Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader — Episode 94

Go Young-in swallowed the groan rising in his throat and lifted his head, only to meet Cheon Sa-yoon’s eyes. Sa-yoon was still setting out the bowls, but now he was looking at Young-in with a bright, delighted expression, as if he’d just stumbled onto something thoroughly entertaining. The fact that he had turned his back to the camera and the staff while grinning like that was infuriating.

Young-in skimmed the status window once, lightly.

Well. My face should be under control, at least.

When it came to stage work or interacting with fans, that was one thing. With the members, though, even when he tried not to leave anything they could pin on him, this sort of thing always happened.

"Hey, maknae—follow the script. Don’t you know how sketch comedy works?"

Before the atmosphere could turn awkward, Kyeon In-woo slapped the back of Pyo Jae-ho’s head and roughened up his hair.

That definitely looked like the sort of thing he would have done with his fist instead, if they weren’t on camera. Judging by the way he’d clenched his hand, it was almost certainly the case.

There was no script to follow, of course. In-woo was just helping in his own way, trying to smooth things over. Young-in, who had been the only one scrambling to recover this whole time, nearly got emotional just because one of the members had suddenly started acting normally.

And yet Pyo Jae-ho held his ground. Utterly, and for no good reason.

"What are you talking about?"

Jae-ho frowned and, with no sense of the room whatsoever, kept going…

"We were together until just a little while ago. How was I supposed to contact him in that time?"

Only then did In-woo seem to come to his senses.

"…Oh. You were together?"

"Yeah… I was talking with Sa-yoon before I came to see you."

In-woo’s tone turned flat again almost immediately. For one brief minute, Young-in felt as if he’d dipped one foot into heaven and the other into hell, then been yanked back out.

Hah. This crazy bastard. He wasn’t wrong, but he really has no idea what counts ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as “saying too much.”

Pyo Jae-ho, who kept tossing out lines that were just ambiguous enough to make people uncomfortable, even handled the fallout himself. Since Young-in couldn’t tell whether he’d done it on purpose or just spoken without thinking, that only made it more exhausting.

Even the comments, which had been loudly fawning over Jae-ho a second ago, seemed to go faintly sour for a moment before settling back into an easy rhythm.

Apparently everyone had taken it as a joke and moved on.

Of course, unlike the real-time chat the singers could see directly, the undercurrent had already exploded somewhere else.

The people who already disliked Pyo Jae-ho’s usual behavior seized on it immediately. Most of the fans, though, just took it as a harmless bit and laughed it off.

Either way, Zero One’s first-ever meal together had happened thanks to a business shoot.

They roughly placed the finished rice in the frying pan at the center of the round table, set out the plates and spoons, then gathered around it.

Ah. But if one person’s missing, the picture looks weird.

Just then, Manager Kwon Je-won ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠popped the neon sign app back up and waved his arm wildly.

Lim Se-bin. That bastard definitely bailed. He’d probably guessed what was going on and made a clean getaway long ago.

What now? With five members total, leaving one out made the image feel a little off. People had already started complaining about why one person always seemed to be missing.

A comment pleading for a phone call, just for a second, especially caught Young-in’s eye.

I’d like to do that too, if I could.

But if he did, the mood could turn awkward all over again, and he had no desire to make it worse.

What should he do? In-woo gave a tiny shrug beside him, as if to say he had no idea either. Right. Even you think this is hopeless, huh? Hah.

He decided he’d throw out some excuse and pretend not to see the comment asking for the phone call. The moment he made up his mind, though—

"Young-in hyung, they’re asking, ‘Can’t you even do a phone call? I just want to hear Se-bin’s voice for a moment.’"

Cheon Sa-yoon, who had been quietly sitting there playing the role of the pretty face this whole time, handed Young-in a giant middle finger in the most polite way possible.

This bastard… Sa-yoon was subtly pressing for the call to happen quickly. Watching from the side, In-woo finally leaned in and muttered,

"Fuck, man. Maybe I shouldn’t be the one doing this. We’re screwed."

