The Bitter Taste of Caffeine

“Hyung, you’re already up?”

“It’s a morning pre-recording, of course I’m up. But what’s that? You’re on camera soon—don’t tell me you’re eating a full meal for breakfast?”

Though he hadn’t identified it by smell alone, Se-han frowned at the lidded pot.

Because of his poor eyesight, he wore glasses inside the dorm, and the space between his brows behind the silver frames crumpled slightly.

Yet, even a scowl couldn’t ruin Se-han’s looks.

He exuded a natural dandyism despite having just woken up.

His hair, though unstyled, was neatly parted, accentuating his composed aura.

Despite his lack of double eyelids, his deep-set eyes and relatively thin lips gave off an impression of anger when he wasn’t smiling.

This sharp face, combined with his role as leader, had earned him the unique nickname “Team Leader” among fans—a title that fit him like a glove.

Was it Se-han’s cold, urban atmosphere? Or perhaps his voice, still thick with sleep?

Ji-ho instinctively flinched at Se-han’s clear disapproval.

It was the reason an awkward laugh colored his next words.

“Haha, well… it’s Choi Go-un’s birthday today. I looked up a diet-friendly radish soup recipe and brewed some.”

“Radish soup? Isn’t it usually seaweed soup for birthdays?”

“You asked that last year, too, Hyung. Go-un hates the texture of seaweed.”

“Mm, I guess he did. Well, fine. You’re suffering because of Noah. Because of that guy’s pickiness, we haven’t been able to call the dorm housekeeper for months.”

“It’s okay. What happened back then wasn’t Noah’s fault.”

There was no sarcasm in Ji-ho’s defense of his teammate, yet for some reason, suspicion flickered in Se-han’s eyes behind his glasses.

It was a piercing gaze, searching to see if Ji-ho truly meant it or if he secretly resented Noah.

Noticing this, Ji-ho quickly continued.

“Actually, it’s not much trouble. Manager Yong-ha keeps the fridge stocked with prepped ingredients, or I can just order from the market. I’m doing this because I hate eating those frozen lunch boxes myself.”

“Is that so? Well… even so, don’t indulge everything Kang Noah does. Part of the reason he acts so selfishly is because you’re always there to clean up after him.”

“What?”

Ji-ho asked back, thinking he had misheard.

To suddenly criticize a fellow member and even shift the blame onto Ji-ho—he wondered if Se-han had just had a bad dream.

But Se-han didn’t offer a follow-up.

Just then, Noah stepped out of the bathroom after washing up.

Seeing him, Se-han muttered, “Forgetting a member’s taste… I really am a failure as a leader,” before disappearing into the bathroom.

Ji-ho couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“Ji-ho, I’m done, so wake the kids. Ah, damn, I forgot my cleanser. Se-han Hyung! Don’t you dare use mine!”

‘Right, I have to wake the other two.’

Ji-ho tried to shake off the dazed feeling.

It was that early hour transitioning from dawn to morning, and he still had much to do.

Excluding the diligent Se-han and the irritable but quick Noah, the other two members came to mind.

Since waking them alone was a massive undertaking, Ji-ho gave Noah a distracted answer and hurried out of the kitchen.

**********************************

Pentagram’s dorm was an apartment secured by the agency’s CEO, Hyeong-jun, who had even taken out a mortgage after the group hit number one on the charts through their viral reversal.

It was an old building with only two rooms facing each other across the living room.

The large room was shared by the three members other than Ji-ho and Noah.

Ji-ho entered the room, the door showing no sign of opening even after Se-han had left it.

Two massive figures lay like corpses on mattresses that covered most of the floor.

Just looking at them made Ji-ho feel exhausted.

The reason it took so long to wake the remaining two wasn’t for some special reason.

They were just incredibly difficult to wake up.

First, the youngest, who was the epitome of a spoiled child when sleepy.

“Lee Ha-un. I know you’re awake. I saw you flinch when I turned on the light.”

Ha-un pulled the blanket over his head at Ji-ho’s words, unbothered that his calves were exposed because the blanket wasn’t long enough.

His tone made it clear he had no intention of getting up.

“Hyung, I want to sleep more. Mmm? Just five minutes… you can just wake me again when the backup alarm goes off.”

As the group’s maknae and the most energetic member, Ha-un followed Ji-ho well.

But from another perspective, it also meant that, unlike with the other older members, he completely ignored Ji-ho’s words.

“It’s almost five. If you sleep more, you won’t have time for breakfast. You’re going to whine about having no energy if you skip a meal. Get up, now!”

“Then just until then. Okay? Hyung— wake Go-un Hyung first and then me next…”

“You won’t get up then, either. If you keep this up, I’m going to splash water on you.”

“Liar. You don’t play pranks like that. Whatever, I’m never leaving this blanket, so do what you want.”

