“In about 5 minutes your first album will be released. Are you ready?” Manager Jeon asked. He stared intently at seven young men, the word nervous written on their faces. No one answered, but he can see that they weren’t yet.

 

They were Plan A’s first boy group established. It was a huge risk for the company, putting a new group, without knowing whether they’ll survive the path they have chosen.

 

“Hey boys, loosen up a bit, okay?” He chuckled. “It’s not like you’re in a death row.”

 

Seungsik chuckled, but he was shaking. He’s the lead vocal, one of the positions that earns a lot of pressure and expectation from fans and critics. 

 

The rest looked like constipated men, Manager Jeon joked silently.

 

The remaining five minutes passed by, and their album was finally released. The team quickly monitored their sales, and it was doing good. But not as rapid as those new rookie groups from big companies. 

 

Plan A, like Victon, is still a rookie among all companies in South Korea. But time will come, and they will go big. 

 

—

 

Victon’s first few months weren’t as rough as expected. They guested a lot in music shows, in variety shows, and they even had their own tv show that had high ratings. Fan meetings and concert guesting were supported by fans, and it was all good. 

 

These 7 young men became closer, as time passes by.

 

“Ya!” Subin yelled from the shower. “Who got my towel?!” He was still coated in soap when he realized he wasn’t going out with a towel.

 

“You lost your towel again?” Seungsik’s motherly side triggers as he hears the maknae’s cry. He knocked on the bathroom door of their apartment, and got a his towel hanging beside the door. “Use mine first.” He hung it on the knob and left to go to the kitchen, just to pass by Byungchan dancing to APink’s Mister Chu and Seungwoo working out. 

 

When he got there, Chan was already cooking breakfast for them. “Oh, hyung,” Chan saluted, “kimchi fried rice with egg coming up in ten.”

 

This made Seungsik’s stomach grumble. He sure is hungry from all of the practice last night.

 

They were going to have a guesting in a famous variety show, where they had a short segment to perform. Their manager was instructed by their company to practice them, avoiding mistakes and any mishaps that will make them look like a weak rookie group.

 

Just when Chan was serving the food to seven plates, Hanse arrived, looking like he just got out of bed. The three of them called to a meal, making Seungwoo, Byungchan, and Subin eat too. 

 

They were all eating happily, teasing Subin about his ghost towel, and about Byungchan actually being a girl, “but wait,” Byungchan interrupts, “where’s Sejun?”

 

—

 

“Yes, manager Jeon, I understand.”

 

He ended the call, and stared at the floor while he’s sitting on his bed, still on his pajamas and his hair as messy as always. 

 

“Sejun, I understand that the food we give you tastes good that you tend to eat a lot. But the fans are complaining; you’re too fat, they said. I will be scheduling you to a gym instructor and a nutritionist to keep watch of your weight.” 

 

He looked at himself in the mirror, about 5 feet away from his bed. Isn’t he too thin already? He heard his mates laughing from the kitchen. Maybe they’re eating, he thought. 

 

He wants to eat, he’s been starving. But manager Jeon’s voice kept on echoing in his head. 

 

He laid back in his bed, stared at the ceiling and told himself, “skipping one meal a day doesn’t hurt.” 

 

—

 

Seungwoo just went out from the bathroom, his towel hanging from his waist down. “Ah, it’s lovely to take a brisk shower on your day off,” he muttered and hummed a song. With another towel, he dried his hair. Just as he was about to change his clothes, Subin entered. 

 

“Just got out from the shower?” Subin asked and bounced his back on his bed, where Seungwoo’s towel is. “I told you to stop entering my room, Subin.” Seungwoo replied instead.

 

Subin chuckled at Seungwoo who’s at the end of his bed.

 

An unfamiliar figure stared at the glass window in Seungwoo’s room, holding a camera. Another perfect shot, that figure thought. 

 

— 

 

“Good morning, hyungs!” Hanse greeted cheerfully. He woke up at the right time and position, he’s feeling wonderful!

 

He hummed their unreleased track they’ve been practicing for weeks now, but just as he was going to approach Chan in the kitchen, the home phone rang. 

 

“Hello?” Hanse greeted.

 

“Meeting now. Your service is waiting for you outside. Bring everyone.” And the call ended.

 

It was manager Jeon, enraged. What could it be? Hanse asked himself. He hurriedly called the boys in their slumber, and they all hopped in the car.

 

—

 

VICTON’S SEUNGWOO AND SUBIN SCANDAL IN VICTON’S DORM

 

“What is this?!” Manager Jeon slammed the newspaper in Seungwoo’s face. “Right when you’re soaring on the charts, you bring this up!” 

 

Manager Jeon was red, and everyone was quiet. Subin was tearing up, blaming himself for everything.

 

“W-we didn’t know there was someone—,” Seungwoo was about to explain when manager Jeon cut him off.

 

“Even if there’s no one out there, why the hell would you do this you stupid pricks?!” Jeon screamed, making his veins visible. “Are you gay?” He asked the two.

 

Both disagreed.

 

“Then don’t act like one!” Jeon distanced himself, trying to control his anger. He walked back and forth in a very fast pace. “The big bosses have found out. They will talk to the two of you, and they will release a statement regarding the incident.”

 

Right after, the secretary of the big bosses of Plan A called the two involved.

 

—

 

“Please state the incident.” Seungwoo nervously stared at the man in front of him. Kang Taejun, the owner of their company. 

 

They stated every bit of it, even what they said. “Once the press has released this statement and the issue hasn’t stopped, we will schedule an interview for you two.” This man seriously said, not one bit of smile in his face. “This issue needs to stop, or else, we have to drop your group.” 

 

—

 

Subin felt uneasy as he laid in his bed. I feel like I’m being watched at this very moment, he thought. 

 

He stared at the plain white ceiling, trying to count sheeps, as he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

 

And his thoughts were right.