Idol Hides His Military Service

Tap.

As soon as Raon pressed a key on the laptop, a bright, upbeat track filled the room.

"It sounds like a band song."

"Exactly! It seems the song uses a band sound as the main foundation."

At my comment, Shinyu lit up, excitedly adding her analysis like she’d just been handed a mic.

I held Shinyu in my arms, resting my chin on her head while I listened.

Maybe it was because I’d gotten “training” for all of three months, but I’d built up a bit of instinct for breaking songs down.

On Idol Ground 100, the one thing we did every single mission was analyze songs, so even if I wasn’t perfect, I could at least start to catch the feeling and the intent.

(Oh-oh) yeah, yeah

(Oh-oh) I can feel it, first vibe

A cheerful intro.

It didn’t feel like idol music so much as a pop band song that was trendy in America for a while, then vanished.

The air feels different

A light I’ve never seen spreads out

The words I’d prepared like a line in a script

All disappear, funny right?

Then the opening came in: a strong drum beat, a guitar riff, and synth layered together into something crisp and bouncy.

Twitch.

The head I was leaning against—Shinyu’s—bobbing in time with the sound.

‘It’s a simple, intuitive melody.’

I remembered Shinyu explaining K-pop to me and the other members back during our group battle mission.

The most experimental and the most popular music in the world.

That was how Shinyu defined K-pop, but what I was hearing now—“Feels Like Something’s About to Start”—felt like it was arguing with her definition head-on.

Even the brief silence is vivid

My heart speaks first

An unfamiliar tone

That’s what you’ll remember more

"It kind of makes me think of high school."

"Huh? Oh, right. Gahyeon, you graduated a while ago, didn’t you?"

"..."

Lee Gahyeon froze with her mouth half open, taking a surprise hit from Yunkyung.

Yunkyung probably didn’t mean anything by it, but if anyone outside our group heard that, it would’ve sounded like a straight-up provocation—borderline a declaration of war.

Ryu Ayeon, who was just as strict about hierarchy as I was, was already shooting Yunkyung a warning look.

Still—

‘I get what she means.’

I understood what Gahyeon was trying to say.

I was only listening, but the flutter of a first meeting—and the fear that comes with an unfamiliar place—came through cleanly.

The first moment we meet, stay there

It’s like time slows down

Feels like something’s about to start

This feeling, I like that

And just like that, our debut song, “Feels Like Something’s About to Start,” ended.

"So? What do you think?"

Raon—the composer—asked the members for their impressions.

"I liked it!"

"What did you like about it, Shinyu?"

"First, it feels really fresh because it doesn’t overlap with the concepts of other girl group songs trending lately. And more than anything, I could feel that Producer Raon made this while considering each of us one by one!"

"Thanks for picking up on what I intended."

Maybe because Shinyu answered so smoothly—like the kind of student teachers adore—Raon’s expression softened.

‘Even veterans get nervous.’

Raon was a veteran singer and composer, already acknowledged in the industry.

But making an album—especially for an idol group chosen by the entire country, and overseeing the whole concept—was her first time, so it seemed like she was extra sensitive to our reaction.

So—

"Producer Raon!!! I think coward Ryujin and Ryu Ayeon have complaints!"

"Hey!"

"No we don’t!"

I decided to be a model student too.

If there’s one classic model-student move, it’s asking questions in class—and tattling on your friends.

I’d noticed the two of them making awkward faces after the song ended, and I reported it immediately.

Reporting was a soldier’s essential virtue.

"No. From now on, you need to be able to give opinions freely. If you’re only going to do what you’re told, that’s not an idol—that’s a puppet, isn’t it?"

At Producer Raon’s words, I could practically see coward Ryujin # Nоvеlight # and Ryu Ayeon sinking into deep internal conflict.

‘If they actually say what they think just because she told them to, that’s a perfect recipe for disaster.’

Sure, Producer Raon didn’t seem like a born-and-bred hardass like my old superiors, but we were still rookies who hadn’t even debuted. Speaking up to someone like her—a senior so far above us she might as well be the sky—wasn’t going to feel easy.

No choice. I had to help again.

"Ryujin probably wants to say the song feels too far from the trends!"

"Hey! When did I—"

"I can tell."

Pfft.

A laugh slipped out of Producer Raon as she watched me and coward Ryujin.

"I expected that concern too."

Then she started explaining again.

