Chapter 15: Under the Lights

At the shoot, I managed to push those thoughts aside and smile—for the most part.

But the moment the outfits specially prepared for the group shoot came in, the forced smile I’d been holding disappeared.

On a rack along one wall of the waiting room hung a row of suits—tight-cut pants, reddish-toned shirts—and on the hanger with my name on it, of all things, there were suspenders.

Suspenders.

I stared at the outfit pushed toward me, biting my lip in despair, and finally muttered something as Minjeong helped me into the shirt.

The shirt fit so tightly it outlined my body completely.

In other words, this album, once again, was not something I could comfortably show my parents.

“Seriously… suspenders? Why suspenders?”

“Oppa, you really don’t know fashion, do you? Not suspenders—suspenders. Look at the gloss on this leather. It’s sexy, what’s the problem?”

“Then why do Woosung and Yeonho hyung get normal vests while I’m stuck with this?”

“Jeongwon oppa is wearing suspenders too. And honestly, I wanted to give you a bow tie, but this concept isn’t really about being cute.”

She sighed dramatically, and I nearly smacked my head.

A bow tie?

Was I supposed to go out there and get roasted alive?

Glancing around, Woosung and Yeonho hyung were quietly buttoning up their vests without complaint.

Hwan seemed to have reached a compromise—just a shirt, sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos.

Meanwhile, Minjeong’s hands hovered around my collar, debating whether to undo one button or two.

Trying this hard to squeeze “masculine sexy” out of me—she was really going all out.

In the corner, I spotted Jeongwon from behind.

With his hands on his hips, he leaned forward slightly so the stylist could fasten his buttons and adjust the suspenders.

Because of that, the lines of his shoulders and back muscles showed clearly through the thin shirt.

I’d heard he’d been working out, and now I could tell exactly where the muscle had gone.

The black suit pants stretched tight over his thighs, loosening again as he moved.

Watching that, I found myself thinking of my old trainer again.

That guy really suffered because of me.

Same outfit, but some people just look better in it.

As if she could read my mind, Minjeong whispered,

“Oppa, your physique is good too. Just… a different vibe.”

“Minjeong. I didn’t say anything.”

“I think even if you work out, your muscles would grow long and lean. Maybe it’s because the manager and the company always nag you about eating.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m the one who dresses and undresses you every day, remember?”

At that, I felt a few glances flicker our way before quickly dispersing.

Conversations with stylists always sounded weird out of context.

I spoke louder on purpose.

“Don’t say things like that weirdly.”

She seemed to get the hint, nodding as she adjusted my collar again—raising it, lowering it, still undecided.

As I tilted my head to help her, I glanced to the side.

Jeongwon was looking this way, head slightly tilted.

When our eyes met, he gave a small smile before turning away.

…Why did that make me feel guilty?

“Honestly, oppa, later on, after you build a bit more muscle, I want you to perm your hair slightly—make it a little wavy—and wear something like a sleeveless blue basketball jersey for a photoshoot. Cute, but also masculine.”

“There you go again with the ‘cute.’ I swear, before I retire, I’m getting you kicked out of this industry first.”

“No, no, it’s not like that! I mean like those American basketball-loving boys—light freckles, fair skin, blonde hair, cheerful vibe—ah, never mind. Anyway, you don’t read fashion magazines, do you? Suspenders with slacks are super hot right now.”

“Minjeong. Want to clock out early?”

“You firing me?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so mean.”

After all that talking, my energy dropped.

From then on, I kept my mouth shut like the others and just stared ahead.

Hwan, already dressed, came over and looked me up and down.

His evaluating gaze made me uneasy.

“What? Is it that bad?”

“No. It’s good.”

“Aren’t the suspenders ridiculous?”

“They suit you, hyung.”

He wasn’t the type to give empty compliments, but today his tone felt oddly half-hearted.

As Minjeong stepped away to grab something, he leaned closer and asked quietly,

“Hyung. Have you seen Yoonjin?”

“What about her?”

“The rumors. The articles.”

“Drugs? No. It’s not true.”

