Idol Hides His Military Service

“Wouldn’t a ponytail suit Sion best after all?”

“Aaaack!! Suyeon, you’re peeling my forehead skin off!”

Suyeon abruptly gathered my hair together and yanked it back into a tie.

She’d pulled it so tight that my eyes automatically narrowed into sharp triangles, giving me an expression like an overbearing mother-in-law straight out of a morning drama.

“Yare yare. A ponytail isn’t enough for Sion-chan. In Yuri’s opinion, Sion-chan needs twin braids!”

After Suyeon, Yuri started fiddling with my hair too.

She must have handled hair a lot before—her hands moved deftly, and in no time she’d braided everything up.

“Wh-what is this...?”

“These days, twin braids can’t just stop at braiding! The key is adding volume like this!”

“That’s a kids’ cartoon hairstyle.”

“Kids’ cartoon? Who cares. Hehe.”

The finished look was a painfully intense style—like the hairstyle of a character from an old animation.

“Why the hell does this actually suit me?”

“This is honestly too much. You’re almost an adult—why does a hairstyle that would suit Yunkyung look good on you?!”

Unlike me, who was recoiling in horror, Suyeon and Sojin were making a big fuss on the side.

“It is I, Kurosawa Yuri!”

What bothered me most was Yuri wearing a smug, triumphant expression as she watched them react.

But this was one thing I absolutely couldn’t accept, so when I lightly put Yuri in a chokehold, she quickly changed it back to normal braided twin tails.

“I think dyeing it could be nice too.”

“Dyeing?”

“Yeah. Even if the hairstyle stays the same, just changing the color can completely change the image.”

Watching Sojin casually suggest dyeing on top of everything else, I started to wonder if they were just messing with me—or if they were actually serious about changing my style.

“You have unusual eye color, so dyed hair would suit you.”

“Hmmm...”

I’d never dyed my hair—not in my past life, and not in this one either.

Back in school in my previous life, even growing my hair past a certain length meant getting immediately called in for a one-on-one meeting with a teacher, so dyeing it wasn’t even an option.

‘And after I became an adult, I never even thought about growing it.’

Once I’d gone down the academy-to-military route, hair stopped being a concern altogether.

This life was the same.

I’d only go to a salon when I absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore, cut it short, and then leave it alone again until it grew out.

“So that’s why? Is the secret to your hair just neglect?”

“But shouldn’t the ends be split at least?”

“Maybe everything Sion-chan eats just goes straight to her hair?”

After hearing my story, the three of them looked horrified that I’d gone my entire life without ever dyeing or perming my hair, then started seriously debating my hair like it was some major issue.

“Ah! Enough. I’ll just keep it like this.”

“Well, honestly, twin braids are perfect for this concept.”

“Right?”

“It’s a shame—I wanted to try other styles too...”

“You little—”

Just when I was about to scold them for openly admitting they’d been messing around, they immediately switched topics, clearly having no intention of giving me time to argue.

“Your first impression is kind of really cold.”

“Is it?”

“When I first saw Sion-chan, I almost pulled my wallet out without thinking!”

It was true—people who saw me for the first time tended to avoid making eye contact.

“So wouldn’t it be good to brighten your face with makeup?”

“That’s possible?”

“Of course! Makeup is a skill. Leave it to me—I’ve got ten years of makeup experience!”

Oh, come on.

I could still vividly remember Suyeon being shy when we first met, yet now she’d completely leveled up her shamelessness, tossing in verbal seasoning like a pro.

Saying she’d invested ten of her seventeen years into makeup, Suyeon told me to wait a moment, then brought over her small handbag left in the corner of the practice room.

“What on earth is that?”

“What do you think it is? Makeup.”

“That’s a lot.”

“This is the condensed version! Your skin’s good, so you don’t need concealer—for now I’ll just do skincare.”

“Mm!”

Before I could stop her, Suyeon carefully started applying something to my face.

Then she told me to wait a bit and began rummaging through her bag, fitting cosmetics onto her fingers—her eyes looking exactly like mine do when I’m choosing a keyboard and mouse online.

“What else are you planning to do?”

“This is just the beginning. Next is base, eyeliner, and... hmm. Your features are already sharp, so you don’t need shading—just a light blush, and then lips at the end!”

