Work Text:
I heard Park Joowoo whispering from the corner, ‘Hyung, your head…’
…
In the end, as a penalty, I had a massive nosebleed after the live broadcast while watching our country's miraculous tying goal and comeback victory.
I managed to avoid another trip to the hospital by begging Jeong Seongbin to believe me when I said, 'This is just... spiritual warfare, trust me'.
That night, I added the phrase 'Keep your mouth shut' 50 times to my journal planner."
[Chapter 160 — A Minor Slip-Up]
* * *
"Here, hyung...!"
Joowoo handed Iwol an unfamiliar pill bottle, which he took dubiously.
This bottle wasn't from their medicine kit. Iwol would know, considering he researched and bought everything inside it. If Choi Jeho, as the only other legal adult, was buying Joowoo strange things from the pharmacy, Iwol needed to have words with him.
"Omega-3 fatty acid supplements from fish oil?" Iwol read the label aloud. "What do you need this for? Do your joints hurt? You should have told me sooner."
"It's for you," Joowoo said earnestly.
"Thanks, but why?" Iwol pressed the bottle back into Joowoo's hands.
Iwol may be mentally 29, but his de-aged body felt as healthy and spry as it did before joining Hanpyeong Industries. The wrist pain gained after transcribing 16,342 work meetings had completely disappeared.
"Omega-3 is good for your brain, especially after an injury..." Joowoo said. With the bottle back in his hands, he began twisting the child-safety lid.
Ah. So Joowoo was still worried about the nonsense Iwol spewed during their live broadcast.
"I really do believe in manifestation through positive thinking," Iwol said. "Didn't you watch our country's miraculous soccer victory?"
"Even so, hyung, these are good for you...!" Joowoo insisted. He twisted the cap again to no avail.
Iwol took pity on him. "Here, let me."
With the deftness of someone well-versed in opening headache medicine bottles, Iwol removed the lid, shook out two capsules, and handed one to Joowoo.
"You should take one," Iwol said. "With all the dancing you do, you need to protect your joint health."
"You dance a lot too, hyung," said Joowoo. "You should also protect your joints…!"
"Oh yeah," Iwol said. "Thanks."
And then, "Go get a glass of water. Taking pills dry will damage your throat."
* * *
Had no further incidents occurred, supplements might've soothed all Joowoo's worries, but Iwol's life was never easy. The next time he slipped up, it wasn't even really his fault.
* * *
In Seoul, when February bleeds into March, the harsh winds ease, the frosted ground thaws, and tiny yellow buds stipple the sansuyu trees. In Iwol's past life, the vivid blossoms and lengthening days reminded him of one thing — Spark's "Golden Hour."
If Iwol hadn’t changed the timeline too much, Cheonghyeon would compose this song next year. The Sparklers of his first life considered it a hidden gem: it outshone most title tracks, but PD Yoo demoted it to a B-side in favor of a truly horrible EDM song.
Now that Yoo Hansoo was gone, however, Iwol would ensure "Golden Hour" received the recognition that past Sparklers craved.
Iwol idly strummed his bass in the privacy of a music practice room. "Golden Hour" was a warm and dreamy song, reminiscent of honeyed skies...
He plucked a few notes. Yes, that sounded about right.
Iwol played a couple more chords. He worked in starts and stops, tweaking bits of the melody until it sounded just right.
It was an impressively catchy song. As expected of any universe's Lee Cheonghyeon, it was truly—
"—amazing! Hyung, did you write that?" Cheonghyeon flung open the door.
Fuck! Wasn't this room supposed to be soundproof??!
"Isn't this room soundproof?" Iwol asked calmly.
"It was, but Jeho-hyung accidentally walked into the glass and cracked it, so it's not anymore, see?"
Cheonghyeon fluttered a hand at the door's windowpane where, sure enough, a thin crack ran through the glass at forehead height. Iwol hadn't noticed it, lost in thought as he was.
"Is Choi Jeho's skull made of steel or something?" Iwol grumbled.
