Little Pink Starfish

“Eunyul, you’re here?”

Rowen was sitting across the table with a soft smile.

“Hello, sunbae….”

I greeted him awkwardly, then bowed politely to the staff gathered in the meeting room.

Rowen was just like always. I expected that. He was older than me by far and had years of experience in this industry. I never once assumed the recent events would put a dent in his composure.

The meeting went smoothly. I didn’t even get a chance to chime in—Rowen had complete control of the room. Since the topic revolved around his upcoming songs, I didn’t have much to contribute anyway. The staff, though passionate about the shoot, seemed quite convinced by Rowen’s briefing.

“The reason I suggested inviting Ryu Eunyul…”

Rowen glanced at me as he spoke.

“…was because the buzz around CYB hasn’t died down yet, and since we’re in the same agency, it made for a good concept. A special with two CYB winners from the same company—don’t you think that sounds nice? And it seemed like it’d be fun to work with someone so fresh and green….”

There were a few chuckles from the staff around the table.

I smiled faintly and looked at Rowen.

The chance to film with Rowen was nothing short of an honor. I’d admired him for so long. Aside from a few things weighing on my mind, I was genuinely happy to be part of the shoot.

“I’m working on two new songs right now….”

He murmured, tapping his finger on the table’s surface.

“And I thought maybe we could perform one of them together at the end of the program.”

“…With me?”

My eyes widened.

Perform a song with Rowen?

Is he trying to give someone a heart attack?

<Don’t let thoughts like “Is he trying to give someone a heart attack?” drift through your mind so blatantly…>

I heard Saetbyeol’s voice in my head.

I squinted toward her. She was in the corner of the meeting room, chugging coffee overloaded with sugar.

<Why are you glaring at me? Don’t cover your shame with anger.>

She wasn’t wrong.

Grinding my teeth, I turned my gaze back to Rowen.

“What do you think?”

He asked brightly.

“I’d love to….”

I really sounded like seaweed being tossed around exactly how the current tells it to sway.

This is my life now, apparently.

I can’t say anything other than “yes.”

“Well, we’ll fine-tune that idea as we go….”

The PD cut in.

“Since we’re doing a special documentary, how about we go for a slightly heavier tone?”

“Hmm… What do you mean by heavier?”

“You know, being a celebrity doesn’t mean you’re always happy. We just show that side a lot. Someone like Rowen-ssi should know that well, right?”

“That’s true. Not just celebrities—people in general can’t always be bright.”

“Exactly.”

The PD nodded.

“And Eunyul-ssi, you must’ve faced some hardships already, even though you just debuted.”

He turned to look at me.

“So what if we focused on that angle? Rowen-ssi has already shown so much throughout his career, so doing something more raw could be refreshing…”

“No.”

Rowen answered firmly.

It seemed even he hadn’t expected to sound so stern—his expression flickered in surprise.

“Hmm….”

But then his smile returned.

“I think I understand the direction you’re aiming for, PD-nim.”

Rowen began in a gentle tone.

“Since it’s a documentary, there does need to be a degree of unfiltered reality. But I can’t agree with leaning into a darker tone.”

I could tell what he was trying to say.

“To put it more bluntly, we shouldn’t show too much of that side.”

He seemed to be implying that was the responsibility of an entertainer.

We’re part of the entertainment business, after all. The word itself is rooted in amusement.

If we’re to show darker sides of ourselves, it should only be when the emotions have settled, at a moment when we can speak calmly.

“We have fans, after all.”

Rowen scratched his neck as he continued.

“Consumers and fans are different. The former just share the product, while the latter share our emotions too.”

So we should try to share only the brightest of those emotions—Rowen seemed to be saying.

Part of me felt he was being considerate toward me.

The PD wasn’t wrong. Rowen had already shown the world almost every side of himself.

Fans who had followed him since the Codess days were probably full-fledged adults by now. Unless Rowen did something morally reprehensible, they’d probably accept anything from him.

But I was different. I’d only just set foot in the industry. Complaining about hardships now would be too soon.

A fledgling idol crying about how tough the industry is—it wouldn’t look good.

“I don’t know if I should say this but…”

I raised my hand.

“I’m just really happy to be filming with Rowen sunbae, so I don’t think I could show anything dark.”

Keeping things light seemed the safest play here.

As I supported Rowen’s take, the PD nodded as though persuaded.

“Then let’s keep the mood bright, shall we?”

Rowen turned to me with a smile.

