Chapter 616
Chapter 616
From a very young age, Ryu Cheong-woo often heard adults say the same thing.
That he was born under a lucky star.
—He’s so young, yet he’s already so handsome and sharp. The baby takes after his parents; he’s truly blessed. Oh my, isn't it wonderful?
This sentiment followed him throughout his upbringing. Only the phrasing changed depending on the environment.
—Hey, I should start calling you "Hyung." You’re fucking good at this.
—Hey, you dumbass, you should call Cheong-woo "Hyung" too, lol.
—Did you hear Ryu Cheong-woo made the national team? That bastard really has it all.
Sometimes, it manifested as subtle hostility.
—Honestly, he was just born like that. It’d be weirder if he were bad at things.
—Isn't it kind of lame that he chose archery with a body like that? It’s not even soccer or baseball; the guy’s just carried by his gear.
Ryu Cheong-woo never placed much weight on those opinions.
He didn't feel a sense of rebellion, wanting to scream that he had his own worries and hardships, nor did he feel the arrogance of someone intoxicated by their own natural brilliance.
What was the point of feeling that way? It wouldn't change anything.
He simply lived his life day by day, doing what needed to be done, enjoying the good things, and quickly letting go of or overcoming the bad.
It went without saying that this stoic nature further solidified his position. A person who remains unshaken by the noise around them is attractive in any setting.
And so, he lived a diligent life, largely unmoved and unaffected by the various meddling and prejudices of others.
Because he possessed the mental strength, will, talent, and sincerity to push through adversity, he was able to run toward his goals without hesitation throughout his life.
Until that happened.
—Cheong-woo! Our Cheong-woo’s arm… Oh please, please…!
“…”
Ryu Cheong-woo opened his eyes.
He was lying on his bed, perhaps having drifted off for a moment. His back was damp with cold sweat.
He needed a shower.
He stood up, his mind still a bit hazy.
Thud.
He reflexively caught his smartphone as it slipped from the bed.
“…”
The room was silent.
His roommate, Cha Yu-jin, was out. The American football that usually sat haphazardly on the neighboring bed was also gone.
‘He took that with him again.’
Cha Yu-jin never let go of that ball whenever he went anywhere. Even on those days when they were forced to rest because of the controversy and he would abruptly disappear without a word…
“No.”
That wasn't now.
Ryu Cheong-woo stopped in his tracks. He felt as if cold water had been poured over his head, even though he hadn't entered the shower yet.
The memories kept getting tangled.
A past that no longer existed.
“…”
He stood still for a moment amidst thoughts he couldn't quite put into words, then heavily began to move again.
Let’s just do what needs to be done.
If he kept busy, he would eventually snap out of it.
After washing up with cold water in the ensuite bathroom, he found someone in the living room.
“…! Ryu Cheong-woo.”
Bae Se-jin, who had been reading an e-book with the TV on as background noise, looked up with relief.
It was late morning, a brief period of rest after they had rushed through a pre-recording for a music broadcast without an audience earlier that dawn.
“Did you get some rest?”
Ryu Cheong-woo nodded.
“Where are the others?”
“Ah, they…”
Bae Se-jin hesitated a few times before asking, as if he had practiced the question.
“It’s, uh, lunch time. Should we… order something? Is there anything you want to eat?”
Was he trying to carefully bring up the main topic once the atmosphere relaxed?
Just anticipating that conversation brought a wave of exhaustion, as if he had already lived through it.
“…”
He wasn't used to this.
The fact that he couldn't take someone’s goodwill and help at face value.
Normally, if he didn't need it, he’d just decline, and if he did, he’d accept it gratefully. But lately, he couldn't do that. For some strange reason.
Ryu Cheong-woo simply shook his head silently.
A denial without conversation.
“Ah, okay…”
Bae Se-jin quietly accepted it. A faint flicker of guilt passed through Cheong-woo at the sight, but expressing it felt meaningless.
Soon, Bae Se-jin quietly made a phone call, and…
“Hyung.”
Not long after, the members who hadn't been in the living room swarmed into the dorm.
Plastic bags dangled from their hands.
“We heard you two hadn't eaten lunch yet, so we bought some.”
They had brought gamjatang. Without making a fuss about buying something their leader specifically liked, the members simply claimed they had been craving something hot.
Are they doing this because they think I’ll find it burdensome if they make it obvious they’re looking out for me?
The fact that his mind was even trying to deduce that far was unfamiliar and, frankly, sickening.
Ryu Cheong-woo sat at the table, silently helping them set out the food.
“Let’s eat~!”
