“Finally... our long journey has come to an end.”

Lee Cheonghyeon got up, sticking a spoon into a can of Zero Cider. Everyone’s eyes turned toward him, except for Choi Jeho, who was busy tearing open a box of fried chicken in the corner.

“Who asked Cheonghyeon to give a toast? Don’t you know he’s still a minor?”

“No one asked him, hyung...!”

Jeong Seongbin explained, looking pale.

Anyway, the dorm was in full-on festival mode. None of them had expected to win with a band performance. Bands had that special power, it made people feel incredibly overwhelmed with emotion. I hadn’t expected such a huge gap in the text vote either, but seeing how hot the live reaction was, I just figured the result wouldn’t be bad.

In the long history of idols, they’d just been crowned the kings of NBC for the moment, and they’d even gotten support for a lavish showcase. Even though it was nearly dawn when we got back, the kids insisted on celebrating. They set the table and popped sodas, keeping the decibel level low enough not to disturb the neighbors.

“You all worked so hard. Thank you for doing your best without complaining.”

Jeong Seongbin praised the members’ efforts with a gentle smile.

“It was a tough time. Cheonghyeon thinks he deserves extra praise.”

“Yeah, you worked the hardest.”

At my words, Lee Cheonghyeon became a beaming mess. From what I could tell, the kid was riding an endorphin high and wouldn’t sleep a wink until sunrise.

“Do we have practice tomorrow? The schedule’s empty.”

Kang Giyeon asked after checking his phone.

“I think it’s better to take a day to recharge. The year-end plans will come out soon, and if we push too hard now and mess things up later, that’d be putting the cart before the horse.”

Look at that consideration for his subordinates’ pace. We need to institutionalize a system where only people like Jeong Seongbin can be leaders.

“I don’t need to rest.”

Breaking the warm moment of consideration, Park Juu stepped forward.

“I can do anything right now...!”

“No, you should rest.”

I poured lukewarm water over Park Juu’s burning enthusiasm. If people work nonstop without resting, they break down. Since I had no intention of letting another member go on hiatus, I had to ensure they got proper rest and mental health care.

“How are they going to handle the cost support?”

Kang Giyeon asked while eating his chicken.

The moment an expense paid for by company money exceeds 50,000 won, things get complicated. If it were paid to individuals as a cash prize, the procedure would be less complex, but that was not the case here. They didn’t even have a schedule for when the showcase would happen. Just thinking about it gave me a headache... but I trusted the production staff to handle it.

“Is anyone going to the gym tomorrow?”

Choi Jeho asked in the middle of eating. Park Juu and Lee Cheonghyeon put down their chicken with depressed faces.

“I’ll go with you. ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) I have nothing to do tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll go too!”

Seeing Jeong Seongbin and me, Park Juu looked even sadder.

“I’ll go too...”

“If you’re tired, you can rest. You worked really hard on vocal practice.”

“No, I said with my own mouth that I can do anything...”

With a face like the world was ending, he said he would go...

Kang Giyeon, telling him he should at least eat a lot if he was going to work out, pushed all the remaining salt-grilled chicken in front of Park Juu. After draining the members’ energy, the culprit Choi Jeho casually headed out for a run at the Han River.

After finishing the cleanup, Jeong Seongbin and Park Juu went to their respective rooms. Jeong Seongbin, seeing me pacing the living room, asked if I was going in.

“I’m going to talk to Cheonghyeon for a bit. You rest first.”

“Okay.”

After confirming that Jeong Seongbin had closed his door, I stealthily knocked on Lee Cheonghyeon’s room. A voice told me to come in.

“What is it?”

“Give me your bank account number.”

“Why?”

Lee Cheonghyeon, who was lying on his bed on his phone, turned toward me.

“I have something to settle.”

“Didn’t you say that if we don’t want to cause trouble, monetary transactions should go through the company, not personal accounts?”

“......”

“Why? You want to send me the money for the bracelet?”

Lee Cheonghyeon sat up. I came here specifically to ask because I knew he wouldn’t accept it if I used a messenger app’s transfer function, but it was no use. Kang Giyeon, who was lying on the opposite bed, spoke indifferently.

“Give up, hyung. I tried sending it ten times, and he returned it all ten times.”

“Kiyeon, you knew Cheonghyeon’s account number?”

“Well, it’s us, you know.”

I felt a sense of betrayal, but I held it in. Even Kang Giyeon had failed to send the money. Even if I knew the account number, the situation probably wouldn’t have changed much.

“Earlier, Seongbin hyung asked for my account number too.”

“When?”

“When we ordered chicken. Anyway, our hyungs care for the younger ones too much. The hyungs won’t even accept gifts.”

“Could you please not overrate us? Seongbin and I just don’t want to be called shameless people who squeezed gold out of a minor maknae.”

Despite my serious, passionate speech, Lee Cheonghyeon just laughed. Clearly, my sincerity didn’t get through at all.

“It’s a long way off, but if there’s anything you want for your birthday...”

“Too bad. Jeho hyung already claimed that.”

“Why is that guy suddenly doing things he never does.......”

Now even Kang Giyeon turned his back on me, snickering.

