Chapter 8: A Glance That Wasn’t Accidental

“…….”

But that was precisely the problem.

Shim Eun-chan had no memory of this man standing in front of him.

Of course, this was technically their first meeting—but that wasn’t what he meant.
In his previous life, he had never once seen him on a broadcast.
With a physique like that, even as a trainee, word should have spread one way or another, yet this was truly the first time he’d seen him.

A question rose in his mind.

What on earth is going on?

Had something different come into play because Shim Eun-chan, after regressing, hadn’t done the things he’d done in his previous life?
Like a butterfly effect, perhaps.

No way.
……No, seriously, no way.

Yeah.
No way.

Despite the storm beginning to rage inside him, Shim Eun-chan maintained a calm exterior.
Honestly, he even felt proud of himself for not letting anything show.

Shim Eun-chan looked at Hyun Woo-young’s status window once more.

He couldn’t suppress his shock at how absurd the numbers were.
Every single rank was either S or A.
It almost felt like something was wrong.
After all, with this level of talent, he could have easily gone to one of the so-called Big Five idol agencies, so why on earth would he join a tiny agency like PotenHigh?

Does he not know how to choose an agency?
What was he even thinking?

To the point that the ridiculous thought—Did he sign some shady contract because he didn’t know any better?—almost felt plausible given those stats.
And honestly, even without looking at his abilities, that face alone would have guaranteed him an automatic pass at auditions.

That aside, it seemed there was no way to confirm through the status window whether his own trait, Human Catnip Effect, was currently active or not.

It really is active… right?

An unavoidable doubt surfaced.

“Eun-chan?”

“……Yes?”

“What are you thinking about?”

At Lee Hyun-jong’s gentle voice, Shim Eun-chan snapped back to his senses.
To anyone else, it must have looked like he’d been staring at the space above Hyun Woo-young’s head.
And given the situation, it probably didn’t seem like he was just gazing into the void.
They must have assumed he was glaring at Woo-young because he didn’t like him.

He’d been so absorbed in checking the notification window that he hadn’t paid attention.

Only now did he notice how the atmosphere had twisted into something awkward.

Hm.
I should say something.

Shim Eun-chan rolled his eyes with a smile.
In the end, Lee Hyun-jong burst out laughing first—though the sound of it was painfully artificial.
Well, it wasn’t like he’d ever imagined he’d be introducing a new member like this either.

Once Shim Eun-chan confirmed that Hyun Woo-young’s status window had disappeared, Lee Hyun-jong spoke to him again.

“Eun-chan.
You should head back to the dorm now, right?
Seon-ju will drive you, so take the car.”

Hearing the clear implication to leave quickly, Shim Eun-chan widened his eyes before smiling and shaking his head.

“No, it’s fine.
I walked here anyway.
I can just walk back.”

“No, no.
Get in the car, get in.
What if you run into fans out here?”

“Aha-ha.”

Shim Eun-chan laughed brightly.

They didn’t have enough fans for them to loiter around the agency or dorm in the first place, nor were there any hardcore stalker fans.
Even during their rookie year, when they held a fan-sign event capped at one hundred participants, only seventy-eight people applied.
That fan-sign had ended in the laughable episode of everyone wins.
They were at a level where a fan-sign cutoff didn’t even exist.

It wasn’t that bad now—they barely filled the limit—but still.

Team Leader Lee Hyun-jong knew that better than anyone.

So worrying about fans showing up at the agency in this situation made his intention painfully obvious.

“Thank you for worrying about me.
Then, would it be okay if I go back to the dorm together with this kid?”

Shim Eun-chan flashed the idol smile he’d practiced dozens of times in front of the mirror, looking completely natural.
Repeating to himself that this was a drama shoot and that he was acting made his movements far less hesitant.

“Huh?
Uh?”

“What?”

At the casually asked question, both Lee Hyun-jong and Kim Seon-ju—who had been listening beside him—blurted out in shocked voices.
Hyun Woo-young also widened his eyes and looked at Shim Eun-chan.

“We need to introduce him to the members, don’t we?”

As he asked back with rounded eyes, as if wondering why they were reacting like that, the two men quickly exchanged glances.

“We’re reassigning parts and reworking choreography formations at the dorm right now.
It’s better to do it all at once.”

Those were words Shim Eun-chan could say precisely because he’d lived through this six years ago.

It briefly felt harsh, considering how shaken the members already were after Lee Hae-min’s departure, but if it was something they had to go through anyway, it was better to get it over with quickly and in one go.
That was far better than letting them recover a bit, only to shake them again later.

Destruction and regeneration were better done swiftly, in every sense.

