Second Try Idol - Chapter 171: Joy (8)

The delicate aroma of fried tofu stuffed rice[1] emanated from the lunch box, slowly filling the classroom. At first, only I and Goh Yoo-Joon smelled it, but soon, every kid in the class caught on to Hee-Su’s mission, sharing secretive giggles while the teacher’s back faced us. The English teacher was also aware of it, but he chose to turn a blind eye as long as we kept our mischief under wraps.

Anyway, it was definitely so funny that everyone could barely hold their laughter. The absurdity of the situation—sneaking bites from lunchboxes in an era dominated by cafeteria meals—was undeniably comical. Hee-Su’s concept, no matter how many times I mulled over it, was hilariously outlandish, especially considering it defied typical students at public schools.

As I cast a bemused glance at Hee-Su, I could see embarrassment flush his face. His cheeks tinted with red as he hastily shoved a piece of fried tofu stuffed rice into his mouth, gesturing impatiently for me to look away.

Struggling to suppress my laughter, I bit my lip and forcefully directed my attention elsewhere, though the corners of my mouth betrayed me by twitching upward.

I tried to stifle my laughter, but the rich scent of fried tofu stuffed rice wafting through the air and the occasional clink of chopsticks threatened to break my composure. Now, focusing on the lesson became an uphill battle for me

Goh Yoo-Joon was surprisingly alert for once and suddenly swiveled around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He turned toward Hee-Su, and I pretended to ignore him as I thought he was just about to tease Hee-Su. However, he suddenly tossed something into my unsuspecting mouth.

“…Eup!” I choked back a startled laugh, shooting Goh Yoo-Joon a glare as he nonchalantly pointed at Hee-Su with his index finger.

As I chewed, I could feel the soft, savory taste of a rolled omelet.

After that, the teacher’s sharp reprimand sliced through the air. “Who’s making noise at the back? I’ve said no talking during class.”

Goh Yoo-Joon sheepishly raised his hand in admission and said, “I am sorry.”

“Next time, it’s straight to the back for punishment.”

“Yes, sir.” I didn’t care whether Goh Yoo-Joon apologized for me or not. I simply savored this omelet with delight, its homemade warmth contrasting sharply with the ones that factories made.

As I polished off the last bite, Goh Yoo-Joon handed me a piece of fried chicken. It was oversized and awkward to eat discreetly.

This act of rebellion, initiated by Hee-Su, had become our collective secret—a shared bond forged over stolen bites and whispered conspiracies. Tearing wooden chopsticks with a flourish, Goh Yoo-Joon started distributing bites of food to nearby classmates. The shared glances and stifled giggles soon turned into a silent pact of complicity, each of us sneaking nibbles as if on a covert mission.

The sight of students, particularly those in the center rows, covertly indulging in this silent feast undoubtedly presented a considerable challenge for our teacher. He grappled to retain his composure at the podium.

After a while, a hushed voice beckoned me. “Hey.”

I turned around and found Daniele looking at me from the back, with an expectant look on his face.

“Why?”

Without a word, he pointed from Hee-Su to himself and said, “I want some too.” After that, he winked at me.

Ughhhh, that was too much. I wanted to clean my eyes.

I didn’t understand why he was asking me when Hee-Su was right next to him. Despite the awkwardness, I complied, passing a piece of fried tofu stuffed rice his way. Daniele’s satisfied grin was accompanied by a silent “oh, sweet,” which marked the end of our little secret.

“Daniele is the last. We are done here,” Hee-Su announced, closing the chapter on our lunchbox adventure as he tucked his now empty box back into his bag.

“…”

Despite the simplicity of our actions, a wave of collective satisfaction washed over us. And just in time, a quick-thinking classmate by the window brought in some fresh air, clearing the scents of our feast as class resumed its usual rhythm.

The class continued as if nothing had happened, with the students refocusing on the teacher’s instructions. Goh Yoo-Joon also looked at the board. His tiredness must have been swept away by the food.

