I'm So Hot
The air was so hot it felt as if prayer itself might catch fire. Smoke hung thick from some unknown origin, so dense I couldn’t see an inch ahead. Had the room gone up in flames?
Maybe it was the smoke filling my lungs. I could feel my breath growing shorter by degrees. The hand I could see had turned red and raw from the heat. But the body collapsed on the floor showed no intention of rising, waiting for death in perfect stillness.
“Get up.”
Just as I was letting go of each sense that the thinning air was pulling farther away, a violent jolt dragged my consciousness back to the surface.
“Lee Han-hee!”
I sucked in a huge breath of sudden cold air and immediately burst into coughing. While I hacked and wheezed, the hand supporting my back casually brought a cup to my lips. Water.
I swallowed a little at a time, and my throat—parched as if I hadn’t had a drop in days—finally announced that it still wanted to live.
“Aren’t you coughing too hard? What if your wound opens?”
“Could you prop my back up a little more?”
The voices around me finally pulled my mind into focus. I must have been dreaming. Irritation flared at the cold sweat soaking my body. I’d forgotten.
After the hospital, there had been a lot of people around when I went to bed. Surely they hadn’t all seen me like this. Thankfully, as my vision cleared, only two faces came into view: Han Sang-jin and Han Min-hyeok.
“Drink this.”
Warmth I knew well settled into my hand. I looked down to find a cup of lukewarm tea.
I took a careful sip of the cooled tea and looked around. Familiar dorm room. One person was different, though.
“Where’s Yu Min-seong?”
Yu Min-seong, who was convenient because he never woke once he fell asleep—why was Han Min-hyeok here instead?
“In case something happened with your injury, someone needed to keep an eye on you. We switched rooms.”
Han Min-hyeok, who had played big-brother countless times while we were on the same team, shrugged as if it were nothing. I already knew he looked after people better than expected, but changing rooms just to watch over an injury?
I’m grateful, but… was that necessary?
And were trainees even allowed to swap rooms whenever they wanted?
“Is it okay to just switch rooms like that?”
I cleared my rough throat and voiced the question. Han Min-hyeok’s easy expression turned sour.
“I asked. They said it was fine. They let their management slip and got you hurt—least they can do is give us this much convenience…”
He clicked his tongue about how big a mistake it had been and urged me to drink more tea. Meanwhile Han Sang-jin returned with dry clothes.
“Reminds me of when A-seong was little~.”
The two of them moved with the easy coordination of people used to nursing the sick. While I sat half-dazed, they changed me into soft, clean clothes and were now wiping my hands with a warm towel.
“Anyway, no matter how rushed they were, leaving half-finished dangerous junk right in a walkway…”
Han Min-hyeok slipped a plush pillow behind my back from somewhere and kept talking while he peeled an apple. An apple? The full caretaker vibe of the snack left me speechless.
“And you too, Han-hee. I know it’s during a broadcast, but if you’re hurt, you say you’re hurt. Sitting there stubbornly enduring it—what good does that do?”
Piecing together Min-hyeok’s frustrated words, it seemed I had been injured right before going back onstage to hear the evaluation results.
With forty-odd people waiting in the corridor and everyone moving frantically under the stage, no one had noticed. Apparently while we were moving, I had been stabbed by a scrap of metal plate sticking out between structures. After I left for the hospital, people found the bloodied shard of metal jutting into the path and a whole commotion had broken out.
“What time is it right now?”
I had been half-lost in their quiet chatter when I suddenly checked the clock. The hour hand pointed at five. Five?
“Five? It’s already five?”
I knew a day had passed, but I hadn’t realized this much time was gone. Filming was supposed to start at 5:30—so only thirty minutes left? I didn’t have time to sit around like this. I tried to sit up sharply; Sang-jin’s hand settled on my shoulder.
“It’s five in the morning. Don’t worry.”
“Then why are you both up at this hour…”
I looked at Min-hyeok. He was the type who loved his morning sleep, yet he looked perfectly awake, so I had been certain it was five in the afternoon. Still half-sitting on the bed, he held out a chunk of apple he had just cut. I took it without thinking.
“Apples are morning fruit. Morning apples are good for you, apparently.”
Crunch. The flesh rolled around my mouth. Better? I wasn’t sure.
“….”
Suddenly I remembered the tea from earlier.
“Sang-jin hyung, what was that tea called?”
“Lavender.”
Sang-jin, biting into a whole apple, answered as if it were nothing. Lavender. I thought I’d heard it was good for sleep. Or was it for calming the mind? I leaned back against the pillow, tracing the memory, and my eyelids grew heavy. The tension must have drained out of me; I felt sleepy all over again.
“You like herbal tea?”
“More my little brother than me. I drink it sometimes when I think of him.”
Their murmuring voices slowly drifted farther away. I felt my body go slack as sleep pulled me under. I really must have been exhausted. Letting go of consciousness again took no time at all.
“….”
Blackout.
“How’s your body feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
Five-thirty in the afternoon. I had brushed off every instruction to just rest because of the hole in my side, stopped by the infirmary to check the wound, and come to the studio.
After Round 3, before the final, they were using the short break for plus filming. The theme was a mukbang.
The writer came over as soon as I arrived, saying she’d already heard and that I could sit it out if it was too much. I shook my head. It was just sitting and eating; it shouldn’t be a problem.
