Chapter 21: The Weight of a Letter

“It’s not that hard to pass along a letter, is it?”

It is hard. It should be hard.
Don’t apply a civilian’s common sense to this situation.

Because Woo-young answered so lightly, Shim Eun-chan almost found himself agreeing before catching it in time. He looked up at the ceiling once and pressed his lips together.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I just thought about how I’d feel if they were our fans, and I think I’d be grateful.”

“Well, I mean, sure, but—no, wait. That’s not the point.”

There was a mountain of things he wanted to say, but there were so many that they tangled together and refused to come out properly.

Realizing that Woo-young was the kind of person who actually worried about things like this slightly changed the image Eun-chan had of him. It was a little surprising.

Honestly, the fact that he already had this mindset even before debut was kind of admirable. This wasn’t something someone could just teach you. It wasn’t something you gained through rote training either.

Some people simply took being liked for granted from the start. …No, but that wasn’t what mattered right now.

Eun-chan straightened his eyes as they began to soften and looked directly at Woo-young.

What if there was something strange written in those letters? What made him think it was okay to deliver them without knowing? Was he a mailman or what? And what exactly was he planning to say when he handed them to Max’A Pin’s seniors?

The words kept piling up in his head, but Eun-chan swallowed all of them back down. It was too late to argue about responsibility now. What mattered was figuring out how to clean up what had already happened. The easiest solution would’ve been to throw the letters away.

But still.

Eun-chan shook his head slightly.

No matter what, he couldn’t bring himself to throw away someone else’s fan letters. That option was the first one he crossed off the list. He was considering whether to ask their manager for help when Woo-young suddenly started walking without hesitation.

His legs were annoyingly long. He hadn’t even taken that many steps, yet he was already far ahead. Eun-chan hurried over and grabbed his arm. Woo-young looked at him in confusion.

“We should deliver them right away and come back. You need to get ready too, hyung.”

“No, it’s not that simple.”

“Gifts might be an issue, but it’s just fan letters. What big problem could that cause?”

“No, no. Then let’s ask the manager hyung to—”

“That’d be a hassle for him. I’ll drop them off quickly.”

“Wait, Woo-young—!”

In the end, Eun-chan grabbed his arm firmly and stopped him. It almost felt like he was doing this on purpose. But Woo-young’s face held no trace of provocation or mischief. He genuinely believed what he was saying. There was no helping it. Since it was done out of ignorance rather than ill intent, Eun-chan didn’t even feel like scolding him further. He’d have to explain it properly later, with a side of nagging, but for now, the fastest way to resolve things really was to deliver the letters and come back, just as Woo-young said.

Still, did he really have to bulldoze his way through it like this?

Eun-chan narrowed his eyes, let out a sigh, and held out his hand toward Woo-young.

“I’ll deliver them. Hand them over.”

No matter how he thought about it, it would be too awkward for a junior group to show up and deliver fan letters. Eun-chan quickly sifted through his memories.

“……”

As far as he could recall, he’d never properly met Max’A Pin or exchanged greetings with them.

I can use the Catnip trait.

That was a relief. At least it would help him avoid the suspicious looks of who-are-you-guys.

“No. I said I’d deliver them, so you don’t have to—”

“There’s a hyung right here. Why is the maknae stepping up? Hurry.”

Invoking Confucian hierarchy shut Woo-young down immediately. He looked like he still had something to say, his lips twitching slightly, but that was it. Taking the three envelopes from Woo-young’s hand, Eun-chan started walking ahead.

There was only one reason.

Responsibility.

He couldn’t just stand by and watch a kid who’d only just joined the team—especially the youngest—do something that could cause trouble. There was no way he could later wash his hands of it and say, I didn’t know anything. He’s the one who messed up.

Finding the waiting room door labeled Max’A Pin, Eun-chan turned back toward Woo-young.

“Stand a bit farther away. No, go around the corner and stay out of sight.”

“Huh?”

“Hurry. You’re not listening to your hyung today, are you?”

Pressed by Eun-chan unusually pulling rank, Woo-young shut his mouth and stepped back a little. When Eun-chan told him to go all the way around the corner and hide, he seemed reluctant, probably because this had been his errand to begin with.

