Chapter 191

The over-the-top gushing from the lunatic in photographer's clothing knew no end.

"Nice, nice. This composition, expression, pose — not a single thing off. You've got a perfect triangle going on, like it was measured with a ruler."

Tri-what now?

Any way you sliced it, it was a strange situation, but none of us could bring ourselves to voice our doubts.

Because the results are just too good.

As Seo Taehyun's fresh-off-the-shutter photos popped up on the monitor one after another, none of the staff — us included — could hold back the admiration. Black hair, sleek and straight, white tee and jeans. Seo Taehyun was diligently producing every possible shot from this simple combination.

Dan Haru, hairpin planted right in the center of his head to give his bangs some volume, pointed at one of Taehyun's photos and marveled:

"Taehyun-hyung really photographs well, huh. How do you even make an expression like this?"

The photo — Seo Taehyun sitting with knees bent, arms lightly wrapped around them, head languidly resting on top — even I could tell had come out well.

Maybe he genuinely did find his muse?

Leaving those questions still unanswered, Seo Taehyun's profile shoot wrapped.

Wanting to watch a few more, I didn't head back to the waiting room and stayed put in front of the monitor. Hand fan in hand, Seo Taehyun came shuffling over next to me.

"Did I come out okay?"

"Didn't you hear before? All the fantastico, bravo, gracias going on?"

"…He was just being generous with the lip service."

Says the guy whose lips are about to fly off his face, Taehyun-ah.

Praise-weak, king-INFP Seo Taehyun — a total sucker for compliments — couldn't hide how pleased he was and turned his attention back to the monitor.

As Seo Taehyun scrutinized his own photos with a satisfied air, I quietly slipped in a question:

"What's the deal with the photographer? He's on some serious praise-bomber level. Anything weird?"

"Weird? Not really? He's usually about this level on shoots, right? Keeping the mood up."

Damn. Wrong person to ask.

Was like walking up to the school valedictorian and asking whether it was strange the teachers kept praising them.

Aside from the surplus of praise, nothing else really jumped out as a problem, so — meaning to keep watching for now — I checked who was up next. Same white tee and jeans, plus silver-rimmed glasses — Jung Siwoo was sitting on the wooden stool that had been set up, striking a pose.

Just then, the photographer peering into the camera waved a hand with a grave face:

"Ah, I can't do this shoot."

Come again?

The set went ice-cold in an instant at the sudden statement. You could feel even Jung Siwoo's soft features going oddly stiff where he sat on the stool.

The photographer then pressed a hand to his own forehead and, in full-tilt performative tones, said:

"Unless a brand-new camera capable of capturing that face is developed and brought into this world, this shoot is a lie. A fake. As the director, I cannot accept {it."}(#1r7d7vnhcz5w)

…Isn't that guy actually just a lunatic?

---

Despite the photographer's boycott, Jung Siwoo's profile shoot proceeded without a hitch.

Every kind of praise for Jung Siwoo's face rained down through the entire shoot, of course — but even that was stuff Jung Siwoo heard on a daily basis, so he didn't feel especially thrown off by it.

The sample size is all abnormal specimens, which makes normal thinking impossible.

I asked Ji Suho once mid-shoot, "is this right?" — but Ji Suho just gave me a full-beaming smile and said we must have hit the photographer's sweet spot exactly, brightly pleased with the whole thing. His delight was so obviously the real thing that it killed even the urge to question anything.

It's weird no matter how I look at it….

Weirdly many cameras, a suspicious photographer, an uncanny situation.

I did wonder for a second whether this was some hidden-camera bit from a variety show — but the profile shoot was proceeding way too diligently for that. If it were a variety shoot, this was around when they'd usually reveal themselves and yell surprise, it was all fake!

…is he just a picky face stan?

Given that the shoot order so far had been Kairos's visual line — the Go-Baek-Shin trio (Goguryeo-Baekje-Silla — the Three Kingdoms) — this was a plausible enough theory. And it's not me talking as a groupmate: visuals like theirs weren't easy to find anywhere these days.

Except the reactions had been just as good for Lee Doha and Dan Haru.

