The YN Entertainment Headquarters Meeting Room.
As always, Mika, the Star, and I were seated around the table.
<Have you checked the music charts?>
Mika asked with a satisfied smile.
I nodded. We had taken over the daily charts at an absurdly fast pace. Because of that, we’d been loaded up with pre-recorded music show schedules and had spent several consecutive days waking at dawn to rush between broadcasting stations.
“I seriously don’t get why you can’t use healing magic…”
I’d grumbled to the Star once, bleary-eyed from exhaustion.
<Well, this wretched body has too many sins. Come now, tie my hair up, will you?>
I envied the Star’s boundless stamina.
Every morning, with an annoyingly fresh face, he woke me up and asked me to tie up his hair. I couldn’t help but resent him just a little for it.
On top of that, we were still filming the Living with LAUREA! show. There were joint interviews with Jun-ah and countless backstage shoots—it all added to the fatigue.
When it came to stamina, I definitely had the biggest penalty.
Even constellations not directly tied to the divine name of healing could use basic recovery spells. I couldn’t do a thing.
Just the other day, I’d tripped getting into the passenger seat. Luckily, the Star had caught me in time….
‘…Still.’
Watching fans show up for our dawn schedules gave me strength.
We looked like corpses, but they waved at us so brightly whenever we passed.
The gifts they gave were filled with love, too.
It made me feel like all this effort was worth it—for that one moment. Surely the same went for them. The entertainment industry had become a place where both the suppliers and the fans were grinding themselves down.
<The current situation is very promising. You’ve worked hard, Eunyul.>
Mika smiled gently.
<So, I’ve been thinking… it might be time to start scheduling some variety show appearances.>
“…Ah. Variety shows.”
I’d figured this moment would come.
Living with LAUREA! was doing well, and our debut song’s performance had been strong. Keeping up the momentum by putting the group on variety shows made sense.
It felt like my body would break down, but it was something we needed to do.
<Right now, it’s still difficult to send out individual members. So I’m thinking we’ll start with everyone appearing together….>
But then Mika trailed off.
<What’s the issue?>
The Star asked as he lazily munched on chocolate.
<You know what they say—strike while the iron’s hot. These kids are still young. Better to suffer while you’re young; that’s how you grow.>
“Is that seriously something a road manager should say?”
I frowned at him.
Honestly, not even a random guy on the street should say something like that.<Just kidding.>
The Star sat up straighter with a grin.
<I heard humans call these kinds of phrases ‘tough love.’ I thought I’d remember it for when I go back to Hell. Might come in handy.>
“Please stop picking up weird human stuff….”
<Anyway, Mikael.>
Turning to Mika, the Star continued,
<Let them rest a little. You could at least give them a day off. How can you make them get up at the crack of dawn every day? Music shows, photo shoots… they’re not constellations. Human bodies have limits, you know.>
<I’m aware of that. But, like I said, we need to seize this momentum—>
Mika stopped mid-sentence and clicked his tongue.<I sound like a boomer now.>
The Star smirked at him.
<Sigh….>
Mika sighed deeply. Then he looked at me with a soft smile.
<I’m sorry, Eunyul. I’ll try to adjust the schedule so you all can rest comfortably at least one day during the year-end holidays.>
“That’s a relief. We were actually planning a little party.”
Honestly, everyone had been looking forward to it.
Han Iro was dreaming up a grand plan for a real Christmas tree. Min Heejae had taken to rearranging carols into his own original compositions, claiming it was a hobby.
Jeong Noeul mumbled Christmas stories in his sleep during van rides. And Madojin…
“…On Christmas Eve, I’ll be helping my teacher deliver gifts to the children.”
He had become a real Santa Claus.
I’d heard that Mika and most angels visited children in tough family situations during Christmas to bestow blessings.
<Well then… back to the topic of variety shows.>
Mika flipped through a pile of documents.
<We’ve received an offer to appear on a program that assists purification priests.>
“…Purification priests?”
I blinked in surprise.
Purification priests were those granted the authority by The Savior Who Is One and All to cleanse lands contaminated by Gates.
The coast near my hometown had been polluted once, so I often saw them working.
I’d thought they were pitiful—wearing ceremonial robes even in the summer heat to carry out purification rituals.
<It seems like a good opportunity. There’s demand for shows that feature idols supporting hardworking people. It’ll be great for your public image.>
“Well… I can’t argue with that.”
I nodded.
