Being sixteen and a manager for a rising idol group was… chaos. Your phone buzzed nonstop, your clipboard felt glued to your hand, and sleep became more of a rumor than a reality.

CORTIS was loud, energetic, constantly in motion. They laughed too much, argued over snacks, played games in the van instead of resting. It should’ve been overwhelming. And sometimes, it was.

But then there was Seonghyeon.

He wasn’t flashy the way Martin took charge, or mischievous like Juhoon. He wasn’t effortlessly talkative like James, or puppy-like like Keonho. Seonghyeon moved quietly, always just a step behind the noise, like he was watching the group’s edges to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

You noticed it in little things.

The way he always filled the spare water bottles before rehearsal. The way he adjusted the practice room fans so no one overheated. The way he asked you if you’d eaten, not in front of the others, but low enough that no one else would hear if the answer was no.

One night, after a fourteen-hour day, you found yourself sitting on the floor outside the practice room, head tipped back against the wall, exhaustion weighing heavy. You hadn’t realized anyone was left inside until the door clicked open.

Seonghyeon stepped out, hair damp with sweat, his hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder. He paused when he saw you, tilting his head like he’d been expecting this.

“You didn’t go home,” he said softly.

You tried to laugh. “Managers don’t really get to go home.”

He crouched down so your eyes were level, searching your face with that careful intensity of his. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

“It’s the job,” you shrugged, trying to play it off. But the way he frowned—like he didn’t accept that as an answer—made something tighten in your chest.

Without another word, he set his water bottle beside you. Cold, condensation slipping down the side. “Then at least drink this. Please.”

You hesitated, then took it. Your fingers brushed his, just for a second. His gaze didn’t waver.

And for the first time since this job began, you realized someone was paying attention to you—not as a manager, not as the one who had to hold everything together, but as a person.

It was nothing. Just a bottle of water. Just a quiet boy with watchful eyes.