Setting aside Dan Haru — bubbly-giggling all the way through and pulled like a vitamin from the photographer — the same kind of praise had rained down on Lee Doha, who'd been stiff as a plank — so it didn't seem to be strictly a face issue.

Honestly though — getting a lot of praise is a good thing, right? Sort of a sign we're doing well.

And yet — why I'd been feeling instinctively uneasy about this whole thing was….

Am I the only one who's gonna get called out here…?

Because I photograph like absolute garbage. Damn it.

I don't know! I have no clue! I have zero idea how you're supposed to pose!

To me, a profile photo meant, at most, tucking your chin, opening your eyes wide, dropping your shoulders all the way down, staring dead ahead — and letting the photo-studio auntie work her elite Photoshop skills to smooth the thing out afterward!

Even back in my idol-trainee days, all I ever did was dance and sing on repeat — I never once studied how to pose for photos!

Everyone gets praise after praise, and then my turn dumps a bucket of ice water on the mood — what do I do about that?

On top of that, the photographer's mindless praise-bombing was landing perfectly on the members!

"This one, hmm, how do I put it — has an incredibly dangerous look in his eyes. It'd be nice to push that razor's-edge tension even further. Like the mournful eyes of a wounded werewolf beneath a moonlit cliff…"

"…Excuse me?"

"There! Right there! That's it!"

"…….."

Overwhelmed by delusional flattery with secondhand-cringe cranked to MAX — so hard to sit through it was almost painful — Lee Yugeon just short-circuited.

And the photographer, exploiting the crashed moment, slowly began to loosen the tension around Lee Yugeon.

Though Lee Yugeon himself didn't seem to notice.

The maknae who'd shot before had, under the flood of praise, also gone off posing like colts turned loose from the reins.

Huh. Is this guy actually the real deal?

Wait — sensitive, they said. Picky, they said.

At this point, reasonable suspicion was setting in that Ji Suho had gotten something wrong.

"Okay! That's a wrap here! A satisfying final cut!"

"Next member, come on in, please!"

While all that was happening, it was finally my turn.

I stepped into the photo zone with a face gone fully stiff. The lights and reflectors trained pointedly on me were as blinding as before.

"Let's get a few test cuts to start. Sit facing straight ahead, please."

Right. Fuck.

I'm still an S-tier at expressiveness in my own way. Whatever they shoot, something'll come out of it. Probably.

With a whatever-happens-happens mindset I sat on the chair and stared into the camera in front of me. Honestly, I had zero clue what expression I was supposed to make, so I just went ahead and smiled.

The flash popped a couple of times, then the photographer, watching the monitor, tilted his head slightly and turned to look at me.

"Hmmm. Let's just start rolling for now. Ease up. Relax. Relax."

"Haha. Yes. Relax…."

For the first time, out of the praise-bomber's mouth came, not fantastico! but relax….

Instinctively sensing I was screwed, I smiled bright enough to make my cheekbones sting.

---

"One mo' time. One more, please. This — something…. we need to pull the natural out of what's inside Hajin."

Natural? What's that. How do you do that.

Feeling the same helplessness as that time at sports day when Nam Daun told me just look handsome to start, I let out a short breath.

The longer the shoot went on, the blanker my head felt.

The feeling was like finding out today that your high-school graduation photo is being taken, and getting plopped down in front of the flower-lined campus with no concept, no prep at all. Personal experience, for the record.

I'm terrible at brooding-male-portrait stuff. Just — genuinely bad at it.

On stage or in acting, the atmosphere and character I have to express are locked in — that's actually easier. But a profile shoot was a field where you had to express yourself, not a specific character.

And I was the worst kind of person at revealing and expressing myself. I might have gotten a lot better at it lately, but packaging myself as something attractive was still incredibly awkward.

"Hmm. Should we take a short break?"

Unable to keep watching any longer, the photographer eventually called a break. My legs gave out on me and I ended up half-leaning, half-sitting on the wooden stool in the photo zone. I didn't even have the energy to go monitor the shots we'd taken so far.

"Hajin. Let me excuse?"

"Ah. Yes."

