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Jiseok had always thought it would be an interesting experience to do a polygraph test. Fortunately, a nice perk of the idol job was getting to try many different things—albeit in front of a whole lot of cameras and crew, but that made it more fun, if a little more nerve-wracking.
The game involved each of them in turn taking a lie detector test. The other members were to come up one by one and ask the member in the hot seat a question, and he had to answer truthfully—as confirmed or not by the polygraph examiner. By the end of the game, the one with the fewest “lies” was the winner.
Numbers were drawn to determine what order they’d go in, and of course Jiseok drew a bold number 1. He felt a trill of nerves as he crossed the studio floor to sit in the chair and let the examiner hook him up to the machine, a trill that had graduated to a persistent buzzing in his stomach by the time everything was ready and the cameras were rolling again.
The others drew numbers again to decide the order in which they would ask questions, and this time it was Gunil who drew number 1.
He stepped up with a big grin on his face, and Jiseok couldn’t help but groan.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded.
“They should use Gunil-hyung to get criminals to confess,” Seungmin chimed in. “No one can endure being smiled at like that for very long.”
Resistant to the teasing, Gunil said, “Kwak Jiseok. You once said you’d seen every one of my videos on YouTube. Were you telling the truth? Every video?”
Jiseok raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Hyung,” he said. “Why would I lie about that?”
There was a beat of silence as everyone looked to the examiner, who, after a moment, said, “Truth.”
Gunil’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Every single one?”
“Yes!” Jiseok insisted, feeling his face heat up. “Why is that so surprising? I loved those videos.”
“I mean, I just—”
“Okay, your turn is over,” said Seungmin, taking Gunil by the shoulders to push him back towards the others. Then he turned to Jiseok.
“Kwak Jiseok,” he said. “Kwak Gaon.”
“Are you all going to call my name like that?” Jiseok wondered.
“Gives the whole thing a bit of drama,” said Jooyeon. “A bit of romance, you know?”
Hyeongjun made a face. “Romance? What, like we’re gonna coerce him into a love confession?”
Seungmin clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth in front of Jiseok. “In our bathroom, there’s a green tube of facewash,” he said. “Did you use it last night?”
“Yes,” Jiseok answered without missing a beat. “You didn’t… tell me not to, so…?”
“Truth,” said the examiner.
“I knew it,” said Seungmin. “There was only a little bit left!”
Jiseok grimaced. “Sorry?”
Next was Hyeongjun, who, in typically Hyeongjunian fashion, wasted no time and directly asked: “Do you think you’re a better guitarist than me?”
A chorus of gasps went up from the others.
“What?” was Jiseok’s own gasp. “No! Of course not!”
“Truth,” confirmed the examiner.
Hyeongjun tilted his head curiously. “Really? Why not?”
Jiseok stared at him, jaw slack. “I… wh… why would I?” He jerked his head at Hyeongjun. “Your turn’s over, go away.”
With a placid shrug, Hyeongjun retreated, but Jiseok immediately realised how much of a mistake it was to have hurried him along, considering who followed him.
A grin of utmost glee sat broadly on Jooyeon’s face as he sauntered up to Jiseok, briefly grasping his shoulder.
“Kwak Jiseok,” Jooyeon said. “Kwak Jiseok, Kwak Jiseok, Kwak Jiseok.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away, strolling towards the cameras before whipping around to dramatically point as if he were the Ace Attorney or something.
“You,” he said to Jiseok, “always claim that you only put up with skinship. You don’t actually like it, you just don’t hate it.” He took a step closer. “But that’s a lie, isn’t it, Gaonie? You secretly love skinship, don’t you?”
Jiseok took a deep breath, knowing his pride and dignity were on the line.
“Absolutely not,” he said evenly.
Everyone in the studio held their breath as they waited for the examiner’s declaration:
“That’s a lie.”
Jiseok clenched his eyes shut.
“I KNEW IT!” Jooyeon roared as the others broke out in a chorus of laughter. “Not like it was a secret, but I just wanted to hear you admit it!”
“Well, I didn’t admit it!” said Jiseok. “So keep wanting!” He stuck his tongue out at Jooyeon.
Last up was Jungsu, who should have been a sight for sore eyes after the evil that was Lee Jooyeon. But Jiseok knew that Jungsu wasn’t going to go easy on him.
“Kwak Jiseok,” Jungsu began, “I’ve said you don’t have to call me Hyung if you don’t want to anymore, and sometimes you don’t. But you still consider me your favourite hyung, don’t you?”
Damn you, Kim Jungsu, Jiseok thought to himself, seeing Gunil’s eyes go wide in the corner of his view.
“Hyung,” Seungmin protested, “that’s cruel, that’s like asking him to choose between his parents!”
Jiseok wasn’t going to say so, not here, but it would have been a good deal easier to choose between his parents.
Logically, he would feel worse hurting Gunil’s feelings than Jungsu’s, so he took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “No.”
And the examiner said, “That’s a lie.”
Everyone gasped. Gunil dramatically wailed and hid his face in his hands as the others rushed to comfort him through their laughter.
“Jiseok! How could you!” Jungsu exclaimed, though the effect of his words was rather ruined by his grin.
“You asked the question!” Jiseok lamented. “Okay, fine! Yes! You’re my favourite Hyung!”
“That’s a lie,” said the examiner.
Jungsu gaped as the room devolved into cackling chaos. “Wait, what?”
Gunil lifted his face from his hands. “What does it mean?”
Jiseok fake-sobbed. “Okay! You’re both equally my favourite!”
“That’s… a lie,” said the examiner.
“Well! Then I… guess I don’t like either of you?”
“Lie,” said the examiner.
“What am I supposed to say?” Jiseok shrieked over the howls of laughter from the others. Jungsu was doubled over, clutching his stomach; Jooyeon was on the floor for some reason; Gunil and Seungmin were grabbing each other; and Hyeongjun was pointing at Jooyeon as he cackled. The staff were having a good giggle, too.
Jiseok had to admit—he was fairly pleased with this outcome because it surely made for good content.
But all they learned that day was that polygraph tests are complete bullshit.