Only now did he realize that? No—actually, In-woo wasn’t at fault. Who could’ve predicted it would turn into this? Instead of answering him, Young-in pulled out his phone.

"Then should I try calling for a moment?"

At that, In-woo—who was sitting right beside him—looked even more shocked and kicked Young-in’s shoe lightly. Hey. He was surprised, all right? There was no need to start hitting him just because the camera couldn’t see it.

He wasn’t exactly calm about it, but maybe this was just blind confidence. Once things had already reached this point, his mind had become strangely peaceful.

After all, there was no way Lim Se-bin would pick up Young-in’s phone. In fact, Se-bin was the type of person who didn’t answer calls often and almost never called first.

If he did answer, then yes, that would be a problem. But since he never did, couldn’t this be fine?

The instant Young-in tapped the call button, a hand shot in from the side and hit the speakerphone option.

"It’s better if everyone can hear."

It was Cheon Sa-yoon.

Sa-yoon switched it to speaker mode and smiled brightly.

—…

The ringtone kept going. As expected, he didn’t answer. Jae-ho had done the same thing earlier. Good. Very good. Don’t pick up. Timing the moment he could hang up, Young-in let his disappointment show as much as possible.

"Ah… looks like Se-bin hyung is busy and can’t answer. I guess I’ll have to hang up,

Click.

The ringtone cut off abruptly. F—, da—

—What?

"S-Se-bin hyung!"

Before he knew it, Young-in cried out in panic. Fuck. Something impossible had just happened.

"W-we’re on air right now, and you’re probably monitoring, so you know this already, but the Ions said they missed you, so we called. If you’re not too busy with schedules, I just wanted to talk for a moment."

Young-in rushed through the explanation without giving Se-bin a chance to say anything. At the same time, he forced his tone higher and tried to smile brightly enough to sound happy, but it felt as if the skin around his mouth might tear off.

"Ha… ha ha."

What the hell? Why? The heavens had to be angry. Or the sky had flipped over. Or Lim Se-bin had gone crazy in a very neat, very polite way. No, fuck.

Silence was terrifying. Fuck… Still, thankfully, most of the fans seemed willing to believe what they could see.

The chat was all cheering because Se-bin had shown up, but Young-in felt like he’d been dropped alone on the set of a thriller film.

He’d already explained everything to this extent, so unless they wanted to keep making noise, they’d cooperate like they always did. They should, anyway. But because of what happened with Jae-ho earlier, he still couldn’t relax.

And in the middle of all that, In-woo was covering his face and snickering as if this was the funniest thing in the world. Sa-yoon was clearly laughing too, but making a face like he felt sorry for someone.

Fuck. So this is someone else’s problem, huh? No, wait—it was the group’s problem.

Apparently having finished taking stock of the situation, a low voice drifted out of the receiver again.

"Uh… I’d been watching from earlier, anyway. This is Se-bin, everyone."

He probably didn’t even know what he had been doing, let alone what he’d been up to before this.

After greeting the fans lightly and apologizing for not being able to join because of an imaginary schedule, Lim Se-bin stayed on the line for about five minutes before hanging up.

We survived… It was a little bothersome that he’d gritted his teeth and said they should see each other back at the dorm before hanging up, but Young-in could always just stay at the practice room overnight if he had to.

"Now that we’ve done the phone call, shall we eat?"

Since he knew Zero One would never be the sort of group to all share one bowl with their spoons, Young-in scooped rice onto each plate in rough portions.

"I’ll taste it."

Young-in took a bite of the finished dish with his spoon.

Hmm…

The vegetables had been cut into such large chunks that the presentation was nothing to brag about, and the flavor was just ordinary. If he had to compare it to something, it felt like cafeteria food that had cost 4,000 won, then been skimmed and watered down somewhere in the middle of the process because of corruption before it reached your tray. Still, it was edible.