The photographer, delivering his English line in pronunciation that was in no way native, walked over to me. When I instinctively started to get up, he gestured for me to stay seated and stopped beside me, facing me. Then he held out a tablet, freshly uploaded with the shots we'd just taken.

"These are all the photos we've taken of Hajin so far."

"…….."

"How do they feel to you?"

I slowly worked my way through the versions of myself inside the tablet.

Stiffly frozen face, arms and legs adrift not knowing what to do, uncertain eyes, awkward poses.

"…he's trying?"

"No, no. Trying and putting in the effort — that's true, sure. But that's not my point."

Wait. Why is he suddenly a native speaker?

Caught off guard by the smooth English pronunciation for a moment, I looked back as the photographer slowly swiped through the photos and, in a low, gentle voice, gave me the answer.

"There's no Hajin in these."

"…….."

"A cool pose, a natural expression. Those all matter. But what matters more than any of that is Hajin himself, right?"

Swiping on, the photographer selected one photo and pulled it up.

It was me — watching the monitor of the members' shots, seriously trading feedback with the staff.

When did he shoot this?

"There's Hajin here."

"…….."

"This is the Hajin I want to see. You don't have to play cool or ham it up and toss the lens around freely. Why are you trying to do it like the other members? Hajin is Hajin."

I am me.

The line hit me with a strange resonance.

"Show me Hajin. That's all I need."

Leaving behind that last piece of advice, the photographer turned back. And with that, the shoot resumed.

I stood in front of the photo zone again and looked at the camera.

Just me.

It wasn't like the pressure of this has to come out well vanished in an instant off that one line.

My arms and legs still wandered aimlessly through the air; I couldn't tell how my features were moving or what expression I was making.

But….

"Okay! That's great! Good emotion!"

…at least it looked like I wouldn't be grinding into a panic like before.

Huh. He really is the real deal.

With that quiet flicker of admiration, I finished my individual profile shoot without incident.

---

"Alright, group shots next! Members, please change your outfits and come out~"

Inside the warm praise-prison, individual profile shoots wrapped up.

For the group photos to follow, we headed back into the changing room — but the sight of what was laid out in front of us sent me right back out.

"Sir. These the right clothes?"

"Hm? Yes, those are the ones. Get changed and come out."

At the firm nod, I ended up back in the changing room. Lee Yugeon held up the hanger assigned to him and asked:

"These are really it?"

"Yeah. So he says."

"…Weren't these supposed to be the official profiles?"

"Well…. these are what we're getting."

At my nothing to be done reply, Lee Yugeon, looking resigned, pulled a fuzzy fur outfit off his hanger. Beside us, Seo-Ju-Dan — already changed into their outfits — were fixing each other's fit.

"Hyung, mine's a bunny!"

"Mine's… a cat? Hyung. Do I look like a cat?"

"Hmm. Well, they usually call you a not-so-small baby jumbo cat…. isn't it a tiger?"

"What are you, Taehyunie-hyung?"

"I'm a fox, I think?"

The group outfits handed to us were peak-moe-fication apparel every K-idol is destined to wear at least once: animal onesies.

I pulled the wolf onesie off the hanger tagged with my name.

"Um…. is this the right way to wear it?"

At Lee Doha's voice from the corner, I turned my head — and sure enough, Lee Doha, in a bear-shaped onesie, was struggling and calling out to us.

"Was this thing supposed to…. dig into the shoulders like this?"

"Are the ankles supposed to ride this high?"

Ah. The uncute Yellow Team PTSD is back again.

Right beside me, Lee Yugeon — resigned to everything, dinosaur onesie thrown on in the sloppiest way possible — shook his head. On the other side, Jung Siwoo, eyes full of wonder, was pulling on a puppy onesie. Probably because they hadn't found a fitting moe-fied animal for him, they'd given him the safest option.

Watching seven rough-looking men averaging somewhere around 180 in height wrestle their way into squishy-cute animal onesies, I had one thought:

Is this really it?

This isn't secretly a hidden-camera prank, this is the real deal? Someone please tell me it's a lie.

The hardcore-idol road was, as ever, no walk in the park.