Archive of Our Own

Seonghyeon woke up to a violent, twisting cramp in his gut.

He bolted upright, the blanket pooling around his waist, one hand clamping down hard on his stomach. He gritted his teeth, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. The digital clock on the microwave glared a neon green: 4:12 AM.

The gukbap.

His original body could have handled a bowl of spicy pork broth at ten o'clock at night. Hell, his original body regularly ran on convenience store ramen and energy drinks. But this new, pampered, heavily-moisturized body was apparently throwing a massive tantrum over the sudden influx of sodium, capsaicin, and cheap grease.

Another cramp hit, sharper this time. Seonghyeon let out a strained hiss, kicking the blanket off. He swung his legs off the lumpy couch, his feet hitting the cold linoleum, and half-walked, half-limped down the dark hallway toward the bathroom.

He spent the next twenty minutes paying the price for his dinner.

When he finally washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face, he looked like a ghost in the cracked mirror. His pale skin was completely washed out, dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes.

"Weak ass stomach," he muttered to his reflection, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He left the bathroom, the quiet hum of the ancient refrigerator greeting him in the living room. His stomach was empty now, growling with a hollow, echoing demand. He couldn't go back to sleep like this.

He shuffled into the open kitchen and pulled the fridge door open and the state was absolutely tragic.

A carton of milk that expired three days ago. Half a head of wilty cabbage. A massive, plastic container of aged kimchi that smelled like it could burn a hole through steel. A carton of eggs. A brick of Spam. And a tupperware of leftover white rice that looked hard enough to break a window.

It wasn't a penthouse spread, but to a guy who used to cook for his two younger step-siblings out of whatever was left in the cupboards before his stepdad drank the grocery money, it was a feast.

Seonghyeon dragged a heavy, scratched frying pan out from the bottom cabinet and dropped it onto the stove. He turned the gas burner on high, ignoring the loud click-click-click of the igniter.

He didn't bother with a cutting board. He grabbed a kitchen knife, held the block of Spam in his palm, and rapidly sliced it into thick cubes with the careless, efficiency of a street rat who had been handling knives since middle school. He scraped the meat directly into the hot pan.

The sizzle was immediate, the salty, fatty smell of frying spam filling the cramped kitchen.

He grabbed the heavy container of kimchi, dug a pair of tongs into it, and pulled out a massive, dripping handful. He used the kitchen shears to hack it into bite-sized pieces right over the pan, the red juice hitting the hot oil and violently popping.

Back in his old crew, if you had food, you shared. It didn't matter if you were currently fighting or if someone had pissed you off earlier that day. You didn't eat in front of hungry people. It was a basic rule of survival.

He didn't like these idol brats. They were annoying, whiny, and complicated. But they were, for all intents and purposes, his new crew. And they looked like they hadn't eaten a solid, calorie-dense meal in a month.

He dumped the rock-hard leftover rice into the pan, using a metal spatula to aggressively break it apart, mixing it with the rendered Spam fat and the spicy kimchi. He added a heavy pour of sesame oil and a spoonful of red pepper paste just to spite his own stomach.

He cracked five eggs directly over the rice, letting them fry on top before roughly scrambling them into the mixture. He turned the heat off, wiping his greasy hands on his sweatpants.

Behind him, a door creaked open.

Seonghyeon didn't turn around. He reached into the cabinet, pulling out five metal spoons.

"What are you doing?"

The voice was rough with sleep. Juhoon.

Seonghyeon picked up the heavy pan by the handle, ignoring the heat radiating through the metal, and turned around. Juhoon was standing in the hallway, wearing an oversized graphic tee and shorts, his hair sticking up in every direction. He was staring at the pan in Seonghyeon’s hand like it contained a live explosive.

"Cooking meth," Seonghyeon deadpanned. He walked past Juhoon and dropped the massive pan directly into the center of the sticky metal table in the living area. He tossed the five spoons into the pan. "What does it look like?"

