Chapter 81: The Cafeteria Is Open
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 81: The Cafeteria Is Open
"Ask Me Anything?"
When I asked, Kang Gi-yeon replied.
"You answer almost every post on the fan cafe, Hyung. Why not do something like that?"
Just as Kang Gi-yeon said, I had been answering questions on the Spark fan cafe like some kind of FAQ Sun God.
≫ Guys, did you finish all the snacks after the live stream?
└ There were some left, so I clipped them shut with sealing tongs. Today’s most popular snack was the Honey Pizza! :)
The new posts didn't come in that fast, so it only took about thirty minutes a day to get through them.
The person who posted probably wanted a reply from another member, not me, but I figured they wouldn't be upset since they were getting more information... or so I hoped as I posted the replies.
"You're right. That's a good idea."
Gi-yeon’s idea wasn't bad. By talking about the other members, I could also deflect some of the focus from myself.
"Then should I start gathering questions for you, Hyung?"
"I've already got some saved up, so it's fine. Just gathering a few more for the event should be enough."
"Why on earth were you already gathering those...?"
Gi-yeon shook his head as if he couldn't understand. It’s not like I wanted to gather them, you brat.
I thought I had cleared one hurdle.
That was, until I heard the thunderclap of news that I had to be the first one to film.
"Me first?"
I pointed at myself and asked the manager.
He had just arrived at the practice room, and the first thing out of his mouth was, "I think I-wol should be the first one to film the self-produced content!"
I desperately wanted to retort, "Jeong Seong-bin is the leader, so why me?" But I held it in because I was a mature adult who had lived a fair number of years.
And then, the manager completely trampled over my mature mindset.
"Yeah. You have the earliest birthday, I-wol. They're going in order of age."
Isn't it a bit too old-fashioned to be bringing up age like this nowadays?
By all rights, the leader should go first, and the rest should follow in order of skill.
And so, for the simple crime of being born in February, I ended up filming a video that I was sure no one would care about.
Since it had come to this, I could only pray that my sacrifice would cause the other guys' view counts to skyrocket.
But who would even be interested in my solo content?
If I were a fan of this group, I wouldn't even want to glance at the "hole" of the group—the clumsy person whose stiffness is obvious just by watching a fancam.
I wasn't going to half-ass it just because no one was watching, but there needed to be some kind of result to justify the video team's support. This was a problem.
"What are you muttering about over there?"
Choi Je-ho sauntered over and asked.
"Just thinking about what to do for the self-produced content. It’s harder than I thought to fill twenty minutes by myself."
"Hmm."
I was agonizing over this, yet he looked perfectly at peace.
Wait a second. You shouldn't be this relaxed right now, should you?
Feeling a bit dazed, I asked him, "Aren't you worried?"
"I'll probably fill ten minutes just with a dance medley."
Look at this little shit.
"What's with that attitude? Are you already planning to slack off?"
When I spoke with a serious face, Je-ho’s expression turned subtle. It wasn't exactly annoyance; he looked more taken aback.
"No, I wasn't planning on half-assing it!" Je-ho shouted, sounding wronged.
"Our entire album doesn't even reach ten minutes including the B-sides. If you're talking about a medley with only two or three songs, what is that if not slacking?"
"I meant I was going to do cover dances!"
Ah. So that's what he meant.
True, as the main dancer and center, there was always a demand for Choi Je-ho’s cover dances. I had watched them until my eyes were sore; how did I manage to forget that?
I wondered if there had been a system error in his head for him to come up with such a commendable idea, but this was clearly my mistake. I apologized to him sincerely.
"Sorry. I misunderstood."
"Whatever. But is something up with you?"
"Me? Why?"
"You've been acting sensitive. Since yesterday."
Me?
That was something I hadn't even considered. I wondered what he was talking about and even replayed his words in my head to make sure I understood correctly.
I mean, sure, my mood had been a rollercoaster since yesterday because of the system, but...
This was even more shocking than when Jeong Seong-bin noticed my discomfort before.
My opponent this time was Choi Je-ho, of all people. He was supposed to be more oblivious than a polar bear.
If even he felt I was being sensitive, I couldn't even begin to imagine how uncomfortable the other guys must have felt around me.
"I guess I was just tired. I'm fine now."
"If you say so."
With that, Je-ho turned around and went back to his business.
A dorm where the guy who joined last, has the least skill, and uses his age as a weapon to nag is walking around making it obvious that he's "sensitive."
"This is the worst."
A deep sigh escaped from the pit of my stomach. It seemed I was the one with a screw loose.
I was deeply disappointed in myself for not being able to control my own mood.
So, as a form of penance, I wrote three whole pages of a reflective diary, front and back. I thought my fingers were going to break.
I also apologized to the members for ruining the atmosphere at the dorm. Being the gentle souls they were, they all insisted, "We didn't really notice! You don't have to apologize!"
To fix my crooked attitude, I took it upon myself to secretly serve the members.
I bought moisture absorbers for the shoe rack and gave the veranda a thorough cleaning. All without anyone knowing.