“All of that?”

“It’s fine. I’ll do it as fast as I can—about thirty minutes?”

Insane.

Come to think of it, Suyeon was always serious about makeup in the dorms, too.

—Suyeon, what are you working so hard on?

—You get caught on camera, you can’t just half-ass your makeup.

Even during rushed mornings squeezed between washing up and meals, she’d always made time for makeup. I used to think sleeping would be a better use of that time—but now, seeing Suyeon brimming with excitement as she unleashed that passion on me...

The words “please stop” rose right up to my throat, but I couldn’t say them.

The madness shining in Suyeon’s eyes as she shoved a brush toward my face while covering my mouth told me it was already too late.

***

“Isn’t this cheating?”

“What is?”

Kim Nayeon complained mid-meal.

Sitting across from her, Gahyeon asked, puzzled by the sudden grievance.

“Turn around.”

At Nayeon’s urging, Gahyeon turned as told.

There, having just finished practice and arriving at the cafeteria a bit later than usual, were Lee Sion and the Girlish Pop concept team members.

“What is that—Is that Lee Sion?”

Gahyeon’s eyes landed on Lee Sion, who looked different from usual.

From her hair to her face, it was obvious someone had worked on her.

Confronted with that unfamiliar appearance, Gahyeon felt genuinely flustered.

“Thinking back, she’s always been so natural that we forgot—Lee Sion goes on broadcast bare-faced except for the stage.”

“...Right.”

Gahyeon nodded at Nayeon’s words.

Maybe because she’d grown used to it, or because Lee Sion’s skin was just that good—she’d completely forgotten that Lee Sion normally walked around without makeup.

—Just do the minimum, please.

Even when going on stage, Lee Sion had asked for only minimal makeup because dealing with it felt like a hassle.

“I hate to admit it... but when you dress her up like that, she really does suit it.”

“This actually makes me mad.”

“Right?”

Seeing Lee Sion now, casually bantering with Suyeon as usual, Gahyeon felt her breath catch.

‘She looks cute?’

The thought alone was horrifying enough that she wanted to cancel it immediately.

But Lee Sion really did look cute.

Her hair was in twin braids—no idea who’d done them—and her cheeks, lightly flushed with blush, stood out in a way they never did before.

The face that used to look cold now felt oddly girlish, revealing a new charm she’d never seen until now.

Even Gahyeon, who knew Lee Sion’s true nature better than anyone, found it attractive—and imagining how viewers would react to that sight sent chills down her spine.

‘This will cause an uproar.’

As she felt the pressure of Lee Sion’s already sky-rocketing popularity being pushed even higher, a sense of crisis crept in.

“Nayeon, let’s train more intensely starting today.”

“I was thinking the same.”

After observing Lee Sion’s new look for a bit, Gahyeon’s declaration was met with Nayeon’s immediate, full agreement.

Neither said it out loud, but they were both thinking the same thing.

‘We can’t fall further behind Lee Sion!’

Choosing the EDM concept alongside Nayeon, Gahyeon had even started having nightmares about Lee Sion recently.

In those dreams, she failed to make the final five who would go on stage from the EDM concept team.

And worse than the elimination itself—

—What? So you really can’t do it without me?

Even in the dream, Lee Sion mocked her with an infuriating face, saying of course she couldn’t manage without her.

It annoyed her so much that she’d woken up screaming.

Later, when she’d told Nayeon about the dream in the practice room, Nayeon admitted she’d had a similar one.

Considering Nayeon was already widely acknowledged—even among the EDM team—as a lock for the final five, Gahyeon hadn’t expected her to feel that pressured.

Surprisingly, even top-tier contestants like Nayeon seemed burdened by this Concept Evaluation.

“Don’t work too hard. So I can at least chase after you.”

Gahyeon sighed, still worried about whether she could secure a spot on stage against teammates competing for the same position.

“But you’ve improved a lot. Don’t worry so much.”

“Really...?”

“Yes. Honestly, not just you—Yunkyung and Shinyu, too. It’s obvious you’ve all improved a lot.”

Hearing Nayeon say that immediately lifted Gahyeon’s mood.

Nayeon wasn’t good at saying bad things about others—especially when it came to skill, she never lied—so Gahyeon felt reassured.