"If I roughly sort the concepts trending among girl groups right now into three categories, they’d be girl crush, sexy, and pure. Those three."

As she wrote on the whiteboard and talked, the members nodded.

It was true. Most recent girl group songs fit into one of those categories.

"I didn’t think it was good for Iam, still a rookie group, to compete with the exact same concepts."

After finishing that sentence, Producer Raon wrote in huge letters across the board.

—Freshness, purity, excitement.

"Idol concepts keep getting more complicated as time goes on, right? Of course, that’s partly for building a fandom. But from the general public’s perspective, it’s not easy to listen comfortably."

"It really does feel like that..."

"We can’t forget this. Fandoms ultimately come from the general public. That’s why I chose this album to be extremely easy to listen to, while matching the image you already have."

Ah.

Only then did the members—including coward Ryujin and Ryu Ayeon—look like they’d finally relaxed, nodding with refreshed expressions.

They were the only two who showed it on their faces, but honestly, aside from me and Shinyu, it felt like everyone had been uneasy about the debut song.

Producer Raon laid it out step by step, and the whole group seemed to understand why our debut track went with a new concept and a straightforward melody.

"Alright. Starting tomorrow, we’re properly beginning debut-song practice. The choreography is set, and the recording studio is booked for a week from now. So you need to work hard and master your own parts, okay?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Nice and crisp. Then today, start by memorizing the lyrics. Tomorrow, nobody comes in without them memorized!"

Producer Raon handed out sheet music with our parts marked, and repeatedly warned us not to show it to anyone outside—family and close friends included—before leaving the practice room.

"I feel like our debut song is going to do really well!"

"You like it that much?"

"Yes! Later, like Producer Raon, I don’t just want to make songs—I want to make albums with a concept and a worldview that fit the members perfectly!"

Shinyu, the one most interested in producing, was especially fired up. She must’ve really loved Producer Raon’s explanation.

"If our Golden Producer takes it on, it’ll definitely be a huge hit. I can guarantee it."

"Why would anyone trust your guarantee, of all people?"

Ryu Ayeon picked a fight even while I was praising Shinyu.

"Coward Ryujin, are you saying you doubt my eye for talent?"

"Yeah."

"Ayeon, back in the day, after I got scolded by the judges, I once saved a trainee who was sobbing in the bathroom with the water running, doubting her own eye for talent—"

"Sh-shut up!!!"

"Mmph!!"

The second a story only the two of us knew started slipping out, Ryu Ayeon’s eyes went huge and she hurriedly clamped her hand over my mouth.

"W-we should practice!!! The producer said we have to have the lyrics perfectly memorized by tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. Let’s stop messing around and listen while we learn our parts."

Ryu Ayeon changing the subject without even loosening her hand was extremely obnoxious, but I decided to let it go.

After the program ended, the tension had drained out of us and my body felt restless. Having a new mission made me want to practice right away too.

***

"Lady Sukja, Daddy, I’m heading out! Don’t cry because you miss me—just behave."

"Don’t cause trouble. Just work hard and do whatever they tell you!"

"Sion! If anything happens, call Dad right away!"

"Message received!"

Clunk.

After a short goodbye, I shut the car door and waved.

‘Dad, if you keep driving like that, someone’s going to honk at you from behind.’

Even after dropping me off, Dad’s car crawled away at turtle speed like he couldn’t stop worrying.

I could practically see Lady Sukja yelling at him any second now, telling him to drive properly.

Anyway, I waved until his car disappeared from view, then grabbed my suitcase and headed toward the apartment entrance.

‘Wow. They really spent money.’

A branded apartment complex in Jamsil.

Our dorm. Mine and the other members’.

It was expensive even now, and it would only get more expensive in the future, but they’d gotten this place for us when we hadn’t even debuted yet. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

—It’s already stocked with essential appliances and most of what you’ll need, so just bring clothes, bedding, and your personal items.

When I heard they’d prepared it so well we could basically show up with just our bodies, I briefly wondered if I hadn’t survived an idol survival show at all, and had instead joined some MLM company.

Starting with the dorm, I kept being reminded that KJ wasn’t a major corporation for nothing.

The KJ Entertainment headquarters building was impressive—honestly, even compared to Logic, it didn’t feel lacking.

And unlike Logic, KJ barely had any artists besides us, which meant KJ was currently showing an almost majestic level of space-wasting.