“Two CYB winners, senior and junior, working together…”

His smile deepened.

“What meaning would it have if we didn’t keep it bright?”

---

After the meeting, our filming schedule was confirmed.

Starting next week, I would stay at Rowen’s studio for three days.

The documentary would be broadcast in two parts through Neobus, and as soon as it ended, Rowen would make his comeback.

‘…I wonder what kind of songs he’s prepared.’

Despite everything else I should’ve been thinking about, curiosity crept in.

“Were you surprised?”

Rowen asked as we walked down the hallway.

“I’m sorry for reaching out all of a sudden without notice. Things have been a bit hectic lately.”

“Something happen?”

I asked as casually as I could.

Rowen looked around, confirmed no one was nearby, and mumbled.

“My father died.”

He said it that easily?

I stared at him, eyes wide.

“What’s with that look?”

He tilted his head, curious.

“Ah, no… It’s just a bit sudden….”

He talked about his father’s death like he was mentioning what he had for breakfast.

I knew their relationship wasn’t good, but I didn’t expect him to say it so lightly.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone dies eventually. That old man lived long enough.”

He picked up the pace.

“They contacted me about the funeral, but I didn’t go. We weren’t that kind of family. You don’t have to think about it either.”

“Okay….”

I nodded.

“How have you been? Iro doing well? I bet he’s pissed I’m ignoring his messages.”

“You know him well.”

“He’s easy to read.”

Han Iro?

Then what does that make me, getting read like an open book by him all the time?

“Anyway, I’m curious. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, well….”

Where should I even begin?

Things were going well for me as an idol. My debut song sold decently, I’d appeared on several shows, and our reality program was getting a good reaction. It was just overwhelming to keep up with it all.

But that wasn’t what Rowen wanted to know. Our professional activities were already public knowledge. A few clicks or a TV remote could reveal everything.

‘Should I tell him I’ve been digging into Jung Han-gyeol…?’

It felt too soon.

I decided to take a detour.

“What about you, sunbae…?”

How should I ask?

“…What was it like when you debuted with Codess?”

“Emotionless.”

Rowen chuckled.

“I wasn’t ready at all back then. I just ran off to Seoul, got cast by YN, and kind of drifted into wanting to be an idol…”

And then suddenly won.

He said his entire journey felt like a series of coincidences in hindsight.

“That’s surprising. I thought you must’ve worked incredibly hard to get there.”

“Oh, I did work hard. Especially since I didn’t have the initial dream, I felt like I had to put in double the effort.”

But still…

He trailed off.

“I thought I was the only one who had to work harder. But looking back, everyone probably had some reason they were pushing themselves extra hard.”

“So in the end, everyone started on equal footing?”

“Exactly. You can’t quantify effort. We just approximate based on the visible results.”

I kind of understood.

I also used to think I had to work harder than anyone else. But looking back, I was sure most participants worked their hardest.

“We were lucky.”

Rowen looked at me as he spoke.

“You and I—we were lucky. That’s the healthiest way to look at it. If you win the trophy and think your effort was the most valuable, that’s just greedy.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

I smiled.

Somehow, I felt like my mind had cleared.

“My Codess teammates… they were all working hard too, back then.”

Rowen stared off into the distance.

“Everyone was giving their all, but still unsure what we were doing.”

He seemed to be gazing far back into the past.

I was sure a lot had happened. Disappointments too. The once-bright-eyed teammates had scattered.

We got in the elevator and descended to the underground parking lot.

‘Still haven’t heard anything about Jung Han-gyeol.’

I sighed.

Well, I had chosen to circle around the topic. It wasn’t going to come out in one go.

“There were times I regretted entering CYB.”

“…Why?”

“Not sure. I didn’t really want to compete. I just wanted to get out of the house. During CYB, I made mistakes, got caught in others’ messes… It wasn’t pretty.”

Rowen shrugged with a chuckle.

“You too, right? Weren’t there things you regretted from CYB?”

“Ah… of course I had some.”

We walked through the parking lot. In the distance, I spotted Saetbyeol waiting in a car.

“…A lot of things happened.”

“Right?”

Rowen smiled.

“I just hope you’re not carrying all of that inside. Hold it in too long, and it’ll explode later.”

Then, he pointed at a nearby parked car and whispered.

“That’s why I wanted to help.”

“…Huh?”

I tilted my head and glanced toward the car.

The passenger-side door opened.

“Wait….”

A familiar figure appeared.

“No way…”

I blinked in disbelief.

“…Hamin?”