A Ticking Time Bomb

“We’re screwed.”

During the break between the dry rehearsal and the live broadcast, I found myself checking the online reactions to yesterday’s episode of . The public’s response had been weighing heavily on my mind, and now a barrage of venomous comments was pouring out.

“What is it?” Lee Seon, who had been idly fiddling with his phone beside me, interjected.

I simply shook my head, conveying that it was nothing.

Malicious comments seemed to flood the world, yet, ironically, HEX was once again a contender for first place on the music show today. Considering the streaming trends of the other nominated groups, it seemed highly unlikely we would be dethroned.

For the second week, our stage costumes leaned heavily into a marine-inspired theme, accentuating the summery vibe even more than the first week’s outfits. This was, in fact, the very ensemble Han Doyoung had so desperately hoped to avoid. Lee Seon, however, was the only one in shorts.

Standing before the mirror, I idly ran my fingers through my hair, tinted with sky-blue hair chalk.

The world wouldn’t crumble simply because we received some criticism. Nor would the group suddenly disband. I knew that fame, in this industry and beyond, inevitably attracted detractors. The larger a group became, the more people would nitpick and point fingers for the most trivial of reasons.

Even as the torrent of malice poured forth, I remained largely unaffected. From the outset, there was no reason for me to be swayed by words aimed at Kwon Yohan, not myself. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a profound disillusionment with the anonymous individuals so eager to tear down a mere child.

The real problem, however, lay with the other members.

Could they truly remain unfazed after witnessing such a relentless onslaught?

****

My prediction proved accurate, down to the last detail.

“…And the first-place winner is, HEX! Congratulations!”

This meant we had concluded our promotions by claiming a trophy on our final broadcast. Furthermore, the details of this first-place ceremony had been announced well in advance. Helplessly, I clutched the trophy that had been thrust into my arms, surrendering to whatever was to come.

Someone had, after all, blurted out their intention to toss the maknae in celebration.

The two main culprits, their eyes sparkling with mischief, promptly hoisted me into the air. Yoon Jihyuk and Choi Seung-beom also joined the fray, lending their hands, though it seemed they were deliberately applying less force.

“One, two!”

With two members attempting to toss me towards the ceiling and two others trying to rein them in, a peculiar balance was achieved. The sensation of my body floating at a height that wasn’t overly excessive was, surprisingly, somewhat enjoyable.

Still, I couldn’t escape the disorienting sensation of my semicircular canals dancing.

“Ugh…”

The moment my feet touched the ground, an involuntary retch escaped me. In the chaos, the trophy I had been clutching had somehow snapped at the neck. To prevent anyone else from noticing, I hugged it even tighter to my chest.

It was a foolish move. Had my legs buckled, I should have braced myself with my arms, however ungraceful it might have looked. By the time my posture completely gave way, it was already too late to regain my balance.

Just before I could collapse in an undignified heap, someone caught me.

“Careful.”

‘Careful or not, my vision is still spinning…’

The person who had half-tucked me into his embrace and steadied me was Yoon Jihyuk. I was then practically dragged towards the waiting room. By the time we arrived and I settled onto a chair, my vision had mercifully returned to normal.

Yoon Jihyuk smiled warmly, then cast a pointed glance at the culprits.

“From now on, you absolutely must discuss and mention these kinds of things beforehand. Understood?”

He then lectured them with the gentle patience one might use for small children. I inadvertently let out a laugh.

“Hyung, he’s laughing?” Han Doyoung pouted, voicing his complaint, but it was lightly brushed aside.

****

After concluding our live broadcast to mark the end of our promotions, we finally indulged in a lavish beef dinner. The other members, myself excluded, enjoyed alcohol with their meal. The after-party concluded in a pleasantly tipsy and cheerful atmosphere.

Our respite, however, would last only until tomorrow. We had successfully scaled one towering hill, but another already loomed ahead. Barely a month remained until our solo concert.

With fatigue accumulated and alcohol consumed, the members had fallen asleep early, leaving the dorm in a quiet hush.

I, on the other hand, found sleep elusive and sat idly on my bed. Thanks to diligently managing my condition with Kwon Yohan’s advice, I felt surprisingly not terrible. Not good, by any means, but at least I didn’t feel as though I’d be bedridden tomorrow.

Just then, a soft knock echoed at the door.

“Come in.” It was, predictably, Yoon Jihyuk.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked softly.

The man who had entered so carefully pulled back the blanket and settled onto the edge of the bed. Then, as if checking the condition of a beloved pet, he gently touched my face and shoulder before withdrawing his hand.

“…What exactly are you doing?”

Yoon Jihyuk offered no reply, only a quiet chuckle, before finally mumbling after a long moment.

“You seem fine.”

“…”

“That’s a relief. Yes, it truly is.”

‘…Is he drunk right now?’

“How are promotions going? Are you enjoying it?”