The way he aggressively wrapped himself in the blanket with his large frame was far from cute, yet Ha-un whined like a child, seemingly unaware of his own size.

The sleep had already left his voice, but it was unclear if he wanted to enjoy more laziness or if he simply wanted Ji-ho to coax him further.

The problem was that if Ji-ho cut him off here, Ha-un would spend the whole day sulking and being a nuisance.

Knowing him well, Ji-ho had no choice but to wave the white flag.

“Fine. But only until I wake Choi Go-un, okay? And like you can even hide in that blanket with your size.”

Ji-ho laughed, lightly tapping Ha-un’s protruding leg.

The youngest had been the same size as him when they first met, but even after his rapid growth, the sight of him still thinking he was small had a certain charm.

“Hyung—!”

Ha-un grumbled until the end, but satisfied with the extra rolling-around time, he didn’t emerge.

Ji-ho turned his head to wake the final member.

While Ha-un and Se-han weren’t small, they were of a size that could share a king-sized mattress.

In contrast, there was one member who used a double-sized mattress all to himself: Go-un, the birthday boy.

Ji-ho first noted the broad back—easily mistaken for an athlete’s—exposed because he slept face down.

The massive man, who fit Pentagram’s “masculine” concept better than anyone, was peacefully slumbering despite the noise.

“Choi Go-un, get up. It’s time. Go-un? Hey, I said wake up!”

However, Ji-ho resented Go-un’s sturdy frame every morning when he wouldn’t budge.

Even when Ji-ho shook him and called him in a way that would wake any normal person, Go-un didn’t move an inch.

“I’m telling you, it’s going to be a disaster if you don’t wake up now. Hey, wake up. Choi Go-un!”

Unfortunately, Go-un, who had been called a “bear” since childhood due to his size, had a habit of falling into a deep sleep that blocked out all senses, as if he were hibernating.

‘He never wakes up on the first try. At this point, it’s not a habit, it’s a disease.’

But according to Go-un, a sleep clinic had diagnosed him as normal in the past, so what could be done?

It was Ji-ho, who had somehow become the designated waker, who suffered because of him.

“Please, just wake up easily. Get up— Choi Go-un.”

Just then, a loud phone alarm began to blare again, but the massive figure remained motionless.

Instead, Ha-un, lying nearby, snapped, “Hyung— the alarm!”

It was a grueling struggle that repeated every morning.

It was another reason why Ji-ho had to be the first to rise, even aside from meal prep.

Ji-ho let out a low sigh and leaned into Go-un’s ear.

The ear, which twitched at the touch of someone’s breath, was delicately shaped, unlike its owner’s fierce impression, but unfortunately, that pretty organ wasn’t doing its job.

“Choi Go-un. Hey, Choi Go-un! Wake up!”

He wished that blunt body would move like those twitching ears.

Despite shouting several times right next to his ear, Go-un didn’t wake.

Ji-ho had to cling to him for quite a while.

“Is he like that today too? It’s a riot every morning, a riot.”

He didn’t wake until Ha-un finally got up—forgetting his own whining and clicking his tongue—and until the fearless maknae pounced on Go-un, claiming he only wakes up if pinched, drawing a glare from Se-han who had entered the room.

Throughout it all, Ji-ho called Go-un’s name over and over.

Shaking that massive frame quickly drained his physical strength.

“…Good morning.”

Only after ten minutes did Go-un sit up and offer a casual morning greeting.

The way he rubbed his eyes with a stoic expression really did make him look like a bear waking from hibernation.

‘Sigh, am I seriously raising kids here?’

It was hard to believe, but this was the start of the daily life of Ji-ho, the idol.

****************************************

As the packed schedule suggested, Pentagram was riding a wave of popularity lately, but it was hard to say everything was perfect.

Their agency, Star Entertainment, was buried under a mountain of debt from past failures.

They had barely managed to catch their breath thanks to the revival of the group they thought might be their last, but how many debts—personal and corporate—had piled up in front of idols who had survived three years of negative settlements?

While it was true they were currently in the spotlight, they weren’t yet at the level of receiving massive immediate investments.

The biggest problem was a labor shortage.

A single group, having tasted the sweetness of success through the miracle of a chart reversal, was barely propping up the agency.

Work was pouring in for Pentagram, overloading the supporting staff, yet Star Entertainment was a company that lacked clear rewards or a future vision.

The entertainment world required grinding one’s body down as much as the outward glamour suggested.

Talented people were rare for a ship that might capsize at any moment, and the management team, in particular, was struggling to find proper employees.

This was why Jin Yong-ha, despite holding the title of Management Team Leader, was personally handling tasks that a road manager would usually do.

The waiting area of a hair and makeup shop, where idols recording for music shows gathered in rows.

Yong-ha, who had transported all five members in an old van, spoke with a voice thick with exhaustion.