Episode 48: I Haven’t Twisted Yet
“Son, wake up. It’s 5 a.m.”
“Ugh… uwaaaah…”
It’s been a week since I started my day with a mom alarm.
I’ve been crashing so hard I can’t even hear my phone, so I asked Mom to wake me.
“Oh dear, you look exhausted. Want to sleep more? I’ll wake you in 10 minutes?”
“No, I have to get up… buwaaah!”
Three hours of sleep.
Even that doesn’t feel like rest—I’m dying of fatigue.
Since full album production began, it’s been a hellish schedule rivaling official promotions.
With Seon-yu and Woo-ya lacking basics in vocals and dance, everything’s been squeezed tight.
The members practice from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m., and I’m right there, filming YouTube content or running errands.
No time for a morning shower—I slap on a cap and head to work.
I wash up at the dorm around lunch.
As CEO Jung said, the fun part’s over, and I’m being ground down for real.
At least we’re just between the company and dorm now; official activities will be the true start.
How brutal can that be…?
“At least grab some cereal before you go.”
“I’ll eat with the girls at the dorm.”
“Hold on, Dad’s up. He’ll drive you.”
“No need, I’ll take the bus.”
“Dad’s already awake.”
As soon as Mom finished, the bathroom door opened, and Creation Father emerged.
In boxer briefs and a tank top, but with the face of a corporate exec.
“I’m here. I’ll save you.”
“You don’t have to drive me. You’re tired too.”
“Hey, there’s no fatigue in earning money, sir. With three mouths to feed, I’ve gotta hustle while I can.”
True, sleeping 20 minutes in Dad’s taxi beats dozing on the bus.
I’d overslept my stop yesterday, so I took the offer.
“Drop me at the dorm, then, driver.”
“I’ll get you there safe.”
.
.
.
“Sir, we’ve arrived.”
“…Already?”
“No traffic, so we flew.”
It felt like five minutes since I closed my eyes, but we were at the dorm.
Still, the nap cleared my head.
As I reached for my card, Dad pressed his thumbs into my left trapezius, kneading with a proud smile.
“Ah…!”
“Hurts?”
“Ow, killing me…”
“But feels good too, right?”
“Yes. Ahhh…”
“Pain that feels good—that’s proof you’re living hard.”
“Why the sudden philosophy? You drove me just to say that, huh?”
I knew it wasn’t, but his brief massage was so touching I teased him.
Since discharge, Dad never nagged during my GraceOne-obsessed, dropout phase.
When Mom fussed, he’d pretend to agree in front of her but shield me behind her back, saying, “Youth is for doing what you want—when else?”
Now, seeing me hustle as a proper adult, he must be prouder than ever.
“I knew my blood and sweat creation wouldn’t starve, but you’re exceeding expectations. I’ve been in the corporate world too—newbies getting recognized isn’t easy.”
“Good luck helped.”
“Yeah, and effort turns luck into skill. Stay humble when things are going well. Speak up, but never get cocky. I couldn’t, and look where I am now.”
“You’re doing great, Dad…”
I tried not to get too serious, but with Dad being so sentimental this morning, I decided to share the feelings I’d been too embarrassed to express.
“From when I was little until now, you’ve always been my role model in life…”
“Oh, Kakao call. 6,900 won, sir.”
Heh.
That’s my creator for you.
“…I’ll pay with card.”
“Sorry, but could you use cash if possible?”
“Sounds like a request, but it’s basically a demand. It’s uncomfortable, driver.”
“The card reader might break soon.”
“I’ll report you to the tax office for tax evasion.”
“Cash is rare these days. Just use the card.”
‘Beep, processed successfully.’
“Drive safe.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll take a quick spin since I’m out.”
***
Even simple errands exhaust me, so how tough must it be for the Free Sense members, running at full throttle physically and mentally?
They’re cramming in just 3-4 hours of sleep a day to push the album.
Like Mom waking me, I start my routine by heading to the dorm at dawn to rouse the girls.
Typically, girl group dorm management falls to female managers, and hiring Kim Jung-sun was partly for that, but they keep me on Free Sense—a sign of strong trust in me.
I’m trying to honor that by keeping personal feelings out of it as much as possible.
But I’m a guy in my mid-20s, prime of my life, a sturdy male specimen.
