Spark’s debut song “Flowering” opens with a sound like a heavy iron door sliding open.

When I turned with the beat, I saw the back of Lee Cheonghyeon, the member in charge of the album’s opening who would “open” the stage.

Lee Cheonghyeon was down on one knee, chin propped in his hand, eyes set on the camera.

He would be wearing a smile that was clearly playful without being overdone—meaningful and a little uncanny.

I could tell without seeing it. I’d watched it again and again across the mirror while we practiced together.

And then—

“Shall we go?”

Lee Cheonghyeon’s voice, half like a narration, cleanly announced the start of the song. At the same time, the stage lit up bright.

A bright, radiant accompaniment rang out. It was the section Lee Cheonghyeon had poured days into.

“Hyung Iwol, can we keep the cold imagery but make it feel refreshing, like summer sunlight?”

“Pull some reference—no, sample images—and work while looking at them. Something like a photo of blue sky over a snowy field.”

“Whoa, you’re an actual genius!”

He didn’t even know the genius was himself. If you weren’t a genius, you couldn’t write a song like this—warm iced americano energy.

I danced to a song I’d heard thousands of times and thought:

Are my moves lining up with the members right now?

Did I just miss a note in my part without realizing?

Why are we still on the first verse? It feels like about the hundred-thirtieth.

I was anxious I might be the only one flailing. All the Spark brats were doing just fine on their own, which made it worse.

Lee Cheonghyeon’s composition was graceful and dazzling at once.

Jeong Seongbin and Park Juu didn’t miss a single note, and Kang Giyeon cleanly handled his part.

Choi Jeho was flawless. Even from where I’d moved to the very back of the formation, Choi Jeho standing center looked huge, like he was right in front of me.

It was only me. I was the one who didn’t belong on this stage.

My heart pounded. At this rate I almost deserved credit just for finding the red tally lights on the cameras.

But failing to settle my nerves was bad. An unstable state can cause an accident at any moment.

Calm down.

I took the chance while changing positions to steady my breathing in small sips.

You know that if you just do it the way you practiced, you won’t mess up.

And I muttered it inside like a spell—then scrubbed it out of my head in an instant, afraid I’d forget the lyrics.

A little over a minute blew by without a second to grab my wits. I felt dizzy, like my head was spinning.

Hot.

I can’t breathe.

I shouldn’t get in their way, but it feels like I’m going to be the one getting in their way...

Just as those thoughts rose with my breath—

As the six of us drew together into formation and the melody hit its peak—

That moment when all members had to sing the song’s first chorus together—

I caught sight of the fans I’d exchanged a quick word with a little earlier.

A slightly flushed face and both hands gripping a slogan tight.

I couldn’t hear through the in-ears, but their mouth shape made it clear they were cheering loudly among indifferent fans.

And—

[Congratulations on your debut]

A paper banner with those five big characters emblazoned across it.

My stomach churned. Feelings I couldn’t name swirled inside.

Maybe it was the lights, but my face was hot and—

“The world heats up, until it’s burning!”

The melody Lee Cheonghyeon had slaved over all night saw its first light.

My heart thumped again.

“Look here—I’ll show you a one-time-only magic.”

Of course the lines I had to sing were like this.

It’d be better if the spotlight went to the members, not me.

This song, this stage, this audience—all of it was for those guys.

While I was sunk in that thought, the chorus came back around as if by the natural order.

I tightened my grip so I wouldn’t drop the mic.

And I stepped out strong and sang.

“Sound the alarm, let the cheers explode.”

“Until the heart boils over and spills!”

A harmony that the six of us had recorded by grinding up our souls until we were wrung dry—and only at the very last did we find the best blend—locked in so perfectly it tingled.

Now it felt like the cheers were piercing through the in-ears. Maybe I really was hearing them.

That there were lyrics someone like me could sing, that they were making room for me inside that cheer, that there was a place for me in the layered melody—

All of it was so unfamiliar and so tender that a split second felt like a long dream.

The stage was a success.

Park Juu and Jeong Seongbin nailed high notes sharp enough to split ice, and Kang Giyeon fulfilled his role without missing a single lyric.

Born for the stage, Lee Cheonghyeon practiced well and did even better live.

If we’d debuted with a ballad, we wouldn’t have shown this level of impact at debut. Thinking that made UA’s past choice feel even more regrettable.

Choi Jeho was downright flying solo.

Even amid the chaos, I could feel the audience’s gaze gathering on him. A born natural is a born natural.

After we wrapped our first recording so splendidly, backstage turned into a sea of tears.

The moment the staffer’s “Yes, great work!” signal dropped, half the members were crying like you had to wonder how they even endured from rehearsal through recording.

Kang Giyeon kept replaying the footage the manager had shot, and only after confirming he’d finished without any big mistakes did he let tears drip. Lee Cheonghyeon teased him with eyes shimmering, too.