If the System killed him for leaking next year's music, Iwol would dedicate his afterlife to haunting Choi Jeho.
"Never mind that!" Cheonghyeon dragged a second chair from the corner and plopped down in front of Iwol. "What was that song I heard you practicing? Did you compose it yourself?"
"Um..."
Two paths unfurled before Iwol.
On the first path, Iwol denies composing it, and Cheonghyeon never creates "Golden Hour" in the interest of obeying IP laws.
On the second path, Iwol says yes, Cheonghyeon takes inspiration to create one of Spark's best songs, and Iwol gets a nosebleed for his meddling.
Iwol would rather light himself on fire than jeopardize Spark's future.
"Yes," Iwol said, feeling rather guilty toward his past life's Lee Cheonghyeon.
Iwol hated taking credit for another person's work — he saw plenty of that back at Hanpyeong. He shed a single mental tear for the 31-page proposal that Manager Nam claimed as his own.
"Can you play it again?"
"No, I've already forgotten it. It was all improv."
Iwol plucked a few discordant notes, as if in proof.
Sorry, Cheonghyeon, but Iwol was already pushing his luck with the System. He trusted that Cheonghyeon's musical genius could recreate the song without any additional arcane secrets.
Cheonghyeon frowned, doubtful. "You never forget anything, hyung. Are you feeling alright?"
Then he peered at Iwol's eye bags. "Did you sleep last night?"
Well, no, but that wasn't important. And Iwol forgot a lot of things, like half of his childhood, so sleep wasn't the relevant part here.
"I'm fine," Iwol answered evasively, avoiding Cheonghyeon's concerned gaze.
Iwol stood, bass in hand; he needed to leave before the System struck him with another unexplainable nosebleed.
Then his vision warped.
The floor underneath rolled like a wave. Something warm and wet dripped from his nose.
Iwol swayed.
"Hyung!" Cheonghyeon's cry drove a lancing pain through Iwol's head. Hands grasped his arms and guided him back down to his chair.
"Hyung, pinch your nose and lean forward! I'll be right back with tissues, okay? Don't move!"
Cheonghyeon bolted, the door slamming behind him. Iwol's head throbbed again. He squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell, why did the penalty hurt this time? The last one was just a nosebleed!
A familiar blue light flashed beyond his eyelids. The System must have something to say, but Iwol couldn't pry open his eyes to read the message. Maybe it should've considered that before giving him a migraine.
The door crashed open once more, and Iwol despaired for the already-cracked glass.
"I brought tissues," Cheonghyeon panted, breathless. "Here, take your hand off your nose!”
Iwol obeyed. The moment he released his fingers, hot blood leaked in an unrelenting stream, coating his lips and dripping down his chin.
A wad of tissues pressed against his nose. Iwol nudged Cheonghyeon's hand away; he could hold it himself.
"Thanks," he croaked. The taste of iron entered his mouth, and Iwol grimaced.
Gentle fingers alit upon his other hand. "Hyung, you can let go of the bass now."
Ah.
Iwol cracked an eye open. His left hand still clenched tight around the wooden neck, his knuckles pale and bloodless. Red splotches bloomed across the instrument’s white lacquer.
Iwol should clean that.
"Sorry for dirtying your gift," Iwol said. "Do you have another tissue to wipe it with?"
"Huh? I– that's not what's important!"
Cheonghyeon's voice rose sharply, and Iwol winced. Ever perceptive, Cheonghyeon noticed.
"Does your head hurt, hyung?" Cheonghyeon asked, much softer this time. "Don't just say you're fine."
"...A bit," Iwol admitted, “but headache medicine will be enough — I promise."
"Joowoo-hyung said he's still worried about your head injury," Cheonghyeon fretted. "Your memory seems... and the nosebleeds..." He trailed off.
Could people stop worrying about Iwol's head? It was fine!
Sure, a frightening number of screws fastened titanium plates to the bone, but the System healed all his internal injuries. Iwol still could — and would, if it didn't make him look crazier — recite that 31-page proposal as proof. This headache and nosebleed was punishment for completely unrelated reasons!
