Chapter 283: Chapter 283

“Pitch-perfect, every damn note... but you’ve got no emotion.”

“What’s the point of making faces? There’s no soul in your fingertips.”

“Why do you even have a head? For god’s sake, try using it once in a while!”

One practice, and I got one round of ranting.

What I had expected from Joo Woosung was the cause, the person, the trigger that had turned him into an EX-class. Anything.

‘This bastard’s useless.’

But all he ever did was stick next to me, nagging every damn day.

And telling me—who danced while calculating xyz axes—that I moved without thinking?

I wanted to argue back, but once Joo Woosung demonstrated even once, I couldn’t say a word.

‘F*cking genius bastard....’

He was called the best dancer among all idols in history—what more needed to be said?

There was a reason for that joke that Joo Woosung, or rather Black Call, had built half of WH’s new headquarters.

He had ascended to a realm beyond human. Even the simple movements he made while loosening up bewitched people into staring.

Meanwhile, IRIX’s newly opened Korean server was blowing up. Though the game was already globally popular, its success was so huge that people called it a second golden age.

Alongside it, The Dawn’s “Connected” swept the hearts of gamers.

That was why, at Caris Games’ request, The Dawn would once again perform “Connected” at IRIX’s new season launch ceremony.

Kang Ichae had whistled from his studio chair and said:

“It’d be boring if it were the same.”

The thought of performing on stage at the launch of his favorite game lit a fire under him.

“If last time was neon lights piercing the dark, this time we’ll be sunlight piercing the sky.”

“You’re going too fast.”

“I understand, senior!!”

Kim Sunghyun and Jung Dajun, who had been working on their LA wish list with Kang Ichae, had somehow joined practice too. The practice maniac Sung Jiwon, surprisingly, had said he’d rest this time.

When Joo Woosung sharply laid out the key blocking points, Kim Sunghyun clapped like a seal.

I cursed him inside and was about to replay the track when Jung Dajun, recalling the choreography, asked Woosung:

“Woosung-hyung~, isn’t this part a little empty? Would it be too much if we added this move? The dancers might find it hard, but if I step on their bent backs like stairs and then leap up, it’ll give the sense of soaring....”

“Wow, the maknae’s understanding the concept faster than the clumsy.”

For this performance, IRIX had arranged a dance team renowned even in Hollywood.

When Woosung gave the OK sign, Dajun trotted over to the dancers, communicating his idea with all sorts of body language.

“Okay? I go shwoosh-shwoosh!”

The dancers somehow understood and agreed to try it out.

The revised choreography looked far more dynamic.

“Still feels like something’s missing....”

The dancers cheered with “Good, good!” but the maknae remained dissatisfied, rubbing his knee and pouting.

“Woosung-hyung, hyung! Look, it needs to go pat-pat-pat!! right? But after the pat, it needs a bam, and there’s no bam....”

...What the hell kind of alien language was that?

“Isn’t that bam-bam-bam?”

...Wait, did he actually understand that?

Watching Dajun flail his limbs, Woosung answered nonchalantly.

“Really?” Dajun muttered, then tweaked the move slightly and tried it again.

“Should we do it one more time?”

It wasn’t glaringly off, but there was an unstable feeling about it.

‘But who am I to give advice?’

I’m the clumsy one here, f*ck.

As I quietly watched Dajun rehearse the revised section with the dancers, it suddenly hit me that there was someone here who could be of real help.

I furrowed my brows and tapped Woosung on the shoulder, gesturing him outside.

“What do you think of Jung Dajun’s dancing?”

“He’s way better than you.”

Chugging an ion drink like he was filming a CF alone, Woosung arched an eyebrow—asking what I was getting at.

“Doesn’t he look a bit unstable?”

“Looks like he grew taller.”

“...So what should we do?”

Woosung let out a deep sigh, leaning on one leg as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“...Hoyun, that’s just what happens when someone hasn’t adjusted to a suddenly changed body.”

“Just leave him. He’ll find his sense again on his own.”

When I squinted, Woosung shrugged like he was serious.

“That’s a problem only he can solve. What good will it do if I nag him? Dajun himself knows that.”

In other words, there was no immediate solution.

“Then we should change the choreography. If he pushes himself, he’ll get injured.”

A knee injury from overwork would be a disaster. Better to swap the center now than risk an accident. I could even pass along Woosung’s words.

But Woosung gave me an incredulous look.

“Why would we change the choreography?”

“You just said leaving it alone was the only option.”

I mean, I’m the one who should be dumbfounded here.

“If it’s not something that’ll fix itself quickly, isn’t it better to change the routine than force an injured kid to lead?”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t step down, did you?”

“...Joo Woosung. Do you think he and I are the same?”

Just scanned me up and down with an unpleasant look, letting out a low hum.

“Ahh... so that’s how it is.”

Then muttered as if realizing something, before lightly kicking my leg.

Looking drained, he headed lazily toward the parking lot instead of back to the rehearsal room—probably planning to return to the hotel first.

[Seo Hoyun, you really are a fool.]

There were only ten days left.

On top of training, they had to film self-produced content, do lives, and prepare for “Connected.” Everyone’s dark circles were sinking down to their jaws.

