Our strategy was as follows.

#Take 1.

From midway on Jeong Seongbin and Kang Giyeon’s walk home, Lee Cheonghyeon joins them, and the two maknaes pry into what happened with their leader hyung.

Cheonghyeon: “Hyung, is something going on these days?”

Giyeon: “We weren’t going to bring it up because you seemed like you didn’t want to make a show of it, but we’ve been worried...”

In this way, as if they’d been tip-toeing around hyung and finally dared to speak.

Then soft-hearted Jeong Seongbin would surely give some answer. Seongbin is not the kind of person who would be less kind to others just because he’s upset.

#Take 2.

At the same time, in the practice-room hallway by the water cooler, Choi Jeho awkwardly addresses Park Juu.

Jeho: “You, um... did you fight with Seongbin?”

Jeho’s delivery is clumsy, but let’s assume that’s staged to sound more hesitant.

First, Park Juu will be startled. The number of one-on-one conversations between Jeho and Juu is effectively zero.

Although Juu will also hesitate for a while, he will answer.

The more information the better, but if Jeho can pull just one key fact, we’ll consider it a success.

We don’t expect to hear the A to Z of the incident from the silent tough guy and the silent sweetheart. So just fish out whatever’s important.

#Take 3.

While Seongbin is summoned by the manager and Juu slips into the vocal practice room, everyone else gathers to share what they’ve learned.

“So? Did you find anything out?”

The first to answer is Lee Cheonghyeon.

“Wow, Seongbin hyung barely said a word.”

Oh no, we’re off to a bad start. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

“You should have shaken his resolve even with crocodile tears. Are you kidding me?”

“I was going to make him cry by poking his eye if needed, you know? But Seongbin hyung just deflected so calmly!”

“Honestly, I felt sorry for him and couldn’t ask more.”

At Cheonghyeon’s wounded cry, Giyeon, sitting with arms crossed, nods and speaks.

“Well, at least tell us what you heard. Start with you, Cheonghyeon.”

“Juu hyung and Seongbin hyung didn’t have a big fight or anything. They just had a bit of a difference in opinion.”

“And what about you, Giyeon? You share a room with both of them.”

“They wouldn’t call it a fight... but they barely spoke to each other in the room.”

Giyeon shrugs, his back aching from the hyungs’ cold war.

“But it’s also hard to call it a fight.”

“In what way?”

“It felt more like avoiding each other. Usually when people fight, they’re angry at each other, right?”

That was indeed peculiar. There’s a clear difference between leaving because you can’t stand someone’s face and deliberately avoiding them out of shame.

Giyeon continues.

“Seongbin hyung even said he felt like he’d misspoken.”

Then Cheonghyeon chimes in.

“He’s not the kind to make careless remarks. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding between them?”

“Right.”

I also agreed with Cheonghyeon.

Then unexpectedly, a useful comment came from the side we weren’t counting on.

Jeho actually brought back something valuable.

“They are awkward around each other.”

“What?”

“They said things got pretty harsh when they talked.”

I was so taken aback I forgot to even ask, “What do you mean?” and just blinked.

They spoke harshly? Those two—Seongbin and Juu? The pair that’s soft as tofu in their hearts?

As we swarmed him, Jeho began recounting his conversation with Juu.

“Seongbin wanted to tell the company about Iwol’s situation?”

“...Yes.”

“But didn’t that end because Iwol suggested not to?”

“He must have been still worried.”

It seems Seongbin tried to persuade me one more time.

And Juu stopped him.

“Juu said, ‘I don’t know what your situation is, but please don’t pry too much.’”

“...”

I was grateful that Juu prevented Seongbin from bringing it up again.

But why Juu suddenly considered my position remained unclear.

If anything, the only clue was that Juu overheard more about my family matters than anyone else—whether it was the misunderstanding about not affording college or hearing that I didn’t get along with my family, I had no idea how far Juu’s imagination ran.

Now I could understand Seongbin’s position a bit.

I don’t agree with Seongbin’s idea to expose Yuhansoo.

But wouldn’t any friend be shocked if someone they were close to suddenly took a hard stance against what that friend believed was right?

“Seongbin must have felt hurt.”

“Is this really that big of a deal?”

“He’s already feeling troubled, and his friend tried to stop him. That wouldn’t feel good.”

When team members I believed I could rely on turned to Manager Nam and betrayed me, I was utterly deflated.

In any case, our emergency committee, having uncovered the cause, disbanded neatly before Seongbin and Juu returned.

And somehow, I—who had sown the seeds of conflict—activated the Stick Function while they were headed back to practice.

