※ Episode 1 : The Idol Who Tried to Die
At my school, Cheon Cheri is an idol.
"Hello, everyone! I'm Cheon Cheri. Thank you so much, truly, for listening to my songs again today."
The response to her debut had been modest at first, but her delicate voice and lyrics that struck a chord with the hearts of teenagers spread by word of mouth, and her popularity climbed steadily from there.
Granted, those things laid the groundwork for her success, but I'd argue the single biggest contributor was Cheon Cheri's looks. No contest.
Hair of softly shimmering silver, dazzling violet eyes, a delicately sculpted face — and her figure was nothing to sneeze at, either.
The mysterious image her agency had been pushing for her had landed perfectly, and that was what cemented her rise.
"Cheon Cheri. Come up front and solve this problem."
"Yes, ma'am... This problem, you see..."
Cheon Cheri missed class often for work, but whenever she was actually at school, she applied herself to her studies faithfully enough.
Sure, she sometimes drew jealous glares from the girls, but among the boys at school, not a single soul disliked Cheon Cheri.
"Listen to this. I actually had a chance to get close to Cheri, right? And she gave me live tickets!"
Suwon, a friend I hung out with regularly, showed off the tickets Cheri had given her, practically glowing.
"Wanna come too, Yongsung? She threw in an extra one so I could bring a friend..."
"Pass. I'm busy that day."
"Doing what? You've got nothing going on anyway."
"Give it to Bada or Yujeong-sunbae. They both seem like idol types, and you know them, don't you?"
"Ahaha... wow, you really do hate idols, huh?"
"What's so great about those idol types anyway..."
Idols — and Cheon Cheri in particular — held zero interest for me.
So while the rest of the guys scrambled to curry favor with Cheon Cheri like dogs in heat, I kept a respectful step back.
"You seriously have no interest in Cheri at all, Yongsung?"
"Nope."
"Why not? Everyone's into her."
"Spending time and money on idols is a waste, plain and simple."
There was nothing on this earth more pointless than throwing money at idol merchandise and concerts. Take, for example, a piece of Cheon Cheri merch priced at 50,000 won — roughly forty bucks.
People paying more than five hundred times the manufacturing cost for a scrap of acrylic churned out of some factory in China for pennies? I would never understand them.
"You know, you might become a Cheri fan overnight, right?"
Suwon chattered on, insisting that fandom strikes out of nowhere, and that any day now I could find myself hopelessly smitten with Cheon Cheri.
"That is never going to happen."
I flat-out declared to Suwon that I would never take an interest in Cheon Cheri, nor ever get entangled with her.
They say a man shouldn't contradict himself within the same breath — but today, of all days, I'd like to issue a formal correction.
Just a few short hours ago, I had drawn a firm line with Suwon: nothing, ever, would tie me and Cheon Cheri together.
I'd just come out of a long, meandering chat with my club's president, and about ten minutes into my walk home, I realized I'd left something important behind and turned back.
And when I returned...
What the hell is she doing right now...
In the empty classroom stood Cheon Cheri — mid-suicide attempt.
"..."
To describe the situation precisely: Cheon Cheri was rigging a rope to the light fixture overhead.
I'm no shrunken kid detective with an adult brain, but even I could deduce that once the rope was set up, the plan was to hang herself from it.
Next she'd drag a chair into place, and then, presumably, dance a madman's jig in midair until the breath left her body.
Useless trivia, perhaps, but they say you don't bleed from the mouth when you die by hanging. That's strictly a cinematic flourish.
Dammit... I was just going home...
No wonder my dreams had been restless tonight.
Some crucial business at home had me on edge as it was — and now, of all things, I had to witness Cheon Cheri's suicide attempt too.
Stay quiet. She can't leave anyway. If it gets serious, I'll figure something out then.
Clamping a hand over my mouth, I did my best to throttle even my breathing.
One peep out of me and Cheon Cheri would notice I was here.
If she's going to do it, do it at home. What, does she want to start a ghost story about a famous idol haunting the school?
I cursed her out — silently, at least.
Why Cheon Cheri wanted to die, I could roughly guess. She was an idol; obviously she had hardships she couldn't speak of.
For all I knew, her agency might have been making unreasonable demands of her.
But everyone carries burdens like that through life.
And if Cheon Cheri died here, a pack of hyenas — cops, reporters — would come sniffing around for weeks and make everyone's life miserable.
