Chapter - 60화 (60/150)
Thanks to the experienced DJ, it wrapped up without a major incident, but because he'd been tense the entire broadcast, his whole body was drenched in sweat. Dansol dragged himself back to the dorm like a pickled cabbage.
But there was no one there.
Everyone had already been discharged since they could do outpatient treatment, but after going through such a big accident, most of them had contacted him to say they were going to rest at their family homes for a few days before coming back.
And unlike the others, Dansol had nowhere to go back to. The silence he hadn't felt in a long time only felt awkward. Left alone in a room that was always packed with members, the semi-basement felt even more pathetic.
It wasn't like the past life, where "evil editing" caused discord, but lately, things kept happening in unexpected ways and he kept clashing with the members. Dansol had been thinking pretty often that he wanted to be alone. A big part of it was probably also how exhausted he'd gotten from spending twenty-four hours a day being conscious of cameras on R-Match Survival.
But now that he was actually alone, why did he feel lonelier instead of relieved?
Dansol tossed his bag down carelessly and, without even taking off his shoes, collapsed weakly in front of the entryway.
He didn't even think to turn on the lights. He just kept turning his phone screen on and off, over and over, until—like someone possessed—he put on Episode 1 of R-Match Survival.
"Ugh…"
When his own unaccompanied dancing showed up, he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Still… they edited it pretty well compared to before…?"
It felt like things were flowing a little differently from his past life, but he still couldn't tell. Still, seeing the edit go in a positive direction for once made him feel a little more at ease.
Lying there with a stray roll of toilet paper as a pillow, Dansol had completely settled in, watching himself like he was hypnotized when—
Bzzzz.
Startled by the sudden vibration, he dropped his phone onto the bridge of his nose.
"Ow!"
Maybe he'd hit the call button, because a voice kept calling out for him from the phone.
—Dansol! Joo Dansol! Why isn't he answering…?
That familiar yet unfamiliar voice made him rub his aching nose before he finally brought the phone to his ear.
"…Mom?"
—Oh! Now I can hear you. What were you doing?
"Uh… nothing."
It was such a natural question, like they'd spoken yesterday. But the last time they'd talked was one call on Christmas last winter—so it was the first time in nine months that he'd heard his mother's voice.
—Uh… filming?
"It's my day off right now…"
—Uh… are you okay? I saw the news. They said your members got hurt badly.
"Ah… yes, I'm fine."
—Good, that's a relief. I've been watching the show. You should've told me ahead of time. You scared me.
"Ah, you don't really like variety shows…"
—The kids were watching, so I watched too. It was fun.
Dansol's mother always referred to Dansol's half-siblings as "the kids," not "your siblings."
Every time, Dansol couldn't help thinking about the distance between himself and them. His half-siblings—still only middle schoolers—didn't even know Dansol existed.
That was why even calling his mother first made Dansol careful. When he'd been younger and thoughtless, he'd called like the other members did, whenever he wanted—but it hadn't taken long to recognize the awkwardness in his mother's voice.
—The kids… really like that program.
"Ah… yes."
He couldn't tell whether he should cry or smile.
In his past life, when he called his mother after the program ended, his mother had left a long silence, then squeezed out a single line telling him to stay healthy.
Even that had been lucky.
His father had just changed his number entirely.
And the despair he'd felt when that dull mechanical tone came from the phone line that had barely been connecting him to them came rushing back again.
When he'd been shoved to the edge of a cliff, branded the nation's most hated person to the point he couldn't even think straight, all he'd wanted was a single "It's okay" from his parents.
But to them, Dansol was a stain to avoid—an inconvenient trace of a failed past.
Looking at a son ranked number one as the celebrity the whole country hated, what had they thought?
—Could I… ask you one favor?
"What favor…?"
—Well… could you get me some autographs? Yours too. In the kids' names…
Tears gathered in Dansol's eyes without a sound. He couldn't even tell if he was happy or sad.
He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't crack—but the more he tried, the faster the tears rose.
"…I'm not really close with people. I'm sorry."
—Dansol.
Click.
Because he felt like his voice was about to come out soaked and pathetic, Dansol said only what he needed to say and hung up.
It was the first time he'd ever done that.
When he was little, desperate for his mother's affection, even after his mother hung up, he'd still hold the receiver for a long time.
"Seriously… I'm the worst."
He'd hung up on his mother, then immediately regretted it.
