‘The views are insane…’
I stared blankly at the phone screen.
I was checking the response to Laurea’s debut song, Aphorism.
We’d rushed out to prep for filming right after monitoring the MV, so I hadn’t had a chance to properly review the feedback until now.
“The response is great~”
Jeong Noeul leaned against the car seat, scrolling through his phone.
“There are barely any negative comments. Most of them are glowing. Some people said they didn’t know city pop vibes could be used like this…”
As he spoke, Noeul gestured subtly toward Min Heejae.
“Well… obviously. Who do you think made the song?”
Heejae replied halfheartedly, eyes closed. He looked tired, sitting upright with his arms crossed, trying to rest his weary eyes.
“…Iro, thanks for the acting tips.”
Madojin bowed slightly with a faint smile toward Han Iro.
“No, no. I didn’t do much. You were a natural, Dojin-hyung. Honestly, I was a little surprised…”
Then, with a sharp look—
“Weren’t you supposed to speak casually with me?”
“…Ah, right.”
Madojin nodded with a sheepish expression.
Time to get used to it. He couldn’t keep using honorifics forever.
I leaned my chin on my hand, thinking.
To be honest, even though the response was good, I couldn’t fully relax or celebrate yet.
Two announcements were made simultaneously with the MV’s release.
One: the reality show would start airing on Neobus next week.
We were currently on our way to film it. We were picking up Juna directly from his house, then taking him to the dorm to show him around. That was the setup.
<…How do you even deal with kids?>
The Star’s voice echoed in my head.
He was at the wheel, noisily chewing on bubblegum.
‘I mean…’
I wasn’t sure either.
In front of adults, I could feign a bit of ignorance as a kid—but in front of a real child, how was I supposed to act like an adult?
Parenting-style reality shows were popular with audiences, but from the cast’s side, the unpredictability of children made them tricky.
Sure, Juna was a bit older than kids usually featured, and he had some YouTube experience, so that might make things smoother, but…
I can’t afford to disappoint him.
Above all, that mattered most.<I hate kids.>
The Star muttered with a scowl.
<You never know what they’ll do.>
‘Didn’t you used to be a kid too, back when you were created?’
And I had even seen the Star’s child form.
<That was just my appearance. Mikael and I were created not long after the world itself began. In a sense, we were experimental beings. Papa used us to test growth and brotherhood. And all of it failed.>
‘Failed?’
<Of course. My brother and I grasped the essence of all things far too quickly. There was no growth to be had. I understood the futility of existence while in a child’s body. Mikael, too, grasped the need to protect all things.>
So much for brotherly love…
The Star now muttered aloud.
‘Well… tough luck. You probably shouldn’t have rebelled, then.’
<I was curious. What can you do?>
He said he turned his blade against the Savior Who Is One and All, who divided good and evil, out of a desire to understand the nature of created beings who were cast out after tasting the forbidden fruit.
<…But now that I think about it, maybe I did go through a kind of growth.>
‘Yeah?’
<Because, until I fell to hell…>
The Star gave a bitter laugh.
<…I never imagined Papa would simply lift a finger and pit my own brother against me.>
It must’ve been a deep shock for him.
‘So you still think of Mika as your brother?’
At my question, the Star shook his head.
<No. We’ve become too powerful for such quaint relationships.>
With that, his voice fell silent.
Even for someone like the Star, who had lived countless years, the memory of fighting Mika must still sting.
I let out a sigh.
In any case, the reality show would begin airing on Neobus next week…
And…
The showcase ticketing schedule had also been announced.
I hadn’t read the fine print, too sleep-deprived to process it, but I was sure the online communities were going wild.
The first showcase of a CYB idol division debut team always devolved into chaos.
No matter how powerful the backing, incidents were bound to happen with that level of attention.
Especially since Laurea had released their debut earlier than expected to capture the end-of-year buzz…
We were bound to attract backlash from fans of contestants who hadn’t yet formed official teams.
Regardless of how well we did our jobs, we couldn’t avoid that kind of fallout.
…Maybe I’ll nap for a bit.
I closed my eyes.
Let my heavy body sink into the passenger seat.
Juna lived in an apartment in Guro-gu.
When we arrived, it was exactly what you’d expect from a cozy family home—complete with the faint scent of air freshener.
Inside that perfectly ordinary apartment, staff members bustled everywhere.
“Okay―! Please don’t come this way!”
Residents whispered among themselves, watching the sudden influx of camera crews through the apartment complex.
By the time filming was over, I was sure photos of us in this building would be circulating online.
Juna’s home was too cramped for five members and a full crew, so we squeezed in however we could and filmed separately.
