“It’s that kind of program. For now, PD-nim said they filmed the other participants’ segments yesterday first, so it’s fine. Do you think you can go on it?”
“I’ll just do it. It’s a job that came to me anyway.”
He did consider not doing it, using his condition as an excuse, but somehow, he felt that a guy like Cheonghyeon would have cherished even a forcibly assigned variety appearance like this.
From here on, time would be used solely for himself, so just once he wanted to fulfill the dream of an entertainer who appears on a solo variety. This was the dream Gi Cheonghyeon had longed for so much.
“Okay. It’s too late for now, so get good rest. I’ll come back tomorrow at noon.”
After the manager and president left, Isaac let out a deep sigh.
“It’s something other souls instinctively feel. Because it’s not a soul meant to live in this world, it keeps skimming the surface.”
The words the reaper left behind kept circling his mind.
Even from hearing only a little of it, Cheonghyeon’s situation was exhausting.
Gi Cheonghyeon’s loneliness approached as a tangible thing.
If you opened the curtain in the spacious single room, you could see the city of Seoul at a glance. Even at this dawn hour, the streets glittered with lights.
“Why die? In a wonderland like this, why not just eat tasty food and live well… why die? It’s even harder to live in the imperial palace.”
He said that, but gazing at the tall buildings and the sparkling lights, he could newly imagine how achingly lonely the man must have been.
His own presence had been faint too, but he’d always had attendants trailing behind and knights protecting him.
But that wasn’t the life of Cheonghyeon.
How many lonely nights had he endured until he finally decided to kill himself?
Forcing himself to ignore the feeling of vastness, Isaac crushed an empty drink can and tossed it into the trash.
The can bounced off the rim of the bin and sprang back. The stainless-steel bottom that fell to the floor reflected the light from outside and shone brightly, and he let out a hollow laugh.
Even a can like that sparkles when it catches the light…
Gi Cheonghyeon… How on earth have you lived? When you get to the empire, cast everything off and please be happy.
For the first time in a very long while, Isaac wished for another.
Two days later, Cheonghyeon was set to be discharged immediately.
While packing, a thought came to him, and he asked the manager who was helping organize his things.
“Hyung, what about my parents?”
“Huh? Uh…, I mean, I’ll contact them! No, I called them yesterday, but they must be busy.”
What is that? He’d only asked, but the way he babbled made it all the more suspicious.
Come to think of it, the reapers had neatly skipped over any mention of Cheonghyeon’s parents in their explanation.
Was there some kind of problem? No, if a child had attempted suicide and had only just woken up, how could the parents be too busy to show their faces even once by the day of discharge?
“It’s not that. I don’t even remember their faces. I meant, if things were bad between us, or if they’d passed away, please tell me.”
“Oh, that’s what you meant. Mm, I’m just the guy who drives, so I don’t really know the details! Sorry. Ahaha, they’re not dead, so I’ll call the president first!”
What kind of nonsense was that?
A moment ago he said he’d contacted the parents. It was suspicious, but he decided to let it go.
He had a strong hunch that if he prodded that faint-hearted manager any more, he’d waste time listening to some ridiculous excuse that didn’t even hold water.
As soon as they got in the car and hit the road, an exclamation escaped him.
“Wow….”
Seeing with his own eyes the knowledge the reapers had implanted made it clearer.
The forest of tall buildings and the cars zipping by were truly fascinating. The knowledge that had existed only as words in his head until now felt like it was becoming reality.
“Hyeon-ah, we’ll go straight to the dorm. The members each have their own schedules, so they’ll probably be back in the evening. Just get good rest for now.”
“Okay.”
This was where he had to live. It didn’t yet feel like his country, but he would have to grow attached to it soon. He hoped he would meet many good people so he could take to it. He was especially curious about his family.
In the empire, family relations hadn’t been all that good. His mother was a good person, but always too busy, and his father was a lecher. He had seventeen concubines.
When the emperor, his father, died, his half-brother killed all his half-siblings and took the throne. Wherever he went, surely the family environment would be better than that.
Arriving at the dorm, Cheonghyeon was momentarily at a loss for words when he saw his room.
“Hyung, is this really my room?”
“Hm? Ah, I guess you don’t remember the room well, either. This is your room! Make yourself comfortable. I’ll order lunch right away.”
Once the manager left, Cheonghyeon let out a long sigh. Is his mental age six? How exactly was he supposed to rest comfortably here?
The cutesy decor alone was enough to rattle his brain. He used his foot to nudge the line of rabbit dolls arrayed on the bed into a pile in one spot and lay down, but something caught under his back.
“What is this?”
He opened a notebook that had nothing written on the cover, and it was Cheonghyeon’s diary.
The instant he opened it to raw emotions and records of his daily routine, the irritation he’d felt melted away, and he suddenly felt sorry for the kid again. With this guy’s personality, you’d expect something like “This is Cheonghyeon’s diary~ please don’t read!” on it.
But Gi Cheonghyeon likely had never once said to anyone, Please don’t look at me.
If anything, it would be Please, look at me.
Putting aside his troubled heart, he read the diary calmly, and there was more useful information than he’d expected.
It seemed he had fans, despite such a faint presence. For example, the fan-café ID [Hyeon-baragi] was the one and only fan who asked after him every day.
Whether rain or snow, the fan would start with “Cheonghyeon, how was your day today?”
It seemed to be an older male fan.
And [Gideon] was Cheonghyeon’s only fansite master. They took insanely good photos.
On April Fools’ Day, fans of other idols would hope they’d post our boy’s pictures, one of those named fans.
The site name, “Gideon,” seemed to be short for “Gi Cheonghyeon Guardian.”
From reading the diary, they seemed to truly cherish and love Cheonghyeon.
Their real name was Kwon Ihwa.
Normally, fraternizing between idols and fans was something to be absolutely avoided, but it seemed Cheonghyeon called her “Ihwa noona” and was friendly with her.
Ihwa, too, seemed to care deeply for Cheonghyeon. There were a few others, but he felt he should at least remember those two above the rest.
The most unexpected thing in the diary was that Cheonghyeon genuinely cherished and loved the members. Throughout the diary, you could see his affection for them, and on several dates you could also confirm the members’ affection for Cheonghyeon.
When he read the line about being able to lend even 30 million won to the leader, Sikyung, Isaac was appalled. Was it fortunate the blockhead hadn’t gotten stabbed in the back?
He had been convinced the members had knowingly or unknowingly ostracized Gi Cheonghyeon, but reading the diary through, there were no signs of that at all.
Perhaps, on the day East won the year-end grand prize, Cheonghyeon had lost hope. Until they became truly top idols, he could comfort himself with, “It’s because we’re not famous yet.”
But even after they reached the pinnacle, his presence was still fainter than others’, and seeing himself be forgotten by people, just as always… perhaps that’s when the embers of hope went out.
“Cheonghyeon, lunch is here!”
Hearing someone call for him, he slipped the diary roughly into a drawer and stood up.
Reading the diary, the small resentments he’d held toward the members or the manager had long since melted away.
Isaac himself wouldn’t want the Cheonghyeon who’d gone to the empire to be hostile toward his mother or the young attendants he’d been friendly with. Likely, Cheonghyeon wouldn’t either.
In a world that had been cold to him, these were the people who had at least extended a hand.
But there hadn’t been a single mention of his parents in the diary either, had there? Thinking he should meet the president as soon as possible, Cheonghyeon went out to the living room.
After lunch, he thought he’d get real rest, but a meeting was suddenly scheduled. Discharged in the morning, and straight to work after lunch?
He was displeased, but Cheonghyeon didn’t show it and followed the manager’s lead. There wasn’t anything in particular to do at the dorm anyway, and he wasn’t cold-hearted enough to refuse the manager’s pleading eyes. And this was a good chance to look around outside.
The meeting was with Ko Yeonhee’s side from AKA.
Given PD Son’s personality, the moment they went to the pre-meeting he’d shove a camera in their faces and manufacture provocative situations with the bewildered participants, so they needed to get their story straight beforehand.
Moreover, since there had been a mid-process cast change and Cheonghyeon had collapsed, they didn’t know what sensitive questions would be fired, so they needed to get in sync as much as possible.
In truth, for AKA’s side, it was a huge relief that Cheonghyeon had collapsed. Because of internal broadcasting circumstances, the Ou-yeon-ri filming dates had been moved up, so the other participants had suddenly been scheduled for filming and shot the opening knowing nothing.
But since one of the pair had been hospitalized, Yeonhee and Cheonghyeon had gained a bit of time.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Gwangyeon, manager for AKA. Yeonhee.”
“Hello.”
At Gwangyeon’s eye signal, Yeonhee sat and dipped her head with little sincerity.
Isaac, without particular thought, took his seat and accepted the greeting. Unlike Yeonhee, however, he didn’t even say a token “Hello”. He simply made a sound “Mm” and gave the slightest nod.
“Cheonghyeon…!”
Seeing Yeonhee’s high-and-mighty manner, the manager, thinking she was looking down on his artist, felt a flash of anger, but when Cheonghyeon answered back even more brusquely, he sucked in a breath.
How naturally he accepted the greeting, like some veteran PD.
“Ah, I’m still not feeling well.”
After being ill, Cheonghyeon’s oddly shortened way of speaking looked extremely rude, but on the other hand it suited the rather cool atmosphere he now had.
The old Cheonghyeon always bowed his head and beamed, so the manager had thought inwardly that he was bright, but the memory-lost Cheonghyeon didn’t smile whenever, and he always wore a cynical expression. And this expression and air suited him far better than before. Like someone finally wearing clothes that fit.
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