He'd only just cleared up misunderstandings with the members, and now it felt like another obstacle had appeared. It was just an autograph—he should've just said he'd do it.
After almost a year, he finally got a call, and he handled it like that.
If I were Mom, I'd want to pretend a son like me didn't exist.
Bzzzz.
At that moment, the phone rang again. Thinking it had to be his mother, Dansol hit the button without even checking the screen.
"…I'm sorry I hung up earlier. The members suddenly came in, so—well, I'm not that close with people, but I have gotten close with some. I can't get them all, but I'll try to get at least a few and send them to you…"
—…What autographs. Are you in some kind of pyramid scheme?
"Sunbae?!"
At that familiar low voice, Dansol bolted upright.
He didn't even remember when he'd saved the number, but the screen boldly showed not "Senior Jeong Daesu," but just "Jeong Daesu."
"Uh… my… number, how…?"
—Back then, when you were drunk at Han Jisu's place. You don't remember?
"Uh… yes… that's me."
—You must not remember. Anyway, autographs—this isn't you signing some weird contract or something, right?
He'd already signed a weird contract a long time ago—ever since his agency had locked him into something close to a slave contract. But Jeong Daesu was clearly misunderstanding, so Dansol rambled out an explanation.
"Uh… my mom asked me to get autographs. People I'm on the program with. I said I couldn't, and I hung up on her, so I thought she was calling again. I'm sorry."
—So that's it. That's what you meant by 'people you've gotten close with.' Then… maybe…
"Maybe…?"
—…Am I included in that?
"Huh?"
—…In the people you've gotten close with.
"…Well…"
At Jeong Daesu's sudden question, Dansol seriously thought about what "close" even meant.
He was closer with Jeong Daesu than with Yoo Dohyeon or Ha Minseong, but he wasn't someone he was as comfortable with as Ma Taeohh, Minhyuk, or Jisu.
"Are you… going to sign for me?!"
—Yeah.
"Then I think we're close."
—Good. Can you meet up? Since we're close.
Jisu and Ma Taeohh fell into an awkward standoff with orange juice between them.
Ma Taeohh was the one who broke the silence first.
"Kh—hyung. Don't just stare like that. Say something."
"Taeohh."
At the serious tone, Ma Taeohh flinched and hunched his shoulders.
Is he about to confess or something?
"Yes?!"
"You need to get rid of me."
"Huh…? What does that mean, hyung?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Get rid of me. You've got eight votes."
"Come on… that's not happening."
Ma Taeohh shook his head hard.
Was he getting an overseas schedule? He could understand wanting to drop out naturally, but not like that.
In this program, the two biggest in both presence and popularity were Jisu and Dansol. If he knocked Jisu out, how was Ma Taeohh supposed to handle that backlash?
"I'll pay you."
"Hyung! I make money too! A lot of it!"
It was horrifying that Ma Taeohh genuinely didn't need anything.
When Jisu ran into an unexpected obstacle and leaned his elbows on the table, clawing at his hair, Ma Taeohh asked,
"No, but why? Hyung, weren't you enjoying this show?"
"…You don't need to know why!"
"I do need to know if you expect me to do it. Hyung, do you have to go film overseas? Some massive project…? Did you get offered something? Don't tell me Hollywood…"
"…No. It's not that."
"Then why quit a show you're doing well on? Just between us, I'm voting Ha Minseong-hyung this time. The way he's been acting lately, even the fans will understand."
"Ha Minseong is fine but I'm not?!"
"No—why are you doing this?! I'm leaving! No matter what reason you give, I won't do it."
When the tug-of-war kept looping like a Möbius strip, Ma Taeohh gulped down the rest of his juice and stood up to leave.
Jisu grabbed him and said,
"I'm an alpha."
Spit—
Ma Taeohh sprayed out the juice he hadn't swallowed yet.
"Fuck, that's disgusting! Didn't you spill it?"
"Hyung…! Is juice the problem right now?! An omega became an alpha?! H-how does that even happen? Hyung, are you sick? How can your secondary gender change… I've never heard of that."
"What the hell are you talking about… It didn't change. …Ha. I was always an alpha. I was an alpha before, and I'm an alpha now. Got it?"
"…Huh? Then… you lied?"
"I had reasons. No… I lied. Yeah. That's why I'm leaving."
"No…! Quitting the program won't solve this."
"I'm retiring. So help me."
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