Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Fainting
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“What do you want to eat? Stir-fried pork?”
“I like that, but...”
“Then that’s what we’ll have. Let’s go to the butcher nearby. If we time it when the lady’s there, she gives us extra. You’ll need to prep some gochujang ahead of time. And green onions and garlic, too.”
I looked around. There were only five or six audience members. The stage felt way too bare.
Oh, right. We downsized the theater again because of money issues. Where was this one? Some provincial town?
“Even with a small crowd, I’ll give it my all.”
“You crazy ambitious guy, you’re acting weird.”
“I’m Cha Dowon, you know. You’ve given me another weird nickname.”
I smiled and slowly made my way to center stage. The chairs where the audience sat looked downright shabby.
‘Our troupe’s getting poorer by the day, huh?’
What to do. Still, as the lead actor, I had to step up.
‘What play is this again?’
Look at my head. I grinned broadly.
‘Oh, right. I’m the singer character who performs a song.’
I made eye contact with the audience. I couldn’t quite recall the play itself. But I definitely remembered the song I had to sing.
The audience looked skeptical about my skills. Their expressions weren’t great.
I grabbed the mic and spoke.
“It’s a fine day. Everyone.”
Huh. Normally, one or two would respond, but nothing?
‘The audience is tough today.’
I flashed a bright smile. Softening a stiff vibe was part of the lead actor’s job.
“This next song is for lost loves. It’s called ‘Once Again.’ Every time I hear it, I can’t help but laugh.”
The mood didn’t improve.
‘This performance feels off.’
I shrugged and continued.
“Who gets a second chance in this world? Once it’s over, it’s over. Well, if I got one more shot, I’d cling to it for dear life.”
I glanced back briefly. The music started soon after. I tapped my foot to the beat and smiled.
“I hope you all seize your chances. Here we go. Once Again.”
The first note had to come half a beat early.
The song flowed out. I locked eyes with the audience. For some reason, my abs felt strong today, and my vocal cords moved freely.
‘Why does this feel so good?’
I loved singing.
‘Come to think of it, I wanted to be an idol.’
Remembering that forgotten dream, I smiled wider. Too late for that now. The chorus approached.
‘Mix in some head voice here.’
I blended my breath. The voice I wanted came out perfectly.
The song was going great, and my mood soared. When did my skills get this solid? I wanted to keep singing it forever.
But time was merciless. The song ended.
I went straight for the next line. Something was wrong.
‘I can’t remember my line.’
What was it?
As I wracked my brain, Audience Member 1 spoke up.
“What a weird guy.”
“Yeah. Keeps surprising us.”
“His vocals weren’t great at the audition, right? But he nailed it. He could jump right in.”
“He danced well earlier too. No doubt—he’s debut material.”
Audience Member 2, in a black suit, nodded.
“I thought he was cocky before, but this is hilarious.”
Why were they saying all this cryptic stuff? I tilted my head.
“I don’t know what trick you pulled, but you must’ve worked your ass off. The other kids could learn from you.”
I beamed. Didn’t matter what—I loved praise.
“Did I do well?”
The audience nodded.
“Good thing.”
That’s when it hit. The audience suddenly blurred. I blinked, but my vision wouldn’t focus. My body felt like it was floating.
‘What’s this?’
One leg buckled for balance. I braced the floor with my hand, but my mind went blank white.
“Crazy guy!”
Cha Dowon, I said. Don’t call me that.
I couldn’t fight the whiteness. Feeling my body hit something, I closed my eyes.
***
My vision shook. I blinked at the wall. The tacky mint color felt so foreign.
‘What?’
Was there wallpaper like this? Weird. The practice room for month-end evals was white.
Memories flooded in like a wave. I remembered up to the solo dance evaluation, but after that—nothing but white.
I shot up. Through my blurry sight, chubby hands gripped my shoulders.
“Hey! Hey! Don’t just sit up like that!”
My breath came in gasps, like after a sprint. I finally looked around. Several small beds, sheets printed with a hospital name.
“ER.”
I alternated between the sheet and my hand.
“What about the month-end eval?”
I grabbed that hand.
Damn. What the hell happened?
“It’s not over, right? I’m going.”
“Hey, man! It ended ages ago!”
This couldn’t be.
“No way. I didn’t do it. If I go now—Pig? I can still make it, right?”
“Hey, hey! Calm down. What are you talking about? You finished vocals!”
Me?
It didn’t click. I clenched and unclenched my fist.
“I don’t remember.”
“Chill. You did vocals, all of it. Really don’t remember? You collapsed right after vocal eval. You have no idea how scared I was.”
No matter how hard I searched my head, nothing came up.
“Manager, you’re not messing with me?”
“Who jokes about this?”
I panted. Slowly, the room came into focus.
“Hospital, IV, bed.”
The manager sighed.
“Yeah, man. It’s a hospital.”
I scanned around. Touched my forehead—no fever. Checked the clock: just past midnight.