—It isn’t waste, Sion. Starting with all of you, KJ Entertainment will rise the way other major agencies have. You can think of this as preparation.

I remembered whining about how they should build a gaming room in one of the empty spaces, only to get caught by the CEO.

‘Sanghyeok is reliable.’

CEO Kim Sanghyeok had a name that sounded trustworthy, so I liked him from the start. He’d even told us to ask for anything we needed at any time.

The way he said it reminded me of a company commander receiving new recruits, and that made me trust him even more.

With my gratitude for KJ running wild, I walked a bit farther, and the dorm entrance came into view.

‘Security’s tight.’

Unlike my family home—where any visitor could stroll in like they lived there—this place didn’t let you past the lobby without a key card.

Now that was an idol dorm.

—From now on, you need to be even more careful about how you act. With your popularity right now, you might already have sasaengs.

I remembered the idol-etiquette training we got right after Iam was formed.

No personal social media. No interviews without permission. And until we were given official clearance, we couldn’t leak anything about our activities—not even to friends, and not even to family.

A lot of it was rules about what we had to protect while being idols.

Some of it was about fans, too. Producer Raon had warned us that idols—regardless of whether their popularity was high or low—always had sasaengs trailing them.

Fans who followed idols’ every move, and if it got bad, breaking into dorms wasn’t even rare.

They told us we’d have it “a little easier” because we were a girl group, but—

—Sion, I’m most worried about you. Let’s tone it down. Please?

For some reason, I got labeled as the biggest problem child. Even after the training ended, Producer Raon kept me behind for extra “mental education.”

‘That was unfair.’

Thinking back on it now, it felt unfair.

What had I even done?

I incited Nayeon in Class F to stage a coup.

Sometimes I broke into coward Ryujin’s dorm without permission and looted her suitcase.

My aunt got dragged into a nepotism controversy and stepped down from being the main PD.

I “disciplined” Park Soyoon.

We ran away from the dorm with the team to go to a convenience store.

Sometimes I threatened staff into handing over snacks.

A school-violence controversy exploded in the middle of the show.

My game account name got exposed and caused a scandal.

That was basically it.

Honestly, those were all perfectly ordinary life events that anyone could run into. But the way Producer Raon begged me to hold back, like I was some serial disaster on two legs, was extremely unfair.

‘Fine. I’m the adult here. I’ll hold back.’

I was a public figure now, after all. I really was planning to restrain myself more than before.

"You’re here?"

"Oh, Gahyeon, you came early."

"Since it’s move-in day, I was too nervous to sleep."

After passing the entrance and reaching the elevators, I spotted a familiar face.

Lee Gahyeon.

Dark circles had basically become her permanent passive skill.

"Where are the others?"

"I checked the group chat. Looks like they’re already here. We’re the last ones."

"Oh. Hardworking bunch."

I was a little surprised.

I thought I’d come pretty early, but everyone was already gathered.

"Is that all your luggage?"

"Yep."

"Even if you’re only bringing clothes and bedding, that should be more than that."

Gahyeon stared at the tiny suitcase in my hand, clearly confused.

But I was the one who couldn’t understand her. She’d brought a suitcase that looked bigger than her body.

They said the place already had everything. All you needed was pajamas, underwear, a pillow, and a blanket. Wasn’t that enough?

Anyway, while we talked, the elevator arrived. We stepped in and kept chatting.

"It’s the 13th floor, right?"

"Yeah."

As I hit the floor button and waited, I suddenly got nostalgic.

Back when I was in the military, when I pinned on first lieutenant and got assigned off-base housing for the first time.

As a second lieutenant, I’d been forced to live on base—basically like the Idol Ground 100 dorm—because they said you “needed an adjustment period.”

A year later, when I finally moved out to a worn-down old military apartment off-base, I was so moved I could’ve cried.

The freedom of being able to go out at night whenever I wanted—there was no way to put it into words.

It felt like the protagonist in The Shawshank Redemption escaping prison.

‘There’s a TV in the living room, right? I can finally watch Chu-Han Contention live.’

The thought of doing all the things I couldn’t do under Lady Sukja’s strict surveillance made me excited without even trying.

Ding.

The elevator arrival chime snapped me out of it.

The doors opened, and I should’ve been looking at paradise without Lady Sukja—

But.

"Aunt?"

"Long time no see, my niece."

What I saw was the ratings devil—the one who committed the crime known as the surprise press conference, then vanished without a trace.