“Anyway! Since the refund period’s over, I hope you enjoy a happy life sleeping and showering with that Spark bracelet! And if you’re leaving, toss me that cushion over there!”

Lee Cheonghyeon pointed to a large body pillow at the foot of his bed. When I told him to handle it himself since he was a teenager who could go to a department store alone, he sat up with a face full of mockery.

Thud.

At the same time as the rustling sound, something fell out from under the body pillow. It was a white envelope folded in half.

“What’s this? Cheonghyeon, were you hiding something under your pillow?”

“I’m seeing this for the first time, too.”

Lee Cheonghyeon flipped the envelope back and forth. On the corner of the back, there was tiny writing.

[For the bracelet]

The handwriting was neat, as if it would have won a gold prize in a calligraphy contest. The letters were so small you wouldn’t notice them if you didn’t look closely. It was unmistakably Park Juu’s work.

“Ugh, our hyungs are really over the top...”

Lee Cheonghyeon, opening the envelope with a groan, froze instantly. Kang Giyeon and I, peering over his shoulder, were the same.

We stormed into Park Juu’s room holding a thick bundle of 50,000-won bills, demanding to know if he’d robbed every ATM in the neighborhood.

“If I didn’t do it this way, you wouldn’t have accepted it...!”

Park Juu explained with a flustered face. In the end, Park Juu’s reverse-pickpocketing event ended with Lee Cheonghyeon keeping the envelope but returning the cash. I swore I’d buy half a dozen gold bars from the Korea Mint shopping mall soon.

Ahead of the fourth quarter, my mind was working busily as if it were about to explode. There were so many things to check that it wouldn’t be strange if my eyes popped out.

The airing of Exclusive Report would proceed on its own without my involvement, but since the promotion on Spark’s official accounts was decided, I checked the frequency of every single scheduled content piece to ensure that Kim Iwol-related content wouldn’t flood SNS consecutively.

Work on the digital single album had also begun. Since many people loved “Speaker,” which would be included as a B-side, we needed a fresh point suitable for a new album while maintaining the “youth boy band” image, but...

“These guys have grown up too much.”

...Spark had physically grown so much that I needed time to think. I had to figure out what six guys as big as wardrobes could do to still look pure.

The storyboard for the Season’s Greetings was in its final stages. I suggested a concept I wanted to try, and it turned out beautifully, perfectly suited for merchandise. All that was left was to wash and polish the Spark guys’ faces and put them in front of the camera.

“I should start planning the concert setlist soon, too. There’s not much time.”

Because IDC had crashed in, the time to prepare for the concert was beyond tight—there was almost none left. If I postponed the digital single release until next year, I could create some breathing room... but we’d be short on concert songs, and to show a band live version of Speaker, it’d be better if the album dropped before the concert. So the dedicated team and I decided to grind it out together.

If anyone from the dedicated team decided to quit this year, it was all my fault. It was all because of the KPIs. Please just let it slide once, I won’t forget this kindness. And if you really want to quit, at least give me a week for handover......

This was just the group schedule. Individual schedules were even tighter. Jeong Seongbin had taken charge of those early on, so I only checked the members’ plans via the living room whiteboard and shared calendar. At this point, Jeong Seongbin and Manager Chanyoung could probably write the Tripitaka Koreana just from their daily message logs.

The IDC behind-the-scenes videos prepared separately by the self-produced content team were uploading smoothly too. I had also scheduled all the items we couldn’t film yet to be consumed by the end of the year.

Everything was fitting together perfectly. How fortunate that the only thing lacking was time. I could just sleep later. I was just thankful that nothing had flopped yet.

As I was finishing my exploration of the backlogged Dotion, a screenshot of an article arrived in the group chat with the managers. It was a press release for Exclusive Report ahead of its broadcast. A string of celebratory emojis followed.

I searched Exclusive Report on a portal site. Drama information that hadn’t existed until recently had been created. Two short teasers of the lead actors were uploaded as official videos, and I appeared in one of them. Information about Cheon Yoonsung was even listed in the character descriptions.

Role Cheon Yoonsung

Kim Iwol

A flawless man who has everything, money and power, yet earns no hatred. Born the sole heir of the nation’s top conglomerate, Cheonju Group, he builds an unrivaled position without a single scandal. Why does this perfect man take an interest in Ham Yiseo?

The introduction made it sound a bit like a love triangle, but since the fact that Cheon Yoonsung was a villain was officially a secret to those outside the project, it couldn’t be helped.

It was just surprising that the secret was being kept from viewers, even though it was announced to the actors that he was a villain when the synopsis and scripts were distributed. Back when I was a viewer, I didn’t even know everyone else knew in secret.

My research on Exclusive Report continued for about another hour because so much data had been released along with the press announcement.

After scanning through community reactions, discussion boards linked to the program, and even recommended works connected to Exclusive Report, I saw a new article uploaded.

“Isn’t it too early for similar articles to be coming out?”

I clicked “Latest” once more.

And the moment I read the title of the article uploaded three minutes ago...

≫ [Exclusive Report] Kim Iwol, post from mother exposing him appears: “I want my unfilial child to reflect on himself”

...I couldn’t say a single word.