Since the door was semi-transparent, Eun-chan couldn’t exactly signal separately, nor could he keep scolding Woo-young. He frowned once, then knocked on Max’A Pin’s waiting room door. They obviously knew someone was there, but it was a matter of courtesy.

The door opened almost immediately, and a Max’A Pin member appeared. By sheer luck, it was Choi Won-min—the one the fans had mentioned. True to his reputation as the group’s visual, he was dazzling. Eun-chan bowed politely right away.

“Hello. I’m Shim Eun-chan from B the 1.”

“Oh, hello.”

He returned the greeting, but his expression clearly said he was wondering why Eun-chan was there. Eun-chan didn’t drag it out.

“I ran into some fans over there, and they asked me to pass these along.”

“What? Oh—ah. L-letters?”

Choi Won-min took the letters reflexively, then widened his eyes a moment later. He looked down at the fan letters in his hand, then back up at Eun-chan.

“Our fans? You came all this way just for this?”

“Huh? What is it? …Oh?”

Another member who’d been resting nearby walked over and gasped softly when he saw what was going on.

An idol showing up at the Idol Olympics just to deliver another team’s fan letters—it did look unusual. Eun-chan wouldn’t have done this either if it weren’t for Woo-young. It really was an unconventional situation.

Still, Choi Won-min and the other members didn’t react badly. They didn’t sneer or mock him.

They could’ve been wary, assuming a lesser-known team was trying to force a connection with popular Max’A Pin, but there was none of that.

Their promotion periods had narrowly missed overlapping, so this was their first direct encounter, yet the vibe was good.

Well, that was probably why, even at their 12th debut anniversary, all the members had renewed their contracts without a single departure.

Having accomplished his purpose, Eun-chan recalled memories from his previous life and decided it was time to go. He bowed lightly.

“Then we’ll see you during filming today. Please be careful not to get injured, and good luck.”

“Ah, yes. Um—your last title track was from.S, right? I enjoyed it.”

Eun-chan hadn’t expected Won-min to know the song title. His eyes widened as he nodded, mouth parting slightly. You might vaguely recognize a team name, but matching it to a specific song was another matter.

Even though it was his own group, objectively speaking, B the 1 was a flopped idol group, and the song itself hadn’t been well known. That was why Won-min’s words genuinely, truly surprised him.

“Yes, that’s right. I didn’t think you’d know it. I’m honored.”

“What are you saying? Of course I know it. The concept and the stage were great. I thought it was really cool.”

Choi Won-min, who seemed genuinely kind, even asked which events Eun-chan would be competing in.

What had started as damage control for an awkward mess Woo-young created ended with Eun-chan unexpectedly building some rapport.

After exchanging final greetings and hearing another reminder to be careful of injuries, Eun-chan closed the waiting room door.

He slowly turned back toward Woo-young with a blank expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You felt very different from usual.”

“Should I greet seniors in my usual voice?”

Eun-chan shrugged casually, then added what he hadn’t finished saying earlier while looking at Woo-young.

“From now on, if something comes up, don’t decide and act on your own. Ask first. Got it?”

“……Yes. Understood.”

Woo-young looked like he still had something to say, but he didn’t add anything. As Eun-chan told him to hurry back and started walking, he heard Woo-young’s voice from behind and turned his head.

“But what did you mean about injuries?”

“Oh. People get hurt here a lot.”

“Huh?”

Eun-chan answered casually, then found himself surprised by Woo-young’s reaction.

Why was he reacting like that? If he’d been a trainee, shouldn’t he know this already? Eun-chan blinked and looked at Woo-young.

There was a reason people called them broadcast station bastards.

As long as the ratings were good, they didn’t care much about anything else. Not every staff member was like that, but most were.

Even if injuries happened in poor conditions and fans protested, as long as the ratings were fine, that was all that mattered.

Idols wanted to refuse too, but if they did, they’d be blacklisted and cut off from the already limited opportunities to appear on terrestrial music shows.

That was why they participated despite the risks. There was a chance of gaining popularity by standing out at the Idol Olympics, but the odds weren’t high.

These days, since clips went up on Noutube, the main broadcast ratings weren’t what they used to be.

Still, groups staked everything on participating because the guaranteed disadvantages of refusing were scarier than the uncertain benefits.

B the 1 was no exception. That was why they’d accepted the offer.