Survive! Foolish Bottom!

 

“It’s now time for today’s goodbye stage. These refreshing boys, who brought us a song perfect for a bright summer, are ready to say goodbye along with the season.”

 

“It’s so sad to see them go. Here’s Stone Cherry with their final performance. ‘Runners’ High!’”

 

“Thank you all for your hard work!”

 

“Great job, everyone!”

 

“Thank you!”

 

After greeting everyone in all directions, they stepped down from the stage. There was a sense of relief from finishing their last performance, mixed with the pressure of not wanting to mess it up. Everyone was drenched in sweat, more so than usual. 

 

Though the movements came naturally by this point, and they weren’t controlling their bodies manually, the intensity of the dance routines left them exhausted by the end. However, it seemed that Haeun was the only one whose stamina was depleted—his three other members were still walking around and chatting as if they hadn’t just performed.

 『Your first promotional period is over! You’ve done a great job! ─ヽ(´ｖ｀*)ﾉ─!!』 

It had been a while since Haeun heard an alert from the system. Perhaps because he had grown more accustomed to idol life, the system’s interference had significantly decreased compared to the beginning. 

 

Although he would still get scolded if he strayed too far from the original Park Ha’s persona, the system wasn’t correcting his tone of speech as often. This was partly due to the fact that Haeun’s way of speaking had softened over time, and his relationships with the other members had grown closer.

 

Hearing even the system tell him that he’d done well, Haeun finally felt like the stage was truly over. He exhaled deeply, letting himself relax as he leaned against the nearest surface.

 

“Why do you look like you’re dying?”

 

Junwoo and Ilhyun seemed to be discussing the performance, while Seongjae approached Haeun to talk. Ha-eun turned his gaze toward Seongjae and responded.

 

“Aren’t you tired?”

 

“More than being tired, I feel relieved.”

 

It was clear that Seongjae really felt that way, especially since he rarely initiated conversations. Haeun muttered as he peeled off the strands of hair sticking to his sweat-dampened face.

 

“For me, it’s just hitting me now that it’s all really over.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

It seemed like Seongjae hadn’t heard properly due to the noise around them. Haeun felt too embarrassed to explain in detail, so he simply shrugged lightly in response.

 

Their first comeback stage was finally over. Considering this was almost like a debut showcase, it had been a successful conclusion to their promotional activities.

 

***

 

“Ah, you scared me. What are you doing here? I almost sat on you.”

 

Junwoo, who had just spotted Haeun sprawled out on the sofa, placed a hand over his chest, pretending to calm down from the shock. There was no way he would have actually sat on Haeun—he had noticed him before sitting down—but it was clear he was just being playful.

 

“How distracted do you have to be to not notice someone about to sit on you?”

 

“I wasn’t distracted!”

 

Junwoo laughed in disbelief at his response. 

 

“So if I hadn’t seen you, you were just going to let yourself get crushed?” 

 

“I knew you’d see me.”

 

It was a pointless conversation. Junwoo didn’t bother replying further and simply gestured for Haeun to move aside. Haeun, who had been sprawled out on the sofa like a wet towel, obediently folded himself up to make space. 

 

Soon enough, as he started to slide off the sofa limply, Junwoo caught him with one hand and pulled him back into place.

 

Once Haeun was back where he started, Junwoo asked in a bored tone, “What’s up? You don’t usually roll around like this, so something must be going on.”

 

“There’s nothing.”

 

“If nothing’s up, then why are you acting like this?”

 

“That’s the problem. It’s because there’s nothing.”

 

Junwoo frowned at Haeun’s vague response.

 

Yesterday had been the official end of their promotion period. They had completed their farewell stages on the major music shows and wrapped up their activities in style. After making the rounds to thank all the staff and officials, they finally returned to their dorm late at night. 

 

Despite the grueling schedule, they all held on, and once back at the dorm, they collapsed, not even managing to change out of their clothes before falling asleep. Every member had been knocked out from exhaustion after their hectic schedule during the promotion period.

 

Then came today. Unlike the past few weeks of packed schedules, today was completely empty. They were given the day off after their farewell stage, even with no practice lined up—a rare break in their routine.

 

“I’ve got nothing to do. It feels weird…”

 

But after being used to such a busy schedule, Haeun now found the emptiness unsettling. Trying to occupy himself, he checked the ‘Eu-Idol’ app’s quest list, but with no rehearsals or events on the agenda, the daily quests were nothing exciting either.

