The afterglow of the performance lingered for a long time.

The sea Park Juu created was too deep. Even after the final contestant finished singing, no one had fully surfaced from it.

The victory naturally went to Park Juu.

We quietly waited for him to return. After finishing the winner’s speech, interviews, and greetings with the other contestants, Park Juu finally opened the door and stepped inside. Jeong Seongbin immediately sprang to his feet.

Without a word, the two embraced each other tightly.

When our eyes met, Park Juu, who had been patting Jeong Seongbin’s back, walked toward me this time. The moment I opened my arms, he slipped against me. Heat radiated from him in waves.

The Park Juu of the past had ultimately made his own choice in the end, only to fail.

As for me, I had met my end staring death in the face without doing anything at all.

After my head cooled down, I realized the overlap between us was not suicide. Our pain may have resembled each other, but everything from the process to the outcome had been different.

I simply had not been able to read beyond it.

And only today did I finally discover the answer—one that perhaps would have been better left unknown.

If the thing we shared was losing someone we loved and being left alone for a long time afterward, then perhaps it would have been better if we had never resembled each other at all.

Still, at least for now, I decided to accept it gladly.

Because now I could understand even a little of his loneliness.

Though unlike me, who could never accept separation, Park Juu had already put his heart in order.

"...No thoughts?"

Park Juu asked.

I almost replied by asking whether it was even right to critique a stage like that. But I stopped myself. If he had wanted sympathy, he would never have performed it in the first place.

I knew what it felt like to believe you could never move forward unless you confronted your past.

The method I usually chose back then was avoidance.

Park Juu faced it head-on.

And in the end, he overcame it.

His expression alone made that clear.

Hearing the message within the song and responding to it—that was my role as the listener.

"It was amazing."

The image of Park Juu shining despite being dressed head to toe in black remained vivid in my mind. I felt like I would remember today’s stage for the rest of my life.

How could anyone forget a life story fought through so fiercely?

"It was really amazing."

"..."

"Rock really is the best, huh?"

Park Juu took a step back and looked at me. His damp hair and flushed skin made him look vividly alive.

His eyes sparkled brightly.

"Yeah."

He grinned.

"This is why I love rock."

Even without the wristbands, Park Juu no longer scratched at the skin beneath his bracelets.

Probably because they no longer felt cold against him.

If stars existed on earth, perhaps they would resemble Park Juu.

Especially in the way people cheered whenever they saw them shining before their eyes.

The star called Park Juu shone so brilliantly that anyone who crossed paths with him would stop beneath that starlight for at least a moment, even without being asked.

And then Park Juu would smile and sing for his audience.

With a pure heart.

Just like the dream he once wished for as a child.

After appearing on “IAD,” Park Juu became noticeably more cheerful.

He often hummed to himself while organizing flowerpots or swayed his head alone in front of the refrigerator.

He also returned to replying to BubblePop at the same pace as before. Park Juu said negative reactions no longer bothered him.

"I think it’s because I made my decision in my heart."

Slowly but clearly, Park Juu explained that he wanted to focus on group activities completely by his own will—not because outside influences pressured him or because he had shrunk back into himself.

"I decided that instead of feeling sorry toward the members, I should feel grateful."

He even said something surprisingly admirable.

I told him he had thought it through well.

On the broadcast day, he and Lee Cheonghyeon also did a livestream together talking about their experiences participating in “IAD.” Meanwhile, Jeong Seongbin, Kang Giyeon, and I sat in the living room biting our nails while watching in real time.

『The atmosphere of the stage was kind of heavy... so I couldn’t ask you to arrange it, Cheonghyeon.』

『What’s with that? Next time you better come to me first no matter what.』

Lee Cheonghyeon grumbled at Park Juu’s honest confession. Smiling faintly, Park Juu gently soothed him.

『A lot of people worried about me after my situation became public, but I’m really okay...! Jeho hyung even told me I could become his younger brother if things got bad enough.』

『Seriously?』

『He said having one younger brother or two wouldn’t make much difference...』

『That guy’s ridiculous, seriously.』

Thanks to the livestream, we even got to overhear conversations between the roommates.

The world deserved to know that Choi Jeho—the official older brother of Park Juu—had already gone to sleep early.

I almost started furiously typing into the live chat, but restrained myself.

I’d let it slide for today in recognition of him taking care of his dongsaeng.

『The members are all family to me.』

Park Juu spoke.

The sentence was short, but sincerity filled every word.

『So... I want to stay active with our members for a really long time. Longer than now.』

It was a gentle answer aimed at the constant talk about solo activities.

The repeated comments in the chat gradually began disappearing. Lee Cheonghyeon nodded, saying he understood exactly how he felt.

『I’ll keep doing covers, though. “IAD” was fun too.』

『Do whatever you want. Just make sure you come back in time for our comebacks.』

『Okay...』

Park Juu answered obediently.

Maybe because he was happy hearing someone tell him to come back, he looked genuinely content.

