Viewer interest in a program doesn’t last forever. That’s why fresh material, new formats, and a variety of guests are constantly needed to keep it alive. In that sense, a childcare variety show had a disadvantage. For the children’s sake, having fixed guests made sense, but to maintain ratings, the show had to keep injecting novelty. On Chaotic Family Diary, the regular child cast included 10-year-old Han Seeun, 8-year-old Han Jaeun, and their 20-month-old youngest sibling, Han Seol. In particular, Seeun already had a sharp grasp of how broadcasting worked. “Why do you like Uncle Hoyun?” During a short interview with her parents present, Seeun answered crisply. Then she politely added, “My mom said being handsome is the best,” and began ticking points off on her fingers. “And that he calls himself ‘ajusshi.’” The show’s main writer found herself nodding in agreement before she even realized it. Most past guests had introduced themselves to the kids as “oppa” or “hyung,” “unni” or “noona,” and sometimes “uncle” or “auntie.” But to kids, any adult in the “grown-up” category was basically an ajusshi or ajumma. The writer, who’d assumed Hoyun had been brought in just because he was in the same group as Sunghyun and was the most well-known member, was surprised to see how well he understood children’s instincts. “Do you know who I am~?” Another common guest mistake was asking if the kids knew who they were. Unless you were Poror○, the “President of Children,” the question would fall flat. One time, an idol guest had even performed their own song and dance for the kids—only for Jaeun, the second child, to burst into tears. “Why, why are you crying?!” “Uuuh... y-you’re scary.” Since Chaotic Family Diary prioritized the children’s feelings above all, from that day forward PR performances in front of the kids were banned. The staff promised to make sure the guests still got promotion through editing. “Uncle, I can’t do this.” “Oh, ajusshi will do it for you.” That was why Hoyun was the perfect guest. After filming, the PDs, pleased with the footage, quickly released a preview clip. [Title: First time seeing The Dawn on Chaotic Family Diary, why are they so funny? I always liked the show for its cuteness, but lately it felt too much like a guest PR platform... Then I heard Sunghyun blew up as the ‘housework king’ so I checked it out and LOOOOL This is worth it LOLOLOLOLOL How can a guy who looks so sharp, dressed in a black shirt and giving off ‘drinks only Evian’ vibes, be that gentle? The kids clearly like himㅠ ...Seeun, the oldest, has been shy lately, so it was a bit disappointing they seemed awkward... But in the preview clip, Seeun clearly likes him.] ...The post went on to describe how Seeun stared at Hoyun and finally said, “You’re handsome.” Hoyun awkwardly thanked her, only for her to add, “That’s not a white lie.” The comments were filled with laughter over her formality and her earlier “Mom said being handsome is best” line. Another post summed him up as “the cool uncle you only see on holidays, who acts indifferent but ends up playing with you for hours.” But it also roasted him for floundering with the younger siblings—freezing when Jaeun suddenly bolted off the couch, then awkwardly pacing when handed baby Seol, and panicking, “Should I... sing you a song?” while Sunghyun laughed himself breathless beside him. The preview reactions were good, so the producers uploaded more clips to YouTube. One fan, who was both a regular viewer and a Noeul, compiled the funniest Seeun–Hoyun moments into a community post. 1. Seeun announcing she’d had a boyfriend, then a new one shortly after—Hoyun deadpanning, “You broke up with the old one first, right?” only to be met with silence and a mischievous grin. 2. Seeun asking if Hoyun had a girlfriend, looking genuinely disappointed when he said no—“Even with a face like that?”—while Sunghyun nearly died laughing beside him. 3. Seeun misunderstanding Hoyun’s comment about having fans who liked him as meaning he was “dating” his fans, prompting Hoyun to mutter, “This can be edited to still air, right?” Reading that post, Hoyun felt a twinge of defeat. So much for my ‘raising Seo Hojin’ experience... Only now, over a decade later, did he realize Hojin had been the easiest kid in the world—well-behaved and calm, at least in front of him. “Kids these days aren’t easy.” He’d known Seo Hojin had been precocious, but still... After his segment wrapped, Seeun, eating ice cream, told him, “Uncle, I think you have a younger sibling.” Aside from the members, even the company and the fans didn’t know that. “A much younger sibling.” He only smiled in response. Smart kid, this Seeun. After skimming the comments on the preview video, he suddenly thought of Hojin and messaged him. [Me: How were you so well-behaved when you were little?] [Hojin: I’m still well-behaved?? Haha] From the same kid who once hit his brother with a bouquet. Ignoring his nonsense, Hoyun was about to start preparing for the next Perfect Singer round when a chat preview popped up. [Sung Jiwon: I’m confirmed for a variety show hehe] [Sung Jiwon: I’ll let you know when the Europe departure date’s set!!] Everything seemed on track... until— [Kang Ichae: So Hoyun-hyung gets a solo room?] Hoyun quietly closed the chat app, trusting someone else would rein him in. The rıghtful source is 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢·𝗇𝗲𝘵 There are three of them... at least one should stop him. Ever since he’d collapsed, the members hadn’t left him alone, treating him like someone with a chronic illness. Guess there’s no avoiding it for now. It would settle down with time. For now, it was more important to finish the year strong and set up a solid foundation for next year. The vanguard was already in place—Kang Ichae had been steadily building recognition as a mentor on Rising Rookies. Though he seemed born with musical talent, the truth was he’d filled dozens of notebooks with ideas and lyrics and never gone a day without working on his craft. As Rising Rookies aired, those traits of Kang Ichae became more prominent, and the credibility of his advice to the trainees grew. Some trainees even began to look up to him. “Mentor Ichae told me my voice was better suited for low notes than high notes, and