Chapter 147

Chapter 147

“I’m so sorry, Moondae. I jumped to conclusions and shared a private detail about you without your prior consent—”

“I told you it’s fine.”

If he apologized one more time, that would make it the fifth time. I accepted Kim Raebin’s apology, tired.

He’s acting like he pinned false charges on me or something. All he’d done was reveal to the others that I’d once told him I remembered things from my past in my sleep. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d probably been worried about me when he said it and was likely attempting to explain my erratic behavior.

I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding it. But I was wrong. I watched the footage we’d filmed for our summer package after we got back to Korea and I could clearly see that I looked awkward and upset in all of it.

I’d have been worried about me, too. There were even moments on camera where it was obvious the other members were anxious or concerned. The only reason the footage had turned out okay was thanks to Big Sejin, who had talked almost twice as much as he usually did.

Chungwoo kept his distance. I could tell he’d realized I felt uncomfortable around him early on during filming.

Repressing a groan, I said to Raebin, “I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry for making all of you uncomfortable.”

“What? You did no such thing! You don’t need to apologize for something unexpected happening in the middle of a long schedule—”

“If that’s the case, you don’t have to apologize, either.”

“All right. Thank you!” Raebin finally stopped talking and left once I made him understand why he didn’t have to apologize. “I’ll get going now. Please rest well.”

“Yeah. You too.”

The room was finally silent, since one of my roommates was away at a scheduled event, and the other one had quiet hobbies.

It’s finally quiet. I repressed a sigh and sank into my bed. At that moment, I heard a noise from the next bed.

It’s been all of three seconds since I thought I’d found peace.

It was Bae Sejin. “Are you... okay?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

It was the only answer I could really give, but I also was actually doing pretty well. Maybe it was the drinking and the candid conversation we’d had, or coming back to the familiar dorm after time spent in a foreign country. Whichever it was, it no longer felt like I was drowning.

The memory of that vision only brought on a cold sweat now, nothing more. This meant I was easily able to offer an explanation. “I won’t get in the way of filming anymore. Don’t worry.”

“I-I wasn’t worried about that!” Bae Sejin protested, his tone suddenly shrill. Then he quickly picked up the book he’d been reading, as though surprised by his own outburst.

What does he expect me to say to that? In any case, I’d been keeping track of the date since I’d seen the footage for our summer package since it would be coming out today.

Who knows what’s going to happen? There might be problems. I took out my phone, determined to keep an eye on the situation.

“Hmm...”

Thankfully, there seemed to be no glaring issues. The footage had been given the pass-over with the magic of editing, and my behavior now came off as reserved and shy, nothing more. The fans’ reactions ended up being just fine, too.

- Moondae must have felt so ill. I can tell he’s trying not to show it. It hurts to watch him T_T

- Park Moondae looks rough as hell. He’s got no energy. He’s lost his touch

└ No, he hasn’t. Can’t you tell he’s ill? Don’t be absurd.

└ He couldn’t even be on W Live because he was sick. Don’t talk that way about him, you asshole

- It’s so heart-warming to see them take care of Moondae. TeSTAR forever!

- Moon Puppy is quiet in the summer content (GIF of Moondae)

I guess it was the right call to just not react, instead of letting myself come off as moody. It had decided to just react as little as possible to the other members or the situation at hand. There were some trolls here and there who claimed that Park Moondae had lost his touch, but they were soon beaten down by other commenters and deleted.

It was a one-time thing, and because I’d even missed the W Live stream right before we’d filmed, people just believed that I’d been ill. It made me feel slightly guilty if I was honest.

I wasn’t really ill... Since I’d used that excuse once, I would have to keep myself in good shape for at least the next half year. If I fell sick again, it would be seen as a regular occurrence, and the complaints against me would pick up steam.

Only fans tended to purchase the summer packages, which was probably why the matter had been glossed over. There was no telling what the future might bring, though.

I’ll have to be careful. I shrugged to myself, turning off my phone. The response online to my reserved behavior was fine, which reaffirmed to me that I’d done well to push myself a little at that time. I was also keeping the promise I’d made to Chungwoo.

My smartphone alarm rang.

[Therapy]

I turned it off and Bae Sejin subtly turned to look at me again.

“You’re going?”

“Yeah.”

“Good idea.”

“Well, yes.”

I was going to therapy at the same time Ahyeon was, and as a result, we left the dorm together after he’d returned from his scheduled event.

“M-Moondae. L-let’s text each other after we’re done!”

“Uh... All right.”

To be completely honest, though, therapy wasn’t very useful to me.

“So, what is your biggest worry of late?”

“I... worry about the same things everyone does.”

“Okay. Can you give me an example?”

“Hmm. I guess I worry about whether I’m doing well at work.”

I couldn’t very well tell the therapist that I would die unless I cleared my status abnormalities and that I was being shown strange visions that traumatized me nearly to the point of having seizures. I was only attending therapy for form’s sake, really.

“Moondae? You’re doing really well. Have you ever considered the idea that you might need to go a bit easier on yourself?”

“Yes... a little.”

Even so, I did feel a little more secure in myself now that I was talking to a professional. It helped me to quiet my nerves and gave strength to the calm I’d found inside of me. Because we weren’t in the middle of a promotional cycle in Korea, our schedules were a bit more lax. It made me think I might finally be able to try a certain something once more.

