Waterfall Photo Wars and a Muse's Call
“Waterfall!!”
“It's so pretty, right?”
Pelo Waterfall. As expected from a famous tourist spot, crowds of visitors were lounging nearby. Mostly women, but the occasional guy dotted around suggested solid security here. Sure enough, patrol cops were making rounds through the attractions.
“Pose over there.”
“Yessir!!”
“Let's grab some tasty stuff from that street vendor!”
The kids, buzzing with excitement, started prancing around like colts. The crew was scrambling to capture their sky-high energy on camera. Our hyper maknae Ki Uyeon had teamed up with like-minded Nam Eungyu and Kang Jun to hunt down snacks, leaving Jeki, me, and Kang Kyungtae to snap pics with the waterfall as backdrop.
“Even if you take a crap shot, it turns into a photoshoot on you.”
Kang Kyungtae let out an awed whistle at the photo he'd just taken of me.
“Lemme see.”
Jeki checked the phone Kyungtae was holding up.
“...Damn, it really does look like a magazine spread.”
Even Jeki echoing him had my face flushing with embarrassment—like it was gold-plated or something.
“Hyung's just got a good eye for shots. You always nail photos.”
“Still, this level's insane. Polish it up and post on SNS? It'd blow up.”
Kyungtae sounded genuinely bummed. Too killer a pic to just pass around privately, right? But as rookies, we couldn't just blast personal SNS. Sure, they let us use phones, but we weren't fully free agents.
The crew, picking up on Kyungtae's regret, asked to see it.
“Whoa.”
“Too good to bury this one.”
“Gotta air it on the reality show.”
“Why not have everyone do photoshoot-style poses? Sightseeing's fun, but a goal makes it even better, yeah?”
The members cheered at the crew's brilliant pitch.
“Sounds good!”
“That'll be a blast.”
“Try some of this. Bought plenty.”
Ki Uyeon, Kang Jun, and Nam Eungyu chimed in, back with food in hand. Then Jeki rubbed his chin, scheming, and threw a curveball at the crew.
“Shouldn't the winner get some kinda prize to crank up the effort?”
“Huh? Prize?”
“Motivation, y'know.”
“Hey, this is reality, not a variety show...?”
“C'mon, what's the diff!”
The crew huddled and eventually caved: first place gets a perk.
“Single room!”
“Whoooaaa!!!”
“Jackpot!”
For guys crammed in tight dorm-style rooms, a solo suite was pure temptation. Competition kicked off, and even I got bloodthirsty.
A private room means sneaking out at night no problem.
We're abroad—gotta tangle with some local ladies, right? I'd planned to scout a few days first, but a single room changes everything.
“Who takes the pics, though?”
“Beg any crew. Skill in recruiting a good shooter is on you. Tourists work too. But safety first, got it?”
“Yesss!!!”
The members roared back, whipping out phones and scattering. Framing matters for killer shots. I smirked as they dispersed, then sidled up to the camera director.
“Director!”
“Y-yeah?”
“Mind shooting me?”
Pros handle the best results, always. She blinked.
“Me? I gotta film.”
“That's why you'll nail it. PD said any crew's fair game. So pretty please?”
With a female director, aegyo was fair play. Guy charm on women? Nailed it. Tilting my head cute-like, her face went beet red. She coughed, handing her camera to a staffer.
“Cover for me.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“Keep it inside, dude.”
With the director trailing me like a remora, I hunted Pelo's prime photo spots. Members, snapping away separately, gawked when they saw us.
“Hyung!! Begging the director's cheating, right?”
“How's it cheating? PD greenlit crew.”
“She's gotta shoot!”
“Shooting's fine.”
“Grr, unfair.”
“Director! After hyung, me too!”
“Hey! Me next!”
“Line up, line up.”
Ha, these punks. She chuckled indulgently at their wild energy, playing along.
“One here—waterfall, sun, my face in frame. Rest is your magic.”
“Gotcha. I see the vibe.”
Camera and photo work overlap but differ. Her lens-honed eye compensated beautifully. The result?