“ER?”
“Yeah. Hey, man, aren’t you going too far?”
With what?
“Why hide the fever?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
The manager suddenly gripped my shoulders hard.
“How’s it nothing, you crazy ambitious guy? Listen to me for once.”
I turned to him. His grip felt even tighter.
“I handle trainee care, right? So if you’re sick, you tell me.”
I stared at his round, jowly chin.
“I asked if something was wrong, and you said nothing.”
“It really was nothing.”
“How? Your temp hit 38 degrees.”
I shook my head.
“I’m fine now.”
“Hey, man! You’re still in middle school second year! Alone in the dorm with no guardian—if you don’t tell me when you’re sick, what am I supposed to do?”
His round eyes brimmed with worry.
“I thought you were having a heart attack when you went down.”
Oh.
That’s when I realized what to say.
“Sorry.”
I smiled brightly.
“I’ve had this since I was a kid sometimes. But it’s gone by the next day, so I figured it was nothing.”
Total lie. My constitution was great; fevers were rare.
“Worried you. I’ll tell you next time.”
“Hey, you...”
The manager rubbed his forehead, about to scold, then just sighed heavily.
“Fine, whatever. Was gonna chew you out, but seriously...”
He sat on the chair, hand to forehead. I quietly eyed the IV.
‘This is pointless anyway.’
I fished for my smartphone. Good, it was tucked neatly in my pocket.
“Temp wouldn’t drop, so I was worried.”
“No fever now.”
“It crashed suddenly. Freaked me out.”
Side effects over, obviously.
I moved around. Felt light, normal.
“Fever’s gone, so back to the dorm.”
“No way! Spend at least tonight here!”
“Did the doc say?”
He nodded. If so, no choice.
“Then go home, Manager.”
“Hey!”
“I’m good. All better.”
“What’d I just say? I manage trainees?”
Something struck a nerve. Normally he’d cheer, but he was weirdly dutiful.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What now.”
“Called your emergency contact home—no answer.”
Oh, right.
‘Set it to my old place ’cause it’s a hassle.’
Didn’t think they’d call.
“We moved. I’ll update it.”
“No way a sharp guy like you forgot.”
I startled. The pudgy manager suddenly teared up, streams down his cheeks.
“Something going on?”
I froze, speechless.
“You risk it all for a reason, right? Hey, man!”
Tears poured from his button eyes.
Damn, what’s this now? Why’s he crying?
“You and Seungjun bonding? It’s ’cause you relate, huh? Sniff! You crazy ambitious guy! You could’ve told me, at least!”
‘No, not really...’
Where to even start?
“Manager...”
“Don’t say it! I get it! Wait, but don’t you have a mom?”
Technically an aunt.
Thinking of my sister, I said.
“No family issues.”
Before regression, plenty. Now? None. No inheritance worries, and sis was headed to med school like she wanted.
“Yeah, you’d say that.”
“No, really.”
“I understand. Mom divorced or something, right?”
“That part’s true.”
“See? No need to say more. I’m not one to poke at festering wounds.”
No, let me explain.
‘Actually, more complicated?’
If I said Mom passed, he’d bawl. Ugh, didn’t want to picture it. Or play the pitiful orphan card.
‘Keep it hidden post-debut too.’
Aunt could be guardian.
As he blew his nose, I thought random stuff. Finally, results mattered.
“Manager. How’d I do?”
“Huh? At what?”
“What else? Month-end eval.”
No memory at all. What did I even do?
“Not like you, but totally you?”
I furrowed my brow. What?
“Explain.”
“Like a theater actor. But you’ve got guts anyway. Sang great.”
Debut group potential?
“Why worry?”
“A bit.”
“You’ll make it.”
He blew his nose loudly again. I glanced, then looked away. His tear- and snot-streaked face was a sight.
“Who else if not you?”
“That good?”
“Yeah. Next up’s Seungjun.”
That bear guy?
‘Had skills originally?’
Weird. He was athletic.
I remembered the big one.
“Debut group means money, right?”
“Yup.”
I grinned. That’s what I liked most.
“You, you don’t mean... for the money?”
Was gonna deny, but he rolled more tissue and started sobbing.
“Divorced mom, money troubles!”
Not entirely wrong, annoyingly.
“I get it. That’s why you sang like a dried seaweed clinging to life.”
He bawled again. I scanned quietly—scared someone’d hear. ER was empty-ish.
‘Not a university hospital.’
I propped my chin, waiting out the wails.
“Yeah. Ugh. Dowon-ah. You did great. Executive Director Ju. Ugh. Had his eye on you. Ack.”
The middle-aged man’s nose-blowing was pure gold.
‘Don’t wanna hear.’
I decided not to ask more.
‘Passed, huh.’
I clenched, unclenched my fist. Clear head, no fever—maybe faint memories stirring.
‘Whatever.’
I’d know soon.
I lay back down. Even after sleep, drowsiness hit again.