Ryu Chungwoo continued to speak in a tone that wasn’t particularly heavy.
“When I first found out about the aftereffects, I thought it was something I could manage. People kept saying rehab would fix it.”
“….”
“The doctor said there was a chance, so I kept at it… but it didn’t help much.”
Ryu Chungwoo clenched his fist and then released it, a habitual motion.
“A chance is just a chance. It’s not something you can break out of or fully recover from.”
“….”
“Anyway, that’s why I lashed out at the company. I kept thinking, ‘What if someone gets hurt?’ But at the same time, it felt like I was doing something pointless.”
So that’s the root of his frustration.
It seemed like his current feelings mirrored the helplessness he had felt during his failed rehabilitation.
‘…That makes sense.’
Given how overloaded he was with work, his sense of exhaustion must have been overwhelming.
I hesitated briefly before finally finishing my drink and responding.
“You’ve never done anything pointless, hyung.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Everyone has benefited from what you’ve done… including me.”
“…! Really? Haha, I didn’t think I’ve done anything special for you.”
No, just the fact that you didn’t explode when I was being such a pain was more than enough.
If things had escalated back then… I might have already died from one of those status effects.
“Oh, you mean that time? Hmm, no. You were fine. I already told you—when I was officially declared unrecoverable, I acted way worse.”
Ryu Chungwoo chuckled softly.
“It was insane. I yelled at the doctor… and on the day of the tryouts, man, I was so embarrassed by my behavior.”
I wasn’t particularly curious, but this seemed like one of those moments where asking would be appropriate.
“What did you do?”
“I broke the bow.”
“…!!”
Wow, this guy… He has quite a temper.
Archery bows aren’t exactly fragile, so he must have really lost it.
Of course, voicing that thought aloud would be foolish.
“Well, at least you didn’t hurt anyone, right?”
“Yeah? Haha! I guess so. It was just a practice bow, anyway.”
Ryu Chungwoo laughed, looking a lot more relaxed now.
I’m not sure why breaking things makes him feel better, but it’s probably best to leave it alone.
Thankfully, he quickly regained his composure and offered a more socially appropriate comment.
“Ah, sorry. That might have been uncomfortable for you to hear.”
It sounded like he was indirectly apologizing for bringing up a memory that could remind me of when I had caused trouble.
“I’m fine. I don’t really think about it much anymore. If anything, I’m the one who should apologize.”
“It’s all good.”
They say you can fight worry with even bigger concerns.
Since seeing the status window of doom, I’m more than used to revisiting uncomfortable truths.
However, Ryu Chungwoo continued to fiddle with his plastic bottle and then, almost absentmindedly, spoke again.
“Hey, Moondae.”
“Yes?”
“Actually, there’s something that’s been on my mind for a while.”
“…? Yes.”
Ryu Chungwoo furrowed his brow.
“Are you sure your memory’s okay?”
“…!!”
“I think you should consult a professional about it.”
I hadn’t expected this at all.
Honestly, I had almost forgotten about the story I’d concocted—that I couldn’t remember much of my past but that things were slowly coming back to me. It had been so long since I’d brought it up, and so many things had happened since then.
‘…Now that I think about it, this feels like some kind of ridiculous soap opera plot.’
Either way, I hadn’t expected that old lie to come back to bite me like this.
And then, Ryu Chungwoo dropped the bombshell that made my spine tingle.
“You’ve never visited your parents, you’ve never looked at photos, or talked about them… not once.”
“….”
“We’ve been living together for a year and a half now. Something should have come up by now, right?”
“…Hmm.”
I quickly tried to come up with a response.
“My memories about my family are pretty vague. I don’t really feel the need to dig into it.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I’m satisfied with where I am now.”
“Hmm, okay.”
Ryu Chungwoo crushed his empty bottle in his hands and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly.
“Yeah, you’re right. I like things the way they are now, too.”
I sensed an opportunity for a little jab and asked, “But didn’t you say you were exhausted?”
“I guess you can’t avoid feeling tired. What’s important is managing it well.”
That’s true.
“Honestly, when *AjooSa* first came out, I had my doubts. But things turned out much better than I expected. I’m really grateful.”
“That’s true.”
Despite the stress, Testa’s trajectory had been one of immense success.
Of course, I already knew *AjooSa* would do well.
“I’m trying not to get too used to it.”
“….”
Damn. The guy has an incredibly healthy mindset.
I smirked a little.
“Still, from now on, maybe you should stick to doing what idols are supposed to do. You don’t need to handle the company’s responsibilities too.”
“Haha, well… Since I’m the leader, I wanted to give it my all.”
At that moment, we heard Cha Yujin shout out in triumph as he broke his previous high score.
“WOOOOOW!!”
“Shut up, you idiot! It’s late! You’re causing noise pollution—”
“It’s not noise! We’re the only ones here!”
“Someone might live nearby!”
“No, they don’t!”
“Yes, they do!”
I muttered under my breath, with full sincerity.
“…Honestly, just dealing with those guys is more than enough to qualify you as a leader.”
“Hmm.”
He couldn’t deny it.
“With everything you’re already doing, I think you’re more than fulfilling your role. At this point, you’re making the managers forget why they’re getting paid.”
I added a teasing comment, like an arrogant celebrity, and Ryu Chungwoo burst into laughter.
“Haha! Alright, fair enough.”
Then he extended his fist toward me.
“Let’s keep doing our best.”
“Yes.”
I bumped his fist lightly with mine.
It was a little corny, but it felt good nonetheless.
“We’re all set~”
“Alright! Let’s head back to Testa’s van!”
That night, Ryu Chungwoo returned to the dorm with his usual demeanor restored.
“Yujin, go get some sleep. We have a music show tomorrow.”
