The Village Favorite

With the help of the residents, electricity and gas were safely restored to Ji-ho’s house, and it was even furnished with usable furniture.

Though he no longer needed to impose on the Foreman’s household, it was rare for a day to pass without Ji-ho crossing paths with the family. They dropped by whenever they had a spare moment to lend a hand, insisting that an injured person couldn’t possibly tidy up a house that had been practically abandoned.

“Those guys building the country house next door dumped their materials here. Oi, Ji-ho, don’t touch that. When Mr. Kim brings the Porter truck, we’ll load it up then.”

“Aigo, Hyung-nim, you’re putting me to work again. But Ji-ho, shouldn’t we redo the waterproofing on that rooftop? Don’t worry about the money. I’ll show you the skills I learned in Seoul.”

The Foreman and Mr. Kim, both well over fifty but considered “young” in a rural village, were opposites in personality but identical in their straightforward drive. They ignored Ji-ho’s protests that it was only a temporary shelter and didn’t need much work, naturally beginning to repair the worn-out parts of his childhood home.

“They say late-born children grow up spoiled, but my daughter takes after her father—she’s so introverted. But she’s especially bad around you, Ji-ho. Is it because she’s shy seeing a handsome young man for the first time?”

“M-Mom! Stop talking about me!”

“Alright, girl. Oh, I saw the other day you didn’t have a single decent bowl in the house. Take these. They’re brand new, never used, so don’t worry.”

Before he knew it, the Foreman’s wife, who treated Ji-ho with the comfort of a son, visited with her daughter to roll up her sleeves and fill the house with supplies. Just like her husband, she didn’t listen when Ji-ho tried to decline or suggest buying things himself.

Beyond that, Ji-ho’s daily life was far too boisterous for loneliness to creep in.

“Seeing this handsome lad again! Oh, I should just move my whole household down here instead of just coming on weekends. Honestly, talking to Ji-ho makes me feel better than seeing my own son.”

“That’s why I’ve been showing up at the Community Center every single day lately. Our Ji-ho is just so lovely and well-mannered.”

“Enough with the fuss. Stop bothering the boy. Ahem, Ji-ho, do you have a girlfriend? If not, my granddaughter in Seoul is exactly your age…”

“Haha, thank you for the compliment. I get bored on days I don’t come to the Center, too. It must be because I miss seeing all of you from the weekend farm. Oh, is this your granddaughter? She’s so beautiful in the photo that I don’t think I’d even catch her eye. Ah, how to send a photo via text? I’ll show you. First, press this big button here…”

“Ji-ho, then take a look at my granddaughter too. She might not have the best face, but she works for a big corporation in Seoul, you know!”

Somehow, Ji-ho ended up joining the Foreman on his cultivator trips to the Community Center, making it his daily routine. While it started as an effort to reintegrate into the village after being away so long, it became a habit because everyone worried if they didn’t see him for a single day.

“Ugh, move aside, everyone. No matter who you compare him to, our Ji-ho is far too good for them. He’s tall, respectful to his elders, and has such a kind heart. You might not know it, but back in the day, he stood out the most among the village kids; everyone was dying to make him their son or grandson. I should have taken you in to live with me back then, Ji-ho.”

A young age rarely seen in the countryside, a visual that stood out clearly from a non-celebrity, a soft Seoul accent that caught the ear in a land of dialects, and a kind demeanor that had become second nature through his idol life.

“Aren’t you remembering me a bit too fondly, Ajumma? I feel bad because I only remember being a nuisance at your shop back then.”

Having grown up with his grandmother, Ji-ho didn’t hesitate to interact with the elderly, and his upright attitude in showing respect to his seniors was more than enough to capture the hearts of the village elders.

“I’m over sixty now, I’m a Grandma, not an Ajumma.”

“You’re still young! I’m going to keep calling you that, okay? Speaking of which, didn’t I say I’d help you with your hair dye today? Once we do that, you’ll be shocked—it’ll be like time hasn’t passed at all since ten years ago.”

“Ji-ho, you really have a way with words. Fine, let’s see if you can make this old woman feel young again.”

Contrary to Ji-ho’s memory, the shop lady’s face, now lined with age, clearly showed the passage of time, but the affectionate way she looked at him remained the same.

Ji-ho felt immense pride seeing her and the other residents find such joy and satisfaction in his every word. Moreover, the time spent with them seemed to warm his once-depressed heart.

Thus, at some point, Ji-ho became the official darling of the village. While it was a somewhat embarrassing treatment for a twenty-three-year-old man, it was a source of great joy and gratitude for someone determined to refill his empty heart.

One day, his identity as an idol—which he had been hiding just in case—was finally outed.

Though most of the villagers wouldn’t even know a group called Pentagram existed, Ji-ho had asked the Foreman’s family to keep his profession a secret, just to be safe.

However, being an idol was still his identity, and even now, having halted promotions to return home, Ji-ho had not given up his efforts for the stage.

‘Even if the company doesn’t want me to rejoin, it doesn’t matter. If I stop training, my body will stiffen up easily. I’ll just focus on that.’

