138. A Small Trigger (10)

Jung Si-woo didn't answer my question for quite a while.

And I let him be. Sometimes, silence is the answer.

"...Is it that obvious?"

Si-woo finally spoke again when I was halfway through demolishing a cup ramen, a hot bar, two smoked eggs, and an ion drink. My mouth was still full of dry egg yolk, so I could only nod in response.

"Honestly, I try not to let things like that get to me... but Seok-i just can't seem to help it."

"......"

"I know you and Ha-ru have been trying hard to keep the team's mood up. Thanks."

Si-woo looked a little embarrassed.

He wasn't drunk—unless you counted the night air or the atmosphere.

He definitely seemed more relaxed than usual.

And...

I guess I was the same.

"Hyung."

"Yeah?"

"Should I... help? With Seok-i hyung's thing?"

"......"

You see your father in him, don't you?

That's why it's hard. That's why you're being careful.

Even in the heat of the moment, I swallowed those words.

But now that I'd gone this far, I couldn't pretend not to know anymore.

Si-woo looked slightly surprised at my words, then shook his head after a pause.

"No, it's fine."

"...Are you sure?"

"I did have something to tell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you about Seok-i, but not like that. That's something between him and me—we'll figure it out."

"Then what did you want to tell me?"

"Ah, that was..."

Si-woo hesitated briefly, but the silence didn't last long.

"Seok-i... I think he's been under a lot of stress, and not just because of me. I thought it was just the pressure of elimination in Round 2, but... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lately, it doesn't seem like that's all."

"Ah. He did seem to struggle a bit in Round 3. And the results from the last elimination weren't great either."

"He must be exhausted. But since he seems comfortable around you, I thought he might open up to you."

"Well... yeah. I'll try to bring it up casually."

Si-woo didn't thank me or apologize for asking.

He just nodded lightly, as if he'd expected as much, finally taking a sip of the coffee he'd bought earlier.

Somehow, that felt like trust—like acknowledgment. And it made me feel pretty good.

Si-woo set his coffee cup back on the table, the ice inside clinking. The playful glint in his eyes as he looked at me was new.

"...?"

"You don't feel awkward around me anymore?"

"...Huh↑?"

Damn, voice crack.

His sudden bluntness left me dizzy.

"W-when did I ever say I felt awkward around you...?"

"You weren't exactly comfortable, were you? Be honest."

"Okay, fine, maybe a little intimidated. Just a tiny bit. Like, this much."

"Not denying it, huh."

I waved my hands, insisting it was barely anything, until our eyes met and we both burst out laughing.

"Should we head back now?"

Still grinning, Si-woo asked, and I nodded lightly in response.

After cleaning up the remnants of my feast, we slowly made our way back to the dorm.

On the way, we walked in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

But the quiet wasn't unpleasant at all.

However, the very next day.

No, to be precise—just a few hours later.

I came to regret that peaceful midnight stroll.

"Hyung... did you cry...?"

"I want to cry right now."

Dan Ha-ru poked at my swollen eyelids. After cautiously checking my reaction, he took my silence as permission and started jabbing at every puffy spot on my face.

My eyelids, my jawline, my cheeks—poke, poke, poke.

Too drained to fight back, I let him have his fun while I desperately massaged my bloated face with a gua sha tool.

This was the aftermath of last night's cup ramen, hot bar, and two eggs.

"Are the others here yet?"

"Ah, Si-woo hyung. Seok-i hyung isn't here yet—he said he'll be out after washing up."

Despite having eaten an entire cup ramen with me last night, Jung Si-woo appeared looking better than usual—not a trace of puffiness.

Right. Even if a marble statue swelled up, it'd still be a marble statue.

That bastard Cha Min-seok had the kind of face that bloated easily, but apparently, Si-woo wasn't like that.

The world was so unfair.

...Wait. I have a skill, don't I?

As I aggressively scraped my face with the gua sha, it suddenly hit me—my life genre tag was #SystemNovel.

With the <What's Like Me?> skill, I could've easily gotten rid of the puffiness. So why was I suffering like this?

'If the swelling suddenly disappeared now, it'd look too suspicious... I'll use it right before filming starts.'

Meanwhile, Gong Seok rushed into the practice room, a towel draped over his shoulders.

We still had about an hour before the production team arrived.

Without delay, Si-woo turned on his tablet and showed it to everyone.

"Like I mentioned in the group chat, this is the song I want to do alongside 'Where am I.' I worked on the skeleton of it yesterday, and I think it's not bad. I'd like to hear your thoughts."

He played a video on the tablet.

It showed him singing in a dimly lit practice room, accompanied by an acoustic guitar.

"...? Hyung, did you not sleep?"

"I slept after finishing this. For about an hour?"

And his face still isn't swollen?

I needed to stab him with a needle. If no blood came out and the needle broke, I'd report him to the UN for being an actual statue.

...Or was it NASA?

Having slept only about three hours myself, I was starting to spout nonsense.

"Anyway, listen."

First, the full version of his father's unreleased song.

Then, a mashup with the original track.

