Idol of the Heavenly One - Chapter 52.2
“Are you okay, hyung?”
Ji-hak whispered beside me.
“…I’m fine.”
My hoarse voice didn’t sound fine at all, but I forced a smile anyway.
When we followed the staff into the waiting room, the space was already buzzing with last-minute stage preparations. Our manager said, “Myeong-hyeon, don’t push yourself too hard today. If you need to stop, give me a signal.” He was probably worried because we had a New Year’s performance coming up soon. But telling someone “don’t overdo it” was easier said than done. The moment you sit in front of fans, you have no choice but to smile with everything you have. That’s what being an idol meant.
As I sat in front of the mirror and had my hair fixed again, I closed my eyes for a moment. It was strange to think that just a short while ago, I had been hooked up to an IV. Now I had to put on a completely different face. A smile would soon be painted over my features, and that single smile could be someone’s whole day.
The moment I entered the fan signing venue, a wave of cheers hit my ears. Bright lights flashed, and the sound of camera shutters filled the room. My steps faltered slightly, but I could feel the members adjusting their pace beside me. Someone lightly supported my back, and another moved ahead to draw attention away.
When I sat down, I could see the fans’ faces clearly. Strangely enough, there were a few Korean fans even here. Most of the crowd was Chinese, far more than in our last Japan fan signing, but I could spot a few familiar faces. The fans held albums, letters, and small prepared gifts in their hands. Some had brought fan sign props, but perhaps knowing I couldn’t handle them today, I instead heard things like, “Are you okay? Your health comes first.” That kind of sincerity made me smile. My body still felt heavy, and my fever hadn’t gone down, but I couldn’t allow myself to collapse when people were showing such warm concern.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay! Slowly!”
“Huh? You speak Korean really well.”
“Communication.”
“Hahaha.”
As the signing went on, my hand began trembling slightly, and my signature started to lose its steadiness. But the Chinese fan in front of me reassured me in clumsy Korean that it was fine. When I told them they were good at Korean, they just said, “Communication,” and that one word made me laugh. Even if we didn’t share a language, it felt like our hearts understood each other. It was cute and genuinely uplifting.
But the exhaustion couldn’t be helped. After the fan left and before the next person came forward, I quietly swallowed a sigh as dizziness swept over me.
Swish—
That was when it happened. Baek Jae-heon, sitting next to me, casually slid the water bottle on the table toward my side. His eyes were still on the fan in front of him, but the gesture was clearly meant for me. He didn’t say a word, yet that unspoken touch made me even more aware of him. Feeling my face heat up for no reason, I picked up the bottle and carefully twisted off the cap. Just as I was about to take a sip, the next fan sat down in front of me.
“Hello—”
I greeted first in a deliberately bright tone since the person looked like a Korean fan.
“…”
But the fan said nothing, simply staring straight into my face.
“…May I ask your name?”
“…”
I asked again carefully, but still received no response. Their gaze remained fixed on me, silent and unmoving. For a moment, I wondered if they might have a hearing impairment and whether I should try using sign language.
But since I didn’t know any sign language, I froze, unsure of what to do. Trying to hide my awkwardness, I opened my mouth, hoping that my sincerity would somehow reach them.
“Thank you for coming.”
I couldn’t tell if they understood me. Their expressions stayed exactly the same. Quietly, I opened the album and began signing, focusing hard to keep the lines straight. Even if they didn’t speak, I felt that drawing each stroke carefully was the only way to convey my heart.
Then it happened.
BAM—!
The fan suddenly snatched the album right out of my hands.
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