“Yes!”
Even Cha Yujin was so moved that he obediently followed orders.
The rest of the members congratulated themselves with smiles and thumbs-up gestures, clearly proud of the “shooting range” idea.
“Moondae, you’re really something else. Your sharp fox eyes see right through everyone…”
“Go to bed.”
And so, everyone got a good night’s sleep, even if it was only for a short while.
But the best part came the next day.
Sensing that Ryu Chungwoo’s mood had improved, our first manager jumped at the opportunity.
“Chungwoo, do you have any messages you need me to pass on to the others?”
Ryu gave a faint smile and responded casually.
“I’m not sure.”
“…!?”
“You might want to ask the members directly.”
That was the end of it.
Ryu Chungwoo stretched, got into the van, and the manager, looking like he’d just been slapped, hesitantly followed behind.
Considering how the chief manager had recently reprimanded him, he couldn’t exactly complain to Ryu.
‘Looks like this is sorted out.’
That should buy us enough time to find a competent manager.
When I checked the internet for the first time in a while, I saw that the ridiculous accusations about Ryu Chungwoo hitting someone had completely vanished. Instead, all the buzz was about his marksmanship.
– “As expected of someone trained at Taereung.”
– “How is he this good?”
– “National archery athletes are something else.”
– “Wow, if he can shoot like this, he must’ve cried blood when he had to quit archery.”
– “Thank goodness he chose to become an idol.”
“Wow~ They’re really talking about how cool you were during the shooting, hyung!”
Keon Sejin stuck his head out to show Ryu the comments, and Ryu smiled awkwardly.
“It was just for fun.”
“Fun? No way! I knew it—you’re amazing, hyung!”
“It was really impressive…!” Sun Ahyeon added, clearly relieved to see Ryu in a better mood.
Everyone started pouring out compliments like a waterfall.
Keon Sejin seemed to have caught onto a particular comment, because he suddenly asked a question.
“By the way, hyung, what made you decide to become an idol?”
“Oh, me?”
Ryu scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile.
“Actually, it was my parents’ idea.”
“Whoa!”
“Your parents?”
“Yeah, they always thought I was decent at singing and dancing, so they suggested it. I started as a hobby.”
It seemed that his parents had pushed him into this career after he quit archery and fell into a slump, hoping it would get him out of the house.
“What about you, Yujin? I’m curious how you ended up becoming an idol.”
“A stranger approached me!”
“My beat got selected in a competition, and next thing I knew, I had a contract…”
The conversation naturally shifted to how each of us had
become idols.
Eventually, the question came around to me.
“And what about you, Moondae?”
Me?
I didn’t mind answering honestly, but it was a bit embarrassing.
“At a karaoke bar, the writer of *AjooSa* scouted me.”
“Really??”
“Wow, I thought that was just a rumor, but it’s true?”
The van erupted in noise again, as everyone marveled at how “talented” I apparently was.
“So, you weren’t even a trainee? You just started off like that?”
“It seems like you have incredible talent…! Though, of course, you’ve also worked hard!”
“…That’s really impressive.”
“Um, thank you.”
I couldn’t exactly tell them about the status window, or I’d probably get smacked.
But thinking back to when I first came into this body, I felt a strange sense of nostalgia.
Honestly, if it weren’t for the stat increases and the perks from the status window, I probably wouldn’t have developed the skills needed to make it this far.
‘If only I didn’t have to worry about dying from those status effects, these past few years might’ve been even more fulfilling.’
…No, I’ll correct that.
Even with the status effects, it’s been pretty rewarding.
The past few years, spent in someone else’s body, had been so packed with events that it was almost overwhelming.
‘Maybe it’s because I had to fight so hard to survive after being hit with that ticking time bomb.’
Yeah, that seems about right.
“…So, you didn’t really plan on becoming an idol. Are you okay with that?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, are you okay with the way things turned out?”
Bae Sejin asked seriously.
I didn’t hesitate to respond.
“Yeah. I’m enjoying it.”
“Right?”
“No regrets?”
I smiled.
“None.”
“Ooh~”
The other members enthusiastically clapped.
Kim Raebin, for whatever reason, decided to play some music.
“One day, I just had this sudden inspiration to make an EDM version of *Magic Boy*—”
“Let’s go!”
The van was soon filled with enthusiastic nodding and the fevered energy of idol mania.
‘What a sight.’
For the sake of group solidarity, I decided not to post this scene on our group’s social media.
—
From that point on, things continued to run smoothly with our domestic activities.
“Testa, standby!”
We flawlessly wrapped up the pre-recording for our second-week music show, and the variety programs we had filmed before and during our comeback were starting to air one by one.
Of course, our schedule wasn’t entirely made up of music shows and variety programs.
“Look here~ Chin up a little more!”
We also attended a few events, but now that we were officially part of the first-tier group, we focused more on higher-paying gigs, avoiding inefficient ones that involved long travel times.
The real moneymaker was advertising.
“Can you adjust your collar a bit?”
We had been shooting ads since our debut, but now the scale was completely different.
With an overwhelming number of offers pouring in, our agency had done a decent job of selecting the best deals—ones that didn’t overexpose us while still bringing in top-dollar contracts.
‘At least there’s no ridiculous stuff like the AI Curios campaign this time.’
Additionally, it seemed like the company was also securing solid profits for itself.
Not just the parent company T1, but our label, T1 Stars.
Take today’s ad shoot, for example.
“Gasp, hello, sunbae-nim!”
I ran into the junior idol group, *Mirinae*, at the shoot for a smartphone commercial.
‘Oh.’
The agency’s ambition to strengthen its brand name through “bundling” was apparent.
And it looked like something that could be useful.