Thanks to Park Moondae’s genius plan, Bae Sejin’s drama with his old agency was finally sorted out. But Hajun kept asking Sejin if he should just “eliminate” the CEO, which kept Moondae constantly on edge. The debut showcase was right around the corner, and they were all busy as hell, but this crazy guy just never seemed to get tired.
“Are you sure there’s nobody you want me to get rid of?”
“I told you, no…! Go away!”
“Hajun, why don’t you leave Sejin alone to rest and come hang out with me instead?”
“Hang out? Does this look like hanging out to you?”
Well, it was definitely closer to teasing than hanging out. Since they didn’t have any energy drinks around, Moondae could only look at the two oldest guys in the team with a tired expression. It seemed like these two had sucked the stamina (and height) right out of the other same-aged members, because they were still full of energy. Ryu Cheongwoo made sense since he was a former national athlete, but was Hajun some kind of monster?
“Hey, can you help me check my choreo for a bit?” Cheongwoo asked.
“You already memorized the whole thing.”
“Haha, yeah, but I want to be absolutely sure. You’re a really good dancer, after all.”
“Hah! Nice flattery.”
Hajun smirked and stood up. He knew Cheongwoo was just buttering him up, but he decided to play along because he liked the guy’s work ethic. It was a bit annoying how Cheongwoo always treated him with saint-like patience, but he was a good guy. Honestly, he was the most useful out of all the fragile kids in this place.
Watching Hajun follow Ryu Cheongwoo to the corner of the practice room, Park Moondae couldn’t help but admire him. Cheongwoo definitely had what it took to be a leader. At the very least, he knew exactly how to handle that wild card.
As Hajun practiced extra with Cheongwoo, a thought crossed his mind. This is weird. He was pretty sure he didn’t have this much stamina in the beginning. But at some point, his body just stopped getting tired. Even if he felt mentally exhausted, his body was always raring to go. He guessed this strange upgrade had something to do with the repeated time loops, but he didn’t care to think about it too deeply. Overthinking wasn’t his thing.
By the time they wrapped up, it was dinner time. Since their showcase was the next day, they had to travel all night right after eating, get their hair and makeup done, do some filming, and wrap up with a quick interview. In short, sleep was out of the question. Honestly, the members hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a month anyway.
As Hajun picked at his kimchi stew and let out a huge yawn, Kim Raebin looked at him curiously.
“Hajun-hyung, I thought you were the type who needed a lot of sleep… but you seem completely fine despite barely sleeping. It’s amazing.”
“I’m used to it. I can easily go a week without sleep.”
“A whole week? Without a single wink?”
“Yeah.”
Hajun nodded to himself as he remembered his days at Harvard after skipping a few grades. Wait, which loop had that been again? Back then, he would put everything off until the last minute, then cram an entire week’s worth of exams and assignments into one frantic study session. It was nostalgic in a way, but also awful enough that he never wanted to go through it again. Well, technically, that past didn’t even exist anymore.
Keun Sejin looked horrified. “Are you even human? Are you like another Park Moondae or something?”
“Hey,” Moondae frowned, not wanting to be grouped with Hajun. But everyone already knew the famous story of how Moondae survived [Idol Co-op] on zero sleep.
Hajun grinned. “Of course. Biologically speaking, we’re both humans.”
Hajun nodded, noting he got that question a lot. Sure, he could see things normal people couldn’t, and he could do things they couldn’t, but wasn’t that just standard for geniuses? Besides, Moondae might have some weird spiritual entity clinging to him, but he was definitely human too.
“I just like sleeping because you don’t have to think about anything, and it’s never boring.”
Moondae gave him a judgmental look. He couldn’t understand how someone with such a monster-like body could treat something as unproductive as sleep like it was just another hobby. Curious, he secretly pulled up Hajun’s status window to check his traits again.
[Spiritual Eyes (S)] Description: You can see things that shouldn’t be seen. Effect: Sixth Sense +200%
Yep, still creepy. While Moondae closed the status window with a shiver, the other members sighed, trying to remember the last time they actually slept.
“Man, I really want to sleep.”
“Me too…” Cha Eugene mumbled, looking completely wilted. Even the energetic California kid was losing his spark under the brutal schedule of idol life. Cheongwoo smiled and comforted them, telling everyone to catch some sleep in the car.
On the day of their debut showcase, they performed their title track [Hi-five] followed by the Challenger version of [Final]. After the intense stages, they finally sat down for a talk session to catch their breath.