Juhoon took a hesitant step closer, his nose twitching the smell of fried garlic, kimchi, and fat was overwhelming in the small space.

"You cooked," Juhoon stated, his brain clearly struggling to boot up.

"Observant again. You want a gold star?" Seonghyeon pulled out a plastic stool and sat down. He didn't wait. He grabbed a spoon and dug in, shoving a massive bite of steaming fried rice into his mouth. It burned his tongue, but it hit the spot perfectly. Salty, heavy, and satisfying.

The door to the larger bedroom opened next. Martin stepped out, squinting against the harsh kitchen light. He sniffed the air, his stomach giving a loud, audible rumble.

"Is someone cooking?" Martin mumbled, looking around blindly before his eyes locked onto the table.

"Good morning," Seonghyeon said around a mouthful of rice. He pointed his spoon at the pan. "Eat it before it gets cold. Or don't. I'll finish it."

James and Keonho filed out a minute later, drawn by the noise and the smell. They stood in a cluster near the hallway, an exhausted, bewildered audience watching the group's infamous visual center eat fried rice straight out of a scratched pan like a dock worker.

"Did you order delivery?" James asked, his voice thick with sleep and heavy with suspicion.

"At five in the morning? From where?" Seonghyeon swallowed, grabbing a cup of water. "It's leftovers. Sit down."

They didn't move. They exchanged looks.

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes. "I didn't poison it. If I wanted to kill you, I'd just push you down the stairs. It's faster. Are you going to eat or just stare at me?"

It was the practical bluntness of the statement that broke the spell. Martin, driven entirely by his massive appetite, broke rank. He pulled out a stool, grabbed a spoon, and took a hesitant bite.

His eyes widened. He looked at Seonghyeon, then back at the pan. He took another, much larger bite. "This is actually really good."

"It's rice and spam," Seonghyeon snorted. "You can't mess it up."

Juhoon slowly sat down next to Martin. He grabbed a spoon, inspected it for a second as if checking for tampering, and took a small bite. He didn't say anything, but he didn't stop eating.

Eventually, James and Keonho joined them. The five of them sat around the small table, eating straight from the pan. The only sounds were the scrape of metal against metal and quiet chewing.

He didn't. He ate until he was full, dropped his spoon into the empty pan with a clatter, and stood up.

"I'm taking a shower," Seonghyeon announced. "Whoever finishes last washes the pan."

He walked away, leaving the four of them staring at his retreating back.

At nine o'clock, the dorm door was practically kicked open.

Manager Choi rushed in, a phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, carrying a stack of coffees in a cardboard tray. Right behind him was a guy holding a medium-sized broadcast camera on a shoulder rig, and a woman with a clipboard and a headset.

"Wake up, get dressed, you have ten minutes!" Choi yelled over the chaos. "They moved the vlog shoot up. We're doing dorm footage first, then the studio."

Seonghyeon, who was already dressed in his black cargo pants and a plain grey hoodie, stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

The camera instantly pivoted toward him. The red recording light was on.

Seonghyeon froze, his instincts screaming at him to cover his face or throw a punch. In his old life, a camera in your face usually meant someone was trying to catch you doing something illegal. He forced himself to relax his shoulders, dropping the towel around his neck.

"Seonghyeon-ssi!" The woman with the clipboard beamed. "Perfect. The fresh-out-of-the-shower look is great for the fans. Give us a morning greeting!"

Seonghyeon stared at the lens. He felt incredibly stupid.

"Morning," he deadpanned.

The PD’s smile faltered slightly. "Ah. Very... chic. Where are the others?"

Before Seonghyeon could answer, the bedroom doors opened. The other four stumbled out, completely bare-faced, hair messy, looking like a bunch of regular, exhausted teenagers. When they saw the camera, they immediately switched gears.

It was terrifying to watch.

One second, Keonho was rubbing his eyes and yawning, looking miserable. The moment he spotted the red light, a bright, blinding smile split his face. He waved with both hands. "Good morning, Coer! Did you sleep well?"