After the livestream, the obsessive posts dropped sharply. A few people got angry, accusing him of targeting fans, but after being flooded with comments asking whether they had no shame when he had phrased things so gently, they all disappeared.

Instead, attention toward Park Juu individually increased even more.

I told him to give up the semester even if it meant wasting tuition money, because it was obvious he would get dragged into unnecessary attention. Yet Park Juu still attended school faithfully every single day.

Eventually, I got so worried that I sat Jeong Seongbin down the moment he came home from class.

"Did people at school bother Juu?"

"They did. People in our department were careful, but random students who didn’t even know him personally kept approaching him..."

Jeong Seongbin awkwardly covered his discomfort with a smile.

"But Juu handled it really calmly. He didn’t seem pressured at all."

"Okay, got it. And if a professor asks him, ‘Aren’t you considering solo activities?’ what was he supposed to say again?"

"Professor, you absolutely cannot take Juu from us!"

"What are you two even doing...?"

Park Juu appeared in front of us while we were in the middle of our repeated training exercise.

"We’re running anti-Park Juu kidnapping simulations. It’d be a problem if more people started targeting our master vocalist chinchilla. Didn’t I tell you? A visual main vocal is rarer than anything else."

"Wild mountain ginseng."

"Seongbin seriously looks brainwashed at this point..."

"Juu, if cracking on a note once is a mistake, then twice is what?"

"Carelessness."

"And three times?"

"A warning."

"And why?"

"Because after the fourth time, shame and alertness disappear."

"And what’s a compilation of voice cracks?"

"The residue left behind by someone who neglected self-improvement..."

Even Park Juu himself looked startled after answering automatically and hurriedly covered his mouth.

"I only added one more thing. Park Juu belongs to Spark. We’re not giving him to anyone. It may sound trivial, but it’s actually very important, okay?"

Though Park Juu looked conflicted, he still nodded.

Even if it was more excessive than what he personally wanted, one thing was certain—he fully understood that the group treasured him.

For a while afterward, UA’s phones nearly exploded from all the love calls asking for Park Juu.

Calling them love calls sounded nice, but they were closer to desperate pleas.

It was only natural for Park Juu’s skills to attract nationwide attention. If someone this talented at singing stayed unknown forever, that would have been stranger.

Still, sharp rises in popularity required caution. There had already been cases where fake dating scandals were spread to bury drug controversies, and public opinion manipulated for money.

So despite feeling rude about it, I decided to verify for myself whether Park Juu’s stage having this much impact was actually normal.

And then...

 [Spark’s Eternal Vocalist] Park Juu

Park Juu (21)

Career History

─ Rookie Award Winner at Music Grand Festival

─ Winner of “My Singer’s Genre Deviation”

Performance Evaluation

─ Vocal Proficiency: 21/

─ Dance Proficiency: 14/20

─ Self PR: 4/20

─ Attendance Management: 10/20

─ Organizational Adaptability: 8/20

 ...I realized I had been operating under a massive misunderstanding.

At first, I thought the vocal proficiency score had been entered incorrectly.

But unlike the other categories, vocal proficiency had no upper limit. And unlike mine or Jeong Seongbin’s profiles, there was no “(100)” next to the evaluation scores indicating a maximum value.

Which meant there was no error.

This was beyond “someone who deserved success finally becoming successful.”

This was a case of someone who should have become huge long ago somehow remaining unnoticed until now.

‘He really worked hard.’

Looking at his organizational adaptability score—double his self-PR score—left me with complicated feelings.

Unlike KPI, proficiency values changed quickly. Park Juu’s self-PR score likely already reflected the effects of “IAD.”

And yet it still had not even reached five points.

That alone showed how passive Park Juu remained when it came to exposing himself to the outside world.

At the same time, the fact that someone who wrapped himself up so tightly had still worked this hard to fit into a group of peers was visible in his organizational adaptability score.

At this point, I had no choice but to care.

In addition to the monthly Leader Day, we clearly needed a quarterly Harmony Promotion Day. Not garbage like group jump rope or forced bonding retreats, but an actually effective program aimed at improving mental health and strengthening belonging—

"Hyung, are you busy?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You don’t even bother lying anymore..."

Park Juu, who had come to my room, spoke with a conflicted expression.

"I still have time to talk. Want to sit?"

Park Juu obediently sat at the edge of the bed. I closed my planner and turned my chair so I faced him directly.

"What are you doing tomorrow morning?"

Park Juu asked.

Now that promotions were over, unless a new schedule appeared, all I really had left were monitoring, workouts, practice, and preparations for the next album.

"I’ll probably go to the gym if no new schedules come up."

"...Working out is important."

Then he trailed off.

Anyone could tell he had something he wanted to say.

"What did you want to do with me tomorrow morning?"

"Huh?"

"Tell me. I can work out in the afternoon."

Park Juu hesitated for a long time before cautiously speaking.

"I’m going to visit my mom and dad tomorrow..."

Then, while carefully watching my reaction, he quietly asked:

"...Will you come with me?"