IKC C6

Chapter 6

“What? Give up debuting? Do you even hear yourself right now? You really don’t understand the situation, do you? You think you’re somebody special? Guys like you, half-decently good-looking, there are countless! Ah, for god’s sake…!”

Sungwook-hyung roared, yanking his phone from his back pocket.

“You’re hopeless. I should tell the director right now—”

“Stop it, hyung!”

Geonwoo-hyung snatched the phone out of Sungwook-hyung’s hand and flung it onto the sofa.

“This is our problem. We’ll resolve it among ourselves.”

“No, Geonwoo. This punk, Taegyeong—”

“Hyung, are you going to interfere even in us having an argument?”

“This isn’t just some petty argument!”

It was the first time Sungwook-hyung had ever yelled at Geonwoo-hyung, and everyone flinched.

Me? I wasn’t surprised. Even if the CEO himself came here to shout at me, it would never be as terrifying as the crushing despair of a failed album release.

“Taegyeong.”

Geonwoo-hyung hesitated a moment, then glared squarely at me. I knew he expected me to bow my head and apologize like usual. But this time I couldn’t.

“Hyung, we’ve already been stuck preparing for our debut album for over a year. At this rate, we’re going to miss all the good oppor—”

Brrring— Brrring—! Brrring—

My serious words were cut short by the loud ringtone blasting out of my padded jacket pocket. I fished out the phone to silence it, continuing my protest.

“If we let ourselves miss this chance—”

The moment I saw “Seong Sehan” on the screen, my breath caught. I had wanted to reject the call but my damn finger betrayed me—accepting it instead.

“Hey, Lee Taegyeong! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Sungwook-hyung snapped, hurling words at me like knives. Startled, I flinched—then, whoosh, a cushion came flying straight at my face. At the last second I tilted my head and avoided it, only thanks to my reflexes.

“You really have no shame left, do you?!”

Answering a phone in the middle of this heated situation—it was enough to send him into a frenzy.

“Uh, I…”

Flustered, I stammered uselessly. And then from the speaker, a voice cut in.

―Taegyeong.

I froze with the phone in my hand, darting my eyes around helplessly. Geonwoo-hyung’s face was thunderous as he glared at me.

“Taegyeong, am I some kind of joke to you?”

“No, hyung! That’s not it at all…”

―Lee Taegyeong, you picked up, so why aren’t you talking?

Ha! I was going mad. Like a debtor being hounded, I pressed the phone frantically to my ear.

“Y-yeah, Sehan. I’ll call you back later, I’m kind of—”

―Why didn’t you check what I sent you?

“…Huh? What did you send me?”

―Photos. I sent you photos, check and call me back.

“…Photos?” I was about to ask what he meant when the call ended. Heart pounding, I opened my messages.

“Hey! Lee Taegyeong!”

“Taegyeong! You damned—”

Both hyungs barked at me, but I ignored them, focused only on opening the images. If something was wrong with Sehan, it had to come first.

[Pick the one you like the most.]

Scrolling through the attachments, I cursed aloud before I could stop myself.

“Fuck—!”

Five separate shots, barely different angles—all of them of me hugging him.

“Lee Taegyeong!”

Another ear-splitting roar from Sungwook-hyung. Stress piled so fast I nearly threw my phone at the wall.

Just then, loud dance music began blaring—from the phone Sungwook-hyung had thrown earlier onto the sofa. He rushed to grab it, froze mid-motion, then glanced at Geonwoo-hyung before reluctantly picking up.

“Hello.”

―Sungwook-hyung, long time no see.

The voice rang so clearly we all stared at him wide-eyed.

“…Yeah. Sehan, it has been a while. So what’s the reason for calling me?”

His voice was hard, stiff. I shut my eyes tight, anticipating disaster. What the hell would that bastard Sehan say this time—

―Hyung, keep a lid on that temper. Trainees aren’t your servants, so why keep screaming at them?

I wanted to scream out loud but instead covered my face with one hand.

“Sehan, this isn’t any of your business. You have no right to meddle in another company’s affairs.”

Sungwook-hyung clenched his jaw, unable to raise his voice at Sehan—and glared at me as if I were to blame.

―Are you grinding your teeth while you talk, hyung? Careful, or you might just throw a punch.

“You—! Seong Sehan—!”

―Best be careful. You swing without thinking, and one day it’ll ruin you.

“What? You bastard, Sehan—!”

The line went dead, leaving Sungwook-hyung breathing loud, ragged breaths as he glowered at his phone. I shifted back warily, but then Geonwoo-hyung’s phone buzzed.

He stared at it a second, then answered.

“S-Sehan… why are you calling me?”