So please, just once more, think about the fallout your death would cause, Cheon Cheri.
Plus, if Cheon Cheri actually dies, I'm the one who gets burned.
It should end with Cheon Cheri's death alone, but the sparks would fly straight at me.
Getting hauled in for questioning as a witness, or having accessory charges slapped on me — a treacherous life would be waiting just ahead.
Even if I were cleared, everyone around me would eye me with frosty suspicion, wondering what exactly my relationship with her was and what on earth I'd been doing there.
Do I have to talk her out of this?
In the end, my conscience won out, and my resolve wavered.
All I'd have to do was convince her she still had a long life ahead — and besides, as an idol, all she'd need to do was actively report her situation and get help.
"D-don't toy with me! Because of... because of you, Yongsung, I... I want to die even more!"
Yeah — something like that only works in manga or public service announcements.
If Cheon Cheri, already past the point of despair, spiraled into a full-blown panic, my intervention might backfire spectacularly. The dilemma gnawed at me.
What do I do... what...
Whether I slipped away now or stayed put, I was screwed either way.
Dammit... I should've just gone home. That cursed Yujeong-sunbae and her errands...
A mosquito?
A single mosquito alighting on my wrist — that was where the disaster began.
The black-and-white striped brute shamelessly sank its stinger into my arm and set about greedily draining my blood.
I'd heard you weren't supposed to swat a mosquito once it had bitten down, but I had no desire to let my precious blood end up as the shell of some mosquito egg...
Smack.
I brought my left hand down on the mosquito and made it pay, in full, for every drop it had ever stolen from anyone.
Only black fluid smeared out instead of fresh red blood — thankfully, I'd finished it before it got a real drink.
"You have got to be—!?"
As I brushed the mosquito's remains off my palm, it finally dawned on me that I had just committed the worst mistake of my life.
"Waaaaaah... Yo... Yongsung..."
Cheon Cheri, rope already looped around her neck, glanced over at me — then, face drained ghost-white, clapped a hand over her mouth.
I'm so, so screwed...
Much like the expression on Cheon Cheri's face, my mind emptied out completely — nothing in it but this exact moment, playing on loop.
Who knew the sound of swatting a mosquito could ring through a classroom that loudly...
"Come down from there first. If you keep this up, I'm the one who's going to suffer for it..."
I'd said it, so that absolves me of responsibility, right?
Flashing the friendliest smile I could muster, I urged Cheon Cheri to step down — for now.
"O... okay... I'll... I'll listen to you, Yongsung..."
So she was willing to come off the chair, at least.
I didn't hold particularly warm feelings toward Cheon Cheri, but my persuasion had actually landed, and that was a relief.
"I'm... I'm sorry... Maybe... maybe dying really is the right call after all..."
They say a woman's heart is a reed in the wind...
Cheon Cheri shifted her weight, seemed to harden her resolve — and then violently kicked away the chair she'd been standing on.
"Khhk... ugh... hah, hah... khek..."
As the chair toppled backward, Cheon Cheri began to dance a frenzied dance in midair.
It was the first time in my life I learned the human throat could produce sounds that ghastly.
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable...
Scrambling back to my senses, I grasped how dire things were, climbed onto a desk, and barely managed to haul her down.
"Hah... hah..."
I just barely managed to lay Cheon Cheri out on the wooden floor.
Consequences could wait; I loosened the rope from her neck and started chest compressions, working through the CPR routine.
"Yo... Yongsung..."
Cheon Cheri's faintly closed eyes fluttered open.
I very nearly went all the way to mouth-to-mouth — very nearly stole an idol's first kiss through some sleazy excuse — but by sheer luck, my virtue remained intact.
Her breathing was ragged, but she was conscious, and it seemed she could talk.
"I'm calling an ambulance—"
Even so, I reached for my phone, just in case.
Even with Cheon Cheri alive, I was worried sick about her condition.
"Don't... please don't..."
Cheon Cheri grabbed my wrist, stopping me.
"If anyone finds out why, I'm... I'm finished. So today... today stays a secret... between you and me, Yongsung..."
"What are you talking about? You could've seriously died just now!"
"I'll handle it myself... It would've been better if I'd just died..."
Eyes brimming with tears, Cheon Cheri told me why she had been trying to take her own life.
"I'm... getting married..."