He posed a question similar to the one he’d asked during the filming, almost as if checking on my well-being was a hobby of his. ‘Was that not merely a performance for the cameras back then?’ Unable to fully gauge his intentions, I simply stared at him. It was precisely at that moment.

*Screech.* An unpleasant auditory hallucination, akin to fingernails dragging across a blackboard, pierced my ears, accompanied by an intense headache that seemed to knead my brain. Soon, words I had never heard before resonated in my mind.

‘Do you intend to continue, without giving up?’

Yoon Jihyuk’s lips, however, remained completely still.

Suddenly, I noticed his face, a shade redder than usual. His makeup-free features revealed an indelible weariness. His heavily relaxed eyes were clear evidence that this wasn’t merely the effect of alcohol.

“Did you specifically come all this way just to ask me that?”

“Yes.”

An undeniably unpleasant sense of déjà vu washed over me. As if compelled, I opened my mouth.

“Artist care is the company’s responsibility, Hyung.”

“…Huh?”

“Just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you need to meticulously manage everything from start to finish.”

He frowned, a troubled expression creasing his brow. His gaze seemed to ask if I truly believed he was unaware of such a basic fact. Then, Yoon Jihyuk gently tapped my cheek with the back of his hand.

“No one can simply ignore a ticking time bomb when it’s right in front of them, Yohan.”

‘How could a sandcastle built with such effort be allowed to collapse? I can’t let it.’ He added this peculiar thought before slowly, almost sluggishly, climbing onto the bed. His action of burrowing completely under the blanket was so natural, as if it were the most obvious thing to do.

“Excuse me, are you planning to sleep here?”

Yoon Jihyuk mumbled something in response, but his words were so indistinct that I couldn’t make them out properly.

****

‘Since this guy has claimed my bed, should I just sleep in his room?’ The thought crossed my mind for a fleeting moment, but a strange sense of indignation made me abandon it. I distinctly recalled how difficult it had been to fall asleep, finally drifting off only in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, why was the person who had fallen asleep long before me still clinging to me like this?

It was a spacious bed, certainly large enough that there was no need to lie so close. I had even deliberately occupied one end to ensure ample distance between us. It seemed all that effort had been utterly in vain.

“Yoon Jihyuk. You need to wake up now.”

I tapped the arm of the man holding me so tightly. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t pry it off with brute force.

“Hey, are you listening?”

“…Mm. …Huh?” Yoon Jihyuk slowly opened his eyes, revealing a surprisingly clear face, unlike someone who had overindulged the previous night.

“If you’re awake, then please let go now.”

“Hahahaha.”

‘What’s so funny? I said, let go.’

“Yohan, your body temperature is really low. It’s pleasantly cool.”

His voice, thick with sleep, was significantly lower than usual. And given our close proximity, it possessed a quality that sent a strange tickle through my insides. Goosebumps, I was certain, had erupted on my arms.

“Is your drinking habit sleeping in other people’s beds, Hyung? You really ought to fix that.”

“Ah… no, it’s not that. It’s probably because I used to just sleep anywhere in the dorms back then.”

Only then did he slowly release his arm, clearing his throat with an awkward cough.

“I didn’t drink past my limit, though. That’s strange.”

“When you’re exhausted, it always hits you harder, doesn’t it?”

“Yohan, you don’t even drink. How do you know that?”

“It’s common sense.”

‘Is that so?’ Yoon Jihyuk tilted his head repeatedly, as if genuinely bewildered by his own actions. After a brief moment of contemplation, I opened my mouth.

“Um, does the company perhaps expect you to handle the members’ care as well?”

“Did I really say something like that to you?”

I didn’t bother to deny it. It seemed that way, the words would flow more easily.

“To be precise, it just naturally became my responsibility.”

“If it were during a hiatus, I could understand, but taking on such a burden during a busy period like this doesn’t seem right.”

Yoon Jihyuk’s lips pressed into a thin, straight line.

“There are plenty of managers, too. You don’t need to overexert yourself.”

“…Well, if only I could trust them.”

His voice was chillingly devoid of emotion.

“The managers keep changing.”

“If they change, then you can just hand over the responsibilities.”

“That’s not enough.”

His resolute stance left no room for argument.

“Worrying about you four is no trouble for me. In fact, it’s more exhausting and frustrating when problems arise in places I haven’t anticipated.”

And so, I finally understood the source of the peculiar unease I had felt all along. Yoon Jihyuk’s attachment to the ‘team’ was far more pathological than I had ever imagined.

“So, Yohan, you don’t need to worry about me unnecessarily. Just focus on doing well yourself.”

What exactly was Kwon Yohan to Yoon Jihyuk?

“Whether you collapse or throw another tantrum, just do it where I can see it.”

He was, quite literally, a ticking time bomb, and perhaps an internal enemy capable of destroying everything they had built in an instant. Even if Kwon Yohan harbored no malice.

After all, sheer enthusiasm alone couldn’t solve everything.

“…Understood.”

Upon my listless reply, Yoon Jihyuk stroked my hair with a satisfied expression.