They were professionals. They knew exactly how to play the game.

Seonghyeon felt a flicker of a blue light in the corner of his eye.

He sighed internally. Right. He had to play the game too.

The PD clapped her hands. "Okay, we're going to get some b-roll of you guys hanging out in the living room, eating breakfast, showing your natural chemistry. Just act like we aren't here!"

"Act like we aren't here" was the biggest lie in the entertainment industry.

The five of them were herded into the tiny living area. The problem was, they had already eaten. The giant frying pan was sitting in the sink, washed clean by Martin.

"What did you guys have for breakfast?" the PD asked from behind the camera. "Did you cook together?"

"Who made it? Was it Chef Martin?" she prompted cheerfully.

Martin looked at Seonghyeon. Juhoon looked at the floor. Keonho looked terrified.

Seonghyeon leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew what they were thinking. If they said Seonghyeon made it, the fans wouldn't believe it, and it would look scripted. The rich, arrogant center cooking a peasant meal for the group? It went against the narrative.

"We ordered in," Seonghyeon lied smoothly, looking directly at the camera. "Too tired to cook."

The members visibly relaxed. It was a safe answer.

The PD seemed slightly disappointed but moved on. "Okay, let's get some footage of you guys getting ready for practice. Show us your team dynamic."

The next hour was excruciating.

They tried to film 'natural' moments. Martin and James playfully fighting over a jacket. Juhoon and Keonho doing a quick TikTok dance challenge in the narrow hallway.

Through it all, Seonghyeon lingered in the background. He didn't know how to insert himself without it looking forced. Every time he stepped closer, the members' bodies went slightly rigid. The fake smiles grew a fraction tighter. They were trying—probably because Manager Choi had threatened them with death before the crew arrived but the micro-expressions of discomfort were glaringly obvious.

If Seonghyeon tried to hug one of them, they might actually break a rib flinching.

Non-hostile interaction. The System's wording was broad, but it had to be on camera, and it had to register as 'successful'.

They relocated to the agency's basement studio for the dance practice segment.

"Alright," James said, stepping into his role as the performance leader. He didn't look at Seonghyeon, addressing the group as a whole. "We're running 'ECLIPSE'. Full energy for the camera. Don't hold back. We'll do two takes of the whole thing, then break down a few point moves."

Seonghyeon took his position in the center. His muscles immediately screamed in protest, still agonizingly sore from yesterday's marathon session, but the +2 Dance Skill he had earned made a noticeable difference. His body felt slightly lighter, his center of gravity more intuitive

Seonghyeon poured everything he had into it. He focused entirely on the reflection in the mirror, tracking his timing against James and Martin. He hit the floor transitions cleanly. He didn't trip. He was still the weakest link his moves lacked the polished sharpness of James or the fluid groove of Juhoonbut his natural charisma stat was doing a lot of heavy lifting. When he hit the center marks, he stared down the camera lens with a dark, intense ferocity that made the PD behind the monitor gasp quietly.

They finished the first take, chests heaving, sweat dripping onto the hardwood.

"Cut! That was great!" the PD called out. "Take a five-minute breather, then we'll do the Q&A segment sitting on the floor."

He was running out of time. He needed to trigger this quest.

The crew brought out a small white blanket and laid it on the floor in the center of the room. The five members were directed to sit in a semi-circle around a tablet placed on a low stand.

Seonghyeon ended up seated on the far left edge, next to Keonho. James was in the middle, holding the tablet.

"Okay, rolling," the cameraman said.

He scrolled the screen. "First question, from user Starlight99: 'Who is having the hardest time with the new choreography?'"

A collective, nervous laugh rippled through the group.

Juhoon leaned in. "I think we're all struggling, honestly. The footwork in the chorus is really fast but James-hyung is a machine, so he makes it look easy."

"I have bruises on my knees," Martin added, pointing to his legs. "We're doing a lot of floor work."