"I’m eating, okay?"

With that completely unhelpful announcement, In-woo dug in.

"Hey, Young. It’s all fine, but why do you eat so bland? I like it salty, so—"

He shook pepper all over In-woo’s rice. In-woo shut his mouth and kept eating.

In-woo had been dealt with.

When Young-in glanced at the others, they were all eating quietly.

He hadn’t expected any commentary, but aside from the faint clinking of utensils, the room was silent.

He pulled his streaming phone closer and checked the comments.

Hmm. Was it fine if he didn’t give any reaction? They didn’t seem unhappy.

Of course, the moment he thought that, the familiar status window popped up.

Ha…

"How does it taste…?"

Young-in opened his mouth with difficulty. Now that he’d actually asked, he had no idea why this made him so nervous.

The first to speak was In-woo.

"Huh? Why?"

In-woo, who had been eating with his head practically buried in his bowl, looked up at him with a baffled face. Why? Because I’m curious, obviously.

Just as Young-in was about to ask again whether it was edible, Pyo Jae-ho opened his mouth.

"Hmm."

Jae-ho’s gently slanted eyes curved slightly as he smiled with them.

"Good work, Young-in hyung."

That bastard. Blanking me with his face and still refusing to say it tastes good. That could almost pass for praise, the way he says it and the way he looks. If the camera were off, he’d probably say this tasted like eating trash with the same face he used for that drink earlier.

And Pyo Jae-ho…

was, as expected, eating in silence.

He wasn’t saying anything, but the way his spoon kept moving made it hard to tell whether he liked it or not. Judging by that alone, Young-in couldn’t figure anything out.

He was just about to decide that this was an acceptable reaction when Jae-ho spoke again.

"Why did you half-fry the vegetables?"

"Huh?"

"You didn’t cook them properly, so the seasoning didn’t soak into the ingredients. The cooking wine scent didn’t burn off enough, either."

…Wait. What?

"You’re eating it blandly. Why didn’t you reduce the soy sauce?"

All at once, the stream became a cooking critique session. He’d thought Jae-ho would just say it wasn’t good and leave it at that, but he hadn’t expected him to start offering real feedback. Somehow, without meaning to, Young-in’s posture straightened.

Fuck…

"Why did you cut the vegetables like this?"

Exactly. Ha. Even Young-in had looked at that part from the start and thought there was no saving it. He had tried to fix it somehow, but in the end he’d failed.

"Hey. I was the one who cut the vegetables, you know? That’s good enough."

In-woo shoved a huge mouthful of rice into his mouth and grumbled while chewing. Jae-ho went on in a flat voice.

"It’s terrible."

"What are you talking about? You ate it all."

As In-woo said, Jae-ho’s bowl was already empty. These bastards were still eating while talking? They were disgustingly fast. What, did they have hobos living in their stomachs?

"Don’t you know the person being treated to a meal is supposed to keep quiet? Just shut up and eat."

By now In-woo had picked up the ladle again and started scooping rice into his bowl a second time. After barking at Jae-ho, he began emptying another bowl.

Jae-ho, having heard In-woo out, quietly took the ladle from him and went back to serving himself.

No, so what was the verdict? Was it edible or not?

Young-in tried prompting them a few more times after that, but in the end he never heard the word delicious even once before the broadcast ended.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

The sudden, chaotic cooking livestream was far more popular with fans than Young-in had expected.

Zero One had never once done an impromptu live broadcast as a full group before, and on top of that, none of them had ever shown themselves cooking, whether on variety shows or in private. The two factors seemed to have created some strange synergy.

For a second, it really looked like everything would pass harmlessly.

And then, completely out of nowhere, a post calling out Pyo Jae-ho for fan-hate—despite the fact that he hadn’t had much screentime and had barely said a word—blew up. It was the second time this had happened.

Yeah. It really is getting old…

Young-in pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead.