon was doing leg presses with a look that said he was only living because he couldn’t die.

“Our team is emotionally barren. It’s terrible.”

Lee Cheonghyeon muttered. Ignoring him, I peeled Park Joowoo off the floor, where he was stuck like a piece of gum, and resumed my workout routine.

“Why are you pushing it so hard?”

Choi Jeho asked me in front of the water dispenser. Since he came holding a water bottle, I stepped aside to let him fill his up first and asked.

“What? The workout?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m doing about the same as usual.”

“You’re overdoing it.”

“No way.”

Choi Jeho didn’t even pretend to listen to me. He just drank his fill of water.

After downing half the bottle in one go, he wiped his mouth and delivered a sharp remark.

“If you work out exactly the same way as you did before you got sick, that is overdoing it. If you could skip the intermediate stage and slap muscle back on like before, why would rehab even exist?”

“How long are you going to keep bringing that up?”

The year had changed since I was rushed to the hospital. The seasons had changed twice and were approaching a third shift.

My physique had naturally recovered with the passing time. That meant Choi Jeho’s current comment was nothing but meddling.

However, Choi Jeho was stubborn.

“It’s only been half a year.”

“.......”

“Do you think ‘overload’ is just a word people made up?”

Choi Jeho’s gaze fixed on me. The reproach in his eyes was unmistakable, and without realizing it, I turned my head away. I sighed in surrender and explained.

“It’s because I’ve been having a lot of distracting thoughts. If I use my body, I think less. I found a relatively healthy way to cope.”

At my implication that it was better than taking meds, Choi Jeho frowned.

“Does your head still hurt these days?”

“It’s fine when I exercise. So don’t tell Seongbin.”

Choi Jeho closed the lid of his water bottle and said,

“Then you make sure you keep it moderate yourself.”

It was a warning that he would report my workout volume to Jeong Seongbin at any moment. I told him I understood and shooed him away to the other side of the gym.

Seriously—what an unfair world for a regressor. He grilled me without even knowing that my distracting thoughts include worrying about his waist.

Thanks to the sudden support of the viewers (?), Spark joined Season 2, and the entire cast of Idol Annals of the Dynasty was revealed. It was the result of UA tearing into the production team like a rabid dog after they announced they’d reveal both the team that had been wavering until the end and Spark’s participation at the same time.

“Talking about ‘aiming for synergy’ is just pretty words. Anyone can see it’ll split the attention.”

The dedicated team’s phone never got a day off. Thanks to that, Spark ended up entering last, sending the seniors in first with a grand, flashy fanfare.

As if he had been waiting for this moment, Lee Cheonghyeon burned with enthusiasm. He even looked a bit unhinged.

“Let’s ask for the budget we couldn’t get last time because the company was too chaotic. If they don’t give it to us, I’ll make the company chaotic myself.”

“Why are you so hung up on money?”

“Leave him be. It seems he’s still bothered by the time you handed out cash envelopes during the position battle.”

It was Lee Cheonghyeon who was showing madness with bloodshot eyes, but Kang Giyeon was the one explaining. He said if we left him alone, he’d cool his head and come back, so we decided to give him some alone time.

On the other side, an argument was already breaking out over the position competition participants—a segment that might not even exist this time.

“I’m going out as the vocal representative...”

“No one knows if the competition format will be the same this time, Joowoo.”

“It could be the same...”

“And your throat might get tired.”

“I’m on a leave of absence, so it’s okay...!”

Park Joowoo had practically started a sit-in protest. At this rate, we’d have to create a competition that didn’t exist just for him. More importantly, just when did he realize that a leave of absence was the solution to everything? It was too great a truth for a freshman to figure out.

“We’re still the maknae team again, right? Are we going with the rude, no-manners concept like last time?”

“We weren’t that rude last time, Cheonghyeon.”

Jeong Seongbin gently corrected Lee Cheonghyeon. Right, we weren’t rude. We just put up walls because there were many people to avoid.

Anyway, being the maknae team again was a headache. I heard up to 100 idol teams debut in a year. Why doesn’t Idol Annals of the Dynasty pick rookies?

“Is the only thing that’s changed the lack of Yu Hansu?”

That alone was cause for celebration, but since we ended up on a long-term program, I wanted to gain something from it. We’d traded our entire second-half comeback plan for this appearance, so wouldn’t any human feel that way?

I looked at Park Joowoo, who was fighting a lonely battle, and Lee Cheonghyeon, who was extremely excited, and said,

“It’s not like we held back in Season 1, but let’s really do everything we want to do this time.”

“Huh?”

A thread of reason returned to Lee Cheonghyeon’s pupils.

“Let’s ask for a big budget. Let’s have Joowoo do a vocal stunt show, and show Giyeon dancing.”

“Why am I suddenly being mentioned?”

“If we’re going to occupy a whole channel for months, this much is the least we can do. Seongbin, what do you want to do? Since it’s the IAD, want to carry the royal seal? Shall we carry you in a palanquin? Choi Jeho and I can lift it.”

Choi Jeho let out a laugh of disbelief. In an era of youth unemployment, here was a kid who wouldn’t even be grateful if you handed him a job. Live like that and all you’ll ever be is a center emperor for a thousand years straight.

