The Family Meeting and a Strategic Confession

The regular gatherings, known as ‘family meetings’ among Kwon Yohan’s relatives, seemed to have taken place every two to three weeks. This was evident from conversations with his mother, occurring since his other siblings returned from studying abroad.

This rule was likely established out of a sense of crisis. They feared that any further distance from his children would render them worse than strangers.

However, after Kwon Yohan left home, its original purpose had somewhat faded. It had largely become one of the few pretexts to summon him back to the family estate.

The exact truth, of course, would only be known through firsthand experience.

Standing before the grand gate, a familiar woman rushed out to open it for me. It was Kang Seonyoung, Kwon Yohan’s mother.

Dressed more elegantly than when I had seen her at the hospital, she beamed, her face flushed with excitement, the moment our eyes met.

“You truly came.”

“Of course.”

Without a moment to steady my constricted breathing, I diligently followed her, matching her brisk, light steps.

The interior landscape, previously obscured by the high walls, was breathtakingly beautiful.

In the meticulously landscaped yard stood a doghouse, appearing unused for a long time. My gaze lingered there inadvertently.

“Yohan?”

Had I stopped walking? A questioning voice turned toward me. I mumbled a small reply and resumed my steps.

In the city, a place to call one’s own was rarely easily granted. I had always drifted between small villas, and naturally, my friends’ homes were much the same.

Even the dorm provided by Cookie Entertainment was no different. This meant I had almost no opportunities to visit the homes of truly wealthy people.

The most I’d done was occasionally visit Maknae’s house, which was comparable to HEX’s dorm.

Coming here, I finally understood how Kwon Yohan’s parents could so casually offer such a house for mere lodging.

At this level, envy didn’t even register. Instead, a kind of wonder bloomed: ‘These people actually exist, living in places like this.’

My dazed mind returned to clarity the moment we reached our destination.

“You’re here. After all my words, you still wouldn’t listen.”

This was because three pairs of eyes, gleaming sharply, were fixed on me.

We entered a space that seemed exclusively designed for dining.

A spacious table, draped with a pristine white tablecloth that looked bothersome to clean, was set with chairs perfectly matching the number of guests.

In one corner of the otherwise immaculate room, devoid of clutter, stood a turntable. Its owner’s taste was unknown, but it felt strikingly out of place, an odd protrusion in the refined space.

The three individuals present had strong, sharp features, unlike Kang Seonyoung or Kwon Yohan. Their stern expressions suggested similar personalities.

Their sharp gazes pricked at my skin.

“Sit.”

Kwon Yohan’s father, whom Secretary Choi claimed had been eagerly awaiting his ‘cute youngest,’ spoke with the crisp, decisive tone of someone accustomed to giving orders.

Simply being in the same room with him felt incredibly oppressive.

Nevertheless, I subtly took the seat offered to me.

“I heard you’ve been quite busy.”

Kwon Sanghoon—Kwon Yohan’s father—spoke to me more often than I had anticipated.

“Debut periods are always like that. It’s hard to even get a single day off.”

“I know that.”

The problem was how abruptly our conversations kept ending. Yet, the absence of awkward silences was entirely thanks to the other family members.

“You have no idea how much your father threatened your CEO about not overloading your schedule.”

“Mom, wouldn’t that negatively affect the other members? This is a profession where you’re supposed to be busy when there’s work.”

“Oh, come on. Do you think I wouldn’t have considered that? Everything’s been adjusted appropriately.”

‘So, *this* was the reason Kwon Yohan’s personal schedule was so incredibly light.’

“And how’s the CEO?”

Even a question whose intent was difficult to grasp was immediately followed by an explanation.

“That deserted island trip—you’re one thing, but the CEO didn’t even tell us beforehand, did they? Your father was absolutely furious when he found out.

I was so angry I told him to fire that person immediately, but he insisted on talking to you first.”

Having expected a tense, icy atmosphere, given Kwon Yohan’s profound aversion to his family, I found the mood surprisingly amicable.

Kwon Haeun and Kwon Yosep, moving their cutlery with impassive faces, didn’t appear particularly annoyed either. However, the occasional hint of resignation in Kwon Haeun’s eyes bothered me.

Kang Seonyoung’s attention was entirely focused on me, so she naturally wouldn’t have noticed such subtle emotional shifts.

She declared with a determined voice: “Mother will take care of everything. Just tell me, don’t worry.”

At that moment, Kwon Haeun abruptly set down the knife she was holding. The metal clanged heavily against the plate.

“Please, enough.”

“…Huh? What do you mean?”

“Kwon Yohan is twenty years old now. No, his age isn’t even the point. You keep mistaking this for a school club activity, but he’s working, you know? Why are parents interfering? It’s absurd.”

‘The amicable atmosphere didn’t even last ten minutes.’

Kang Seonyoung, unable to respond, simply glared at the innocent table, her face paling. Her demeanor suggested she found confronting her daughter incredibly difficult and something she desperately wished to avoid.

