Entrance ceremonies, first days at work, sign-up days...

There were plenty of days when you started something new.

Some days I was so busy with prep I couldn’t think straight; some days I checked the alarm over and over so I wouldn’t be late on the very first day; and some days I felt nothing at all.

But in my life, “debut day” was a first.

Today, which would go down in Spark’s history too, was hectic from the morning.

“We’ll hit the salon and then go straight to the set, so keep your heads on straight! When we get to the station, make sure you all greet people properly!”

“You heard that, right? If you don’t greet people properly, you’re going to see something real fun tonight.”

“You are so exhausting...”

All I did was chime in on the manager’s words, and Choi Jeho recoiled and snapped back.

As if I don’t get exhausted by him. What a clown.

Whether Choi Jeho turned all shades of disgust or not, Lee Cheonghyeon didn’t care and radiated positivity.

“Isn’t the weather amazing today? Feels like a good start.”

I knew it would be good. Even when the year changed, around this time it was always nice out for winter.

Past-timeline Spark also debuted on a late-winter day this sunny.

By the calendar, it was today.

Because of me, the debut year had been pulled forward, so at least the debut date was something I wanted to keep—and luckily, it worked out.

After everyone got fully flowered up at the salon and we headed for the network, who knows how long it was before—

“Guys, we’re getting out now!”

At the manager’s signal, Lee Cheonghyeon opened the car door.

There’s always suspicion around rookie idols’ profile photos.

They say it must be edited, that no one’s skin tone looks like that.

But in front of Lee Cheonghyeon’s face, all of that would turn meaningless.

There’s a reason I sent him out first.

Sure enough, even from inside the van you could feel the buzz roll through the area when he stepped out.

“Wow, hyungs! There are so many people!”

“Don’t shout in public places.”

I threw a nagging whisper at him in ventriloquist mode as I got out.

One by one, guys with legs as long as a moving company’s ladder truck climbed out, and the stares swung our way hard enough to feel sharp.

I tucked myself into a spot where I’d be decently hidden behind them and followed. I planned to avoid getting photographed as much as possible.

Even this early, people were packed in front of the photo zone.

Probably fans of the singers appearing on today’s music show.

Looking at the slogans people held, I ran through guesses in my head about the lineup.

Then I heard a familiar name from somewhere.

“Spark is so handsome!”

I jerked my gaze over; a woman was waving in our direction.

She said Spark... just now?

Was there already someone who recognized Spark?

No—more importantly, I needed to greet her.

My head spun all at once. From the chaos I dragged out the stash of fancam files I’d stacked up over the years.

In the countless commute-route fancams I watched for smooth entrances, idols waved both hands or lifted one hand lightly and greeted brightly.

But was that really enough?

On a day with winter wind this biting, in an environment this barren where there wouldn’t be a single fan to chat # Nоvеlight # with while waiting for the call time—could I really end the greeting at just a wave to the person who came all the way out here?

After bowing so deep my back nearly broke at Hanpyeong Industries, a one-hand wave felt too guilty.

So I just bowed at ninety degrees. I could only hope she felt my deep gratitude.

Before we even had a chance to lift our heads, we filed in and the next thing we were handed was an enormous wait time.

I’d heard it was normal for rookies, but hearing about it and actually being left alone for over three hours were different matters.

Still, we weren’t bored. All six of us were busy throwing ourselves into self-development.

“Productive things we can do in the waiting room?”

“Yeah. But nothing that requires too much focus—we might get filmed mid-way.”

I’d barely answered Jeong Seongbin’s question when Lee Cheonghyeon jumped in.

“Are we shooting a waiting room vlog?”

“That too. But we’re not going to waste hours doing nothing, right? If you’re not going to sleep, bring something.”

At my last line, for some reason they all put on slightly solemn faces.

Hidden in there was also the meaning: better to sleep than waste energy on nonsense. But they actually brought something each, like model citizens.

They pulled their tasks from their bags so earnestly that before I knew it, I’d taken a camera from the video team and started filming the waiting room.

Holding the camcorder, I went over to Jeong Seongbin and Park Juu and asked,

“Leader first. What did you bring?” 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

“There’s a song I want to try singing, so I brought materials to hand-copy the lyrics and memorize them!”

“Juu?”

“For English study... I brought a vocabulary book.”

They even lined up the notebook and vocab book neatly for the camera for an insert shot.

What exemplary behavior. Perfect idols to recommend to our kids, who are at the age to focus on studies. I should get these two to do a “study with me” on live later.

Next I filmed the maknaes, who had settled into a corner.

“What did you bring?”

“A cube. If I solve it today, Lee Cheonghyeon’s buying convenience store snacks.”

Kang Giyeon held up a small cube.