[Jeong Hee-Su – Eating lunch sneakily during class. Mission complete!]

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Hee-Su’s mission was deemed a resounding success, which left us with a shared memory of laughter and rebellion.

***

“You must have read too many comic books? Eating lunch during class, seriously?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty outdated…”

“Shush! I just wanted to try it, okay?”

Hee-Su’s defensive retort to Goh Yoo-Joon and Joon-Hwan’s teasing caught me off guard.

“You actually wrote that down, seriously?” I asked, suspecting that he had written the first thing that came to his mind to avoid being late, just like I did.

Hee-Su’s reaction was a mix of embarrassment and indignation. His experience looked priceless as he stormed off. “Ah, forget it!”

The next class was PE[2]. We were making our way toward the locker room that was located in one of the school’s quieter corners. Much like our uniforms that were sent directly to our homes, our gym clothes were also neatly stored in our individual lockers.

Drrr-

Upon reaching the locker room, we pushed the door open, and it slid open with a smooth, gliding sound.

“…Can you believe this changing room? It’s as spacious as a classroom!”

“I mean, my old school doesn’t even have a changing room. This place must be for the elite.”

Joon-Hwan and Hee-Su couldn’t hide their awe as they looked in the expansive changing room, their eyes scanning the interior curiously.

I gently nudged them forward, and we all stepped inside. A few students in their gym attire were making their way out, signaling a changeover in the room’s occupants.

It was the only spot without a single camera in sight, and the crew collected the microphone before we changed our clothes, so this spot was our safe place.

“I tried that Korean sushi for the first time today. You know, the one that’s supposed to be savory? This one tasted more like chocolate than anything. Couldn’t believe it was rice.” Daniele had somehow ended up joining our group and was now sharing his experience with the Korean sushi rice he’d tried earlier.

It sounded like he was saying the stuffed rice was unexpectedly sweet, more a treat than a meal, akin to a chocolate snack.

As I changed into my gym clothes, I asked Daniele, “Was it good, though?”

“It was delicious. I’m thinking of introducing it to my parents.”

“Ah, you want to share it with your parents? We usually have it at sushi places, but I wonder if you could find it at a convenience store nearby.”

My tone naturally became more deliberate and clear when I spoke to Daniele, almost as if I were speaking to a child. Perhaps that was why he seemed to enjoy our conversations, as my words were straightforward and easy for him to understand.

Goh Yoo-Joon was busy chatting away with Hee-Su and Joon-Hwan, while I engaged with Daniele. Given the lack of mics and cameras, and following the recent lunchbox mission, it was natural for the rest of the kids to join in, making the atmosphere lively. It could have been a bit noisy for others.

This must have been what led to the outburst.

“Ah, fucking idiots. It’s way too loud in here.” The abrupt curse caused a sudden silence to fall over the locker room. I was taken aback, looking around to see a rather tough-looking student in gym clothes stashing his phone away while glaring at us.

“…”

Weren’t there supposed to be no troublemakers? The production team had assured us of that. They claimed they didn’t bring any potentially troublesome students. So, who was this guy?

This unknown student was glaring specifically at me and Goh Yoo-Joon, his expression filled with irritation. “Damn, I knew it would be like this. All this talk about memories just makes us watch our step around celebrities.”

His words were filled with disdain. That unfounded aggression in his eyes reminded me of Kim Jin-Wook before he went into Teacher Woo Ji-Hyuk’s etiquette school. Well, we had to diffuse the tension for now.

“Ah, we were being noisy, my apologies—”

Before I could finish, Goh Yoo-Joon quickly stepped in, cutting me off. Then he faced the guy with a stoic expression. “Look, we are sorry for the noise. But if you are done swearing, maybe you should just leave. No need to ruin the vibe for everyone else.”

Goh Yoo-Joon wasn’t smiling, and his serious demeanor made even Hee-Su and Joon-Hwan tense up.

The guy responded with a snide chuckle. “Wow, really? People sure fucking change their tune when the cameras are off.”

