Fading Outlines in the Mirror

“Noah is first, and it looks like everyone else will have to wait about thirty minutes. Oh, and the salon director asked me to check if you used color shampoo this morning, Noah.”

“I didn’t use it. Hyung, you know I endured the itching last time and it still came out too light, so I had to redye it. I’ll just take the meds and get it done at the salon.”

Noah’s response to the manager was prickly, yet the title he used was friendly—a result of Yong-ha being Pentagram’s manager since their trainee days.

“Then it’ll be an hour wait, not thirty minutes. I’ll tell the director we need to do a touch-up on Noah’s dye.”

“Ah, Noah Hyung. I already hate waiting in the car.”

Ha-un reflexively let out a complaint.

However, no other member took the side of the bratty youngest.

Among the dark, toned-down hair concepts for this promotion cycle, Noah was the only member with bleached hair.

To maintain that vivid blue, he had to apply touch-ups constantly, and everyone knew Noah was suffering through it, even taking hives medication for his skin, which was as sensitive as his personality.

“What did you just say, Lee Ha-un?”

“…I’m just saying. Tsk, Yong-ha Hyung. I told you to get the smell out of the car.”

Or perhaps, he simply didn’t want to mess with the irritable Noah.

“If I send the car for an interior cleaning, how am I supposed to drive you guys around? Just wait quietly. It’s our turn to provide coffee for the salon staff, so I have to head to the cafe.”

Yong-ha, who had suddenly become Ha-un’s target, replied in a sluggish tone.

His voice, soaked in exhaustion, spoke volumes about his grueling work environment.

A road manager’s job involved driving the vehicle, controlling everything on-site, and handling all the small errands for members who had to stay hidden.

Handling that while also managing Pentagram’s schedule and scouting for gigs as the team leader meant ten bodies wouldn’t have been enough.

The sad reality was that the group’s youngest was too cheerful to notice Yong-ha’s fatigue.

“You’re going to a cafe? Yong-ha Hyung, then I want a Sweet Potato Green Milk Tea! It’s a new menu item I saw on Upstar, but I’ve never tried it.”

“If it’s milk tea, just let it be milk tea. Sweet potato and green tea… what kind of weird combination is that? It sounds high-calorie just hearing it.”

“It’s hard enough not being able to eat what I want; you should let me slide on the drinks, come on.”

“Quiet. My head already hurts trying to order for the salon staff since everyone wants something different. Have some pity on me for trying to make sure they style you guys well.”

“Ah, Hyung! Sweet Potato Green Milk Tea. Just add that one!”

Ha-un continued to raise his voice, insisting he couldn’t give this up, until Se-han—who was dozing in the back—showed signs of waking. Only then did he shut his mouth.

Even so, seeing him whine to Ji-ho afterward about how the manager was being “too much,” it didn’t seem like he cared about Yong-ha’s feelings at all.

As usual, it was only Ji-ho who helped the poor manager, whose dark circles had reached his cheekbones.

“Hyung, when you sent the text earlier, I already put the whole order through the cafe app. Go-un’s designer can’t have dairy, so I swapped the latte for an Americano. Just check it when you pick it up.”

“Did you? I forgot since there are so many staff members. Hey, Ha-un, instead of just clinging to Ji-ho, try to learn a thing or two from him. And stay quiet while I’m gone.”

“Isn’t Yong-ha Hyung the weird one for not knowing how to use an ordering app? Who even does that these days? Such a total boome—!”

Before the derogatory slang used online could leave Ha-un’s mouth, Ji-ho quickly covered it with his hand.

Ha-un blinked his round eyes behind the restraint.

Fortunately, Yong-ha didn’t hear him and stepped out of the car.

A moment later, Ha-un chattered away as soon as his mouth was free, leaning toward Ji-ho.

“Whoa, Ji-ho Hyung, that was fast. If I got caught, I would’ve been lectured for hours about how an idol could use a word like that.”

“You know you have to be careful, right? Remember the chaos when Euro from Remember posted a word from a weird site on Upstar?”

“This word isn’t like that. And I’m telling you, that guy definitely uses that site. It’s only because you haven’t talked to him properly, Hyung. He’s a total psycho.”

“That’s not the point.”

Ji-ho let out a low sigh and reached out to ruffle Ha-un’s hair.

His black hair, stiff and unstyled, tangled in all directions, but Ha-un just laughed, saying “don’t” while clearly enjoying the attention.

Then, deciding he’d been scolded enough, he shamelessly shoved his phone in front of Ji-ho.

“I got it. Look, see? I always get your approval before I post on Upstar. Check this for me, Hyung.”

“You’re posting again? Team Leader Kim said the company is taking over personal Upstars soon, so we should hold off for a whil—”

“Oh, did Go-un Hyung start that game too? Insane. He’s already level 48?”