—Contestant Lee Gahyeon has a good feel. She’s still a bit raw in choreography and vocals, but that overflowing energy is important, and she’s using it well.

Even Ahn Seongho, producer of the EDM concept song Twelve, had recently praised her.

—You’ve been working hard. What you’ve built up is finally starting to show.

Seo Ryujin, whom she’d spoken with briefly not long ago, had told her the same—that her recent upswing reflected all the effort she’d put in.

Still, Gahyeon thought differently.

‘It’s thanks to Lee Sion.’

Lee Sion—the one who’d sparked a rebellion in F-Class through Kim Nayeon, now standing right in front of her.

When she’d been driven out of the leader position back then, Gahyeon had almost given up on her idol dream.

After all, receiving an F grade and failing as a leader made her feel like she had no future as an idol.

But strangely enough, things had started going better from that point on.

‘The pressure disappeared.’

Maybe because the urgency to prove herself vanished.

Songs that hadn’t worked before began to flow naturally, and her dancing gained a relaxed smoothness.

On top of that, training one-on-one with top contestants like Seo Ryujin and Ryu Ayeon while being around Lee Sion had transformed her skills beyond recognition.

It wasn’t just Gahyeon—every time she heard other contestants say that Im Yunkyung and Geum Shinyu, the so-called Lucid Dive trio, had improved dramatically too, she struggled to suppress the smile creeping onto her face.

Of course, gratitude was gratitude—but being satisfied with just this much would only make her Lee Sion’s prey. She needed to work even harder.

“We have to make it up there and smack Lee Sion on the back once.”

“Of course.”

With that, Gahyeon and Nayeon declared their grim resolve in the cafeteria.

***

“See? I knew this would happen. You dig and dig, something always comes out.”

Hot Issue Journal.

An online newspaper that had been running for over five years—it dealt mostly in tabloid gossip about celebrities or accidents and scandals, making it just another trashy outlet.

Park Sunwoong, the head of Hot Issue Journal, had recently been relentlessly investigating one person at his daughter’s request.

He’d landed one big scoop before, only for it to become useless, so he started digging again from scratch.

Now that he’d finally found something worth using, all the hardship felt like it had vanished.

‘Kids who say they want to be idols—there’s none who were saints in school.’

Investigating an adult would take time, but digging into a minor was easy.

These /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ days, no kid went without social media, so Park Sunwoong started there.

Unexpectedly, Lee Sion had no social media accounts at all, which briefly threw him off—but there were other ways.

—If this leaks, you and I are done for.

Slipping a teacher at the student’s school some under-the-table cash to get personal records usually solved everything.

That was exactly how Park Sunwoong had obtained Lee Sion’s file this time—and as he checked the contents, a broad grin spread across his face.

It felt like the result was well worth the sizable bribe of two million won.

Lee Sion was exactly the kind of scoop every major entertainment reporter was salivating over.

Among all the contestants on Idol Ground 100 currently drawing explosive reactions from the public, she stood out above the rest.

When even securing a single past photo would guarantee massive views, finding material worthy of a full exposé felt like hitting the lottery.

The public didn’t get most disappointed when celebrities acted poorly or sang badly.

What really ignited outrage were crimes—DUIs, drugs, tax evasion.

And for idols especially, incidents like school violence provoked particularly sharp reactions.

If the information in Sunwoong’s hands broke, Lee Sion would almost certainly become a hot potato online for weeks, bombarded with vicious criticism.

Just as his daughter Park Soyeon wanted, Lee Sion would be forced to withdraw from the program.

‘How dare she mess with my daughter.’

Park Sunwoong had done the same thing before to UI Entertainment trainees who’d annoyed Park Soyeon, and he was confident Lee Sion would meet the same end.

No—thinking of his daughter locked in her room ever since being eliminated, Lee Sion alone wouldn’t be enough.

He wanted to destroy the program itself.

That wasn’t possible right away, so for now he planned to deal with Lee Sion first, then gradually release inflammatory articles with provocative headlines to turn public opinion against the show.

‘Dig a bit deeper using what’s written here, then drop the article at the right timing. This’ll be worth watching.’

He estimated it would take about a week.

Already anticipating the aftermath, Park Sunwoong found himself wanting to write the article as soon as possible—for the first time in a long while.