By the time the band version of “Hideout” ended, the concert hall was burning with heat. It felt exactly like the rock festival he had gone to the year before last.

After a short VCR, “End” and “On A High Note” followed one after another.

During certain lines in “End,” they sang lyrics from “On A High Note,” and in “On A High Note,” they slipped in lines from “End.” It was only after hearing all of “On A High Note” that he realized it hadn’t been a mistake.

『Even so, the reason I can’t stop

Is because this time

Makes me happy』

The bright and hopeful atmosphere of “On A High Note”...

『No matter where I go, what remains

Is an empty city

An eternal silence』

...and the heavy, razor-sharp lyrics of “End” gave completely opposite impressions, yet the lines mirrored each other with the exact same syllable count. The reason they could swap lyrics without sounding awkward was because the sentence structures were nearly identical.

They’d said the members got ground down to the bone preparing the double title tracks. Looking at this, it was believable.

Then came the cover stage, where partners had supposedly been decided by lottery, though honestly it looked more like a “Tall Line and Short Line” unit. The live performances never stopped.

Compared to the people sitting down just to survive, Spark still looked perfectly fine. It was awe-inspiring. At this rate, maybe he really should start going to the gym in the new year.

Fortunately, before Baek Haewon fainted, Spark gave them a comment segment. Judging by the feeling in the air, the final content was probably approaching.

As if he had read Baek Haewon’s thoughts, Jeong Seongbin appeared from the edge of the stage pushing a cart loaded with cylindrical tubes. Inside them were giant rolled-up sheets of paper.

The identity of the massive papers turned out to be rolling papers. The members hadn’t even unrolled them yet, but tears already threatened to spill for no reason.

“Who should go first?”

“I’ll do it.”

When Jeong Seongbin asked for volunteers, Choi Jeho raised his hand. While tearing off the tape, he accidentally ripped part of the paper and immediately got scolded by Kim Iwol.

“...?”

While examining the paper, Choi Jeho tilted his head.

“What is it?”

“There are two messages that start with ‘Jeho.’”

Baek Haewon assumed one of the younger members had done something bold...

But Park Juu noticed something strange.

“Would Iwol hyung write ‘Jeho’? He’d get caught instantly...?”

The news that half the younger members had dared stage a rebellion against Zestralor Erectus made Spark’s eyes dart around in panic. Meanwhile, Choi Jeho calmly began reading the letters.

There were messages comforting him for suffering through dieting before the concert even though he needed to eat a lot to maintain his build, thanking him for always opening things whenever someone merely held one out to him, assuring him they could do things themselves so he didn’t need to worry so much, and desperate pleas asking him to please discuss it properly with the group before dragging them to a deserted island.

“Other than the one Seongbin wrote, none of these are normal.”

“How are you so sure Seongbin wrote that one? Maybe it was me.”

“Yeah, right.”

While Kim Iwol carried out his elaborate cover-up operation over the touching letters, Jeong Seongbin merely smiled silently.

Lee Cheonghyeon cried while reading his rolling paper.

He had barely endured through “best friend,” but when he reached “the youngest members I love most in the world,” he completely broke down.

“In our team... from now on... the word love is banned.”

The members on both sides comforted the sobbing Lee Cheonghyeon. It was heartbreaking to watch, yet somehow warm at the same time.

As expected of his friend, Kang Giyeon also produced enough tears to fill a reservoir. By this point, the Sparklers had cried so much they could barely see straight.

Jeong Seongbin gently patted Kang Giyeon, who sat with his head lowered, sniffling.

After the wave of sorrow finally passed, Kim Iwol picked up his own rolling paper.

“Since everything’s been emotional so far, I’ll try to keep things cheerful.”

“Hyung, this isn’t a joke. The tears just come out automatically.”

Lee Cheonghyeon said it while handing him tissues in advance.

Kim Iwol held the microphone in one hand and the rolling paper in the other, tissues resting on his lap as he checked the letters.