If Choi Jeho hadn't cracked the soundproof glass with his Neanderthal skull, if Cheonghyeon hadn't eavesdropped on Iwol's practice, if Iwol had just noticed the crack...
Life was so unfair.
A mote of resentment bubbled up inside him, but Iwol pushed it down. Everything was the System's fault, anyway.
Iwol glanced around, but the glowing screen from earlier was nowhere to be found. He'd ask the System later.
Meanwhile, Cheonghyeon gently pried the bass from Iwol's fist and wiped the blood with a spare tissue. He packed it inside its case before refocusing on Iwol.
"Hyung, should you go to the hospital? I can call the manager to drive you."
Please, no.
The hospital wouldn't find anything wrong, and Iwol didn't want to waste everyone’s time.
"It’s nothing serious," Iwol insisted. "The air's just dry. I'll run a humidifier at the dorm and be fine."
After begging a few more times, Cheonghyeon ultimately conceded, but not before wrangling out an agreement to return to the dorms and rest.
So, Iwol lay in bed at 6 PM, wide awake, and listened to murmured conversation in the living room. Cheonghyeon must be tattling on him, meaning another ‘忍’ would appear in their leader's notebook. And those soft-hearted kids would worry even more...
Iwol sighed and summoned the System. He might as well check its last message.
+
[SYSTEM] Work instructions from your 'Superior' have arrived.
▶️ Assistant Manager Kim, did you leak company secrets again? This is your second offense, you know, so I need to discipline you a little more. Don't make another mistake, okay?
[SYSTEM] ‘Subordinate’ is reminded of the ‘Breach of Confidentiality.’
▷ Any information that could affect areas beyond the successful activities of Spark, including details related to future events, is considered confidential and must be kept secret.
▷ ‘Subordinate’ is responsible for maintaining confidentiality regarding the aforementioned details.
▷ The severity of the penalty will be determined by the importance and publicity of the leaked confidential information, with the maximum punishment being ‘death.’
+
Penalties depended on the leaked information’s importance?
Did the System seriously consider this song more important than their nation’s soccer victory over Japan? What kind of Spark-centric grading system did it use?
And "Golden Hour" was relevant to Spark's successful activities, so this punishment was unfair! Iwol wanted to file a complaint.
Irritated, Iwol dismissed the window. He took his journal planner from the bedside table and wrote 'Pay attention to your surroundings' fifty times.
Then he lay back down and stared at the ceiling.
Why was he even doing this...
'Welfare Service.'
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Welfare Service’ usage details:
▷ Relation: Blood relative
▷ Health status: Good
▷ Psychological status: Good
▷ Other: Currently cooking dinner
+
Iwol stared at the window for a long time.
His eyes stung. It must be from the window's brightness, but Iwol couldn't bring himself to close it.
He drifted off to sleep beneath its blue glow.
* * *
Two days later, Iwol returned from the gym to find Cheonghyeon seated at the dining table, working furiously on their shared laptop. Across from him, Kiyeon puzzled over a homework assignment; in the living room, Choi Jeho lay on the couch with his phone, watching some dance video.
Cheonghyeon brightened at Iwol's entrance and waved him over.
"Hyung, I just finished the song! Come listen!"
Huh? Already? Geniuses sure were scary.
Iwol approached the table and peered over Cheonghyeon's shoulder. On the laptop screen was a folder containing at least 30 audio files; Cheonghyeon opened one titled "iwol-hyungs-song-final-FINAL-9.WAV" and pressed play.
What filtered from the speakers wasn't the same song from Iwol's past. No, it was much, much better.
If the past "Golden Hour" embodied a warm evening haze, this new version saw the same sunset in its full, glowing radiance. All they shared was the same addictive melody.
Iwol stared at Cheonghyeon.
"It's good, right?" Cheonghyeon beamed.
"...Yeah," Iwol said. "Why does the file have my name on it?"