It’s similar to reading someone’s mind, so I’d held off using it, but since this wasn’t their private issue, I decided to use it for the public good this time.

[SYSTEM] Please enter a duo name.

▶ [ ]

“I think fans called us Mevoze... but that’d be too cliché, so it’d get rejected.”

This system is ruthless.

It even rejected my duo name attempts until it paired Jeho and Giyeon as “Sapodungi.”

Sure enough, I faced countless “Invalid duo name” pop-ups again.

The name that finally passed sounded like a gaming nickname from some meme our juniors shared online.

[SYSTEM] Duo name ‘Omokmun2’ has been confirmed.

They’re the only two who came out bland, so that’s what I named them... I just hope no one ever finds out about my naming skills.

The stick I wielded sent off the anticipated aura of “I feel hurt!”

[Jeong Seongbin → Park Juu: I wish you’d treat me more like a close friend]

[Park Juu → Jeong Seongbin: I wish you’d let go of some of the pressure]

What a touching display of friendship.

Truly befitting two friends who’ve stuck by each other for over seven years. This almost all fell apart because I got involved.

If I were the kind to feel moral responsibility, I’d have fixed this smoothly even if it wasn’t tied to KPIs.

Thinking how many emergency meetings have been held so far—and how many more will happen before debut—I rejoined our practice formation.

The next day, after practice, I called all the members back to the dorm living room.

“Today’s agenda... I didn’t tell you in advance, but I think you already know.”

At my words, Seongbin visibly flinched. Juu glanced at Seongbin, then immediately looked away.

“But before that, there’s something I want to say.”

The members looked at me.

“A few days ago, I should have thanked you for worrying about me, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

I began with an apology to prevent anyone from faulting Seongbin for caring too much. The goal today wasn’t to blame anyone.

They seemed a bit caught off-guard by the unexpected prelude, but I pressed on.

“My mind hasn’t changed that we shouldn’t tell the company. But I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of my decision. That’s why I called this meeting.”

“...”

“A few days have passed, so you’ve all cooled down, right? First, let’s discuss whether we want to tell about PD Yuhansoo’s actions to the company.”

My plan was to vote on whether to expose Yuhansoo, then if the vote split, we’d discuss and unify our stance.

But the vote was almost pointless.

All five members besides me agreed we should report Yuhansoo.

If I’d known they’d react like this, I should’ve taken a picture on the day it happened. My nagging Seongbin about leaving evidence felt ironic.

When I looked disappointed, Juu asked,

“Do we really need evidence? We all saw your face that day...”

“He’d deny everything. He’d say we, the trainees, plotted against him. We’d be lucky if that’s all.”

At my words, Juu went pale.

It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing to be done. That bastard Yuhansoo lured me into a meeting room without CCTV.

“Still, it’s not like we have zero proof.”

I pulled a bundle of paper from my pocket.

They were the remains of my second-hand MP3 player that Yuhansoo had smashed.

I’d kept them, hoping I could at least fix the mainboard.

The battery and memory were half-dead, so resurrection was impossible.

“This is my MP3. PD hyung smashed it. I picked up the pieces so no one would get hurt stepping on them.”

Seongbin looked at the fragments, his face drained of color.

“So PD hyung actually broke this?”

“Yes. It was just a cheap second-hand model, but the company will know someone who destroys others’ property isn’t normal.”

The expressions of the others darkened as they stared at the shattered pieces that were barely recognizable as an MP3 player.

Cheonghyeon frowned and asked,

“How do you even destroy an electronic device like this?”

“It took a few stomps. And didn’t I tell you not to give me wrinkles on your face?”

“Are wrinkles more important right now?”

Isn’t that obvious? Nothing in idol history is more important than that.

“Anyway, if that’s what you think... I’ll handle this.”

As I gathered the MP3 pieces, Giyeon shrugged.

“You sure? From what we heard, that PD hyung sounds like a total monster.”

“I’ll just be more of a monster.”

He had no idea how ruthless an employee can become when abused at work.

“All right, Seongbin, sorry to interrupt practice, but I’m going now.”

“Where to?”

“You know. Artist management team.”

At that, Jeho’s eyes went wide.

“Are you going right now?”

“Yes. You wanted to resolve it as soon as possible, right?”

At my words, Cheonghyeon looked uneasy.

“Is it okay to go without a plan?”

“I’ve thought this through, so don’t worry.”

We can’t keep practicing in a fractured team with a stifled atmosphere.

Now that it’s decided, it’s time to act. I stood up.

“Wait, hyung. How are you going to talk to them?”

Seongbin asked with concern.

I smiled brightly so Seongbin could sleep soundly tonight.

“How? I’ll ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) make sure they can’t listen without tears.”