He had already rested for over a month due to his hospital stay. Since the rest of his body had fully recovered except for his leg, Ji-ho decided it was time to start training again. It was the same routine he had practiced as a trainee, after his debut, and even on days when he was swamped with a busy schedule.

With no support from the company and given the environment, he had few options. Choreography practice was impossible due to his leg, and anything requiring cameras or professional staff had to be omitted.

Ji-ho decided to use this opportunity to practice the basics that had inevitably become neglected during active promotions.

The one advantage was that his childhood home was in a remote spot; there were virtually no neighbors to hear him even if he shouted. A cassette player with a recording function, found in a box that once held his mother’s picture frame, was his tool for practice.

From that day on, Ji-ho practiced his vocalization consistently every day.

However, what he didn’t expect was that the grandmother who lived behind the old supermarket—the closest neighbor to Ji-ho—heard him practicing as she passed by.

“My, that voice is no different from a professional singer’s! I don’t know what song it was, but it was so exciting I couldn’t help but clap. It was you singing, right, Ji-ho?”

Faced with the elder who expressed pure admiration and praise, Ji-ho couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“Actually, I’m…”

The news that the handsome young man everyone was doting on was a real celebrity who appeared on TV—an idol, the kind young people liked—spread through the village in an instant.

Fortunately, the thing Ji-ho feared didn’t happen.

“See, I told you! I knew from the first time I saw him, he had a glow like a celebrity.”

“A singer? Shouldn’t we hang up a banner saying our village produced a singer?”

“I knew it. Ji-ho had so much talent even when he was little.”

There were no demands for autographs or photos, no requests to call family or friends, and no questions about the recent controversies—all things he had naturally expected.

“Ji-ho, then give us a song. Everyone here is tone-deaf, so even though we got a karaoke machine at the Center, it’s just been gathering dust.”

The only “difficult” part was that, upon hearing he was a singer, they dragged out the karaoke machine tucked away in the corner of the Community Center and thrust a microphone into his hand. Ji-ho, without a hint of embarrassment, stood before the elders and sang.

“Then I’ll sing <Heartless Woman>, which the shop Ajumma said was her favorite. The moment I met you—”

“Oh my! A singer really is different. Look at that vocal projection!”

“Our Ji-ho, how can you sing so well?”

“Ji-ho, you should do trot! You sing better than that guy who came for the singing contest recently… what was his name, Kim Hyun-jun?”

The residents, who already spoke nothing but praise to Ji-ho, cheered with every ounce of energy they had the moment he finished a song. Their reaction wasn’t a superficial compliment; their genuine awe at his singing ability was so intense it even flustered Ji-ho himself.

“Is there another song you’d like to hear?”

“Ji-ho, that one for me! Let’s see, what was the number…”

Ji-ho himself got swept up in the excitement and accepted every song request that followed. Though he couldn’t dance because of his leg, he imitated the gestures of trot singers he’d seen at local festivals, making the residents laugh until their stomachs hurt.

In truth, some of them already knew he was an idol. They had asked their children living in other regions about Ji-ho and, upon hearing the bad news, chose to pretend they didn’t know.

Ji-ho caught onto this vaguely, which made him sing even more passionately for them.

There was a hidden story that because the residents handed him a mic and picked trot songs every time they saw him, Ji-ho broke into a cold sweat thinking, ‘The vocal practice is good, but what if my singing style turns into trot?’

Even so, singing just to heighten the audience’s excitement without any sense of duty or pressure was incredibly fun.

He fully enjoyed this small stage, free from the fear of being “canceled” and cursed at for a single mistake, and free from the self-dissatisfaction of being unconsciously passive while trying to stand out.

He was so delighted that he even mentioned this anecdote during a status report call to Yong-ha, made from the Community Center’s phone.

“…So I’ve ended up being able to sing all the trot songs the elders like, haha. My leg? I told you not to worry. I go to town regularly for check-ups and there are many people helping me out, so I have no trouble living here.”

[Right. It seems you’re adjusting well, and since the fact that you’ve gone home hasn’t leaked yet, staying there seems okay. Hmm, I should head down once, but… as you know, I’m not sure I’ll have the time because of the full album preparations. Phew, only three months. Even with many songs ready through Team Leader Kim’s connections, the timeframe is so short I’m worried.]

“You’ll be able to do it. You pulled off the last mini-album even though we prepared it on a tight schedule. I’m worried about your health and the other members’. It hasn’t been long since the accident; it would be better to rest during the break.”

[The kids are so prickly lately. At least Ha-un has stopped pestering me to fix your phone quickly. I told them clearly to leave you alone since you’re resting. So stop worrying about the members and just focus on your own recovery, Ji-ho.]

“I think I’m comfortable here. Recovery is no problem, either. Yes, go ahead and get back to work. I’ll call again next time.”

After hanging up, Ji-ho fell into thought for a brief moment. As always, it was worry for the group and the members. The reality followed that he was separate and unable to help.

But the emotion that came to him wasn’t the same sadness or depression as before.

‘Was the psychiatrist right that my stress factors were the phone showing malicious comments and articles? Or…’

Ji-ho blinked and looked at the phone he had just set down.

The phone numbers of all four members were etched into his mind, yet strangely, he felt no desire to pick up the receiver again.