"Because you inspired it! I'll put your name in the composition credits, too!"
"Please don't," Iwol protested weakly. His conscience couldn't take the guilt.
Cheonghyeon ignored him. "I'm thinking about using this for our next comeback. You wanted to hold one in May, right?"
Internally, Iwol winced. That was one year too soon for this song to see the light.
"How about saving this track for next year?" he hedged.
Kiyeon unburied his nose from his workbook and looked at Iwol doubtfully.
"Hyung, I've been listening to Cheonghyeon play this for the past three hours. I hate that he refuses to wear headphones, and it makes my ears bleed—"
"Hey!"
“—but it's a really good song," Kiyeon finished.
"I also like it," came Choi Jeho's voice from the couch.
"Is something wrong with it, hyung?" Cheonghyeon looked up with huge, wet eyes.
He was absolutely doing that on purpose, but Iwol was a weak-willed person.
"Of course not," Iwol assured with complete sincerity. "The Cultural Heritage Administration should recognize this song as a defining cultural property. UNESCO should enshrine it on their Intangible Cultural Heritage list. I'll campaign for it personally."
Choi Jeho grumbled something judgemental under his breath. Iwol ignored him.
Cheonghyeon, who actually appreciated Iwol's compliments, laughed in delight. "Can I make this our comeback song, then?"
What the hell, sure.
Cheonghyeon's new version elevated the song to something incomparable to the original, and surely the System wouldn't punish Iwol for the same thing twice...?
"Alright," Iwol agreed.
"Great! Then I'll send this to the planning team now!"
Wait. Right now?
Iwol took a step back. He couldn’t be in front of everyone if the System did decide to fuck him over!
Oblivious to his panic, Cheonghyeon dragged the file into an email chain with the production team and clicked 'send.'
Iwol held himself carefully still. Maybe nothing would happen?
But everything and everyone hated Iwol.
Vertigo struck him like a second hammer, sending him reeling. Iwol staggered and sat down, hard, on the cold tile. Bile built in the back of his throat. His vision flashed on and off with searing white light.
He heard the sudden scraping of chairs, then hands grabbed his shoulders. Someone was saying something, but the blood thumping in Iwol’s ears muffled the words.
A familiar warmth trickled from his nose.
Fuck his entire life.
Iwol swallowed back the bile. He curled in on himself and took slow, measured breaths, trying to stave off the nausea.
He didn't know how long it took, but eventually his breathing evened and his vision returned.
Someone was pinching his nose with tissues. Iwol followed the arm up to see Kiyeon, eyes wide and pupils shaking. Behind him, Cheonghyeon and Jeho hovered; Cheonghyeon with terror writ across his face, and Jeho... well, he also looked concerned.
"Why are you two making the maknae do this?" Iwol rasped. He took the tissues from Kiyeon.
"How is that your concern?!" Kiyeon snapped. His voice wavered at the end.
"...Sorry," Iwol said. "Don't worry, the bleeding will stop soon."
"You're going to the hospital, hyung," Cheonghyeon's tone was flat. "Jeho-hyung already called the manager. He'll be here soon with the van."
Why.
"The hospital won't find anything wrong," Iwol protested. "This kind of thing just happens sometimes."
"That was not normal." Cheonghyeon sounded angrier than Iwol had ever heard him. "Hyung, I wanted to take you to hospital two days ago! You said it was nothing, and you– you promised you'd be fine with rest!"
Shame rolled over him. Iwol kept causing trouble for these kids.
He foolishly thought he could dodge the System's consequences, and now the other three watched him with a tumultuous mixture of fear and anger.
"...Okay," Iwol said quietly.
The hospital wouldn't find anything, of course, but obeying their words would assuage some of their worries.
* * *
The members, including Seongbin and Joowoo, who'd rushed back from vocal practice, piled into the manager's car. They rode in uncomfortable silence.
Cheonghyeon stared stonily forward while Seongbin, their other mood-maker, radiated disappointment. Joowoo snuck occasional worried glances — he was the first to draw the (faulty) connection between Iwol's penalties and his head injury.