The thought that they should have been eating on the go in a van right now wouldn't leave his head.
He felt like he should check if the members had gone out to handle other variety shows or business…
But he didn't want to ask.
Still, he had to do his job.
“We have a stage schedule this afternoon.”
“…”
At Ryu Cheong-woo’s words, the noise at the table momentarily ceased.
It was the kind of reaction that came from thinking before responding.
“Yeah. But there’s no live broadcast anyway; it’s just studio filming. That’s the good thing about WeTube.”
“Right, right.”
In truth, whether it was a live broadcast or not wasn't the point; they wanted to emphasize that it was a studio recording.
Meaning, there would be no audience.
It was a signal that it would be okay even if he failed to perform on stage again.
Just like he had earlier that dawn.
“…”
Even so, if he froze on stage one or two more times, word would inevitably get out.
That was the nature of controversy.
Rumors were already circulating.
“…”
In times like this, did he used to say thank you and practice harder?
He didn't know anymore, Ryu Cheong-woo told himself.
He just didn't know.
*
“What should I do? It feels weird to comfort him, and it feels weird to just ask him if he’s sick.”
“…”
“I don’t know. I mean…”
Bae Se-jin looked completely drained.
It seemed his attempt to have a heart-to-heart with Ryu Cheong-woo while they were alone in the dorm—peer to peer—had sunk without a trace.
‘I forgot that this guy is also the type to overthink and suffer in silence…’
He was the type to charge headfirst into issues of right and wrong, but when it came to someone else’s mental state, he couldn't help but run simulation after simulation as if walking through a minefield.
‘He’s being extra cautious because he’s struggled with his own mental health before.’
It was probably worse because Ryu Cheong-woo seemed to have pulled himself together slightly.
I pressed my temples, reminiscing.
‘He was fine during the recording today.’
Even if we skipped next week’s music shows, it was realistically impossible to pull out of this week’s schedules on such short notice.
To cancel a pre-arranged schedule a day or two in advance, you need a valid reason, and it’s not like we have a medical certificate or anything. We aren't in a position to make an official announcement either.
So, we had no choice but to proceed with the dawn recording without an audience, using "safety concerns" as an excuse.
—Starting filming!
And during the performance, Ryu Cheong-woo managed to handle his parts naturally, as if nothing were wrong.
However, during the breaks in between, it was painfully obvious that he was sinking.
Cold sweat. Silence.
…It was precarious.
‘At least it won't show on camera.’
That was the only silver lining.
The fans were likely trying to bury the incident for now.
The fact that he proceeded with the filming was seen as a sign that there were no physical issues.
—It’s probably a conflict with the broadcasting station because, well, it’s T1… lol T_T fuck.
—Our boys are performing just fine, so please stop with the rumors and bullshit.
—They said it was a safety issue. It’s probably related to sensitive personal info of the audience or something, so they aren't mentioning it. Please read the room.
Of course, since eyewitness accounts had already spread, we couldn't completely stop the rumors that Ryu Cheong-woo might have developed a panic disorder…
‘…I just need to fix this within the week.’
If we can, we can shift the focus with pre-recorded content and let people assume the incident was due to the station’s or the company’s circumstances.
Assuming, of course, that it can be fixed.
‘Dammit.’
I suppressed a groan as I thought about my theory regarding Ryu Cheong-woo’s current state—something I hadn't dared tell the other members yet.
Could something like that… even be resolved in a short time?
Bae Se-jin groaned at almost the same time.
“If it were me, I think I’d feel pressured if people were openly worrying about me when things weren't going well…”
“Ah~ that depends on the person.”
The members chimed in with various opinions—some said they’d work harder out of guilt, some said they’d be touched, and others said it would give them strength.
But no one was certain.
“…Since we don’t know the reason, we don’t know what the right answer is.”
The conclusion was that no one knew how Ryu Cheong-woo would react.
Everyone silently agreed.
“…”
In the end… identifying the exact reason had to come first.
‘I was trying to avoid this because it might cross a line.’
But there was no other way.
We were out of time, and I knew the environment wasn't one where Ryu Cheong-woo could speak honestly to a counselor.
‘Then I have to pair him with someone he can be honest with.’
I finally decided to implement Plan B.
I called out to the guy who was out on the balcony.
“Cheong-woo.”
“…!”
“Cha Yu-jin is calling for you.”
*
Ryu Cheong-woo opened his bedroom door while Park Moon-dae watched.
“OK. Hyung, come in.”
Inside the room, his roommate beckoned him. The American football was back in its place.
But Cha Yu-jin wasn't alone.