First up, the kitchen—where Han Iro was talking with Juna’s mother.
“So Juna doesn’t like eggplant?”
“Yes…”
Iro pointed his pen at a notepad as he interviewed her.
“That’s a shame. Eggplants are rich in phytochemicals. Oh, ma’am, did you know the nightshade family contains trace amounts of nicotine?”
“Oh, really?!”
Who would know that…?
Han Iro was filming a one-on-one interview with Juna’s mom, asking about his diet, hobbies, and upbringing.
The notepad and pen weren’t provided by the staff—he’d brought them himself.
He’s really taking this seriously.
That’s what I thought.
“Anyway, leave it to me, ma’am. I’ll do my best to help him eat better.”
Iro flashed a charming smile.
Even Jeong Noeul had started eating veggies lately—maybe Juna’s aversion to eggplant would change, too.
Meanwhile, on the balcony, Madojin was chatting with Juna’s father.
“…I see. I’d heard the economy’s been rough lately.”
“Yes… It’s been difficult.”
Juna’s father gave a strained laugh as Madojin smiled faintly.
Surprisingly, Madojin had a knack for empathizing with people’s struggles.
The staff picked up on it instantly and moved in with their cameras to capture the exchange.
“You must be working very hard. While your child’s filming with us, perhaps you and your spouse could go on a trip?”
With his usual courteous tone, Madojin even offered a solution to their stresses.
He really is an angel.
I shrugged.
“Alright! Looks like this is Juna’s room!”
Jeong Noeul, the most outgoing member, had naturally taken on the role of narrator for Juna’s house tour.
“Heejae-hyung, what are you doing in here?”
“Ah… I was looking at Juna’s streaming setup.”
Heejae responded smoothly to the camera, chatting with Noeul.
“I was curious about what kind of gear YouTubers use. Since we’re filming together, I thought maybe I’d give him a mic as a gift.”
I believed he genuinely wanted to give the mic—but curiosity about the gear? That was a stretch.
He was already a famous YouTuber himself, after all…
“Heejae-hyung, this book looks fun!”
Noeul was checking out the fairy tales on Juna’s shelf.
“…What is it?”
Heejae whispered, casually moving closer to Noeul’s side.
They were handling filming like seasoned pros.
As for me…
“Hello, Juna.”
I said, smiling awkwardly as we talked.
“Hi, Eunyul-hyung.”
To be honest, Juna was the one leading the filming, not me.
“Why are you speaking formally to me? Aren’t adults supposed to speak casually to kids?”
He asked innocently, smiling—and all the cameras locked onto us.
“Ah… That’s true in most cases…”
Staff surrounded me.
“I’m not very good at talking to kids, to be honest…”
I decided to speak plainly.
“…And adults use honorifics to show respect. Since we’ll be filming together, I want to treat you as a colleague. That means I should show proper respect—not because you’re a child or I’m an adult, but because you’re a professional like me. You’re younger than me, sure—but aren’t you already a pro content creator?”
“I don’t really get it…”
Juna blinked at me, clearly overwhelmed.
…Did I mess that up?
I’d become one of those adults, rambling on incomprehensibly.
“But I understand one thing.”
Juna clapped his hands.
“Eunyul-hyung is really kind.”
“…Ah.”
I nearly lost it.
Hearing something like that completely melted the composed expression I’d worked so hard to keep on for filming.
“…Thank you.”
I covered my mouth and laughed softly.
“What kind of food do you like, Eunyul-hyung?”
Then came the next question.
“Hmm… Strawberries?”
“What about something you don’t like?”
“Anything that makes you gain weight…?”
The staff chuckled.
“What do you do in your free time?”
“These days, I’ve been reading poetry. Heejae-hyung gave me a collection during CYB, and I ended up really enjoying it. Some of them are surprisingly stylish…”
As I spoke—
<Here, creature. Take this.>
The Star’s voice rang in my head.
He was pulling the poetry book from my bag and handing it to the staff.
After receiving it, I held it up for the camera.
“This is the one.”
“That’s so cool. Could you read one for us?”
Somehow, it really felt like Juna was the MC and I was the guest reacting on his show.
“Ah, sure… I’ll read you my favorite one.”
I flipped through the book and glanced at Juna.
A beautiful smile.
This kid had nothing to do with my dad.
…Probably.
Even the Star had said so.
But still—why?
Why did this creeping, indescribable unease keep welling up inside me?
What was I afraid of?
I had no idea.
So all I could do was focus on the poem and read aloud, as the cameras surrounded me.
Little Pink Starfish 
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