Iwol tried not to feel slightly bitter about that. Everything was the System's fault, anyway.
The kids just treated Iwol with a concern he didn't deserve.
* * *
In the end, the hospital found nothing amiss. The doctors spent a few hours subjecting Iwol to scans he didn't quite understand, then another hour puzzling over his completely healthy results.
They discharged him with iron supplements, painkillers, and a saline nasal spray, along with strict instructions to rest and return if another episode occurred.
By the time he was freed, the sun hung low, its rim grazing the horizon’s edge. Molten-gold light seeped through windows and pooled in warm puddles on the floor.
The other members stayed throughout it all, retreating to the hospital cafe after nurses shooed them from Iwol's examination room.
Manager Chanyoung led Iwol to where they sat by a window, conversing in low tones. Their handsome faces, cast in a fading amber glow, were pinched with worry.
Guilt clawed through Iwol. They shouldn't waste their efforts on a liar like him.
Iwol hated how practiced he'd become with lies and evasion. The System, his sister, his past... there was so much Iwol couldn't tell them, no matter how hard they pressed.
Seongbin spotted him first and approached.
"Chanyoung-hyung told us the doctors found nothing wrong," he said gently. "That's a relief. Are you ready to go home?"
Home?
What a strange word. Iwol supposed the dorm was his home now. The thought twisted something in his gut, but Iwol pushed the feeling away.
A lump in his throat blocked Iwol's voice, so he nodded.
Cheonghyeon still ignored him on the ride back.
* * *
The other members put him to bed with reminders to press the call button if anything happened. Iwol silently tolerated their hovering.
He stared at the ceiling, as he now often did, and listened to Seongbin's breath even into sleep. Uncomfortable emotions still roiled within Iwol, ones he didn't want to name.
He rose. Maybe some water would calm him down.
Iwol made his way to the kitchen with light steps, careful not to wake anyone, and poured himself a glass. He took a sip; the water was refreshingly cool. His mind settled.
'Welfare Service.’
+
[SYSTEM] ‘Welfare Service’ usage details:
▷ Relation: Blood relative
▷ Health ■atus: B■■
▷ Ps■holo■■■a■ ■tatus: V■■■ ■a■
▷ O■■e■: ■■■r■■■ ■■■■ ■
[ERR■■R] ■ '■■■■ ■■■■■e■■■■■■ ■■■■■
+
...What?
The screen flickered, glitched, and shattered into multicolor pixels.
A new window appeared.
+
[SYSTEM] Work instructions from your 'Superior' have arrived.
▶️ Assistant Manager Kim, don't tell me you forgot about our contract?
[SYSTEM] ‘Subordinate’ is reminded of the ‘Breach of Confidentiality.’
▷ The severity of the penalty will be determined by the importance and publicity of the leaked confidential information, with the maximum punishment being ‘death.’
+
So… sharing a song with the planning team was considered more ‘important’ and ‘public’ than one person overhearing.
Did the System revoke the ‘Welfare Service’ because of that?
+
[SYSTEM] Work instructions from your 'Superior' have arrived.
▶️ Good job, Assistant Manager Kim. Every company likes a quick learner, you know.
+
But.
Something felt off.
If the System revoked his access, why show the window at all? Why was it corrupted with glitches?
And why was there an error message he couldn't read??
Fury flared, scorching Iwol from the inside. His grip tightened around the glass until his knuckles creaked.
'…You're lying.'
Iwol saw enough of the screen to tell — something was wrong with his sister. He trembled.
'You piece of shit, what's going on?'
▷ Reduced perception of negative emotions effect is currently active.
+
[SYSTEM] Work instructions from your 'Superior' have arrived.
▶️ Calm down, Assistant Manager Kim.
+
Calm down? Calm down???
Wasn't the System 'calming him down' right now?!
The dampened emotions surged back, crashing like waves against jagged rocks.
▷ Reduced perception of negative emotions effect is currently active.