It was a relief that we weren't in an active promotion period.
If we were, I’d probably be mopping the living room floor with one hand, writing a proposal with the other, and practicing dance steps with both feet.
If I got caught doing this alone, the dorm rules would dictate that everyone had to do housework, so I was stealthily cleaning the place like a "secret helper" this morning, when...
"What are you doing there?"
I went to the kitchen to boil some barley tea and caught Choi Je-ho and Lee Cheong-hyeon standing there in awkward poses.
"We were, uh... seeing if there were any dishes to wash!"
"I already did them earlier."
In the first place, there aren't many dishes to wash in this dorm. Someone has to actually eat for there to be dishes.
Lee Cheong-hyeon, caught in a blatant lie, immediately backed off.
I looked at Choi Je-ho, my eyes asking, And what's your excuse?
Je-ho answered without hesitation.
"Cheong-hyeon said he wanted kimchi pancakes, so we just came out for a bit."
"Ah, Hyung!"
"So you two were plotting together, huh?"
Looking outside, a light rain was falling. Since it was still morning, the only sound from outside was the patter of the rain.
On a day like this, it’s hard not to crave savory pancakes.
I looked at the embarrassed pair and asked, "Want me to make some?"
"Really?"
"Pancakes. I can't guarantee they'll be delicious, though."
Unfortunately, my expertise lies in skewered pancakes.
Still, Lee Cheong-hyeon’s face lit up with joy. It was like a bouquet of flowers had suddenly bloomed.
While I leaned down to find a frying pan under the sink, Cheong-hyeon spoke to Je-ho.
"Hyung, do you know your mom's kimchi pancake recipe?"
"I don't."
"Why? Are the kimchi pancakes at Je-ho’s place good?"
When I asked, Cheong-hyeon nodded so hard I thought his head might fall off. Then, like a rapid-fire rapper, he began an impassioned speech about how delicious Choi Je-ho’s mother’s kimchi pancakes were.
"I've only had them once, you know? I've never tasted kimchi pancakes that good in my life. You know how the edges are the best part, right? But Je-ho Hyung’s mom’s pancakes are crispy even in the middle. And they definitely aren't burnt!"
"...Are they really that good?"
"That good? Wow, seriously."
When Je-ho muttered skeptically, Cheong-hyeon let out a scoff of disbelief.
"I guess you don't know the value of your own mother's kimchi pancakes, Hyung. Even Ju-woo Hyung said they were delicious."
"Park Ju-woo did?"
Je-ho looked surprised at the mention of that unexpected name. I was a bit surprised myself.
"Has he ever said anything was delicious?" Je-ho asked, looking genuinely curious.
"That Hyung is the type who eats just to survive, right? Like, 'There is food, therefore I eat.' If someone like Ju-woo Hyung said it was good, then it's guaranteed."
That was true.
Perhaps his palate followed his personality; Park Ju-woo preferred bland over greasy, and mild over spicy.
While Kang Gi-yeon ate salad without dressing for self-management, Ju-woo skipped the dressing just to taste the natural flavor of the vegetables.
If the only thing to drink is soda, he'll wait until all the carbonation is gone before drinking it.
But I think I remember Park Ju-woo saying the meat and vegetable patties were good during Chuseok. Maybe those passed because they were store-bought.
Anyway. Since I had decided to be a voluntary servant, I couldn't just ignore the "young masters" expressing their desire for kimchi pancakes.
I grabbed Je-ho by the shoulder and turned him toward me.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Get the recipe from your mother."
"Hello? Uh, Mom..."
Unable to withstand the pestering from both Cheong-hyeon and me, Je-ho finally called his mother.
Honestly, he should have learned how to cook from her a long time ago.
While Cheong-hyeon and I were wiping dust off the window frames with satisfied smiles, a loud clatter erupted from the kitchen.
"Hey, did you break something?"
"Did the sink collapse?"
Cheong-hyeon and I both shouted as we threw down our rags and ran to the kitchen.
There, we saw Je-ho crouching between the sink and the table, with a pile of frying pans scattered on the floor in front of him.
"Ah, I just spilled some stuff. Mom, which pan should I use?"
Je-ho held a large frying pan in each hand and frowned deeply.
The rest of Je-ho’s phone call was nothing short of anxiety-inducing.
"Pancake mix? I don't know. Can't I just use flour?"
"Properly fermented kimchi? How fermented is 'properly'?"
"I'll know when I taste it? We only have one kind of kimchi in the dorm."
As Je-ho fired off his last question, a tremendous sound erupted from the receiver. It sounded like the sound of Je-ho’s mother’s patience finally snapping.
In that moment, I felt as if I had caught a glimpse of the future.
A vision of five guys with kimchi-oil-slicked lips eating six thick, pancake-like lumps of kimchi-flavored dough drenched in grease.
By the time my thoughts reached that point, my hand was already tapping Je-ho on the shoulder.
"What?" Je-ho asked.
'What?' my ass.
"Give me the phone, you punk."