Of course, the quest stating he’d revert to before his regression if he failed to win a grand prize by year’s end wasn’t entirely unrelated either.
He absolutely could not go back to his previous life.

Faced with such an obvious and reasonable argument, Lee Hyun-jong’s gaze wavered from side to side, unable to settle.
Shim Eun-chan knew the reason for that reaction—it wasn’t anything else but concern for the members’ mental state.
Even in his previous life, Lee Hyun-jong had been the last person at the company to look after Shim Eun-chan.
He really was a good person.
Back then, Shim Eun-chan hadn’t even realized his consideration, and by the time he did, there’d been no chance to express his gratitude.

“I know you’re worried.
But if it’s something we have to know eventually, it’s better to know sooner.
The other members will probably feel the same.”

“……Hah.”

At Shim Eun-chan’s confident voice, Lee Hyun-jong let out a sound of admiration and lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.
That’s true.
I guess I worried for nothing.
When did you grow up so much, Eun-chan?”

“I was always grown, though.”

“Tsk.
Seon-ju, then I’ll leave it to you.”

“Yes, yes!”

After lightly patting Shim Eun-chan’s shoulder, Lee Hyun-jong finished speaking and headed back into the office.
When Kim Seon-ju said, “Shall we go then?” Shim Eun-chan started walking first, with Hyun Woo-young following behind him.
He glanced sideways—and their eyes met.

He really was ridiculously handsome, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out how someone like this had ended up at an agency like this.
It was only after entertaining the absurd thought—Did he join to spread some cult?—that Shim Eun-chan finally stopped his wild imagination.

As they walked toward the car, Shim Eun-chan thought of the members waiting at the dorm, then asked them to wait a moment and stopped by a convenience store.
In his hand dangled a plastic bag filled with canned drinks.
Hwanghon 707.
A beverage said to work wonders for hangovers.

He climbed into the eight-seater van that had been waiting with its engine running in a corner of the parking lot.
It had been a long time since he’d ridden in this car.
Seeing the scratch marks on the seat—left from fooling around inside back then—made him feel strangely nostalgic.

The emotions that had begun to stir settled down after a short while.

“Everyone buckled up?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

Only after confirming did the car start moving.

As Shim Eun-chan recalled the memories of six of them riding together noisily, he glanced at Hyun Woo-young.

“Do you get shy around people?”

“No.
Not really.”

“The team members are really, really friendly.
Ah, there’s a hyung named Ryu Seo-oh—he’s twenty-two.
He doesn’t talk much, but that’s just because he’s introverted, so don’t misunderstand.
He’s a good guy.”

Hyun Woo-young’s gaze lingered on Shim Eun-chan longer than could be called a brief moment.
With eyes that big, staring blankly like that, he gave off an intense presence.
In this situation, it could come off badly, but if they were going to work together later, maybe it was something that needed addressing.
No matter how good someone’s skills or looks were, if they stood expressionless in front of a camera and rumors about their personality cropped up, that would be a problem.
You couldn’t exactly make them hold a “I’m nervous right now” sign the whole time.

Lost in thought, Shim Eun-chan touched his face as if wondering whether something was on it and asked,

“What is it?
Is there something on my face?”

“No.
That’s not it.”

As Hyun Woo-young shook his head easily, Shim Eun-chan tilted his body toward him and folded his thumb and index finger, holding up the remaining three fingers.
Confusion immediately surfaced on Hyun Woo-young’s face.
As Woo-young alternated his gaze between Shim Eun-chan’s face and his hand, Shim Eun-chan asked,

“Is your eyesight bad, by any chance?”

“Huh?
No.
It’s not great, but it’s normal.”

“Mmm.
I asked because you were staring so hard.
My eyesight’s bad, you see.
So I was wondering if you were the same, Woo-young.
Ah—since we’ll be promoting together from now on, I’ll just call you by your name.”

“……. I look forward to working with you.”

Oh?

At those words, Shim Eun-chan sharpened his gaze.
If you only listened to what was said, it would sound like a simple greeting, but the tone and eyes told a different story.
Hyun Woo-young’s dark eyes sparkled as he looked straight at him.

Watching Hyun Woo-young adjust his posture once more—despite having been perfectly fine already—Shim Eun-chan turned his gaze toward the window.

He’d had a hunch, and now he was sure.

That stare earlier had been intentional.

After mistaking Shim Eun-chan’s checking of the status window for him staring at his face, Hyun Woo-young had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Hyun Woo-young might have the gentlest, most harmless-looking face in the world, but his competitive streak seemed no joke.
And on top of that, he didn’t seem inclined to hide it either.