[LMAO ‘Take Care of Me’ is seriously hilarious LOOOOOLLLLLLL] [I’m 100% watching Episode 2 next week lol. Seo Hoyun seems a bit more low-energy than usual, but the way he just drops those lines—too damn cute hahaha] [Jung Dajun?? Where is this guy from?? He was so adorable, I lost it when his heart rate hit 150 hahahaha] ‘Take Care of Me’ drew a surprisingly good response from the general public. Riding high on the reaction, PD Choi gleefully wrapped up studio reaction filming for Episode 2 and even pushed for an additional special clip. “Hahaha! We’ll definitely top the ratings again this week!” “Wow, congratulations.” “Bringing in Min Jiheon was already a win, but adding Seo Hoyun and Jung Dajun? That was genius!” In fact, watching through the reaction shoot confirmed it—Min Jiheon barely moved when he was alone. He either read or stared blankly out the window. Sure, there were plenty of people who would pay to watch Min Jiheon do absolutely nothing, but PD Choi had clearly not been satisfied with that. Of course, he’d still milked it for all it was worth. “I still have no idea why Min Jiheon agreed to this in the first place. Hahaha, but hey, I hope this opens the door for his variety career. Same for Seo Hoyun too!” “Ah, PD-nim, just call me anytime.” “You’ve got such a smooth tongue~!” Clearly in a good mood, PD Choi was all smiles. I caught sight of Min Jiheon through the space behind PD Choi’s shoulder, just as his manager was distracted chatting with another staff member. Jiheon was trying to sneak out of his seat. ‘He’s getting ready to bolt.’ But when the manager turned his head, Jiheon coolly sat back down and pretended nothing had happened. I let out a small chuckle—then coughed on purpose. Sure, I was genuinely sick, but I could’ve held back that cough if I really wanted to. “Dajun was seriously so cute. If I’d known he was that funny, I would’ve called him for the reaction shoot too...” “...H-Hoyun? Are you dying??” “Ah, PD-nim! Let him go already, he’s been off the whole shoot.” With my head bowed, I gave a few more deliberate coughs before finally speaking. “...It’s nothing. I always catch colds during season changes. This year, the coughing’s just a little worse than usual.” “Man, you’re a pro. You’re pale as a sheet, but the moment the camera’s rolling, no one can even tell.” One of the staff who’d been throwing shade earlier—muttering about forced screen time—was now suddenly showering me with praise. The moment I acted pleasant on set and the ratings looked good, they changed their tune like flipping a switch. “I’ll head out first, then. I have another schedule.” “Sure, thank you for your hard work~!” I quickly stepped outside. I tried to act fine, but it felt like someone was splitting my skull with an axe. It put me in a foul mood. I sprinted to the farthest restroom, grabbed the toilet, and threw up. There wasn’t even anything left, just a little watery bile. “...Tch. Nothing’s even coming out.” Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I turned on the sink. I held my breath, suppressing another round of coughing that clawed at my throat. ‘At least it’s not bloody this time.’ My stomach kept clenching, and my heart was pounding like mad. Splashing cold water on my face helped calm me down a bit. I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror, then ran a hand through my hair. ‘This is still bearable.’ The next schedule was a guest appearance on Rising Rookies, where Kang Ichae was serving as a mentor. I decided to wait for the manager—who’d gone to pick up the others back at the dorm—while sitting on the edge of the sink, scrolling through my phone to find the latest episode of Ichae’s show. ‘It’s not Kim Heeyoung’s project.’ I’d assumed it was a Kim Heeyoung show since it was an idol survival program, but a different PD’s name came up. I clicked on a 10-minute edited video of the first mission round. After the trainees’ performances, it cut to the mentors giving feedback. [Okay but KIC is seriously ridiculous. Like... why him?] [No matter how many junior and senior mentors they stack, having Kang Ichae as a mentor at 22? Who the hell is gonna take that seriously? They should’ve dragged someone like a Black Call member.] [Guess tvK still can’t let go of that Shining Star fame lol. But Rising Rookies already flopped in terms of name recognition... no way they can replicate Shas.] The comments section was already a mess. [This trainee lineup is trash... and the personalities? Please.] [They gathered whoever they could at the last minute, no standards at all.] [I don’t even want to root for anyone. There’s no drive. This is bullshit.] [Boy group survival shows are supposed to squeeze every last drop outta them but this one’s got nothing to squeeze └Sorry but there’s literally nothing worth hyping here ㅜ] The reactions were more negative than I’d expected. Even with Kang Ichae’s skills, shifting the vibe was going to be rough. He’d been grinding just as hard as I had lately, between the comeback and year-end performances. Maybe because he was used to it, he didn’t show any signs of exhaustion on the outside—but I knew he had to be overworking himself. And now, on top of that, a variety appearance and mentoring stage? ‘I was too careless.’ I should’ve kept a better eye on him. Since I was going to get my makeup redone anyway, I splashed my face with cold water one more time and tousled my hair. Just then, my phone buzzed. After drying my hands with a paper towel, I checked the message—it was from our manager. [Manager: Hoyun-ah, I’ll be there in 15 minutes. Hang in there!] I replied with a quick “Got it” and exited the building, heading down to the staff parking lot. That’s when I spotted the yellow sports car I’d seen while filming at Min Jiheon’s house for Take Care of Me. Pretty ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) sure he came in the van this morning with his manager, so... when did he prep that thing? My head was throbbing again, so I leaned against a support pillar to rest for a second—when a figure suddenly appeared. “......Oh wow! You scared me.” It was Min Jiheon, sipping iced tea and twirling his car keys. When we locked eyes, he flinched. “What’re you doing here all spooky and alone?” He’d been shifting restlessly earlier—I guess he was planning to sneak off without his manager. “Yellow doesn’t suit you.” “I know. But hey, I’ve got the face to pull it off anyway.” I clicked my tongue. He added that his younger sibling liked the color, but I didn’t care. Even during that short conversation, I could feel cold sweat soaking my forehead. “You know something, don’t you?” I cut the chatter and went straight to the point. “I’ve been feeling like shit lately. Like I’m about to die.” During the shoot, Jiheon had stepped in to cover for me at very convenient moments. Two weeks of that, and I could feel it in my gut. This guy definitely knew something. “You figured out my condition and joined the show to keep an eye on me, right?” “Haha... nope. I just wanted to share my cuteness with the world.” I pushed off the pillar. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs N()velFire.net “Thinking about it now... I feel like you knew this was going to happen to me.” “What are you talking about?” “You told me, ‘Call me if anything happens,’ remember?” That was back when Shining Star Season 2’s performance unit had wrapped up and we were heading into the final battle. He’d said it when we bumped into each other at the agency. I always wondered why my memory of that time was so hazy, even though it was right before the last round. And now, I’d even forgotten about Kang Ichae being on this show. I’ve been through too much to buy into coincidences. Even after playing the whole thing over in my head again and again, something was off. “You... you said you could see my thoughts. Did something go wrong?” Up until now, physical penalties only happened if I defaulted on a loan or failed a quest—except for that one time Jiheon forcibly yanked my system window off. ‘I haven’t done anything.’ And yet my body’s been reacting as if the world itself is rejecting me. No blood this time, but everything else was just like before. So I started connecting the dots—between the unstable condition flagged by the system window and the occasional ERROR messages. It all made sense once I assumed they were overloading my body. Jiheon paused, then gave a little shrug. “...You’re really overestimating me. I’m nothing special, but you keep acting like I’ve got all the answers. Why?” “Just answer the question.” “I just see stuff. If I were you, I’d go home and lie on a heated floor for like, a week.” He casually set his half-empty iced tea on the car’s hood and stepped closer. As before, just standing near him helped regulate my breathing. After giving me a once-over, Jiheon spoke again. “Don’t go to your next schedule.” “That’s not happening. I thought you were being unusually quiet lately, but you’re still talking nonsense.” If I were the only one to skip when all the others showed up, it would spark rumors. Besides, I was confident I could pretend to be fine in front of the cameras. A call from the manager popped up on my phone. As he grabbed his iced tea and tried to get in the driver’s seat, I caught him by the scruff of his neck and said, The overly gentle tone must’ve tripped an alarm—Jiheon’s face twisted like he’d seen a ghost. “My schedule’s gonna run past 3 a.m. tonight. Let’s meet then.” “No thanks, I’m going to bed.” “Did I sound like I was asking?” “Ugh... I’m a morning person, you know?” “What do you mean, ‘got it’!?” Grumbling, he shook off my hand and got into the car. That was basically a yes, and I smiled faintly. Watching him start the engine, I tapped the roof of his car. “...You’re the worst.” Jiheon took a long sip of his iced tea, let out a deep sigh, then waved his hand at me like I was an annoying fly before pulling out of the lot. I had a strong feeling—like something big was about to become clear. ‘Whatever it is, at least I’ll get some info out of it.’ For now, the immediate fire was put out. Next up: dealing with our health-obsessed, unhinged genius rapper. I crouched down slowly to wait for the manager—when suddenly, ...A harsh screech of tires ripped through the silence behind me. Startled, I whipped around. But there was nothing there. I was completely alone. Goosebumps crept up my arm. That sound was disturbingly familiar.