“You should’ve just written ‘lock myself in the practice room and train 24 hours.’”

Woosung still showed up to practice without fail, but he never brought up Dajun again. He only commented on the performance itself.

I still hadn’t told the members about changing the choreography. Woosung’s last words rubbed me the wrong way.

“Hyungs! Can we run this part one more time?”

And as time went on, Dajun only clung harder to practice. He practically never left the rehearsal room except to sleep, to the point even the dance team was fed up.

Sung Jiwon looked deeply moved, though.

‘At least he’s doing well, despite my worries.’

At first he’d seemed to struggle, but now he was handling the choreography pretty smoothly.

‘I really want to see his stats....’

“Hoyun-hyung, hyung! How about this?”

“If we go bam-bam, swoosh! here, it’d be great. The lyrics fit perfectly.”

A bad feeling crept over me.

Before I could even ask what the move was, Jung Dajun dashed off ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) and signaled to the dancers.

Apparently, their conversation was already finished, because the dancers immediately shifted into position.

Soon, the newly rearranged “Connected,” into which Kang Ichae had poured his soul, began to play.

【All that remains for us are wings and...】

Stepping up one by one on the dancers’ bent backs like stairs until he walked forward—that part was no different from the last revision of the choreography.

The moment his foot landed on the final dancer’s back—

—he leapt and twisted forward midair.

The kid was trying a tumbling move.

But his center tilted, his body failing to rotate, and he began to fall.

Quickly wrapping his arms around his head, Dajun rolled across the mat, taking the shock with his body.

Everyone cried out and rushed to him.

There was a mat on the floor, but that didn’t mean he was safe from injury.

Groaning, Dajun clutched his left forearm.

“Hey! Hey, Dajun, are you okay?”

Everyone stared in worry, but he sat up, still groaning.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Then he even smiled to prove it, and the people crowding around sighed in relief.

“Damn, can’t even get embarrassed properly.”

“Dajun, at least tell your hyungs before you try something.”

“Ugh... I thought I could do it, but it didn’t work. Maybe if I try one more time....”

“What the hell are you doing?”

He’d nearly injured himself, yet he showed no remorse.

I spun him around before he could head back to practice, pressing on the arm he’d complained about first.

“Idiot. Don’t you know your body is your asset? What’ll you do if you get hurt again?”

I stopped pressing and looked at him.

“Ugh, I’m fine, so let go....”

His tone was dripping with discontent. His face showed it too—an obstinate intent to try again.

“Don’t do that choreography.”

“Listen to me. If you brush it off and still go on stage and it leaves a bad injury, you’ll be stuck with aftereffects. You’d be better off not going on stage at all.”

“You did the same thing.”

“You, at the concert. You had an ankle injury, but you still went up on stage.”

A surge of blood pressure shot from my spine up the back of my neck.

“Everyone worried then too, but you didn’t listen. So why are you....”

“Hey. You think you and I are the same?”

The ink’s barely dried on your ID card.

Trying to match yourself with an adult.

“I did it because I could handle it. But if you hit your head out there, then what?”

“What do you mean! Did you really handle it back then?”

“I did. I finished both days safely.”

“...Y-yeah, you finished, but! Afterward, you kept going in and out of the hospital. Doesn’t that mean I can do the same?”

They say kids learn the worst things first—Jung Dajun was the perfect example.

I turned my head away, letting out several long sighs, then forced down my anger and told him firmly:

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“If I say you can’t, then you can’t.”

My voice rose, and even though they couldn’t understand the words, the dance team noticed the tense atmosphere and glanced over. The members too looked like they were wondering whether to step in.

“Enough, let’s stop here—”

Just as I tried to cut it off, Jung Dajun shouted.

“The more I listen, the more ridiculous this gets! I get that what I tried was dangerous! But do you even realize how absurd the things you’re saying sound?”

“What’s the difference between you and me, Hoyun-hyung?”

“Of course there’s a difference.”

“What difference?! You’re human too! Same eyes, nose, mouth as me!”

You don’t have a system window.

You can’t use items if you get hurt.

Even if you don’t push yourself, I’ll drag you down the expressway myself.

“Jung Dajun, hey....”

But I couldn’t say that out loud.

I hid the truth and began speaking in a soft, placating tone.

“—You’re still young....”

But the moment I said it, his cheeks puffed out in anger.

“Y-you... you... you old fart!”

He shook off my hand.

“You’re only four years older than me!!”

‘Fourteen years, you brat!’

“Why won’t you just—”

He snapped his head away, refusing to meet my eyes.

Biting his lip hard, he panted roughly, then his shoulders began to shake as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“You’re a complete idiot, moron, dumb mutt!!!”

Then he bolted out the door.

Idiot, moron, dumb mutt? The source of this content ɪs 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢•𝓷𝓮𝓽

“Wow, Jung Dajun....”

Grinning for some reason, Kang Ichae put a hand on my shoulder, then let it drop.

“Yeah, you were wrong.”

Then Kim Sunghyun patted my back as he passed.

Letting out a useless breath, I glanced over.

Sung Jiwon, watching while sipping water, gave me an awkward smile.

“Hoyun... this one’s on you.”