As agreed beforehand, Hajun didn’t have to speak. Cheongwoo and Keun Sejin handled most of the talking, with Moondae chiming in occasionally. The crowd was mostly friendly, but some reporters liked to throw annoying questions.
“You guys seem really close, but who is the member you’re actually the least close with?”
“Hmm…”
Hajun completely tuned out the useless question. He scanned the crowd and noticed some dark, smoky energy rising from one corner. It looked like an anti-fan had snuck in, and their negative energy was getting pretty thick. Cheongwoo and Keun Sejin smoothly dodged the reporter’s question, while Hajun kept his eyes on that spot. The dark energy tried to shift away when it realized Hajun was staring, so he looked back at the front. He didn’t need to stare anyway; his gut feelings were sharp enough.
Then, the reporter asked another question.
“You have double title tracks today. What makes your other song, [Magic Boy], different from [Hi-five]?”
“Well, [Magic Boy] is—”
Suddenly, something flew straight toward the stage.
“Whoa!”
“Watch out!”
Before anyone could even react, Hajun’s hand shot out like lightning and snatched the object right out of the air. The murmuring crowd went dead silent for a second, realizing Hajun had just caught a water bottle, before erupting into whispers again.
Cheongwoo, who had automatically pulled Moondae back, stared at Hajun with a blank expression. The other members looked just as stunned.
Had he always been that fast? He had moved so quickly that he was a blur.
As Cheongwoo tried to step up to handle the situation, Hajun moved faster.
He opened the bottle, lifted it, and poured the water straight over his own head. The members gasped in horror. Is he crazy?! What if there was something dangerous in that water?!
“Hyung!!”
“Hajun!”
Moondae grabbed the empty bottle from Hajun’s hand and quickly checked his skin, making sure he was okay. Thankfully, nothing seemed wrong.
“You don’t have to yell, I can hear you fine,” Hajun muttered. It was just water, but they were reacting like he had poured acid on himself.
Hajun pushed his wet hair back, took off his jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt one step further than the stylist had intended. Seeing the members’ dumbfounded faces, he chuckled, grabbed the mic from Moondae, and spoke.
“Ah, that’s refreshing. Thanks.”
“…….”
Moondae stood there, wondering if he should just knock Hajun out cold right then and there to save his own sanity. But Hajun was already keeping the flow going.
“You guys must have been really eager to see us perform if you’re rushing us like this. Why don’t you check out our next stage and see the charm of [Magic Boy] for yourselves?”
Am I dreaming? Moondae couldn’t believe his ears. He’s actually saving the situation? That Won Hajun…?!
Well, Hajun had gone through Harvard interviews, dealt with tech investors as a co-CEO (even if Alex handled most of the talking), and had been raised with strict manners by his adoptive mother. He knew how to act professional when he wanted to. It was just that the members only knew him as a wild card.
As the music started playing, Moondae quickly took off his jacket to match the vibe and got ready. Hajun, on the other hand, was just having a blast on stage.
Backstage, the lecture began immediately.
“Hyung, what were you thinking? What if there was something toxic in that bottle?” Moondae scolded him.
“It was just water.”
“……”
Talking to him is useless… Moondae felt a massive headache coming on. Cheongwoo stepped in to help.
“Moondae is right, Hajun. That was really dangerous. Catching it was great, but pouring it on yourself…”
“Isn’t that what they wanted?”
“What?”
“Think about it. If they wanted to hurt us, they would have mixed in acid or something. But it was just pure water. Throwing water at an idol usually means they want to see us wet, right? I just gave them some fanservice.”
Cheongwoo was completely speechless.
Cha Eugene chimed in, eyes sparkling. “Do fans like us wet?”
“They did so.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
Sensing danger, Moondae quickly cut in. “…Hyung. Where on earth did you learn that?”
“There’s an online community where idol fans gather. They use some weird slang, but code-cracking is my specialty.”
“……”
“Oh, and some sections are locked behind a level limit. What a weird system. We’re all fans, so shouldn’t information be shared equally?”
“Please promise me you will never go to those sites again.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“Just… please,” Moondae said, breaking into a cold sweat as he tried to find an excuse. “Fans like having their own private space. They don’t want the idols they like lurking in their forums. It’s… just industry etiquette.”
Luckily, Hajun had a strong American mindset about respecting privacy. He shrugged and agreed.
“Fine. If you want to know what fans think, just check Wetube comments instead of those forums,” Moondae added.
“Yeah, yeah. Got it. You sure talk a lot,” Hajun grumbled.
