Level Up (11)
“Uh… yes? Yes! I-it’s fine.”
Ki Uyeon couldn’t hide his panic, fidgeting restlessly. In the meantime, Manager Noona rushed up onto the stage and checked his ankle.
“Anywhere hurt? Is it sprained? Try rotating it gently.”
“N-no… Noona, it’s okay. Doesn’t hurt anywhere.”
“You might not feel it now from the shock, but it could be trouble later. Let’s spray some pain relief on it first.”
With impressive foresight, Manager Noona had brought the pain relief spray, so it was immediately applied to Uyeon’s ankle. As the sharp medicinal scent spread across the stage, Uyeon glanced nervously at the staff.
“You okay?”
“I’m really fine! But I messed up—how are we gonna do the stage now?”
He seemed under more pressure from his massive blunder on stage than from any pain. Probably because he’d seen something like that right before going on.
“The stage? Sigh, hold on, let me ask the PD.”
Just then, Pai PD climbed onto the stage. Uyeon’s face grew paler by the second. The tension was so thick it felt like his heart might burst, but then the PD spoke.
“We checked the footage, and your fall was captured perfectly. Looks like we’ll have to reshoot. Can you do it?”
“…Pardon?”
His expression screamed, That’s it?
“Does your leg hurt a lot?”
“N-no, no, no! I can do it! Doesn’t hurt at all!!”
This was the same PD who’d roared like a tiger at rookie male idols for similar mistakes. But facing Uyeon, there was no anger on her face—just a hint of annoyance.
“Alright, then let’s prep for another take.”
“Yes!! Thank you, PD!!”
Music PD patted Uyeon’s shoulder approvingly, apparently liking his 90-degree bow. The staff bustled into action, and Uyeon let out an exaggerated sigh of relief at not getting chewed out.
“You sure you’re really okay?”
“I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking—your face says otherwise.”
Manager Noona kept fretting over him.
“If it hurts, just say so. We can air the first take.”
“We’re already under so much spotlight from the last stage. Show me messing up? No way. I wanna redo it. My face was pale ’cause I thought PD was gonna yell at me.”
Kid’s scared of a little scolding. Guys here need to toughen up. Too much like houseplants.
Wish I could drop him on Earth for a year. Stick him in the military, and he’d come out a whole new man.
I idly imagined dunking Uyeon in boot camp.
“Uyeon’s so cool~ When did you get this mature? Thinking like that and all.”
“I screwed up big time today—mature? I’ve got a long way to go!”
Our festival stage had blown up massively, so tons of people were hyped for today. If Uyeon’s flop aired? Disaster.
They’d be disappointed, and the chatter would explode.
Today’s stage had to wow the curious fans. PD probably skipped the yelling for that reason—thank god.
After a short wait, the stage lights flared again, and the title track’s melody kicked in. To ease Uyeon’s nerves about messing up twice, I used a Stamina Pouch to top him off. And it worked wonders—he nailed the second take way better than the first.
Redoing it myself loosened up my stiff body too. Later monitoring confirmed it: the second was overwhelmingly superior. Uyeon’s slip-up ended up benefiting us.
“Should I praise you for messing up?”
“Ugh!! Don’t say that. Thinking about my heart dropping when I fell still scares me. Almost got stage fright for life.”
I sidled up to the whining Uyeon.
“Wasn’t it ’cause you saw that before going on?”
“Wanna say no, but… yeah, it affected me a bit. For a split second when I fell, my mind wandered.”
“Aigoo~”
Shouldn’t have watched those rookie guys.
“Good work.”
PD looked pleased with the solid second shoot, her expression brightening.
“Thank you!”
“Thank you!!”
We reflexively bowed in gratitude. Offstage, all tension melted away. I trudged down the hall, vowing to crash on the waiting room sofa.
“‘Hello! We’re Rain, here to moisten your hearts!’”
“Huh? Must be those rookies.”
En route to our room, booming voices from the flubbed male rookies echoed—they were greeting other rooms. New idols bowing to seniors? Standard stuff.
Back in our waiting room, Nam Eungyu’s mouth ran off about it.
“We used to do that too.”
“Yeah, takes me back.”