Looks like Lee Cheonghyeon used his head so his friend wouldn’t get nervous before the debut stage. Guess I won’t need the bubble wrap I swiped from the UA warehouse, just in case.

Lee Cheonghyeon was diligently drawing notes on staff paper.

I made sure the staff paper didn’t get in the frame and asked,

“What piece is that?”

“Oh, it’s okay to film it! I’m thinking about arrangement directions for our debut song.”

“People still write scores by hand like that?”

“You can do it automatically, but since I learned to write by hand first, this way feels more comfortable. Want to see?”

Then he suddenly held the staff sheet out to me.

The notes were arranged neatly, drawn as straight as if with a ruler. It was cool.

“You’re filming the members, right? Are we the last ones?”

“No. I still haven’t filmed Choi Jeho.”

I lifted the camera and shot Choi Jeho on the far side of the room, hammering out furious push-ups.

I went over and asked,

“What number are you at?”

“This makes exactly fifty.”

“Don’t sweat. What if you burn the energy you need to dance.”

“At this level, that won’t happen.”

Apparently not bluster—he stood up with a calm face. Then he reached his hand toward me.

“What?”

“Give me the camera. You should be on it too.”

I didn’t see that coming.

I’d only thought about filming them, not about someone filming me.

While I sat there dumbfounded, he took the camera and asked,

“What did you bring?”

What did I bring?

I told you I didn’t plan to do anything here.

Just rotating through filming all five of these kids would eat up the time; why would I waste time on anything else.

It’s not that there was no one to shoot us. The video team had kindly come to support.

But I couldn’t rely only on them. The behind-the-scenes camera for idols and the camera for a ballad singer are a little different in grain.

From group vs. individual, to the flow and feel—things shift a bit...

The problem was that to filming pros, the difference was so slight it might just feel like “Isn’t that just personal taste?”

So who feels that difference so strongly that I had to volunteer as cameraman?

≫ Please, just film the kids’ faces pleeeease

We don’t care about the waiting rooooom

Stop locking focus on weird stuuuuuff!!!!

≫ Come on... increase the number of cameras... they’re talking, but only one kid is on screen...

└ My fave only shows up in captions haha. Thought his soul left his body haha

≫ Good framing is great and all

But the problem is the kids aren’t even in frame lol

The answer was fans who loved Spark to death.

UA, late to grasp the situation, promised to increase staff next time, but until the next promo cycle, Spark’s fans had to find their faves by voice.

To prevent that kind of mess, I’d planned to volunteer as cameraman too.

Even so, I didn’t panic. Just in case, I’d packed a small hobby item.

I confidently pulled my supplies from my bag.

“I brought a coloring book.”

“...You brought what?”

I waved the practice pad for coloring at Choi Jeho, who was trying to double-check with his naked eyes outside the camcorder frame.

“A coloring book. I brought colored pencils too.”

“Did you buy that?”

“No, it was at the dorm.”

“Why is that at the dorm?”

“Deal with the manager. He said he wasn’t going to use it and gave it to me.”

“Why’d he buy a coloring book?”

He said he bought it to make you do it for some calming of the mind.

But the day he brought the coloring book, you dumped a bucket of cold water on the dorm.

After that, it never saw the light of day, so I rescued it. I’ll put it to good use.

“Hyung, do you like drawing?”

Now even Jeong Seongbin popped up from somewhere and asked.

That was a problem.

If a former member and a current member end up in the same frame, fans have to work hard to mosaic the video.

For the sake of future Seongbin fans, I bowed my head as much as I could and pretended to pick out pencils.

“It’s not that. It’d be a waste not to use what’s already there.”

Wasting resources is the air-con wind you blow on people like Deputy Manager Nam. Since one side is using it like crazy, I should save.

Whether I buried my head picking a set of twelve colored pencils or not, Seongbin and Choi Jeho didn’t stop chattering above me.

“That’s true. Saving is important...”

“At our level, is it really ‘wasting’ though?”

Enough. If you’ve got the shot, go away already.

Once everyone finished their self-development activities—and with only Kang Giyeon still unable to solve the cube—the manager called us.

It was time for the courtesy rounds: visiting all the waiting rooms of the day’s artists, introducing the group, and handing over albums.

I’d heard the custom was fading, but it still depended on the network.

There wasn’t much to worry about. I had refa... no, corrected all five of their postures to look polite no matter where they were seen.

With idol groups sprouting by the dozen each month, there was no reason for any senior singer to pay us special attention.

At most, the veterans with many years in, or singers who had ties with UA artists, would go, “Oh, they’re So-and-so’s kids,” and look after us a bit.

Aside from everyone doing a slight double-take at Lee Cheonghyeon’s face, it was a very smooth first round of greetings.

Right up until we stepped into Parte’s waiting room—their final broadcast day was today.