―Park Geonwoo-hyung, why are you mistreating Taegyeong?

I saw his teeth sinking into his lip so hard blood might come. Utterly drained, I sank down onto the sofa. Today’s storm had broken me. Too much, far too much—I had nothing left in me to hold steady.

“Sehan. Taegyeong and I are like brothers.”

―Wow. That’s some seriously fucked-up bullshit.

“What… what did you just…”

―Only one year apart, yet because he treats you with respect, now you think you’re that much above him. Our good Geonwoo-hyung…

Before he could finish, I lunged forward, tearing the phone from Geonwoo’s hand.

“Sehan! Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the hell are you doing?!”

―Taegyeong, did you pick a photo yet?

Rage consumed me, and yet his words shoved me further over the edge.

“Seong Sehan, you crazy—!”

―If you don’t pick soon, I’ll say you molested me.

The call dropped.

I stood frozen, phone limp in my shaking hand, air sucked out of my lungs. The living room was thick with silence, filled only with everyone’s ragged breathing.

The first to move was Geonwoo-hyung. He took the phone from my hand, stared emptily into the air, then muttered:

“…We’ll talk later.”

He left for his room.

“Hyung, don’t take Sehan’s words seriously. You know him—reckless, half-mad—”

“Taegyeong, today… I’m really disappointed in you.”

“Hyung—!”

I stood staring at his closed door when heavy footsteps thudded behind me. Thump, thump—Sungwook-hyung stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him.

“Ah… this is all a mess.”

Hurting Geonwoo weighed on me. But there was no time for weakness. I glanced at Jeongmin, signaling him to come to my room.

“Taegyeong-hyung.”

He took my hand the moment we sat on my bed.

“I totally agree with you! I almost clapped back there—you’re amazing, hyung! To think you’ve been planning like this all along—seriously, it’s inspiring!”

But I didn’t deserve those shining eyes.

If I were truly that amazing, I would’ve thought of this before. I would’ve had the courage to give Geonwoo honest advice rather than letting him flounder trying to imitate Sehan.

Instead, I’d been a coward—too afraid of clashing with him, so I did nothing.

“But hyung… when you said you’d leave the company—that wasn’t real, right?”

“Maknae.”

Jeongmin had entered trainee life at twelve, and now at seventeen he was still hanging on. A kid who had poured everything into this. Knowing he’d one day face bitter failure, how could I ever just stand by and watch?

“I’d never leave you to fend for yourself. You, me, and Geonwoo—we’ve all suffered together. We’ll debut together. We’ll make it, all of us.”

“Promise me! I want us on the same team, hyung, no matter what.”

When he hooked his pinky finger, I linked mine with his. But inside, a sigh crushed me. Would Geonwoo really ever take my words to heart? I doubted it.

After a message that Sehan had finished his shoot, I slipped out to the playground.

The dorm suffocated me, and I needed solitude to gather my thoughts. I wandered the darkened playground, unable to calm down.

“Don’t panic. Take it step by step. One at a time.”

I repeated the phrases like spells, but the anxiety wouldn’t fade. If only Geonwoo-hyung would decide. With him on board, everything could flow.

“No… I don’t have the luxury of coaxing him slowly…”

And I knew—he’d never willingly abandon that song of his.

“Ha…”

I collapsed onto a bench, pulling out my phone. I opened YouTube and hit play on Perfect Puzzle’s debut song War of the Universe. I’d already watched it a hundred times.

The orchestral intro always made my heart pound painfully. And then, when the beat dropped into that devastating rhythm, a sickening wave of despair swallowed me.

The screen filled with Sehan’s face, eyes closed. My breath caught—because I knew that the moment he opened them, his rap would crash in like a thunderclap.

⌜Why are you looking up at the sky?⌟

⌜Right here. The place I stand is already a constellation.⌟

⌜I’m the dazzling star that blinds your eyes!⌟

That one line, that smirk into the camera—it had already been clipped into countless memes. I knew his fans called that scene “the beginning of legend.”

The group’s main vocal soared in the next part, but I’d never even paid them attention. Nothing could compete with Sehan’s opening: his visual dominance on screen, the rhythm of his voice pounding into ears, his presence lingering so deep that everything else blurred.

⌜My footsteps will be written into history.⌟

⌜There is no rival on this earth! My scale is a war of the universe!⌟

That arrogant, overwhelming confidence left me reeling in shock.

Cocky bastard. Reckless. But… I couldn’t deny it. Because he was Seong Sehan.

And I wasn’t the only one. His sheer popularity within Perfect Puzzle itself proved it—the size of his personal fandom dwarfed the rest.

That was the problem.