 

It seemed that Junwoo had finally figured out what was going on with Haeun. With a baffled expression, he looked down at him and said.

 

“Anyone would think you’re a rookie who just debuted yesterday. This isn’t your first time doing this, so what’s with the fuss?”

 

In reality, Haeun wasn’t much different from a rookie. He hadn’t even gone through a proper trainee period. Without the system’s overpowered assistance, he wouldn’t have managed anything on his own.

 

“In my heart, I’m still a rookie. Like I just debuted yesterday.”

 

Junwoo, clearly not in the mood to offer any real praise, sarcastically complimented him. “It’s great that you haven’t lost your initial passion.”

 

Haeun wasn’t bothered by Junwoo’s snide remark at all. Suddenly, he sprang up and asked, “So, what are we supposed to do now? Aren’t you bored?”

 

“Nope. I’m loving this break.”

 

Junwoo responded, cutting off Ha-eun’s attempt at conversation decisively. He already had his phone in hand, busy with the mobile game he always played. In the past, Haeun would have been curious about what game Junwoo was into and probably would have started playing it alongside him. But ever since being trapped in this reality, Haeun hadn’t touched any games. He had grown tired of them entirely. 

 

“Why do you look like that if you’re ‘loving this break’ so much?” 

 

“I’m always like this when I’m ‘loving’ something.”

 

Haeun tried to argue with him for no reason using Junwoo’s usual calm expression but he didn’t give the reaction he was looking for. Feeling defeated, Haeun slumped back into his spot, staring aimlessly. 

 

Junwoo glanced at him before saying, “Did you post the backstage photos on SNS?”

 

“Of course, I did. Filled every character with a thank-you note.”

 

“And on Insta?”

 

“Obviously. I even made sure to use a different photo.”

 

“What about a post on the fan café?”

 

“Yeah, did that too. Anything else?”

 

Despite his boredom, Haeun had been keeping himself busy with fan service more than anyone else. Junwoo, still focused on his game, mumbled, “I thought you passed out right after getting home. When did you manage all that?”

 

“You just do it little by little.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you, but you seem really pleased.”

 

Haeun let out a deep sigh. Over time, he’d grown closer not just to the other members but also, oddly enough, to the system that had thrown him into this mess. The fact that the system no longer constantly nagged him about his speech or attitude was proof. It even encouraged him after their activities ended, telling him he’d done well.

 

Still, he was too bored at the moment. 

 

A thought crossed his mind: maybe if the system went back to being strict like in the beginning, assigning him tasks nonstop, it would at least keep him occupied. As soon as the idea popped into his head, Haeun shuddered. The last thing he wanted was for that to actually happen again.

 

‘I’m sorry. I was wrong to even think that. Please, just stay like this.’ 

 

Haeun thought to himself, realizing he preferred the system’s current leniency over the stricter days of the past.

 

As Haeun sat there, bored, repeatedly refreshing the fan café posts, Junwoo, who was still maintaining his indifferent attitude, finally said something.

 

“Have you tried doing an Instagram live?”

 

Haeun shook his head and tilted it to one side, looking a bit hesitant.

 

“Hey everyone, it’s Junwoo.”

 

Junwoo greeted with a bright smile, speaking into his phone’s camera for an Instagram live session. Haeun, sitting nearby, watched him curiously. 

 

While posting on social media or updating the fan café wasn’t too difficult, hosting a live stream was a different story for Haeun. Just a short while ago, he’d been an ordinary person with no experience doing live broadcasts or interacting with fans in real-time. 

 

If he fumbled and appeared too awkward on camera, fans might find it strange—especially since he was still recovering from that recent controversy about his attitude. The last thing he wanted was to stir up another issue.

 

Trying to explain his reluctance, Haeun did his best to reason with Junwoo. He pointed out that fans were likely still disappointed because of the personality scandal, so suddenly doing a live stream and exposing himself like that made him nervous. He wasn’t sure how fans would react, and that uncertainty made him hesitant to go live.

 

Junwoo raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You’ve been fine so far; why get nervous now?” but he didn’t argue aloud. 

 

Still, now that the topic of live streaming had come up, Haeun’s curiosity was piqued. He’d never done it before, and even though he was apprehensive, he knew it was only a matter of time. 