It was a solid proposal.
Better to appear on a documentary-style program than a show where you just chit-chat in a studio.
We’d eventually have to do both kinds anyway. Choosing the right starting point was key.
But there was one thing that bugged me.
“Where will the shoot take place?”
I asked.<Jeju Island.>
Of course. Mika had named one of the most notoriously polluted regions in the country.
…And a place that was special to Jeong Noeul, too.
<After that, there’ll be a fan signing event. Once all of that is done, we’ll give you your day off.>
“…Why does it feel like you’re more evil than the Star?”
<My goodness. How could you say that? I’m just a poor angel taking one for the team….>
<Drop the act, Mikael.>
<Why do I always have to be the villain!?>
<Then why didn’t you become the road manager? Give me the executive title instead. Power-hungry lion.>
<Shut up!>
‘Honestly… they’re like kids.’
Watching their familiar bickering, I sighed.
There’s a program called Outside the World.
It’s a long-running show where celebrity guests perform day labor and donate their earnings. Though it had grown lighter in tone over the years, the original intent was fairly serious.
LAUREA would be supporting purification priests working on Jeju Island.
Of course, our schedule was tight, so we couldn’t rush down there immediately.
Before the date was set, the members were informed of the appearance plan.
“Jeju… brings back memories.”
Han Iro said, seated at the living room table.
“That was during the third prelim, right? I really carried the team back then.”
“Wasn’t that the case for all of us?”
Min Heejae folded his arms.
“Still, your team had a decent average. Mine had a bunch of clueless kids—except for me.”
“Well, if we’re comparing, Eunyul’s team was the most likely to crash and burn.”
Iro grinned at me.
“…Yeah. When they announced CCM, I thought the sky was falling.”
I gave a bitter laugh.
“I was kind of dazed too, honestly, but it all worked out in the end!”
Jeong Noeul said brightly with a shrug.
“I never thought we’d be eliminated. We gave our best performance at the time.”
Madojin added calmly.
“…So I’m the only one who was on edge, huh.”
I pouted and sighed, recalling our time in Jeju a few months ago.
The first stage I’d shared with Madojin and Jeong Noeul.
And a hyung who helped arrange the song—someone whose name I no longer remembered….
‘…Lee Hamin.’
I wondered how he was doing.
His number still worked. We’d exchanged a few texts after CYB ended. We were more distant now, but I didn’t want to cut him off completely.
‘He was a victim of Aiden too.’
Part of me wanted to find a way to prove both our innocence.
But I also knew it was wishful thinking.
The culture of competition might seem like a fair hierarchy of talent—but that was a convenient myth used to obscure absurd, unfair circumstances.
Especially in the case of Hamin and me—what we’d faced because of Aiden was…
‘…Nothing short of divine mischief.’
Though of course, Aiden wasn’t a god.
Just thinking of Hamin left a bitter taste in my mouth.
‘Maybe I should check in on him later.’
Even as that excuse circled my mind, guilt churned in my chest.
This spot… It was probably the place Hamin had dreamed of reaching, too. And yet I stood here alone.
It was ridiculous, really.
He wasn’t in a position to feel fully sorry toward me, and I wasn’t either toward him. Still, a misplaced guilt seemed to hover between us.
“Any―way!”
Jeong Noeul grinned.
“So, what exactly are we doing when we get there?”
<You won’t be able to participate in the purification rituals. Even if you’ve signed contracts with constellations, cleansing corrupted land is beyond your power.>
The Star said in a falsely sympathetic tone.
<You’ll assist the purification priests. Cooking snacks, processing paperwork… think of it as doing odd jobs.>
“I see. That’s a bit disappointing.”
Noeul shrugged.
“I wanted to help out more…”
I could understand that.
Jeju had come to symbolize many things for each member—but especially for Jeong Noeul, it held deep significance.
In a way, I was proud.
In the past, he might’ve wrestled with guilt from his past life. But now, he seemed to have let go of most of it.
‘…He’s grown a lot.’
I smiled at the thought.
<The shoot’s scheduled for three days before Christmas. Since the manager promised you a proper holiday for the year-end, let’s all push through until then.>
Even as he said that—
<…Being a manager is really tough. Now I’ve gotta play babysitter to these kids too.>
The Star muttered only in my mind, grumbling to himself.
But regardless…
Let’s do our best—!!
The members were burning with enthusiasm.
Little Pink Starfish 
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