Even seeing her mother utterly deflated, Kwon Haeun showed no signs of stopping.

“Kwon Yohan hates it when you arbitrarily try to solve things like this anyway. Why go out of your way to do things that get him criticized at the company and by him personally? I’m saying this because I truly don’t understand.”

Kwon Yosep nodded, as if agreeing with her straightforward, biting remarks. The middle-aged man who had initiated the conversation, however, kept his mouth shut, observing the situation.

‘Right. That’s how it was.’

I belatedly recalled once again what Kwon Yohan detested: overprotection, unasked-for help, everything that made him feel powerless and incapable of doing anything alone.

He had fled this place, desperate to escape it all. He had struggled to ensure he would never return.

It seemed his siblings, whom he saw only occasionally, understood Kwon Yohan better than his mother, who had been closest to him. This was true even though they didn’t particularly welcome him.

‘Simply being close doesn’t necessarily mean truly understanding someone,’ a strange realization dawned on me.

“Sister, I thought you disliked me being an idol. Was I wrong?”

“Who said I liked it? I hate it.”

“…Really?”

“Even if I don’t know much, there are countless desperate kids vying for a spot, aren’t there? Do you think I, as your sister, should be happy when my brother uses underhanded methods to get in and causes trouble everywhere he goes?”

‘This was a reason I hadn’t even considered.’

“That team isn’t there to fulfill your need for recognition or your attachment issues, is it?”

What she said was even incredibly valid.

“And you’re not even careful about your family connections being revealed. If it gets out that you got in through unfair means, I’m sure the company’s image would just *soar*, wouldn’t it?”

At this point, I almost felt guilty for having treated her with a prickly attitude, thinking she was just thoughtlessly ganging up on a kid.

‘Yes, everything you say is correct.’

However, giving in so readily, like flipping a switch, wouldn’t suit Kwon Yohan’s personality.

“…Sorry.”

That was all I could manage to say. Kwon Haeun idly fiddled with an empty water glass and let out a deep sigh.

“Still, you seem to be working hard these days, so I’ll count it as actual work. Otherwise, you’d be nothing.”

When I offered an awkward smile, she chided me, asking why I was smiling.

Kang Seonyoung, whose complexion had been terrible, now looked at her children with a touched expression. Their relationship was usually so distant that she seemed to perceive even this as an affectionate conversation.

‘By the way, this… this could be useful, couldn’t it?’

Kwon Haeun’s words were valid. It was, after all, a professional job, and parental interference was undesirable.

Yet, to call him an adult, Kwon Yohan was only twenty years old, and UNI-Q’s artist care was so inadequate it would be strange if there *weren’t* complaints.

Firing Choi Byung-joo might be excessive, but a warning wouldn’t be out of line, would it?

“Sister’s right, but… sometimes I don’t know how to deal with the CEO.”

There was no need to explicitly ask for anything. I just needed to subtly hint at the situation.

“I feel burdened by receiving too much special treatment. They keep asking me about my father’s well-being, and when they scold the other members, they always leave me out. It makes me feel even more awkward with the team, you know? Team cohesion is built even by just being together in those moments.”

Kwon Haeun listened to my words, nodding with an odd expression, as if to say, ‘So, your tiny brain *can* think after all?’

“The deserted island incident, too. It ended up being a memory of sorts, but did it *have* to be a place like that? To take us to a place where the boat only comes twice a day without telling us beforehand… I know I’m also guilty for not speaking up, but I didn’t know it would be so bad that I couldn’t even get to a hospital immediately if I had a seizure.”

The family’s expressions grew increasingly stiff. Kang Seonyoung, in particular, clenched her fists so tightly that the veins in her hands stood out distinctly.

This was the perfect moment to deliver the finishing blow.

“This time, after a rumor about a member surfaced, they stormed into the dorm and started shouting without even checking the facts. It was… scary. I had only ever seen them smiling before. It made me wonder if this is why I can’t form a good rapport with the other members…”

‘I want to do well.’ I lowered my gaze and mumbled in an utterly dejected voice.

After a brief silence, I looked up to see Kwon Yohan’s father abruptly standing from his seat.

“I’ll just go make a call.”

‘This… this was the moment.’

Kwon Yohan’s body was extremely vulnerable to stress. I had heard it at the hospital, and I felt it firsthand.

For me, being rather dull, it wasn’t due to mental hardship. It was more like suddenly realizing it in very minor ways. For instance, if the alarm clock was set a little too loud in the morning, my heart would feel constricted upon waking.

His family would undoubtedly be aware of this, so they couldn’t help but react sensitively to the story of someone raising their voice in front of him.

Kwon Yohan would have rather died than accept help in this manner, but…

‘If it’s just the outcome, wouldn’t he like it?’ I subtly covered the corner of my mouth, trying to hide a rising smile.