Kim Rae-bin was sitting on the floor with a tense expression.
Thud.
As soon as Park Moon-dae closed the door, Cha Yu-jin spoke immediately.
“We don’t have much time, so I’ll talk fast.”
As Ryu Cheong-woo looked at him, Cha Yu-jin rested his chin on his hand.
His eyes were gleaming.
“From now on, I’m Bad Cha Yu-jin.”
“…?”
For a moment, Ryu Cheong-woo wondered if Cha Yu-jin was playing a joke.
“Yu-jin.”
“Nope. I’m talking. Listen first.”
Cha Yu-jin frowned.
And with his next words, Ryu Cheong-woo understood what he meant by "Bad Cha Yu-jin."
“Ryu Cheong-woo Hyung, do you remember when we did our last activities together?”
“…”
His tone had changed.
It was cynical and blunt. His Korean was more fluent.
It was the way he used to speak back then.
—If Ryu Cheong-woo really had a problem during the Steer days, talking to someone who knew him back then would be the most effective.
Cha Yu-jin had readily accepted the suggestion and taken on the role for today.
—OK. I’ll do it.
He was speaking exactly as he had during the Steer era.
As if the Cha Yu-jin from that time were standing right there.
Cha Yu-jin tossed the ball he was holding behind him.
“We didn't renew our contracts as a group and all went our separate ways. I went to America, and Kim Rae-bin went to the military.”
“…”
“What did you do then, Hyung?”
Silence.
But Cha Yu-jin didn't blink.
“There’s no option to not answer. Don’t think you can always make us answer while you stay quiet.”
Kim Rae-bin’s face turned pale, but since this had been agreed upon beforehand, he didn't intervene.
Ryu Cheong-woo didn't even let out a dry laugh before he spoke.
“I made you answer?”
“Sure. So you have to answer right away too. Because I always answered well.”
“You did?”
“…!”
“Don’t make things up, Cha Yu-jin.”
“Oh. That’s quite aggressive.”
Tension instantly filled the room.
“…”
Amidst the sound of Kim Rae-bin’s breathing, Park Moon-dae stood quietly in the back as if he weren't there.
And Cha Yu-jin spoke again without hesitation.
“Are you not going to answer my question?”
“…”
“Fine. Then answer as a fan.”
A fan?
“Moon-dae Hyung!”
“…!”
When Cha Yu-jin called him, Park Moon-dae, who had been leaning against the wall, looked at him without surprise.
Ryu Cheong-woo met those calm eyes.
A heavy weight pressed down on his chest.
“Moon-dae Hyung was disappointed because there was no news of you after Steer ended, even though he heard about me and Kim Rae-bin.”
“…”
“Why didn't you promote? You said you wanted to keep doing K-pop. Was it…”
“Because of a physical problem.”
“…!”
“That’s right.”
Ryu Cheong-woo thought that perhaps he had expected this conversation from the moment he entered the room.
From the moment Park Moon-dae pointed out his left arm.
And from the moment he saw this group of people.
Ryu Cheong-woo glanced at his left upper body and muttered.
“They said excessive fatigue had built up in my shoulder, and that it would be difficult to dance at the level of our existing choreography anymore.”
“…”
“I’d been having pain since about six months before the contract ended.”
Kim Rae-bin barely managed to ask.
“A-Are you okay now…?”
“Yeah. I’m fine now. You guys saw it too.”
His physical examination results, that is.
“…”
“That’s all.”
“Pardon…?”
Ryu Cheong-woo continued to explain.
“My body is fine now, but maybe because the habit remained, I keep reflexively hesitating to use my body. I think my subconscious is still afraid of getting injured again.”
“That’s…”
“Once I realized this was the time period when I had stopped promoting, the symptoms just kept getting worse as time went on.”
The explanation flowed like water; there were no stumbles or confusion. It all sounded perfectly logical.
And that’s when Park Moon-dae realized.
‘…It wasn't simple avoidance.’
Ryu Cheong-woo wasn't trying to avoid the situation or ignore the problem.
“I couldn't get medical help because I couldn't explain the cause. Since it never happened in this life.”
He had already reached a diagnosis after agonizing over it himself.
It was just… that he couldn't bring himself to declare it so openly.
“That’s all.”
The sentence that ‘my career is over.’
“…”
“So…”
Ryu Cheong-woo murmured.
“What can I even do?”
Even saying those words seemed to bring him shame.
Likely because he already expected the answer.
‘….’
There was no solution.
And the most important period of their career was slipping away.
‘Dammit.’
Park Moon-dae thought it was even worse because the guy knew that all too well.