If there’s a system that raises stats, shouldn’t there also be a system that restores stamina?

I chewed on jjolmyeon that tasted like nothing at all, wondering if my nose was stuffed.

If a person’s bodily functions can be artificially raised, then something similar should also be possible.

There’s no way the System doesn’t know how much bloody practice it takes to become an idol.

The way it grants points and its processes are all thoroughly focused on raising an idol who can debut.

If so, there would also be a measure in place for when an idol can’t meet the required practice load due to physical limits, or runs into a situation that’s hard to resolve.

It brought back a person who’s perfectly alive, memories intact, into the past—surely it prepared at least that much of a countermeasure.

As I forced down the rest of the jjolmyeon and waited for the System to appear, sure enough, the quiet System showed up.

 [SYSTEM] “Party B” is hereby notified of the “Additional Labor Support Service.”

▷ If you wish to perform additional labor but feel that physical limits are hindering KPI achievement, support will be provided so that additional labor can proceed smoothly.

▷ At the moment the support service begins, fatigue is reduced by 20, and the reduced fatigue will be returned to “Party B” when the support service is terminated.

▷ “Party B” may designate the start time and termination time of the service.

▷ Physical side effects may occur for various reasons, such as when the period of use becomes long, when fatigue accumulates excessively, or when the temporarily reduced fatigue exceeds a certain level.

 It was precisely the function I needed.

Even if there were side effects, compared to “Violation of Confidentiality,” which had said it could result in death at worst, it wasn’t even worth worrying about.

At least this one didn’t say I could die.

After the service guide popped up, the familiar résumé appeared.

This time, though, there was a new item under “Cumulative EXP” called “Cumulative Fatigue.”

 .

.

.

— Attendance & Time Management: 18/20

— In-Organization Adaptability: 10/20

Cumulative EXP: 0

Cumulative Fatigue: 40%

 Maybe thanks to the medicine, the cumulative fatigue wasn’t that high. If 20 percent came off here, I’d be almost fine. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

I imagined myself pressing the Start Service button without hesitation.

Then the System window glowed bright again.

 Cumulative Fatigue: 20% (Labor Support Service active)

 The fatigue value dropped the moment the service began.

The effect was definite. The fever cleared in a sweep, and my knotted shoulders felt loose.

“Hyung, is that jjolmyeon really that good?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“No, it’s just... the moment you started eating jjolmyeon your complexion suddenly got better.”

“Did someone sprinkle protein on the jjolmyeon or something?”

Maybe even my complexion improved, because Lee Cheonghyeon and Choi Jeho started spouting nonsense about my face.

“I didn’t know you, Choi Jeho, were thoughtful enough to add protein to food. I’ll keep it in mind when I toast bread.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Even with my kind consideration, Choi Jeho only got testy. Give a guy an inch of agreement and he gets greedy.

Come to think of it... I can tweak things while watching the System, but what if these guys suddenly collapse?

Looking at ones who’ve been on low-salt, low-calorie meals longer than I have, a foreboding thought flashed through my mind.

Sure, their vascular health might be better than mine, but at this point you can’t help worrying about malnutrition.

Not long ago, didn’t Kang Giyeon get caught working hard at dancing while hiding an ankle injury?

If UA checked the members’ health one by one as they recommended cutting weight and practicing, I wouldn’t need to go this far.

But in an idol market where the whole feedback is “lose as much weight as possible and practice as hard as you can,” expecting that is absurd.

On a just-in-case impulse, I asked them,

“Do you guys get health checkups?”

“We get school checkups every year.”

Current high schooler Kang Giyeon answered.

“Not just height and weight. Ah, don’t tell me you guys got laminates too?”

“I didn’t. As far as I know, none of us did.”

“I heard a lot of trainees do it, though...”

Jeong Seongbin and Park Juu answered in turn. At least everyone’s oral health being fine was a relief.

With such a taciturn group, there’s no end to what I have to watch. I’m this close to installing a “voice of your heart” box in the dorm.

Was the national health checkup age from twenty and up? We should probably go as a group to the gym soon and at least check basic numbers.

I was about to drift into memories of scheduling employee health checkups at Hanpyeong Industries when Lee Cheonghyeon asked me,

“Why the sudden health checkups?”

“No reason. I’m just saying, take care of your own bodies, just in case. Your bodies are your assets. Got it?”

“You heard that, right, Kang Gyeon?”

“What did I do.”

“Iwol hyung is worrying so our Giyeon will take care of his ankle!”

“That’s what you got from that?”

I spoke clearly and he understood it like mush. That’s a talent.

It wasn’t exactly my intention, but as long as they got the point.

After saying this much, the funniest thing would be me skipping practice with “I’m not feeling well” as an excuse.

I forced down the stiff to the point of dry jjolmyeon until it was clean. I didn’t forget to put away the empty bowl either.

“Everyone, what are we filming today?”

“‘Introducing Our Members!’”

With a bright chorus, we clapped enthusiastically.

Our last schedule today was shooting self-content.

It’s that self-content produced by Kim Iwol, planned by Kim Iwol, sponsored by UA, which we’ve been filming since before debut in consideration of UA’s behavioral pattern—debut the group and then fail to give it a proper push.

When the company suggested, “Since it’s before debut, how about going naturally with no makeup,” I almost fainted.

Regardless of whether we’re “managed,” we’re filming a video fans will see; showing that little sincerity would be a problem.

Later on, when we film live, we can even shoot wiping off makeup and all, can’t we? Bare face can wait until then.

“We filmed us taking profile photos last time, right? Those photos have finally come out!”

Meaning the final cuts for the debut album title track concept photos—also the pictures that will be registered for a while as our profile images on portal sites—were out.

Unfortunately, because Lee Cheonghyeon and a few others don’t photograph as well as they look in person, I heard retouching took quite a while.

When I heard that, I briefly considered joining as support staff.

But if I took the mouse, these kids would turn into sparkly, glittery prince charming types, so in the end I didn’t.

Subway ads are made by polishing and buffing people’s faces.

Anyway, to celebrate our momentous first profile photos coming out, we decided to film content where we look at each other’s photos and introduce the members.

I pushed hard for it on the grounds that it was suited to showing what people call a “friendly side.”

If I made them introduce themselves, they’d all be too embarrassed and not speak for a minute, so I was going to make someone else do the introducing.

In a society where modesty is a virtue, it’s easier to praise others than to promote yourself.

Since they’re going to be idols, they’ll have to get used to showing themselves, but for now I plan to shepherd them with the mindset that as long as they don’t run away before debut, it’s fine.

“We said we’d write the profile of the next person by age and then present it—who should go first?”

“I think the leader should go first.”

“Me...?!”

“Yes, you.”

At my words, Jeong Seongbin jumped.

He has to spend seven years with these infuriatingly quiet guys.

If he’s going to lead them, practicing doing anything first won’t hurt.

“Take your time. Since it’s our own content, we can set the edit points a little more generously anyway.”

I gave Jeong Seongbin time to prepare and neatly arranged the prep materials in front of me.

Everyone was supposed to make the other person’s profile in their own style.

Not just write the content however they wanted, but prepare visuals too.

“So... do we have to make panels like the ones on broadcast ourselves?”

“I’m not asking for anything that professional. If you really want to make it on a board, search ‘foam board.’ You can try ‘wood-rock’ too.”

The clumsier they were, the more it evoked real students you might see in real life—so long as the editing used professional technique.

“The point is, find a way of explaining that’s familiar to you. Write it in the notebook you carry to school, or draw in your practice notebook. Just make it so anyone can tell you did your best.”

I said I’d shepherd them, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make them experience promotion.

Since they’ll have to enter the great era of self-PR anyway, it’s much better to make mistakes in small, not-so-cute self-content than on TV.

Maybe they accepted my reasoning, because over the past few days they wracked their brains at the dorms without complaining, even as they groaned. Excellent attitude.

“Then I’ll go first! I organized mine like cue cards.”

Maybe his mind was ready, because Jeong Seongbin took out a small stack of yellow slips cut like music-show scripts. Then Lee Cheonghyeon asked,

“Hyung, do you usually use those?”

“Since we decided to shoot self-content, I started using them to practice scripts...”

Jeong Seongbin smiled sheepishly. Flustered, Lee Cheonghyeon gave him two thumbs up while Seongbin flipped through the cards with a soulless flutter.

The “Five Qs, Five As about same-age friend Juu” that Jeong Seongbin prepared was quite solid.

His write-up matched exactly what I asked for: trivial yet wholesome details that wouldn’t break the image.

Roughly, things like...

“What was Juu’s childhood dream?”

“Didn’t he say he’d been training to be a singer?”

“I mean when he was much younger. Like kindergarten age?”

“Answer: dinosaur!”

“Your confident try was good, but that’s wrong!”

...those kinds of questions.

For reference, the answer was shooting star.

He wanted to make a wish on a shooting star, but they never showed up, so he wanted to become a shooting star himself. No one got it, so Park Juu told us.

After that, the member introductions proceeded smoothly.

Since Park Juu often leaves notes on Post-its, he wrote words that remind him of Lee Cheonghyeon and the reasons on a whiteboard with several Post-its.

A memorable phrase was “Prince of the Forest.”

“Did you make me a prince because I’m handsome?”

“It’s more like Sleeping Beauty in the Forest... Cheonghyeon, you’re that: the Prince Who Sleeps Well in the Forest.”

“Yeah, once he sleeps, he doesn’t wake up.”

Lee Cheonghyeon drew something called “A Compendium of Algorithms for Quickly and Easily Grasping Kang Giyeon’s Disposition.”

All of four varieties.

“Isn’t that your composition notebook?”

“Ha... The inspiration hit too suddenly. I couldn’t help it.”

We all admired the inspired organization that looked like Kang Giyeon’s thought circuits laid out as is.

Especially the part, “He likes it if you take an interest in the game he’s # Nоvеlight # playing!” was quite useful. It was a presentation that highlighted friendship.

Next, it was Kang Giyeon’s turn to introduce me.

Maybe he wrote it like a summary of my practice routine? I don’t really do anything besides that.

My not-so-high expectations looked silly, because Kang Giyeon’s expression was a touch more solemn than usual.

With a rustle, he pulled out a large sheet of white paper.

From the big chart drawn on it, it seemed my guess was right...

What is that.

For a moment I doubted my eyes.

I mean, after I saw the neatly printed phrase next to my name.

“Then I’ll introduce Iwol hyung.”

I couldn’t let this pass. I raised my hand right away and asked,

“I have a question. Why is there a scary phrase, ‘Refined Hooligan,’ written next to my name?”

A hooligan, seriously.

What did I do to deserve that!