“Earlier, Jeho hyung said there were two letters starting with ‘Jeho,’ right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there are three that start with ‘Iwol,’ so how exactly did that happen?”

The audience burst into laughter.

Kim Iwol pointed in turn at Park Juu, Lee Cheonghyeon, and Kang Giyeon. The members protested fiercely at how ruthlessly he narrowed down the suspects.

“Maybe Jeho hyung wrote ‘Iwol hyung’ so he wouldn’t get caught, and Seongbin hyung wrote ‘Iwol’!”

“Our Jeho isn’t smart enough for that.”

“Isn’t that way too insulting to say to his face?”

Kim Iwol cleanly ignored Choi Jeho’s complaint.

Then he focused on reading the letters.

But the words didn’t come easily.

“Oh...”

“What is it?”

“It just... feels like everyone wrote these with complete sincerity.”

Kim Iwol wore an unreadable expression.

“I told you they were 200% sincere. You think I cried for no reason?”

Lee Cheonghyeon defended the legitimacy of the tears he had shed moments earlier.

Kim Iwol picked the microphone back up.

“I’ll read it. ‘Iwol, it’s been a while since I wrote a letter by hand. You must have had a lot you wanted to say to me. Watching you never lift your pen from the paper makes me nervous about what you’re writing.’”

Like most letters, the introduction was light.

“Because you climbed to the coldest place saying you’d become the roof of the team, and took all the rain and snow upon yourself, we were able to light the fireplace.”

Kim Iwol slowly and clearly read the sentence that carefully described what it meant to be the eldest.

“I hope you’ll come down now and warm yourself by the campfire.”

Kim Iwol himself remained calm, but Baek Haewon’s nose stung painfully. His eyes burned hot enough to burst.

“Ah, everyone’s crying way too much...”

Kim Iwol awkwardly stood up halfway.

When he glanced beside him, even Jjeyi had covered half his face with a handkerchief. His own tears burst out embarrassingly.

“Hurry up and read Jeho hyung’s.”

“Yeah, I should.”

Kim Iwol immediately accepted Kang Giyeon’s solution.

“...Ah, no, this won’t work.”

And then instantly withdrew it.

Meanwhile, Choi Jeho simply stared at Kim Iwol with an indifferent face.

“But it’s content! I’ll read it quickly.”

Declaring that, Kim Iwol adjusted his grip on the microphone.

“To Kim Iwol. You’ve consistently worked hard ever since trainee days. No matter what people around you say, you’re the type who has to do what you believe in before you’re satisfied, so I won’t tell you what to do.”

Even more than the letter revealed during the birthday livestream, it felt like the writer understood Kim Iwol deeply.

Kim Iwol paused for a moment before continuing.

“Do everything you want to do. If you need something done, make us do it. There are five people left over here. I don’t think you need to do everything by yourself.”

Kim Iwol’s gaze turned toward Choi Jeho.

His expression looked like he genuinely couldn’t believe Choi Jeho had written those words.

Choi Jeho quietly looked back at Kim Iwol, then turned his head away.

A comment Kim Iwol had casually made during a livestream one day came to mind.

That Choi Jeho handled many responsibilities within the team.

That there were things Kim Iwol could confidently entrust to him because Choi Jeho existed, and that Choi Jeho always carried them out without complaint.

‘The skateboard too. Without Jeho, it would’ve been hard to create that kind of impact. Having a center willing to step to the front for the team is incredibly reassuring.’

And to Kim Iwol, Choi Jeho now told him to keep doing whatever he wanted in the future as well.

Because he would continue taking responsibility for supporting him from behind.

“Maybe it would’ve been lonely if I were the only one without someone my age around. Thanks for coming.”

Kim Iwol finished the sentence with difficulty.

In a voice heavy enough to leave even the listeners choked up.

With the ending song, “Winter Night,” the stage lights finally went dark.