After that, meetings and conferences occurred one after another as soon as we opened our eyes. Some days we had video meetings on the way to script reading, and other days we had to go up to the conference room for single album planning in the middle of choreography practice.

“If the hyungs hadn’t taken a leave of absence, I wouldn’t have survived.”

Lee Cheonghyeon muttered while receiving assistance from Jeong Seongbin and Park Joowoo on both sides. He said he wanted to take the wheel for this IAD, so I gladly handed it over, but now that he’d stirred everything up, cleaning it all up didn’t seem easy.

Fortunately, the middle line members, who had gone through years of research, opinion gathering, and group projects, actively supported Lee Cheonghyeon and helped the debut of the future planner. I stepped in like today, doing intermittent check-ins and feedback.

“I told you to leave the planning to the dedicated team. You’re contributing enough just with composing.”

“Don’t stop the promising Cheonghyeon from challenging. If it doesn’t work, I’ll send SOS before we hit the Maginot Line.”

“Are you sure it’s not that you didn’t trust me?”

“Yes, not at all, so please don’t suddenly change direction~”

Looking at Lee Cheonghyeon, who fixed his bangs with a hair clip and stared only at his laptop, I suddenly remembered the past.

Lee Cheonghyeon’s inner thoughts that I found out while collecting other people’s TMI: “I decided to learn composition after debut.”

And the appearance of Lee Cheonghyeon who “had no choice but to be desperate,” a side I hadn’t known until I looked at past data.

“Cheonghyeon.”

“What is it? Unless you’re going to throw me a flash of inspiration, top 50 popular musical numbers, or an exciting melody, please don’t disturb Cheonghyeon for a moment.”

Despite speaking firmly, Lee Cheonghyeon took his hands off the keypad after a few minutes. Then he leaned back in his chair as if asking what I had to say.

“Is writing songs fun?”

“Huh?”

Perhaps it was an unexpected question, Lee Cheonghyeon made a strange expression.

“I asked if it’s fun. I was wondering if it’s stressful and you’re forcing yourself.”

At my words, Lee Cheonghyeon crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side.

“Hmm.”

“......”

“Does it look like that?”

He crossed his legs out of habit. Though he uncrossed them immediately at my glance.

“It wasn’t that there was no pressure at all. Until recently. To be exact, rather than pressure... it was anxiety. You know from seeing ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) me during ‘OUR’. How much I cared about the results.”

Lee Cheonghyeon raised one corner of his mouth in a smile. A smile he showed very rarely, usually when he was irritated.

“I thought that if there were no results, I couldn’t prove myself. Prove that I could do it. Looking back, that’s how it was.”

“And now?”

Lee Cheonghyeon looked at me and burst into laughter. It didn’t feel like mocking; it was a relaxed laugh.

“I’m doing it because I want to. You can’t show this level of drive unless it comes straight from the heart.”

“Really?”

“Well, whether I’m overflowing with confidence or not, I don’t really know.”

He shrugged.

“At least I don’t feel impatient. The obsession that I have to show results has decreased a lot, too. Maybe it’s because I let go of the idea that I need to be acknowledged by my mom and dad.”

Lee Cheonghyeon looked much more mature than usual as he said that.

Perhaps he really was more mature than me. I still become unstable just thinking about my sister, but Lee Cheonghyeon succeeded in firmly solidifying the part of himself that used to be his weakness in a different sense.

“...That’s a relief.”

“Besides, if I were doing something stupid, would you or Kang Giyeon let me be? You’d come right over with the ‘body pillow of love’ to give me mental training. Cheonghyeon is too scared to live, really.”

This time, I was the one who let out a dry laugh. He had become quite cheeky over the years. Or maybe “sly” fit better.

“Consider about 80% of my complaints as me being dramatic. If I really feel like I can’t handle it, I’ll grab onto your pant legs and hang on immediately. I have four hyungs; if I don’t use them at times like this, when will I?”

“You’re right. So please, use us. Especially Choi Jeho. Leaving that physique unused is a waste, an absolute waste.”

I wasn’t sure what was so funny about my words, but Lee Cheonghyeon laughed until he was out of breath. Something about the pot calling the kettle black. Anyway, since he looked happy, I let it be.

Even during the sweet break time amidst practice, Spark’s conversation was all about work, work, work.

“I heard we got another article today. Did you guys see it?”

“What article?”

“A music critic reviewed our album. Shall I share the link?”

“If it’s not a perfect five out of five, please send it as a private message. During composing season, Cheonghyeon only accepts unconditional praise.”

“It’s not a star rating system. Besides, during the blind test for the B-side tracks, you were the one who criticized your own song the most.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird if I listened to my own song there and said, ‘Oh my, where did this god of music come from...!’?”

They seemed to be having fun among themselves, so I didn’t really interfere, but they all seemed a bit... manic. Workaholism isn’t good for mental health.

We were tossing around silly jokes when the practice room door opened. Instead of the trainer who was supposed to come, Manager Chanyoung appeared and looked for me.

Seeing him deliberately call only me out to the hallway, my head cooled down instantly. It was like being abruptly yanked out of everyday life—the atmosphere around me shifted in an instant.

“Iwol.”

And I, having been trained for years to have good intuition for things like this...

“Your family contacted the company, saying they want to see you.”

...confirmed that my hunch was correct. As always.