As Lee Cheonghyeon said that being in the debut lineup finally felt real, debut was inching closer to reality.

Above all, getting the group name confirmed was the biggest thing.

The name, which had flared up like a towering pillar of fire, went round and round and settled on “Spark.”

Maybe there could have been a better name.

But in the time I lived through, the people involved and the fans treasured the name “Spark,” so I did not interfere with this part at all.

Besides that, we talked about various things like opening the official social media accounts.

After hearing concrete talk about the group’s future, the atmosphere in the practice room shifted in a positive direction.

Maybe “the fighting spirit changed” is the right way to put it. Everyone’s concentration felt double what it used to be.

The intensity of practice also went up.

Within the total practice time, break time shrank and time spent moving increased.

Park Juu, whose base stamina isn’t exactly great, would sit on the floor to rest for five minutes after a day’s practice before heading to the dorm.

In the middle of all this, I still hadn’t raised my dance proficiency enough, so I had to take feedback at twice the usual rate.

“Iwol hyung, position!”

“Kim Iwol, your angle is off.”

Like that.

There wasn’t a single line I could get through cleanly.

I thought I was focusing. Why is this happening.

It felt like my body wouldn’t follow. I hadn’t felt this kind of defeat since right after I first joined UA.

“Hyung. You’ve been messing up the same part since the morning. Wouldn’t it be faster if you did it separately?”

My day’s instructor today was Kang Giyeon.

He’d been the most fired up among us, but since his already shaky ankle started feeling a little off, he’d been exempt from dance practice for two days.

Kang Giyeon said he’d move as long as it wasn’t overdoing it, but everyone stopped him.

He’s a guy who’ll memorize choreography in no time, so instead of forcing more practice right now, we put him in charge of supervising the choreography practice, and he was scarily fast at catching whoever was wrong.

The problem was the only one getting caught was me.

“Sorry. I’ll try again.”

Wiping the sweat running down, I apologized to the members.

We had already stopped the music several times because of me.

Maybe I was nervous, because even my breathing felt tight. Normally I’d still be full of energy at this hour, but my body felt feverish.

Is it just because it’s summer?

I looked around, wondering if the practice room itself was hot, but the others didn’t seem any different than usual.

It must be the heat coming from the impatience of someone falling behind. It hurts my heart.

Even so, as I braced myself anew and stood up, Kang Giyeon, who was sitting in front of the big mirror in the practice room watching us, asked,

“Hyung, why are you sweating that much?”

“I guess my fear of getting cut for being bad at dancing is coming out.”

“Don’t joke.”

“Does my worry sound like a joke to you?”

On my end it’s always 100 percent serious.

Lately I couldn’t even sleep properly at night because I was afraid I’d hear, “We thought it over a lot... but we’ll go without Iwol,” the day before debut. My worries were piled like a mountain.

We’ve come this far—if I failed right in front of debut, I’d have no face to see my sister after I died. So of course I’m serious.

Seeing my grave expression, even Kang Giyeon didn’t press further. I guess sincerity really does get through.

Instead, Jeong Seongbin came over from the corner of the practice room with a towel and water and said,

“Hyung might just be nervous. If everyone’s okay with it, should we take a short break?”

“Yeah... let’s rest ten minutes.”

“I’m in favor too...!”

The moment Jeong Seongbin gave the okay, Park Juu and Lee Cheonghyeon sprawled on the floor like raw eggs.

“Sorry. I’m making everyone suffer because of me.”

“If you think like that it’ll feel heavier. Take it easy, hyung.”

Then Jeong Seongbin handed me the towel and water he’d brought.

I don’t know why.

Watching the endlessly gentle Jeong Seongbin, I thought of Manager Nam, whose face I can’t stand.

“Assistant Manager Kim, are you drinking tea right now?”

“Huh? Ah, yes.”

“Employees have it easy these days, taking tea time while they work.”

“......”

“Maybe you all aren’t getting enough side-eye. You should feel a bit uncomfortable at the office.”

Manager Nam had chewed me out for thirty minutes over a sip of Solomon’s seal tea while working, and the memory flickered faintly before my eyes.

I also remembered the time others barely stopped him from scolding me when he himself would leave for an hour for coffee while saying he’d be back, and only singled me out.

I even drank it quietly at my own desk.

How are unpleasant memories so vivid. I don’t get it.

“Hyung? Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about something else for a second.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Thanks for the towel. I’m going to go wash my face.”

I took only the towel and hurried out of the practice room. When discipline gets slack like this, a cold-water face wash is the best.

I went straight to the bathroom, turned the water as cold as ice, and scrubbed my face. My head snapped clear.

I splashed cold water until my skin stung, then raised my head and saw a beet-red face beyond the mirror. And dull, unfocused eyes.

I knew what idol fans called eyes like that.

“My eyes look like dead fish now.”

Seeing my own dumb face when I should be whipping myself into shape, I couldn’t help but snort.

Even if my condition wasn’t good, I had to endure it to some extent.