Where did the boy go who had vowed at the start of the year to show off the maturity of a twenty-year-old adult?

At the sound of a game coming from the back, Ha-un’s interest shifted instantly, and he turned around, forgetting his conversation with Ji-ho.

Watching Ha-un lean halfway over the seat to watch the mobile game Go-un was playing, he looked unmistakably immature despite his looks.

Ji-ho shook his head slightly and looked down at Ha-un’s phone in his hand.

He saw a long string of text that captured Ha-un’s personality perfectly.

Along with an endless stream of hashtags.

It seemed he intended to brag with a well-taken selfie before even reaching the salon; the posts about the weather or what he dreamed about last night made it feel like Ji-ho could hear Ha-un’s chatter in his ears.

‘Well, the fans like this about Ha-un, saying he’s like a true maknae. It’s also true that Ha-un is the best at communicating compared to the other members.’

The problem was that since he typed exactly as his thoughts flowed, the grammar and spacing were a complete mess.

As always, Ji-ho reached out to fix them.

He accidentally swiped the Upstar app away, but since Ha-un’s draft wouldn’t have disappeared, he tried to reopen it immediately.

That is, until an app Ha-un had used previously popped up instead of the home screen.

A video-sharing app called MeTube.

The video Ha-un had been watching just before opening Upstar was still displayed on the screen.

It wasn’t strange for Ha-un to watch a fancam focusing on a Pentagram member, but—

[Pentagram] Ji-ho’s Choreography Mistakes

Ji-ho’s expression froze the moment he read the title.

He reflexively turned his head to look around.

Ha-un, sitting next to him, was still preoccupied with Go-un, and the rest of the members were in the back, showing no interest in Ji-ho.

‘No matter how much truth there is in criticism, no one in the world is immune to being hurt by it. Whether it’s malicious comments or nonsense articles, the best way is not to look at them in the first place. Especially you, Lee Ha-un, who lives with your phone in your hand!’

That was what Yong-ha always told the members.

He said if an issue arose, he would tell them, so they shouldn’t even search their own names on the internet.

All the members followed that to some extent, and Ji-ho, in particular, never looked up evaluations of himself.

Because if they were bad, he knew he would never be able to forget them.

But his hesitant finger ended up playing the video on Ha-un’s phone.

Listening to the low volume only he could hear, Ji-ho focused on the screen.

As expected, the content of the video was designed solely to tear Ji-ho down.

It consisted of very short clips from Pentagram’s numerous performances, edited to make it look like Ji-ho was out of sync with the other members.

The editing was so crafty that in some parts, it even made it look like Ji-ho was being lazy on stage.

‘They made it look like I messed up here by using a two-shot of a time when Se-han Hyung missed a half-beat. This part is just a difference in camera angles… and the only real mistake I made was that first scene. That day, I was the only one who didn’t get the message about the choreography change. I thought I caught up quickly, though…’

Ji-ho kept replaying the video.

He weighed the truth against his vivid memories.

He should have just brushed it off, telling himself it was manipulated content that people wouldn’t believe.

However, when Ji-ho’s eyes reached a certain section below the video, the tips of his fingers holding the phone trembled slightly.

It was the space for evaluations of the post—the “like” and “comment” section.

The “thumbs up” icon was clearly highlighted.

He didn’t even have time to be consumed by the worry of why Ha-un had pressed it.

It was because of the first comment pinned at the very top.

[Why Ji-ho should leave Pentagram: https://kpoptalk.net/19533…]

Did Ha-un actually go in here? Why did the uploader of this video hate him so much? Suddenly talking about withdrawal—did he do something terribly wrong?

A flurry of thoughts flashed through Ji-ho’s mind.

Cold reason still commanded him to ignore it and move on.

It told him he could tell just by looking at the manipulated video; going in would only lead to pain and no gain.

But Ji-ho’s finger clicked the link anyway.

Sharp words aimed to pierce him immediately unfolded across the white background covering the screen.

[Best] Why Ji-ho should leave Pentagram

You can call me a solo stan, I don’t care.

I’m not denying I’m a Han-sae solo fan.

Still, I’ve never missed a mass-streaming event, and I’ll provide proof if you want.

I’ve followed Pentagram since their debut line-up and stayed through the times when they weren’t releasing their 3rd album and were only doing local events.

I genuinely cried when they hit it big with Beyond and the 3rd mini-album was officially announced.

When they hit 300k first-week sales, trended on socials, and started churning out variety content, I thought, “The kids who suffered are finally shining.”

(3rd Mini-Album Concept Photos)

(Music Show Full-Shot GIFs)

(Web Variety clip of Se-han laughing at an MC saying, “You want something stronger? Ji-ho is the limit of our concept.”)