“Ooooh!!!”
“Unbeatable.”
“Insane lighting.”
She beamed, pleased with her own work. Members checked it—morale crashed.
“Can't quit on that single room! Gotta try!”
For reality footage, they rallied fake spirits and pushed on. End result? I took first.
“Face hack, man...”
“Lost to the visuals.”
Grumbling about my “cheat face,” they conceded gracefully. Swimsuit-clad, we splashed wildly in the water, cameras rolling. Coming up for air, massive crowds were gawking.
Back at the lodge before sunset as planned, flushed faces chattered nonstop.
Crew blocked most, but couldn't stop every shutterbug.
“Felt like a painting.”
“Gotta get used to it. Debut means constant stares.”
“Way more intense than now? Knew it coming, but experiencing it? Scary. Can we adapt?”
“We have to.”
“Feels debuted already, shooting like this.”
Separate rooms be damned—we huddled in the living room yapping. Even I milked the group chat till dusk. Maknae Ki Uyeon conked out first after puppy-ing all day.
“Uyeon's out.”
“Where tomorrow? Stick to schedule?”
“Nah, free choice tomorrow. Extra security.”
“Where to, then?”
Six dudes yakking—no end in sight. Three women shatter plates? Guys ain't slouches. This'd drag past midnight.
“Gonna crash. Beat.”
“Sleepyhead hyung's earned it.”
Doppelganger Doll overuse earned me “Sleepyhead” nickname. Plus, once out, I slept like the dead—hell to wake mornings.
3-4 AM bedtimes don't help.
Without coin-boosted stamina, I'd have collapsed ages ago.
Don't wanna risk trouble late—head back by 11 after some fun.
In my single room, showered, swapped to nondescript black clothes, pulled out the Doppelganger Doll. Propped it in PJs on the bed, I slipped out—hat and mask secured.
Downtown? Hipster district? ♪
Guns legal here—solo guy night-walking? Kidnap-bait. Solution: hook up inside the hotel. Scout: the wine bar.
Inside, chandeliers dazzled first. Purple-red lighting, soft jazz—calm, upscale vibe. Perfect.
“Welcome.”
“Not big on wine. Recommendations?”
“Bold or light?”
“Light, low ABV. C snacks.”
“Got it.”
Sipping her picks with light bites, eyeing decor—a woman slid onto the stool beside me.
Blonde!
Looks: pass. Hair: pass. Chest: pass! Quick scan done, I sipped coolly, faking solo chill vibes.
She glanced overtly, then spoke.
“—Alone?”
Bingo! Hearing's fine even if speaking sucks—total chill. Without comprehension, foreigner chat would've frozen me, killin' the game.
“—Yeah?”
“—No Korean?”
“—Uh...kinda. Sucky at talking.”
“—Ooh! That's solid. Hesitated 'cause foreigner, but glad I did.”
She lit up at my broken Marenchino. Striking golden bob, blue eyes—textbook Marenchino gal. Local hookup? Plump, juicy fish on first cast.
“—Hear fine.”
“—Tourist? Solo guy's risky.”
“—Not solo. Crew.”
“—Ah, biz trip?”
“—Yeah.”
“—Look young—thought tourist. Surprise! Haha!”
East Asians read young—my bad.
“—No biggie.”
“—Designer here in Marenchino. Joanna.”
“—Designer! Cool. Jin Haesol. Korea puts family first—Haesol Jin. Call me Jin.”
“—Nice, Jin.”
“—First designer meet—wild. What kinda designs?”
“—Clothes.”
Clunky pronunciation, but we clicked. Midway through great vibes, she dropped a curve.
“—Reason I approached: specific.”
“—Reason?”
Me, plotting hotel room tango; her, something else.
“—Saw you—froze. Shocked. You know it. Face is fantastic.”
“—Ah...face.”
“—Yeah. Got a proposal. Nervous you'll say no, but mustered courage once—doing it again.”
Flushed, Joanna said:
“—Be my muse.”