“Chicken! It’s a party!”
“Han-hee’s here! Hurry up and sit!”
Truthfully, even though it was filming, it felt more like an after-party. Sitting it out would have felt disappointing.
Guided to the table with oddly solicitous care, I was immediately flanked by the entire Sunflower team filing in beside me.
I glanced around. The table right to our right held the Rose team; across from us the Violet team had gathered. Cha Ji-heon, sandwiched between Lee Jae-jin and Kwon Do-ha, looked a little uncomfortable. Come to think of it, weren’t those three the same age?
While I entertained useless thoughts, I scanned the chicken boxes laid out in the center of the half-circle of tables. They were arranged so the logos showed clearly—brand sponsorship, then. Inside were every kind of chicken imaginable.
Fried, seasoned, chili-mayo, soy sauce, onion, barbecue, and…
“What’s that one? The one in the middle.”
“Um… the color’s a little scary.”
I was staring hard at the weird shade that didn’t look like food when other people noticed too. Yu Min-seong, who had been glued to my side asking if I missed him, pointed at the box with a dubious face. Next to him Jo Min-jun narrowed his eyes.
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a party?”
Even Min Ho-su, who had shouted “chicken party!” the second he saw the boxes, tilted his head. Among the glistening pieces, a few had sauce that looked especially black…
“With gratitude to Chicken Survival for sponsoring this delicious chicken—shall we begin the lottery chicken mukbang race?”
“Lottery?”
The ominous word had barely left the MC’s mouth before every trainee’s gaze locked onto the dark-red chicken that looked exactly like a punishment.
“From Chicken Survival’s undefeated champion, the classic fried, all the way to their ambitious new menu item—I’m So Hot chicken. We’ve got a feast for you.”
Among all the chicken, the MC focused on introducing the I’m So Hot. Dressed more casually than usual, he gave a light smile as if it were no big deal, but the chicken itself looked vicious even at a glance—the kind of visual influencers would love.
“What you have to do is simple. Take the drumstick you’re given and eat it deliciously… and fast!”
The trainees had been stuck on healthy meals at the lodging, forced into diet control for so long that their eyes were already spinning at the sight of real worldly food. Hole in my side or not, it had been ages.
“The team that finishes the race in first place gets whatever chicken they want—as much as they want!”
“We’re winning!”
Current time: 5:45 p.m. The promise of unlimited chicken set the hungry young people ablaze with determination. Of course, not everyone.
“What’s the point of all this…”
A voice from my right made me look over. I met the eyes of someone sighing as if bored. A relatively unfamiliar face; the moment our eyes met he scowled hard.
Was he the lead vocal of the Rose team?
Jang Seon-woo. I couldn’t quite remember the name, so I checked the name tag on his stomach. His scowl deepened.
“All right, first-place team, come up and pick your chicken!”
At the MC’s words, seven small boxes were set on the center table. The lids were tightly closed so no one could tell what was inside. Min Ho-su immediately stepped close to sniff and was stopped cold.
“No.”
“Just one sniff! One sniff!”
“I said no.”
The staff pulled the boxes back firmly. Min Ho-su, robbed right under his nose, stood there looking dejected. Yu Min-seong, who had jumped up and stuck right behind him, also backed away awkwardly.
“What a waste.”
“What are you hyungs, dogs?”
Kim Seong-min shook his head at the sight; Jo Min-jun flinched and looked away.
“Haha, right?”
I had taken half a step forward myself and now pretended I hadn’t, pulling my foot back.
Maybe it was because our final ranking was good. First place. No elimination worries. Not just Min Ho-su—our whole team looked more high-strung than usual.
Ah. So that’s why they’re glaring like that.
I realized the table right beside us was second place. Before the finals, roughly half of the remaining forty-two would be cut, so even second place couldn’t relax. I’d wondered why they were looking at us like mortal enemies; now it made sense.
They were bitter about losing first to us. The Rose team had performed well too.
The overall quality had been solid, but team leader Han Sang-jin in particular had hard-carried.
Camouflage. At first glance it looked ordinary. Then came the twist. At the very end of the performance, the final moment, when he revealed the bare back gleaming between the layers of knotted fabric, every single person had been stunned.
Shocking visuals in more ways than one.
With a body that good, he had been covering it up far too thoroughly until now. Whoever’s idea it was, the fans were going to praise them for it.
“One by one now—please choose a chicken box!”
Well, I didn’t know about the other Rose members, but Sang-jin and Woo Cheong-hee were safely in the clear, so I could ease off a little.
I ignored the uncomfortable gaze I could still feel boring into me and looked the other way—only to meet Kwon Do-ha’s eyes. Lee Jae-jin was sitting next to him. Unlike our team, who were excited about the chicken, both of them wore strangely cold expressions. Nowhere safe to look.
“Next, Han Min-hyeok!”
The writer must have been looking out for us; on the far side of the seven boxes, out of camera frame, the spicy ones were marked with faint smudges. Min-hyeok casually took one of those. Everyone else acted as if they had never noticed any marks at all.
“All right, everyone return to your seats and reveal the chicken you received!”
One by one they took boxes from the front. The last box was handed to me. Without much thought I followed the instruction and opened the lid. A dark-red drumstick shyly revealed itself in front of me.
“….”
Now what. I could already picture Song A-seong’s face openly contorting.