Chapter 6: Responsibility

“…You?”

“You said you’d take responsibility when I told you this happened because of you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You said you don’t remember. I’m telling you—I’m right.”

“No, no. That can’t be. There’s no way.”

“I said it’s true. Why do you keep insisting?”

No, it wasn’t.
That couldn’t be true.

Even if I had said something like that—about responsibility—there was no way it was in that kind of context.

I felt genuinely wronged.

I couldn’t even take responsibility for myself.

So how could I possibly take responsibility for him?

If he wanted someone to take responsibility for him, he could go meet with other agencies.

There were plenty of places that would gladly take him.

Why come to me with this?

I tried arguing back, throwing out a few questions, but I was so dumbfounded that words wouldn’t come out properly.

At my insistence, Jungwon even scrunched the bridge of his nose slightly.

He actually looked annoyed.

“You said you don’t remember. I’m right.”

“I remember not saying that.”

“Then hyung, what was the first thing you did after getting home yesterday?”

“Uh… the bathroom.”

“Wrong. You crawled onto the living room sofa and collapsed.”

No matter what I said, he refused to budge.

A headache began pounding in my skull.

Seriously.

Why do I live on the fourth floor?

I should’ve just jumped off earlier.

Why only four floors?

Why?

Since reasoning wasn’t working, my tone shifted into something almost coaxing.

How did our Jungwon grow into someone like this?

He used to nod along to everything I said when he was younger.

“Jungwon. I mean… even if I were to take responsibility… it could affect our activities…”

“What problem?”

“Group promotions. You know… it might have an impact. And… we’d have to ask the director. I’ve gotten in trouble a lot for dating.”

“That’s all? Then we can just call the director and ask.”

For once, Jungwon didn’t argue back against everything I said.

Instead, he quietly stood up.

Then suddenly turned and headed for the door.

The confidence in his steps made me uneasy.

“Jungwon. Where are you going?”

“I’ll ask.”

“What?”

“I’ll go get permission to date Seo Jaeha.”

“What?! Hey! Absolutely not!”

What the hell was this lunatic even saying?

I scrambled off the bed and grabbed his arm.

The bare skin under my palm made me uncomfortable, but stopping him came first.

Was he bluffing?

Actually going to tell the director about this?

As I clung to his arm, Jungwon’s other hand came to rest on my shoulder.

Suddenly, he acted completely calm—like a perfectly normal person—making me look like the unstable one hanging onto him.

“You’re going to ask for permission? Are you insane?”

“What’s the problem? You said we need permission to date.”

“When has anyone ever actually followed that?!”

Which idol actually gets permission before dating?!

Patting my shoulder as if to soothe me, Jungwon calmly declared—

“Then just take responsibility.”

“Huh? Hey… that’s… that’s a bit…”

“If you don’t, I’ll contact the CEO. I’ll say Seo Jaeha played with me and I’m too heartbroken to work.”

“……”

“If I drink too much, I might end up on IV drips, right? Miss schedules. Or maybe sasaengs will take photos of me again. Maybe reporters will catch me. What should I do?”

“You… you think that’s something you should say right now?”

“Why? Am I not allowed to be heartbroken after getting rejected?”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“Stop saying ‘what’ like that!”

When I told him to stop repeating himself, he just smiled brightly instead.

A smile completely out of place.

At that moment, the one who felt truly devastated… was me.

My brain refused to function.

I collapsed back onto the bed.

My head throbbed worse than any hangover.

I didn’t know.

I really didn’t know.

What the hell was happening to my life?

Does it make any sense that one drunken mistake leads to this kind of responsibility?

Ignoring my turmoil, Jungwon pulled my sideways body gently and made me face him.

His smile was brighter than the sun-warmed blanket.

“I’ll do well.”

“What do you mean you’ll do well?! You’re already messing this up!”

From that moment on, I didn’t have the strength to say a single word.

Not one sentence.

Not even a syllable.

Jungwon continued to comfort me in his own way for a while.

Then, saying I looked tired, he laid me down and pulled the blanket over me.

Watching his hand settle near my chest, I wanted to shout—

Shouldn’t we at least clarify who caused all of this?

Why am I the one suffering here?