Goh Yoo-Joon’s expression softened slightly as he shook his head. “Hey, let’s keep it civil. We are still on set, and it’s not about changing tunes. I’d say the same thing even with cameras rolling.”

Indeed, Goh Yoo-Joon would have stood his ground just the same, even if the confrontation had happened in front of the cameras. His firm stance wasn’t about rudeness or aggression but about setting boundaries—something that wouldn’t be misconstrued even on camera.

Goh Yoo-Joon gave the guy the once-over from head to toe, with a faint hint of disdain in his gaze.

“You are already dressed for the gym, aren’t you?” Goh Yoo-Joon’s tone was nonchalant, almost dismissive as he moved past the guy, making his way to the door with an air of finality. He then stated, “If the noise bothers you that much, you are free to leave.”

“And why should my whereabouts concern you?” the guy retorted, his voice laced with a mix of annoyance and defiance.

“Let’s not throw a tantrum here. We are all part of this shoot, earning our keep. If you are not here to contribute, maybe it’s time to step aside instead of stirring up trouble,” Goh Yoo-Joon advised, his patience wearing thin.

With a gentle nod toward the exit, Goh Yoo-Joon signaled that the discussion was over. The other guy locked eyes with Goh Yoo-Joon for a tense moment before letting out a muttered curse and storming off. As I watched him leave, an unsettling feeling lingered, reminiscent of Kim Jin-Wook’s troublesome demeanor. Was there a possible connection between them?

Once the door swung shut behind the guy’s figure, Goh Yoo-Joon let out a sigh, but the peace was short-lived.

“What on earth was that all about?!” Daniele exploded, his voice echoing off the locker room walls.

“Daniele, please take a deep breath and calm down,” I urged, trying to soothe his frazzled nerves.

“No way! How dare he come at us like that? That asshole!” Daniele’s anger was overwhelming, his voice rising with each word.

“Shhh, keep it down,” I whispered, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, while Joon-Hwan quickly joined in, trying to muffle Daniele’s outbursts before they attracted more attention. At this moment, Daniele’s face was a canvas of red and purple, his frustration evident in the tight furrows of his brow.

As Hee-Su and Joon-Hwan went to pacify Daniele, I looked at Goh Yoo-Joon and gave him a gentle tap on the back. He turned toward me, his eyes holding an unspoken question, still clouded by the remnants of his earlier irritation.

“Why?” His voice was tinged with lingering frustration.

I chose my words carefully, aiming to ease the tension without escalating it further. “Let’s not dwell on that guy too much. If we run into similar situations down the line, perhaps it’s best to offer a quick apology and move on. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“…Alright,” Goh Yoo-Joon conceded, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he processed my suggestion. Relief washed over me, grateful for his understanding.

The incident added another layer of complexity to the already intricate web of potential “exposures” within the show. With stakes high enough to garner media attention, it was clear that any revelation could spark widespread interest, regardless of its source among the cast, crew, or even the general public.

#Side Story – Concept Photo Shoot (Type B, Kang Joo-Han)

Amidst the concept photo shoot, the clamor of the bustling set faded into a dull murmur in the background.

‘My focus is starting to fray,’ Kang Joo-Han thought, a wave of exhaustion clouding his mind. While sitting before a sleek, transparent piano bathed in soft, pastel pink light, he let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, trying to rest for a bit.

‘Once this wraps up, I need to finalize the track for the fan meet… And then there is…’ Somehow, his thoughts trailed off.

“Ah, that’s chilly,” he murmured, startled by an unexpected cold sensation on his hand. Opening his eyes, he found Lee Su-Hwan standing beside him with a sheepish grin.

“Feeling tired?” Lee Su-Hwan asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Not really,” Kang Joo-Han replied, though his weary eyes told a different story. The source of the cold was a freshly bought iced coffee, a considerate gesture from Lee Su-Hwan. Kang Joo-Han then took a sip of the black coffee, and once again, his gaze drifted into the distance.