Let’s be real, we all know why Pentagram is getting attention now.

In a field of “bling + pretty + slim,” they hammered in the “I am a Man” tough concept. Who wouldn’t go crazy for that?

To move beyond just absorbing the hungry market share and hit top-tier status, this promotion is the most important—but look at the group photo harmony.

(Post of Ji-ho’s photo saying, ‘I’m a new fan but Ji-ho’s tone seems too different, lol’)

(GIF of the choreography mistake video from MeTube)

(Post with a photo of a former debut line-up member photoshopped into Ji-Ho’s spot, saying this looks better)

(Pentagram’s five members on the way to a music show—Ji-ho is the only one smiling brightly among the stone-faced members)

Until the maknae’s (youngest’s) glow-up, it didn’t matter if Ji-ho was flavorless and scentless with Pentagram’s old concept.

But that’s not the case anymore.

The CEO finally threw away his old-school obsession, and Producer God-Kwon-ho revived our boys properly.

After the 3rd album promotions, they need to push through with a full-length album, but am I the only one who thinks Ji-ho is the biggest obstacle there?

If the tone doesn’t match, he should at least put in the effort. What exactly does he contribute to the group?

His singing parts aren’t even that long—does he even relieve the pressure on the maknae who is the main vocal?

He’s roommates with Bang-ju (Noah), who suffers every time the choreo formation changes, yet they’re awkward.

It’s not like he’s a variety-show ace who can talk well, either.

Does he even put in half the effort Han-sae does with that “diligent” concept of his? Lol.

(Photo of Go-un and Ji-ho standing side by side)

Look at the size difference between these two.

If you aren’t born with it, you should at least bulk up through exercise.

No charm, no talent, no effort, no popularity + a nuisance to the team.

I won’t say more.

P L E A S E!!!  J I – H O  L E A V E

Upvotes: 138

I doubted my eyes when I saw the title. Leave? Are you insane?

└ First time I’ve seen a solo stan telling another member to leave.

└ No, this guy is just a troll pretending to be a Han-sae solo fan. He’s a fan of K.J.W. who left the debut lineup.

└ That was ages ago, and they’re still doing this shit.

It’s so shady that you didn’t even use a search-shield for Ji-ho.

└ They want it to become an issue. Don’t upvote.

…

The wording of “leaving” is provocative, but isn’t it true?

└ What kind of bullshit is this?

└ This has been said since the concept teasers came out. Ji-ho has no presence and ruins the overall tone.

└ You’re the one who keeps barking about “tone,” aren’t you, OP?

└ Whatever, it’s just the truth. Do you not have eyes?

…

I don’t know if he’s just naturally introverted, but it’s true Ji-ho doesn’t put in effort.

└ This is ridiculous. Did you forget why Beyond hit it big? Do you have amnesia?

└ Stop feeding the troll.

…

The post is provocative, but I think it’s realistic.

This is the most important time, and there needs to be a solution for Ji-ho being an outlier.

In the past, they balanced things out as the “soft” members, but Ha-un suddenly grew so much that it became a problem.

Whether it’s a matter of effort or talent, it’s a fact that Ji-ho ruins the group’s new concept.

└ Now even the maknae growing up is a problem? Hahaha.

└ It’s so annoying how our boy gets dragged into this whenever Ji-ho is mentioned.

…

Is the upvote count for real? This is a “Best” post?

└ Because Ji-ho is an easy target, lol.

└ Yeah, you can be salty all you want, but Jyo solo fans have no power. Everyone defending him is just an “all-fan” boomer.

└ Hahaha, are there seriously zero Jyo solo fans? Someone show up.

└ Where’s the Hotteok flipper?

Ji-ho lowered Ha-un’s phone, trying to suppress his breathing.

Due to the nature of online communities, there were many terms he didn’t understand, but he could still grasp the overall meaning.

He also understood what the many upvotes on this post signified.

In fact, it was familiar.

Even if he tried to ignore reality, this was the truth.

If one had to pick a disturbing presence in Pentagram—who were doing well and would only gain more popularity—it was none other than himself.

The group had escaped the label of “unpopular,” but Ji-ho alone was different.

“Hotteok flipper” in the last comment. He knew well what that word meant.

Photo cards, with each member’s photo printed in a small size.

Since they were randomly included in albums, fans would buy multiple copies to get the card of the member they wanted.

And if a member appeared whose card was at a level where it couldn’t be sold or traded—it meant the photo card would be folded, used as a tool to flip hotteok, and then thrown away.

Ji-ho was only that much in Pentagram: a piece of thick paper folded to block the heat.

He was worth only as much as a Hotteok flipper.