And then there was Jeong Seongbin’s sobbing—finally, after a long wait, he was really debuting. Backstage wasn’t just dewy; it was getting soaked.

I didn’t feel I had the right to soothe that surge, so I silently patted their backs and herded the brats into the waiting room like a flock of sheep.

That’s when Choi Jeho spoke to me.

“You’re not crying.”

“I didn’t work hard enough to cry.”

“Is that so.”

“Why? If I cried, were you going to comfort me?”

“Are you out of your mind...”

Choi Jeho shuddered and went into the waiting room alone.

Cold-blooded jerk. Just try seeing me cry in front of you again.

A Korean high schooler, Baek Hae won, was lying in bed on vacation, reflecting on life.

Lying on a pink bed, Baek Hae won was wondering how a person could become an adult without passing through senior year.

Then Baek Hae won’s phone vibrated over and over, pleading for its owner.

A familiar social media alert.

Lately, Baek Hae won hadn’t posted anything new. Meaning, there was no reason for an alert to go off.

With a puzzled face, Baek Hae won picked up the phone. Someone was summoning Baek Hae won.

≫ Uh but aren’t they kind of @minamhunter’s type?

It was a summoning that piqued the appetite.

Baek Hae won immediately opened the post where they were tagged.

≫ It’s been so long since I saw a god-tier handsome guy that I clutched my heart and fled to my alt;;;

└ You said you were going to Ennet as an audience... did you land a big one

└ y e s... I think I’m going to lose my mind, I’ll get stoned if I scream on my main but I can’t be the only one who knows this

└ Uh but aren’t they kind of @minamhunter’s type?

There, Baek Hae won’s long-time friends were in full bloom with a fun story.

Once upon a time, they bonded while swooning over the looks and charm of a certain boy group.

Meaning they became cyber friends while stanning their babies on social media.

Their love for “our baby” and their friendship felt like it would be forever.

But the only things that were truly forever were the company of the group I stanned, my bias’s three-letter name, and their friendship.

A company that worked like crap for four straight years.

My bias, aging faster than me because no one managed him; no trace of past glory.

The finishing blow was when someone I used to see on the entertainment page showed up on the society page.

At that time, there was never a moment Baek Hae won agreed more with “an idol who embarrasses their fans should flop.” 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Do I have to stan this hard?

Baek Hae won and n-number of other fans got hit with a hard dose of reality.

And after their own share of agonizing, they decided to abandon their old main.

But even the ones who sold off the albums they bought in stacks, the posters they hoarded, and the merch they’d clung to still couldn’t throw one thing away.

The comrades who had cheered “our baby” together, cursed the people who cursed “our baby,” and now cursed “our baby” together too.

Hardship and adversity evolved them one step beyond calling each other mere fandom friends.

≫ It’s funny to say when the fans are all bleeding out, but... honestly I don’t want to lose you guys—where else do I meet people this fun...

└ Enough, everyone make an alt, one each

And so Baek Hae won—

No, together with “Minam Hunter,” about thirty thieves roamed the wide entertainment world like outlaws, searching for honey-pot genres.

It wasn’t smooth sailing, either, so on their mains they each swooned over their men (who were people, or paper, or 2.5D), and only on their alts that embraced their everything did they chatter about all kinds of things.

But then—

In a place that lately had only shared intel like which pancake spot was the real deal—

Someone was calling to Baek Hae won, saying an idol that fit your tastes had appeared.

And nobody knew better than them that for the past few years Baek Hae won always picked out the visual member in a group to tuck in their pocket!

Baek Hae won replied at once.

└ Then why tag me and not say who it is? Is this all our friendship amounts to? I am disappointed——

Back came a knife-quick reply.

└ We thought Hunter-nim had already scooped them into the net

After a bit of push and pull, Baek Hae won obtained the name “Spark.”

Their information-gathering was reliable in this group. At the very least they didn’t rashly judge real people off photos caked in filters.

Heart pounding, Baek Hae won typed “Spark” into the search bar.

And found them.

Faces like perfectly symmetrical chiseled statues inside neat, clean profile photos.

Baek Hae won immediately saved the portal site photos and dashed to social media.

≫ I’m about to pass out

This isn’t a fake listing, right???? If the real-life faces don’t match the screen, I’m reporting all of you for fraud

└ A whopper~

└ Fake listing? They’re the real deal

Everyone chuckled, but Baek Hae won was dead serious. Of course, the unnis were serious too.

Buoyed by the words of trusty comrades, Baek Hae won also found a freshly uploaded stage video.

“Wow. Only one first broadcast stage.”

There were no rookies more rookie than this.

But surprise didn’t last—hypnotized by a thumbnail close-up of an unbelievably handsome man, Baek Hae won hit play.