 

After all, before Haeun had taken over this body, the original Park Ha had done Instagram lives regularly, chatting with fans without any issues………….. Haeun would have to face that challenge sooner or later.

 

So this was the result of Haeun’s conversation with Junwoo. After explaining that he wanted to observe Junwoo’s broadcast to regain his own sense of comfort, Junwoo seemed to agree. 

 

“I’ve been meaning to do something for the fans anyway,” he had said, and after a simple setup, he went ahead and started the live stream.

 

“Did everyone watch the final stage yesterday?”

 

Meanwhile, Haeun sat across from him, not really part of the stream, watching the live chat from his own phone. Despite the lack of announcement, a surprising number of people had joined the broadcast. 

 

While it couldn’t compare to the viewership of top idols, to someone like Haeun, who used to be a complete nobody, it felt like a lot.

 

Watching Junwoo, whom Ha-eun often thought of as borderline psychopathic, he was amazed at how composed and likable Junwoo appeared in front of the camera. It made sense now why Junwoo had managed to avoid any scandals so far—he truly knew how to maintain a polished image for the public.

 

“I was worried about how this concept would look on me. Did it suit me?”

 

The chat was filled with positive feedback—comments about how fresh he looked, how well the concept fit him, and even remarks like, “I never knew our maknae could pull off this kind of vibe” and “It suits you even better than the previous concept.” 

 

Occasionally, there were comments in English, like “Eng Plz :((,” but Junwoo ignored them entirely, as if it was a rule for idols not to acknowledge foreign-language comments during broadcasts.

 

“Really? I actually liked the previous concept too. It had that slightly tough look.”

 

Junwoo was lying through his teeth, effortlessly delivering a stream of insincere compliments. None of the members had ever liked the concept of their previous album. The company boss seemed to believe it was “masculine,” but Haeun couldn’t for the life of him understand what was supposed to be manly about the tacky mesh see-through outfits that looked like they were from two decades ago—if they ever even looked good back then.

 

Haeun had overheard Junwoo grumbling about it once: “The old stage outfits were seriously awful. I’d take the current cute ‘shota’ concept any day.” 

 

Even Ilhyun, who was in the conversation with him, didn’t deny it. He just laughed, which said it all.

 

“I’ve been told my whole life that I look like a puppy or that I have a kind face, so it was really interesting to try the tougher concept for the first time.”

 

Wow. The sheer audacity of this guy. 

 

He was actually saying with a straight face that he looked like a sweet puppy? He wished the thousand fans currently tuned in could see the two-faced side of him. 

 

Then again, exposing Junwoo would likely endanger the group’s future, so Haeun had no choice but to let it slide.

 

When asked in the chat if he preferred puppy-like or cat-like looks, Junwoo smiled and replied, “Hmm, I don’t really focus on looks when I see people, so I’m not sure. But in terms of real animals, I like cats more.”

 

Was that sincere or just more acting? Is there really anyone who doesn’t care about appearances at all? 

 

Lost in thought, Haeun suddenly felt Junwoo’s gaze shift to him, making him flustered.

 

‘Why?’ 

 

Haeun mouthed the question silently.

 

Junwoo grinned and asked, “What about you, hyung? Puppy or cat?”

 

Haeun hadn’t expected to be dragged into the conversation, and now the chat was filled with question marks. Fans were speculating wildly, typing in the names of the group members, trying to figure out which “hyung” Junwoo was referring to. 

 

Irritated by Junwoo’s earlier self-flattery, Ha-eun replied bluntly.

 

“Cat.”

 

Junwoo, without missing a beat, turned back to the camera with a mischievous smile. “Everyone, Park Ha hyung says he prefers cat-like looks~”

 

Junwoo casually turned the camera towards Haeun, catching him off guard. Startled, Haeun awkwardly waved at the screen, trying to play it cool. Off-camera, Junwoo mouthed something with a teasing smirk:  

 

‘If you show your face now, it’ll be easier next time, right?’

 

What easier? But as Haeun glanced at the chat, which had become even livelier after his brief appearance, he couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased. The fans seemed excited, and the energy in the comments had picked up.

 

In the end, Haeun’s impromptu debut on the live broadcast hadn’t been so bad after all. Maybe next time, it wouldn’t feel so nerve-wracking.

Hey guys, this is Flo!

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