“It seems you are more worn out than me,” Kang Joo-Han remarked, observing the tired lines etching deeper on his manager’s face.

“I’m fine, really,” Lee Su-Hwan insisted, but his voice lacked conviction.

Hearing his answer, Kang Joo-Han couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself. The demanding schedule of an artist meant minimal rest for the crew, especially for someone as dedicated as Lee Su-Hwan who treated Chronos’s affairs as his own.

“Make sure you hit the bed as soon as we get back tonight,” Lee Su-Hwan said as he placed his hand on Joo-Han’s shoulder.

“Don’t just worry about us, and make sure to take care of yourself, hyung. If you collapse, I will show the members the new wallpaper on your phone.” Even as Kang Joo-Han chuckled and made light of the situation, Lee Su-Hwan’s concern didn’t seem to lessen.

Seeing this, Kang Joo-Han let go of his forced composure and allowed his true exhaustion to show. He said, “I feel like I’m about to die.”

Among all the members, Kang Joo-Han was the most sleep-deprived. Sometimes, he would just have a quick nap after working late and proceed with the day’s schedule as if nothing was amiss.

Lee Su-Hwan had once cleared Kang Joo-Han’s schedule for a day to ensure he got some rest, but none of the members took a break. They just continued with their usual practice and work.

“Try to get some sleep in the car after the shoot. I will make sure you are asleep in the dorm before I leave today.”

“Ah, it’s fine. You should get some rest, hyung.”

Lee Su-Hwan was about to say something more when suddenly…

“Joo-Han, we are ready to start shooting!” A staff member called out loudly.

Kang Joo-Han, slightly annoyed, flashed a mischievous smile at Lee Su-Hwan and gently pushed him out of the set. Lee Su-Hwan reluctantly stepped off, and Kang Joo-Han placed his hands on the piano keys in front of him.

Unfortunately, the clarity he had gained from their brief conversation started to fade, leaving him in a tranquil daze. For Lee Su-Hwan’s sake, he decided that he would get some proper rest tonight.

He started playing a light melody on the piano, peering through the prop glasses at the keys.

“Ah, the hyungs are fighting again! Manager, they are at it again!”

“Sigh, it’s exhausting how often they find reasons to bicker. Suh Hyun-Woo, Goh Yoo-Joon.”

“Hyungs, let me bring another chair for you. Please, no fighting.”

Suh Hyun-Woo and Goh Yoo-Joon were playfully wrestling over a single chair.

“Come on! Hey, Goh Yoo-Joon, don’t make Yoon-Chan bring a chair. Go get one yourself!”

“But I was the one who brought this one in the first place!”

“Can’t you see the name on the back of the chair? It says Suh Hyun-Woo. So where am I supposed to sit?”

“Ah, now you are Goh Yoo-Joon. Goh Yoo-Joon, bring your chair.”

Kang Joo-Han’s gaze cooled. ‘These crazy guys, always fighting over the smallest things.’

Just last night, they argued about whether to close the curtains or not, and the night before that, it was a dispute over not charging the laptop after usage.

On set, the two continued their scuffle, complete with playful headlocks, while Park Yoon-Chan and Lee Su-Hwan tried to break it up. Meanwhile, Lee Jin-Sung added fuel to the fire, gleefully reporting yesterday’s curtain incident to Lee Su-Hwan. Everything here was captured by the behind-the-scenes camera.

Seeing this scene, Kang Joo-Han let out a small laugh. He was indeed tired, but watching his fellow members playfully engage with each other always lifted his spirits. Over time, his affection for the other members had deepened, not just for Suh Hyun-Woo, with whom he had spent the most time. They had become like family to him.

No matter how exhausted he was, he found the strength to push a little harder for their sake.

“Joo-Han, keep your posture and no need to smile. Okay, that’s good. Feel free to play for real, just keep it natural,” the director instructed.

“Alright.”

A gentle melody flowed from his fingers. The song was “Once Again,” the piece he always played.

1. 유부초밥 in Korean. ☜

2. Physical education, aka gym class. ☜