James nodded, scrolling to the next question. The dynamic was smooth between the four of them. They passed the conversational ball effortlessly. Seonghyeon just sat there, listening, his face neutral. He looked like an outsider who had wandered onto the set by mistake.

"Next question," James read, his smile faltering for a microsecond. "Ah. From user MoonRabbit: 'Keonho, you always look so energetic on stage. How do you keep your stamina up when the dances are so hard?'"

The camera pivoted to focus tightly on Keonho.

The youngest member froze. He was great at performing, but when put on the spot for speaking segments, he was notoriously anxious.

"Uh," Keonho started, his hands balling into fists on his lap. He looked at the camera lens like it was the barrel of a gun. "I... um. I drink a lot of water. And..."

He trailed off. His mind had completely blanked. His ears were turning red. The silence stretched, becoming heavy and agonizing.

James opened his mouth to jump in and save him, to redirect the question.

Seonghyeon acted faster.

The physical contact made Keonho jolt, snapping him out of his panic spiral. He whipped his head around to look at Seonghyeon.

Seonghyeon didn't look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, looking completely bored.

"He's lying," Seonghyeon said, his rough voice cutting through the polite broadcast atmosphere.

The entire room went dead silent. The PD looked up from her monitor, alarmed. Juhoon inhaled sharply.

"He doesn't have stamina," Seonghyeon continued, pointing a lazy finger at Keonho. "He just moves too fast for his own good. During practice yesterday, he was a half-beat ahead of the music the entire pre-chorus because he couldn't sit still. James almost killed him."

Keonho blinked, his brain rebooting. The sheer audacity of the insult completely overrode his stage fright.

"I was not a half-beat ahead!" Keonho protested indignantly, his voice loud and clear, the anxiety entirely forgotten. "My footwork is just faster than yours! You were dragging!"

"I was pacing myself," Seonghyeon shot back, a tiny, barely-there smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "Some of us don't want to burn out in the first verse, kid."

"I'm literally one month younger than you! Stop calling me kid!" Keonho grabbed a rolled-up towel from the floor and threw it directly at Seonghyeon’s head.

"I'm going to step on your feet," Keonho threatened, scowling, but there was no real heat behind it. He was breathing normally again. The deer-in-the-headlights look was gone.

James quickly stepped in, letting out a loud, slightly forced laugh. "Okay, okay, let's calm down. The truth is, Keonho works really hard on his cardio, which is why he can keep that energy up."

The Q&A moved on. The tension had bled out of the room.

Ding.

The blue interface popped up in the upper right corner of his vision, glowing brightly against the studio lights.

Seonghyeon let out a slow, quiet breath.

It worked. He hadn't broken character. He hadn't acted like a sudden, out-of-character angel. He just acted like a normal, slightly abrasive high schooler messing with his friend to get him out of his head it was a language he understood.

As the interview wrapped up, they stood up to bow to the camera crew.

While they were shifting around, Martin bumped into Seonghyeon’s shoulder which def wasn't an accident.

Seonghyeon looked up. Martin was looking at the crew packing up their gear, but he spoke quietly, just loud enough for Seonghyeon to hear.

"Thanks for that," Martin muttered. "He gets in his head during these things it's hard to pull him out."

Seonghyeon just shoved his hands into his pockets, his face impassive. "I didn't do anything. He throws like a girl anyway."

Martin let out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. He didn't push it.

By the time the crew left, it was one in the afternoon. Manager Choi ordered them a quick lunch of jjajangmyeon, which they ate in the small lounge area outside the practice rooms.

He ate his noodles quickly, keeping his mouth shut.

When they filed back into the studio for the afternoon practice block, the atmosphere was heavy.

James stood at the front, scrolling through his phone with a deep frown.

"What's wrong?" Juhoon asked, stretching his hamstrings.

James locked his phone screen and dropped it onto the speaker. He looked up, his expression grim. "The choreography for the dance break just got updated."

Martin groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Are you serious? The comeback is in nineteen days. We just got the formation down."