After therapy, I returned to the dorm and went into the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Status window.”

I felt a chill go down my spine, but it wasn’t enough to dissuade me. And so, for the first time in a while, I checked my status window to take a better look at my new status abnormality.

[“Grow Your Audience or Die!”]

: Perform for 200,000 people or more as your audience within the given timeframe or die.

Audience counter: 2,219 / 200,000

Days remaining: D-339

This is bullsh*t. As usual, the goal the system had set was absurd.

We’ll need to do an overseas tour to get these kinds of audiences, that much is clear. A few recent events had earned me two thousand, but there was only so much small national performances would do for our numbers. There weren’t events all year round.

If things went according to plan, we would start our tour by fall, beginning with a concert in Korea. The timing worked, but the bigger issue was one of scale. The task wasn’t so insurmountable that I should just give up—maybe I could manage it if we managed to book a variety of events.

Seems like my only choice is to make sure our next album is a hit. It was time to go back to the basics. I did feel a semblance of peace, however, at the idea that this would be the last time.

At least it’s not telling me to win a daesang. Hand shaking, I tried to dismiss the status window. Then I realized that I didn’t need to use my hand to do so. It just went to show that my brain wasn’t functioning properly.

I’m very out of sorts right now. The window vanished. I resisted the urge to submerge my head in the sink again. Then I asked myself, What do they want from me, exactly?

Why was the status window doing this? It had felt a little different when I’d seen Park Moondae’s story as my first reward, and the Cheongryeo’s as the second. I’d believed those things to be hints regarding my current situation. But what I’d seen in America... that...

F*ck. That had been horrible. It hadn’t been helpful, nor had it explained anything.

“Phew...”

I was getting nowhere. I took a deep breath and tried to empty my mind. No amount of thinking seemed to bring me any answers, anyway. I decided to just focus on my work. That was the best thing I could do right now.

First, it’s time to tackle the biggest thing on my plate right now. It was a solo item on my schedule, one that I’d been thinking about a lot since I’d gotten drunk with Chungwoo.

A bit of time working alone won’t hurt. In truth, I hadn’t talked properly with Chungwoo since we’d gotten back to Korea. I had no trouble greeting him, engaging in light conversation, and reading off scripts in front of a camera now, but I was hesitant to try more than that. Given the fiasco in the US, I wasn’t willing to push my luck.

I guess I’ll take this opportunity to keep some distance between us. I was pretty happy about my upcoming schedule.

“Moondae, are you okay with this? Isn’t it too soon?”

“No, it’s all right.”

To tell the truth, I was sort of looking forward to it as well, since I’d leveled up a stat precisely because of this variety show.

It’s actually happening much later than expected. It would be a nice distraction and a challenge. Pushing out the useless thoughts from my brain, I grinned, keeping my mind on only one thing. This variety show was all about singing, and my singing stat was currently at... S-.

***

Bespoke Singer.

It was a variety show on MBS that was very popular as of late. Celebrities would appear on the show to sing while hiding their identities, and a winner was selected from among them in the style of a survival show. It was a rather old concept since there was another mega-hit MBS show that had already ended which had used the exact same format.

But there was one unique difference that set this show apart—the contestants did not actually directly appear on the show. They appeared on stage as holograms, and not of themselves, either, but as characters of their own choosing. The contestants could choose their appearance, personality, preferences, and even age to create a virtual profile and a mascot to represent them.

A machine sponsored by a large corporation would bring the character to life on stage. The actual singer would stand below the stage, and their movements would be perfectly copied by their avatar using this piece of cutting-edge tech. Viewers found this fascinating, and the familiar format of the show made it all the more palatable.

A high schooler who’d been flicking through the channels paused when he saw the familiar stage setup of the show.

“Hey, hey! Phony Singer!” said the boy, snickering as he referred to the show by its mean-spirited nickname. He proceeded to sit and stare at the screen blankly.

His sister had gone into her room to watch TeSTAR or whatever they were called. He would probably be able to hog the TV to himself for a while without having to worry about her trying to steal the remote.

The show had just finished with the mid-episode ads, and the second part was now beginning.

[“The survival stage where imagination becomes reality!”]

[“Bespoke Singer! We have our fifth singer to appear on stage today, coming right up!”]

The crowd could be heard cheering in the background.

The characters that appeared on stage were completely unpredictable—they ran the gamut from a baseball player to a giant triangle kimbap, never failing to entertain.

It’s about time for another dinosaur! Please let this one be fun! The last winner had been called Tyrannosauron, a dinosaur with short front legs and a single red eye. The high schooler grinned just thinking about it.

The emcee shouted cheerfully as they announced the next contestant’s arrival.

[“And here is our singer!”]

[“His name is…”]

There was a drumroll, and spotlights danced chaotically over the stage. A tall figure flickered to life on stage. He had a slim, shapely body, wore a white wedding suit, and had a bridal veil over his face. White butterflies fluttered in the air behind him, circling him for a moment before disappearing.

The high schooler was about to boo, thinking it was just an ordinary person, when he saw the camera zooming in on the face behind the veil. Where there should have been a face, there were instead colorful flowers that resembled a bouquet.

“Whoa.”

[“Please welcome the May Bridegroom!”]

Cheering and applause that sounded as though it had been added in post burst from the speakers.