As I lay there limply under the blanket, my phone buzzed nonstop on the floor.

Call after call came in, then stopped.

Only after the vibrations ceased did I drag myself up and grab it.

I scrolled through the messages.

Seungwoo.

The director.

Manager hyung.

A writer noona I knew.

Even random notifications.

I paused at my manager’s message asking if I got home safely.

Then, on impulse, I opened social media.

What if photos of me drunk last night were already circulating?

I searched my name and skimmed through posts with narrowed eyes.

A habit—avoiding anything negative.

Then I saw it.

A post Jungwon had uploaded just minutes ago.

A plain white background.

With just one line:

D-1

Below it, comments speculating about some project flooded in.

And suddenly—

My chest churned violently.

So much it felt like my heart might spill out.

These days, our agency was going all-in on promoting a newly debuted group.

Since they were complete rookies, I’d heard that Woosung and Jungwon had even appeared with them on variety shows.

Popularity really is a hassle.

It drags you into things unrelated to your own work.

The long hallway on the first floor was lined with posters of the new group.

Walking leisurely, I saw the same faces over and over.

Kids posing intensely against a black background.

I let out a small laugh—

Then recalled when my own face had once been displayed like that.

Did our posters look this young too?

Now, I was just watching the space we once occupied.

The company had clearly chosen them as the next act to push.

They got the promotions first.

The better songs first.

Thankfully, our schedules didn’t overlap, but even the staff were gradually shifting over.

Practice rooms, lessons—they got priority.

Meanwhile, we were a mess.

Schedules already tangled.

Preparation going nowhere.

I didn’t know.

Were they just letting us fall apart on our own?

I knew it couldn’t be helped.

And yet, despite being the one who said I’d retire,

I felt something inside me collapsing.

How much longer would my place—already crumbling at the edges—last?

Even walking down a straight hallway, I felt like I was sinking into sand.

Everything was breaking apart into fine grains beneath my feet.

What remained?

My age.

A face that sold decently.

The group’s name.

And the failure of my solo album.

And even among those—

The only things left…

Were the ones I was trying to abandon.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed when a staff member greeted me.

I greeted them back.

Strangely, I felt grateful—they had pulled me out of my spiral.

When I reached the parking lot, Hyuk-hyung, sitting in the driver’s seat, looked at me.

“What’s with your face? Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing.”

On the way to the recording studio, I lowered the window slightly and looked outside.

The streets were covered with posters—probably celebrating some popular idol’s birthday.

Back then, people mocked it, criticized it.

Now, fans even cleaned up afterward themselves.

Our generation really had it rough.

Back when we were called obsessive fangirls and dismissed as worthless idols.

No proper rules, just endless criticism.

I stared at the brightly lit face of another idol on a banner, paired with cheesy phrases.

Then raised the window again at my manager’s voice.

Maybe to change the subject, he said—

“Jaeha, your fans did that for your birthday too.”

“Me?”

“You don’t remember? The subway ad. We went right before closing to take photos.”

“Ah. Right.”

Even after answering, I had to dig through my memory.

It had been during a time I couldn’t sleep well—I must’ve forgotten again.

I pulled up my gallery and scrolled back.

It appeared quickly.

Too quickly.

I paused.

I hadn’t taken many photos lately.

Aside from a few lyric sheets and scores, my gallery was empty.

I stared at the subway ad—

My face against cotton-candy pink and blue, celebrating my birthday.

My hand rested on my thigh as I lowered my head and kept looking.

Right.

That did happen.

It wasn’t that I was ungrateful…

It’s just… yeah.

I pressed my forehead against my phone screen.

A faint warmth touched my skin.

Rubbing it slowly, I muttered to myself—

‘Remember this.’

‘There were good things too.’

‘Think about the good ones… and just try a little longer.’

‘Just until this album.’

I always wanted to meet expectations.

Most of the time, my choices were right.

But I’m human.

When hundreds—thousands—of negatives pile up,

of course I start doubting.

I’m not some psychopath.

Of course I want to meet people’s expectations.

Of course I don’t enjoy fans turning away.

I’m not that kind of lunatic.

Still…

I don’t know.

I thought I did my best.

So why…

Was this all I amounted to?