For the next ten minutes, the team quietly absorbed the music. Thanks to Si-woo's preparation—he'd even printed out lyric sheets—we could focus on the song without distraction.

"......"

While listening, I watched Gong Seok from across the room.

His eyes never left the lyrics in his hands.

He mouthed the words silently, as if savoring each syllable, then traced the lines with his fingers, lost in thought.

"So? I think the lyrics fit well, and it's solid overall."

After the video ended, Si-woo asked for our opinions.

He looked a little tense.

Since I'd already given my approval last night, I stayed quiet, letting Ha-ru and Seok speak freely.

Just as Ha-ru—still nervously glancing at the older members—was about to say something, Seok suddenly spoke up, louder than usual.

"Let's do this."

Not 'I want to' or 'What if we try this?' but 'Let's do this.'

It was the most assertive I'd ever seen Gong Seok since joining Miro.

Everyone froze like statues.

Okay, maybe that's an overreaction.

But to me, it felt like witnessing Helen Keller suddenly opening her eyes and shouting "WATER!" while her teacher, Sullivan, stood there in shock.

So, instinctively, I turned to Si-woo and nodded like I was under a spell.

"Let's do it, hyung. We have to."

"The song's so good. And... the lyrics are really beautiful. I want to sing them."

Even though Ha-ru was the type to overthink the older members' reactions, he had enough conviction to speak up when he meant it. With even him agreeing, the decision was unanimous.

'Now, the only thing left is the issue of Si-woo hyung's father, huh?'

I'd thought about it all night, but no perfect solution came to mind.

After considering all possible scenarios and reactions, I realized—this was ultimately Si-woo's choice.

Whether to reveal his father's existence to the world or not.

And if I had to pick a side, I'd say 'reveal it.'

'If we debut, stories about his father might leak out eventually anyway. It's better to control the narrative now—package it carefully and release only the most favorable details.'

But if I wanted to discuss this, it'd be better to talk to Si-woo alone. How could I get him away from the others?

Still glowing, Ha-ru and Seok were rereading the lyrics and replaying Si-woo's video.

Then, our timid one (sorry, Seok-i hyung) turned to Si-woo with hopeful eyes and asked:

"Hey, Si-woo. You said... this was your father's song, right?"

"Ah, yeah. Why?"

"I know this might be rude, but... if it's okay, could I meet him someday?"

"...Ah. That's..."

Oh no.

Si-woo's expression quickly turned troubled.

After a few seconds of silence, Seok—sensitive to reactions—backpedaled fast, waving his hands. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Ah, sorry, was that too much? Or, if not meeting him, could I at least send him a message? The lyrics... they feel like they were written just for me. I really want to thank him..."

"No, no, it's not that—"

Si-woo cut him off, looking conflicted.

I already knew the truth about Si-woo's father, but I couldn't let it show.

So, while Ha-ru nervously rolled his eyes so hard I thought they'd pop out, I just patted his head reassuringly.

Unless Si-woo asked for my help directly, this was a conversation the two of them needed to have.

Even if the topic was Si-woo's late father.

'...He's the type to think things through before speaking anyway.'

If he didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't.

If he felt it was okay, he would.

And if he planned to reveal his father through this song, he needed to decide his stance now.

I didn't know if Si-woo was thinking the same way, but—

He finally spoke.

Resting a hand on his guitar case, he said:

"...He passed away. Before I joined the company."

"Ah... I-I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"No. I never told you. And you have nothing to apologize for."

"......"

Seok pressed his lips together, looking like he'd committed a crime—like he wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

Si-woo glanced at me, silently pleading for help, but I just shrugged and gestured toward Seok again.

If you're gonna commit, commit all the way, hyung.

At my firm refusal to intervene, Si-woo sighed softly, then seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

"...But I can pass on your message."

"...?"

"Next time I visit him, I'll tell him. 'Dad, there's a friend who found comfort in your song.' He'd be really happy. Thank you."

"Really...? The lyrics... they feel like they were written just for me. I think I'll remember this song for a long, long time."

Seok couldn't hide his excitement, his face brighter than I'd ever seen as he rambled on.

Watching him, I felt tears prick my eyes—so I pinched Ha-ru's cheek for no reason.

Unable to complain with the mood so emotional, he just stared at me like, 'How could you do this to me!?' His expression was so funny it made my tears ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠recede a bit.

While the younger ones were busy with slapstick comedy, the hyungs wrapped up their own emotional drama.

"Maybe... you could come with me next time? If you're okay with it. It's in Seoul, so it's not far. You'd be the first fan of his besides me... Ah, is it too soon to call you a fan?"

"Huh? No, no. I am a fan. I will be. Did he write any other songs?"

"Yeah. I'll play them for you sometime if you're interested."

"Thank you. You must be so proud to have a father like that. I'm jealous."

"...Yeah. I am."

There was the faintest tremor in Si-woo's voice at the end.

Watching them both look lighter after the conversation, I thought:

I don't think we need to talk about 'revealing his father' anymore.

His choice is already clear.