when I actually tried it, the response was great!” “He’s really strict... but if you follow what he says, good things come your way.” “Isn’t he just... cool?” It was like they’d all been brainwashed together. Kang Ichae himself acted like it was nothing. He really is a talented guy. Anyway, next up were Kim Sunghyun and me. With Sunghyun having appeared on Chaotic Family Diary, a long-running weekend public TV program with “national variety show” status, his face was reaching a wide range of viewers. I, on the other hand, was aiming to keep a long run on Perfect Singer, which aired in the golden Sunday time slot, to rebuild evaluations of my skills and get The Dawn’s name out there more. So far, everything was going smoothly. All three of the shows were even being distributed via OTT platforms overseas, so I’d assumed we’d naturally start getting bites from the international side. But according to the analysis Lee Jihyun gave me, the domestic response was actually stronger. That was as far as our “hit both domestic and overseas at once” plan went. Then came the second wave—Sung Jiwon and Jung Dajun. Our maknae already had a program locked in. Jiwon was a bit more complicated. Still, as our pride-and-joy main vocal, I wanted to showcase his skills, so I suggested “Restart,” a month-long overseas busking series in multiple locations. It hadn’t done great overseas, but domestically it had exploded in popularity. Once I’d finished mapping out the members’ individual schedules, I stood up. “Let’s go practice for the competition.” The moment I opened the door to the living room, a strange smell hit me, and gray smoke was wafting out of the kitchen. “Oh!! I was just about to call you, hyung!” I grabbed the fire extinguisher and ran to the kitchen, where Jung Dajun, wearing a yellow apron, stared at me with wide eyes, ladle in hand. Ignoring his soot-smudged cheeks, I checked the induction cooktop. I’d thought it smelled like burnt meat, but in the frying pan something that looked like strawberries was melting into a lava-like horror. I switched off the heat, turned on the ventilation fan, and looked back at him. “These strawberries? What were you making?” “Sweet potato strawberry pasta.” Never mind how bizarre the dish was— “Then why the smoke?” “That... I’m not too sure myself?” This looked like something even Min Jiheon—who’d eat anything—would shake his head at and run away from. Dajun just grinned innocently. I smiled back just as sweetly, turning away. “D-don’t go! I made it so you could eat before practice!” I shook off his attempts to hold me there and headed for the door—just as his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID was our road manager, Dajun put it on speaker. [Ah, Dajun, are you at the dorm?] “Yes! Hoyun-hyung’s here too!” [Ahh, okay... I’m calling because there’s something urgent to tell you.] There was a faint note of discomfort in his voice. I got the same ominous feeling I’d had staring at that sweet potato strawberry pasta. [Dajun, your cooking variety show’s been canceled.] A moment ago he’d been all bright and excited—now the maknae froze in place. I gestured for his phone and took it. [Oh, Hoyun. Um... they asked if we could delay the schedule a bit.] [Well... it’s because...] After a long hesitation, the road manager answered carefully. [Another idol they’d been in talks with... that was the only time they were free.] In other words, we got pushed aside by the agency hierarchy and steamrolled by the broadcaster. Guess I’d forgotten—Daepaseong’s a nobody in the industry. They really knew how to show our lack of clout. [We did file a complaint... They said maybe you could appear in the second half of next year instead.] “Second half of next year...” Maybe the producer needed to be tossed in a salad spinner along with our CEO to shake some sense into them. After a few more rounds of apology, the call ended. It wasn’t the manager’s fault, but sitting back and waiting for the management team to “handle it” would just mean missing the perfect timing. I popped a cherry tomato into my mouth, thinking over the options. The maknae was suspiciously quiet. Maybe his morale had taken a hit. I leaned down to check his face. “Ugh, this pisses me off.” Despite the words, he was calm. He set the ladle down with a little grumble. “So I don’t need to make this anymore? I worked hard on developing sweet potato strawberry pasta for nothing.” It was always for nothing. I shrugged and collapsed onto the sofa. Dajun trailed after me, carrying the cherry tomato bowl, and sat down next to me. “Hyung, hyung. But wouldn’t it be better to still appear, even if the schedule’s delayed?” I shut that down immediately. “You’re not at the level for that show next year. Why bother?” As a former PD, I could understand the logic of using someone more marketable. Didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed. I’d scouted, negotiated, and cleared his schedule for his first solo appearance—he’d even prepared a dish, whether edible or not—only for them to cancel at the last minute. And then, to top it off, act like they were doing us a favor by offering “maybe later”? Who do they think they’re treating ? “What? Why are you talking like you have an idea?” I crunched down on another cherry tomato instead of grinding my teeth, while Dajun’s eyes sparkled. I pulled out my phone, looking for the contact info of a documentary PD I’d met at the Berlin K-pop concert. I had a Plan B ready—if solo schedules didn’t work out, I could move up a group appearance. The public’s favorite celebrities were those who managed themselves perfectly but came across as easygoing to others, with just ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) a touch of endearing clumsiness. Show them something so bizarre it sticks in their heads forever. And we had a born 16th-dimension oddball in our team: laugh-machine Jung Dajun. I called to him warmly. Sensing trouble from my expression, he instantly straightened and started edging away. I grabbed the tie of his apron before he could escape. “Why? What? What are you doing?” Still holding him, I leisurely straightened out the wrinkles in his apron. “What is it really?!” Feigning kindness, I asked, “Do you get seasick?” This was actually pretty important.