Everything was the System's fault.
It took his autonomy, his memories, and now it wanted his emotions too?
▷ Reduced perception of negative emotions effect is currently active.
▷ Reduced perception of negative emotions effect is currently active.
▷ Reduced perception of negative emotions effect is currently active.
Iwol snarled and slashed a hand through the notifications. He summoned the 'negative emotion perception' dial and wrenched it to zero.
His heart dropped.
Despair, thick and heavy, filled Iwol's lungs. He choked on it, drowning on dry land. The cup slipped from his slack fingers and shattered onto the floor.
From the bedrooms, Iwol heard someone stir.
Resentment curdled his stomach.
Iwol wanted his sister.
What was he doing here, pretending to be an idol with his pathetic, miserable skills? Spark made his first life hell. He didn’t want to see them.
He never wanted to see them again.
Iwol stepped over the glass. He moved toward the front door.
He needed to go… somewhere else. Anywhere else.
"Hyung?"
Iwol threw open the door and broke into a dead sprint.
He ignored the building’s elevator and thundered down the stairwell. He burst outside and kept running.
The brisk night air whipped at his face, the pavement tore his bare feet; Iwol ignored it all. He ran until his lungs burned with exertion instead of anxiety, until a slatted metal barrier blocked his path.
Iwol slumped over the railing, panting, and braced his forearms on the top bar. He let his head hang between his shoulders and stared down.
Dark water churned beneath him.
His feet had brought him back to the Han River. As if mesmerized, Iwol leaned forward.
A hand seized his arm and yanked him back.
Choi Jeho spun Iwol around to face him, breathing hard. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Let go of me.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“Weren’t you?”
Iwol glared at Center Emperor Choi Jeho’s face. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand any of it.
Behind Choi Jeho, the other members staggered over in various states of exhaustion. Human Dawn of Mountain Fog Park Joowoo, whose stamina was the weakest, collapsed to the ground.
“Hyung,” called Spiritual Pillar Jeong Seongbin between breathless gasps, “please wait. Whatever’s wrong, let’s talk about it first!”
“Hyung, I’m sorry!” Cutie Pretty Visual Lee Cheonghyeon’s voice, sodden with tears, cracked when he shouted. “I’m really sorry, please come home!”
There was that word again, ‘home.’
Iwol laughed bitterly.
The only ‘home’ Iwol knew was by his sister’s side. Nothing else mattered. Without her, where would he go?
To the parents he still feared? To the apartment where he died alone? To the dorm filled with his first life’s tormentors?
If it weren’t for the System, Iwol would’ve left UA the moment he woke in this new world. No, if it weren’t for the System, Iwol would still remember where his sister lived; barring that, he would remember which intersection she died on, and would’ve camped there for as many years as it took.
But she would do the same for him.
Iwol’s face was plastered across television and the internet. He’d gone viral countless times. Surely she’d seen him somewhere, somehow.
Why hadn’t she contacted him? Where was she?
If she was already gone, what was this all for?
Iwol didn’t want to do this anymore.
‘The severity of the penalty will be determined by the importance and publicity of the leaked confidential information, with the maximum punishment being death.’
He couldn’t do this anymore. Surely she would understand.
But if she still existed in this world…
“There’s something I need you to do,” Iwol said. “My si—“
His throat seized — the System was trying to silence him.
He tried to drag the words out, but each one felt as rough as gravel. He broke into hacking coughs.
Warm, wet heat bloomed under his tongue. Iwol spat out the blood and pushed through the burning pain.
“My sister,” he rasped. “Please find her. And… tell her that her foolish little brother is sorry.”
His head swam. Black crowded his vision.
Iwol heard five terrified shouts. Then, nothing.
* * *
UA Entertainment (@ua-entertainment)
Hello, this is UA.
We are announcing the suspension of Iwol’s activities due to health concerns. We respectfully ask for your understanding and consideration as Iwol recovers.
We express our gratitude and apologies to the fans who always support Spark.