People can’t always be at their best, and sometimes you have to work even when things aren’t good.

But if, like Jeong Seongbin said, I’m nervous because I’m the only one falling behind?

Then I need to pull myself together even more.

I’m the one who stuck to them like gum begging to debut with them too—if I get nervous and drag others down, that’s just being a burden.

I wiped the water from my face, went back to the practice room, and hauled the members to their feet.

“All rested now? Up. Come on.”

“Hyung, aren’t you going to rest?”

“I just washed my face. If we’re going to finish the first verse today, we need to practice hard.”

“The first verse? Can we even get that far?”

“Yeah. So don’t match the difficulty to me—match it to you.”

I’ll show you the grit and persistence of an office worker whose proposal gets rejected seven times and rewritten an eighth.

Maybe {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} my grim resolve got through, because practice resumed right away. And it was brutal.

We danced intensely straight through to ten at night and wrapped up the day.

And the next day, I regretted that bravado bitterly.

It was one day when I was in college.

Meaning: lectures in the daytime, tutoring in the evening, and the convenience store shift from night to dawn.

That night, the owner who had the shift before me spoke the moment he saw me walk in.

“Iwol, you look pale.”

“Hello, boss. I must have tossed and turned last night.”

“Sleep? Why?”

“Who knows. But I’m not sleepy at all now, so don’t worry.”

I remember choosing my words carefully so the boss wouldn’t feel uneasy about leaving the store to a part-timer who looked unwell.

Missing a bit of sleep wasn’t a big deal to me.

My sleep time was always the same, and my routine was always similar.

After finishing the last task of the day at the convenience store, I went back to my rented room and fell into a deep sleep.

It was such a deep sleep I didn’t even remember that I’d slept badly the night before.

I slept so deeply that when I woke up, my pillow was damp with a nosebleed, and I hadn’t noticed until I opened my eyes.

And today, years later, I had that dream again for the first time in a long while.

In the dream it was vivid, right down to me waking up in the morning and staring dumbfounded at the dark-stained pillow.

What a strange dream after so long.

Thinking of that time, my nose somehow felt a little sore. Maybe that’s why I dreamed about a nosebleed.

I unconsciously brought my hand to my nose.

At the same time, I realized it wasn’t my imagination that my nose hurt, and that the skin below my nose felt sticky.

And there was a metallic, bloody smell coming up from under my nose.

No way.

I prayed it wasn’t so and lifted my head.

Unfortunately, today’s pillow was also blotched here and there in dark red. So were my fingertips.

Had I pushed myself to the extreme recently?

No.

Then had I been under severe stress?

Also no.

Then why did I get a nosebleed?

Even as I heated the frying pan, I racked my brain and found nothing suspicious.

There was no way I had a health issue. Every year’s checkup had always come back clean.

Maybe my body knew its owner didn’t have decent hospital money, because I’d never once been seriously sick.

By morning the nosebleed had already stopped. Thanks to that I didn’t need to pinch my nose, but I was out of my mind scrubbing a pillowcase from the crack of dawn.

At least I woke up before the alarm.

If I’d been unlucky, Lee Cheonghyeon—up early to get ready for school—would have been treated to a nasty sight first thing.

Since I was up early, I was already toasting bread, and then Jeong Seongbin came out of the other room.

From the pajamas, it looked like he hadn’t washed up yet.

“Hyung? You’re up early...?”

“Yeah. My eyes just popped open.”

Half-asleep and about to greet me—wanting to fulfill Dorm Rule Six—I quickly shoved him into the bathroom.

Then out popped Kang Giyeon from somewhere. It was such a busy morning I had no time to worry about my nose.

Well. A little nosebleed is no big deal.

I set the toast for the high schoolers who had to go to class on the dining table and went back to my room.

Since I was up early, I figured I’d head to the practice room ahead of time.

And thirty minutes later, in the practice room.

Ha...

It’s really a stupid thing to say, but only then did I realize.

I had a summer flu.

I rarely get sick, so I thought it was just an off day. At least until cold sweat started pouring down.

All I did was loosen up, and my back was suddenly damp, and I thought something was seriously wrong.

Feeling the heat rise even when I was standing still, I understood why I’d sweated so much yesterday.

Is it obvious?

It would be a problem if it showed on my face that I was sick.

That one time at Hanpyeong Industries, when I wasn’t feeling well and crawled out of the bathroom on all fours, Manager Nam tore into me, and the bad memory stuck.

“Assistant Manager Kim, are you staging a protest that you’re sick right now? I’ve told you again and again that health management is part of your skill set, haven’t I?”

“Are you the only one sick? I’m sick too. Who isn’t sick while working a job?”

I don’t remember what that guy said after that. I turned right back to the bathroom because I felt like vomiting.

I took a fever reducer out of the first-aid kit in the practice room and swallowed it.

And until Choi Jeho and Park Juu arrived, I fanned myself with my hand and made a vow as I tried my best to cool down.

I will endure even if it kills me.

This, at least, they must never find out.