It was time to chant for the encore.

Once, encores had been special events. But now most singers included encore songs in the set list from the beginning.

The singers knew the fans would call for an encore, and the fans knew the singers had already prepared encore songs.

In some ways, it was practically a staged farce.

That was why Baek Haewon joined forces with the veteran Sparklers, who had long since become purified masters of fandom culture.

Another fan took charge in place of Baek Haewon, who had originally suggested the idea while busy with his final year of high school, and talented fans including Jjeyi gathered to prepare everything.

≫ We’ll show them that fans can do events too

We’re giving them an encore reaction event

The preparation process had not been easy.

To avoid Spark’s monitoring, they even went so far as to refer to the group as “Crayons” in every post related to the fan event.

(Spark → Spk → Crayons.)

The process of contacting Spark’s dedicated staff team through the fan manager felt like something straight out of a spy movie.

Since Kim Iwol and Jeong Seongbin practically never skipped going to the office, avoiding the members’ eyes had been extremely difficult.

Thanks to the staff helping cover for them, the Sparklers successfully finished placing matching slogans beneath the seats.

Nothing had been easy—not deciding the timing of the event notice, nor figuring out how to spread the instructions—but they somehow managed to make it all the way to the encore stage ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) without spoilers.

“Encore! Encore!”

As the Sparklers shouted for the members, they reached beneath their seats.

Their hands found the hidden slogans tucked deep out of sight.

The event slogans only formed a complete sentence when two people combined them together.

They had been made with the meaning that Spark and the Sparklers would continue walking together.

Baek Haewon’s slogan read:

“Spark and the Sparklers—”

‘Then my pair must be...’

Jjeyi pulled out a slogan in the opposite color from Baek Haewon’s.

“We’ll be together forever.”

“We just hold them side by side, right?”

“Yes! Should I move closer?”

Baek Haewon closed the distance between them.

The line written on the back of the slogan stood out especially clearly.

“Please coordinate with the Sparkler next to you so the slogans can be read as a single sentence!”

Still chanting for the encore, Baek Haewon asked Jjeyi:

“Did you enjoy the concert?”

Holding the slogan perfectly aligned, Jjeyi smiled as he answered.

“So much.”

Jjeyi’s voice mixed with the sound of chimes.

『When the sun goes down

The festival begins

A magical time

Opening the long night』

The song prepared by the Sparklers was “What I Want to Say.”

A song that perfectly captured Spark’s first year after debut.

A song said to resemble the final parade of a festival.

The words Spark had wanted to tell the Sparklers, arriving like a gift at the end of the year.

So this time, the Sparklers decided to convey their hearts to Spark instead.

『When the world is painted over

When darkness falls

A brilliant cluster of stars

Lights up the sky』

At once, the fan seats lit up their phone flashes.

They couldn’t place stars in the sky, but inside a concert hall, the Sparklers could create an entire galaxy.

The giant screens on both sides showed the audience.

Amid the sea of shimmering lights, the “easy-to-read slogans” Kim Iwol had emphasized until his mouth went dry were clearly visible.

The next verse never came.

While the instrumental continued playing, Spark stood there silently for the first time, unable to sing.

『The most brilliant night

I wanted to give you』

The empty melody was filled by a chorus of voices.

Even Kim Iwol, who had tried to sing his part, ultimately couldn’t open his mouth.

『The most honest expression of love

That I can give』

There wasn’t a single person who wasn’t cheering.

Every time the screen zoomed in on a member, the Sparklers erupted into loud applause.

There was no better way for everyone to express their affection together.

『Standing before you on the stage

I’ll fill your eyes with stars

Because I love you』

And then, when they changed the lyrics and returned them to Spark—

『I hope you’ll be happy』

The camera zoomed in on Kim Iwol, the owner of that line.

Not smiling like usual.

Not calm and composed the way he looked while acting.

But wearing an expression overflowing with emotion.