“You always say she’s innocent.”

“I mean it. She is.”

I’d already gotten a call from her, crying about it.

Listening to her had been exhausting enough.

But even then, Hwan didn’t look convinced.

Yoonjin didn’t exactly have the best image.

“Well, you’re close to her, so I’ll trust you.”

“I’m serious. She’d never do anything that harms her body. Her body’s the most important thing to her.”

“…Okay. Yeah. That actually sounds believable.”

Hwan walked off, and Minjeong returned, brushing my face one last time with a large brush.

When I stepped onto the set, I suddenly stopped.

The background was bleak, and the staff moved around in a chaotic mess.

I hadn’t expected anything grand when we first arrived, but still…

Wasn’t this a bit much?

Swallowing my bitterness, I stood next to Woosung.

He glanced at me, grimaced slightly, and signaled toward the surroundings.

The worn-out walls weren’t styled—they were just naturally aged, with yellow paint peeling off.

“It wasn’t even like this when we debuted.”

“Well, our group’s performance hasn’t exactly been great.”

“No wonder Yeonho hyung’s openly going to meetings with other agencies.”

He said it loudly, as if someone was meant to hear it.

Whether it was a complaint or just venting, it didn’t matter.

What good would complaining do here?

The managers barely followed us around these days anyway.

Even if the one standing over there heard—so what?

I sighed and nudged Woosung lightly with my foot.

That only made his voice louder.

“Hey, hyung. They said to be careful with the sponsored items.”

That made me glance down at my feet reflexively.

The cement floor was dusty, gray powder clearly visible.

Thankfully, Woosung brushed his shoes off, and it came off easily.

I almost asked how he got here, but stopped myself and looked forward again.

Still… this was pretty bad.

It was just a shabby warehouse.

I hadn’t expected much, but—

Sure, the large rusty windows might look decent in photos, but the curtain rod, crudely nailed in place, and the wrinkled curtains…

Wasn’t that too much?

“Jaehya, let’s start with your solo shots. Sit on that chair and face the camera.”

Of course, I was first.

I sat on the chair, which had been covered with a glossy fabric.

Lights and reflectors all focused on me.

My eyes were already stinging.

The shabby warehouse now looked like it was filled with nothing but light.

Well, they’d fix it in editing anyway.

I adjusted my posture.

The chair and armrests were slippery under the fabric.

I crossed my legs, tensed my body, and leaned against the armrest.

The camera shutter fired rapidly, flashes going off one after another.

“Jaehya, that’s good. Look here more clearly. Relax your body—why are you so stiff? Move over there, sit behind the table without the chair. Good. Raise both arms, bring your fingertips together—yes, like that. Bring it to your lips. Lower your gaze. Good!”

Amid the chaotic noise, trying to pose like that made me dizzy as my energy dropped.

For the last shots, I leaned back lazily as instructed, putting on a “fatal” expression while shifting my gaze.

Crossing my legs—

Then standing up, gripping the armrest—

That’s when the shoot ended.

“Alright, that’s enough for Jaehya. Next.”

The director didn’t look fully satisfied, but I stood up anyway.

Next was Yeonho hyung.

Stepping away from the camera, I rubbed my eyes, endured some nagging from the manager, and secretly popped a few candies into my mouth.

As the sweetness spread, I felt a little more alive.

The dry taste in my mouth faded.

That alone made things better.

For the group shots, they changed the background and had us all stand together.

I leaned lightly against a table at the far right.

Cross often placed Jeongwon in the center as the “face,” but it wasn’t fixed.

During performances, Hwan would take center for his dancing.

For talk shows, Yeonho hyung and Woosung took the lead.

We shifted positions occasionally.

The camera shutters kept clicking nonstop.

At one point, I gave up the center chair to Jeongwon and stood beside it, leaning against the backrest.

Jeongwon slowly loosened his tight shirt and tugged at his tie.

It almost felt like I could hear the smooth silk sliding free.

His previously expressionless eyes softened gradually matching the rising tempo of the flashes until a faint smile appeared.