"The agency hired a new choreographer for the hook," James said, crossing his arms. "They said the old one lacked impact. They sent the demo video. We have to learn it today."

James unlocked it and played the video.

Seonghyeon stood in the back, watching the screen over Martin’s shoulder.

The new dance break was brutal. It was thirty seconds of pure, explosive isolation movements, ending in a synchronized drop to the floor and a complex kip-up sequence. It required immense core strength, perfect timing, and a level of technical skill that made the rest of the song look like a warm-up.

It was a main dancer's dream.

James paused the video on a wide shot of the demo dancers. He pointed to the screen.

The dancers were in a V-formation. The center was standing at the very point, leading the floor drop sequence.

Everyone in the room slowly turned to look at Seonghyeon.

Seonghyeon stared at the paused frame. He had exactly 2 levels in Dance. He had survived yesterday purely on adrenaline and street stamina. A kip-up? He didn't even know how to do a somersault without pulling a muscle.

If he tried to lead that sequence, he would look like a dying fish flopping on dry land. The group would become a laughingstock.

"Well," Seonghyeon said, his voice flat in the suffocating silence. "That's a problem."

James rubbed his temples, a headache clearly forming. "We can't change the formation. The CEO wants you in the front for the entire hook. It's in the contract."

"Contract or no contract, he can't do that," Juhoon snapped, his patience finally snapping. "He barely learned the basic steps yesterday! If he drops on his neck during a live broadcast, we're all screwed!"

"I know!" James fired back, the stress bleeding into his voice. "Do you think I want this? But we don't have a choice. We have to teach him."

"He's going to hold us back!" Juhoon argued, throwing his hands in the air. "We finally have a chance to not flop, and we're going to get dragged down because he can't hit a basic kip-up!"

Seonghyeon watched them argue, the familiar, cold sensation of being a burden settling in his chest. Back in his old life, he was the guy people relied on. He was the muscle. He was the one who solved problems.

Here, he was the problem.

A blue pulse flickered urgently in his vision.

Seonghyeon stared at the floating text.

Two thousand points. It was everything he had earned from moving into the dorm and completing the morning vlog quest. It was his entire safety net. If he spent it, he was back at zero.

He looked at James, who looked ready to punch a wall. He looked at Juhoon, who was glaring at him in frustration.

Screw it, Seonghyeon thought. Money is meant to be spent.

He tapped the 'YES' button in his mind.

Seonghyeon barely had time to read the warning before the sensation hit.

It wasn't a burning in his throat this time. It was a violent, electric shock that ripped through his entire nervous system. His spine arched involuntarily, his muscles seizing up as thousands of micro-adjustments tore through his core, his hips, and his legs. Muscle fibers ripped and regenerated in the span of three seconds, burning with the intensity of white-hot fire.

He let out a choked gasp, his knees buckling. He hit the hardwood floor hard, catching himself on his hands and knees, his head hanging low as he fought to breathe through the blinding pain.

"Seonghyeon!"

Someone yelled his name. Footsteps rushed toward him.

Seonghyeon stayed on his hands and knees for a second, letting his vision clear. He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs smoothly.

He didn't stand up normally.

Driven by the strange, new buzzing in his muscles, Seonghyeon shifted his weight back onto his heels, rolled backward onto his shoulders, and explosively kicked his legs up toward the ceiling.

He launched himself off the floor in a flawless, perfectly executed kip-up, landing squarely on his feet with a sharp thud.e

The studio went dead silent.

Martin, who had been kneeling next to him, fell backward onto his ass in shock. James dropped his phone.

Seonghyeon stood up straight, rolling his shoulders. He looked at his own hands, genuinely amazed. He felt like a damn ninja.

He looked up at the four members, who were staring at him with expressions ranging from horror to absolute awe.

"I think I stretched something," Seonghyeon lied, keeping his face perfectly straight. He walked over to James, picking the dropped phone off the floor and handing it back to the stunned leader.

"Play the video again," Seonghyeon ordered, walking to his spot in the center of the room. "I can do the drop."