“‘Back’? It was just a few months ago.”
“Pfft, whatever. Junnie can’t read the room. We’re seniors now. Seniors!”
Eungyu and Uyeon vibed well, but Kang Jun often butted in to troll.
“Anyway, going around bowing like that is so awkward. If someone ignores you, it’s mortifying. Glad we skipped it this time.”
“But don’t some seniors still expect albums?”
Big shots wanted bootlicking with albums. We weren’t fully past rookie status.
“Can’t understand ignoring greetings.”
“I’d never. I’d be nice to everyone who bows to me.”
“Only a few groups survive. Most vanish after a few meets, no matter how nice you are.”
“Whoa, Jun! That’s brutal…!!”
I tuned out their chatter, too wiped to hide it, and flopped onto the spacious sofa.
“Aigoo~ My poor back.”
“Uwaa~ Me too!! Hyup~!”
Eungyu claimed a spot beside me, and the others piled on.
“Massage my legs a bit.”
Eungyu draped his legs over Kang Jun’s thighs; Jun pinched his thigh fat in retaliation, sparking a tussle. Jun was meek with others but picked on same-age Eungyu relentlessly.
“Hyung, but why didn’t PD yell at me? I was terrified she’d scream after my screw-up. But she never did.”
“That’s what bugs you?”
Obvious, really.
“You know why, hyung?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me!! Same mistake, but they got reamed and I didn’t?”
“Reality or fairy tale?”
“…Do I have to choose?”
“Yup.”
“Hmm, fairy tale sounds nice, but reality.”
Figured. No fairy tale had answers anyway.
“It’s agency difference, popularity gap, and finally, their attitudes. My guess? They botched the stage after messing up. You popped right back up and finished strong. Pros own their stages to the end, no matter what.”
“Ah…”
“You handled it perfectly today. Deserve praise.”
“Nah, no need!!”
He’d panicked with a million thoughts mid-fall, yet powered through. Couldn’t help but pat him fondly.
As I babied Uyeon, Eungyu eyed me.
“Always thought this, but Haesol hyung gets adults super well.”
“More grown-up than Kyungtae hyung, even.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Kang Kyungtae scowled, but everyone nodded agreement. These experiences taught the guys reality, turning boys into men. People call it “growth.” Airplane was leveling up daily.
“It rose!!”
Surfing a wave—exhilarating, terrifying not knowing when it’d crash, but too thrilling to stop.
1. One Mojito – Jelly Nyang
2. Fanfare – Jelly Nyang
3. Remember – Airplane
4. Super Woman – Jelly Nyang
5. Nightfall – Down
6. Girlfriend – Airplane
Our song, stuck outside the top 4, finally broke through to #3. And b-side Girlfriend jumped to #6. Agency predicted even bigger waves ahead.
“#2 here we come!!!!!!”
“Buying stocks?”
“Uwaaa!! #2! #2!!! But we debuted—gotta hit #1!!”
“Said #3 was enough, now it’s #1?”
Their hype was hilarious, but I got it. Felt great, especially since our stage earned it. Rising ranks meant spicier schedules.
“You guys are heading into solo activities.”
“Solo activities!”
“Group variety too, but from this comeback, no blocking solos. Grab good chances.”
“Whoa!!!”
Post-festival, company treated us differently—trusting us now. Not just protecting, but delegating. Thrilling validation. Solo greenlight proved it.
“Back at the dorm, your fan gifts’ll be waiting. We screened ’em all—safe to use.”
“Gifts?! Awesome!”
Fan presents varied: pricey shocks, heartfelt treasures. Letters my fave—boosted my energy, so I cherished them.
“But, uh… Haesol.”
“Yeah?”
“You got a personal gift. It’s… special.”
“Special how?”
“You got a license?”
…License? From a gift? Huge hint.
“Eek?!”
“No way, a car?!”
“Whoa~ Jackpot.”
“Debated accepting it. Sender hired someone anonymous—even under torture, no name.”
“A car? Too much.”
“They said if refused, they’d scrap it. No choice—don’t even know who.”
“So we should take it?”
“Can’t use yet. Need your license, check for bugs/cameras, and full mechanic inspection for defects.”