How can I not feel some rational attraction to girls my age, all pretty and charming, who treat me so kindly?
None of them have prickly personalities that push me away.
If anything, they’ve gotten closer, dropping their guards more.
Seung-ah, for instance, now rests her head on my shoulder or lap as casually as with the other members.
Her touch boundary? She’ll grab my hand and press it to her stomach, saying, “I think my belly fat’s showing, right?” because she thinks it’s grown.
My female sibling says women are sensitive about belly and side fat, and some prefer a guy touching their chest over that. Yet Seung-ah’s handed me that critical spot.
It means she doesn’t see me as a guy, but it’s still nerve-wracking and stirs my emotions.
Jin-ah barely touches, but she treats me like a near-divine figure.
She’d hand over her seal if I asked.
Ah-hyun and Seon-yu are more reserved.
They’re straightforward with emotions but shy about physical affection or girl-on-girl skinship.
Even they’re careless around me, though.
I’ve caught glimpses of cleavage or bras multiple times when they’re in short shorts or skirts, sitting cross-legged or spread-eagle, or leaning over for something, without minding their necklines.
Each time, I whip my head away like I’ve been burned.
It’s frequent enough that I’m constantly on mental guard.
I have to remind myself daily: I’m a manager. I’m not a guy. They don’t see me as one, so I shouldn’t see them as women. They’re like family. They see me as a brother. Lusting after their skin makes me a twisted pervert. But I’m not twisted. No, no, no.
Standing at the dorm entrance, I armed myself with a healthy, pure mindset and punched in the door code.
Beep beep beep beep, ding.
The dorm smelled of savory, sweet margarine.
Kitchen light on, range hood humming—Woo-ya must be making toast.
She’d done it a few times after practice, but never at breakfast.
Jin-ah probably begged for it.
The girl barely slept running her stall.
I knew her diligence and stamina were maxed, but I wasn’t thrilled.
Inside, sure enough, Woo-ya stood at the stove, toasting away.
Seeing her prepare breakfast while everyone else slept made Woo-ya’s domestic charm hit home.
She was in a long T-shirt that barely covered her butt, probably missing the door lock beep and my footsteps over the fan noise.
Flipping the bread, she scratched her back under the shirt, itching.
The hem lifted, revealing a light pink panty line and her slim waist.
ㅗㅜㅑ, that‘s one hell of an ass… No, stop popping into my head!
I jerked my head away, announcing my presence loudly.
“Hey, you must be tired—why toast at dawn?”
“Oh my gosh, you scared me!”
“Didn‘t hear me come in?”
“No. Wow, you startled me.”
“What time did you wake up?”
“Around 5?”
“You need to manage your condition. Why not sleep more?”
“I‘m fine. Not tired at all.”
“Jin-ah begged for it, right?”
“No, oppa. I just woke up early and decided to make it. You eat better when you‘re tired, but you always skip breakfast…”
“I should wake the girls.”
“Oppa, sorry, but can you tie my hair? It keeps falling…”
“Sure.”
“The hair tie‘s on my wrist.”
I‘d never done this before.
“Just bunch it back and tie it.”
Casually, I glanced at her wrist to grab the tie.
Holy crap, no bra.
Even trying not to notice, her prominent chest was obvious.
As I yanked my gaze away, our eyes met briefly.
Stay calm.
If I think it‘s nothing, it is nothing.
Treating her like my female sibling, I scowled as if I‘d seen something gross.
“Ugh, no bra?”
Woo-ya replied nonchalantly. “Who wears a bra at home, oppa?”
“Then wear something that doesn‘t show. Like a sports bra.”
“What‘s the big deal? We’re family.”
Family—such a comforting word.
It let me respond more easily.
Scowling extra hard, I said, “Watch out for my eyes. Showing me this first thing in the morning?”
“You like it.”
“No. Not one bit.”
Unfazed, Woo-ya leaned toward me, demanding I tie her hair.
I roughly gathered her locks and secured them with the band.
She flinched, scrunching her nose.
“Ahh… that tickles, oppa~…”
“One more nasal whine, and I‘ll punch your nose.”
“It tickles ‘cause it does! Why?”
“Nasal whine, nasal whine.”
“It‘s just how I talk…”
Ignoring her, I headed to the rooms to wake the others.