The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as I stand at the countertop, surrounded by some familiar faces but many more unfamiliar ones as event cooks flit about. Bright overhead lights bounce off the stainless-steel appliances, casting a warm glow over the bustling kitchen.

Laughter and chatter fill the air, mingling with the salty aroma of simmering sauces and fresh spices.

I swipe at a bead of sweat with the back of my hand and tug at the collar of my shirt. The kitchen is always warm, but it feels especially hot today. Suffocating.

I glance over at Woobin, who, as usual, is attempting to add exaggerated flair to his task. He winks at a woman nearby, who blushes and continues with her task.

"And now, ze garlic," he says in a horrible attempt at an Italian accent. 

"Who are you talking to?" I ask.

"Breaking the imaginary third wall," he replies with a shrug. Then, looking back down at his knife, chopping rapidly—and sloppily—he says, "They say garlic keeps the vampires away. But sadly, not jealous group mates."

I roll my eyes and redirect my attention.

Dohyun struggles to keep up with the pace as he chops onions, cheeks red as tears stream from his eyes. He stops every few seconds to wipe his eyes with the back of his forearm, sniffling. Fighting back a chuckle, I clear my throat.

They rarely cook with me, so it's a welcome change of pace. But it feels so forced. We weren't planning to cook together. I'd much rather have planned it as a fun team-building activity.

Bystanders occasionally stop to stare at us expectantly as they walk past the room, in awe of our so-called passion for charity.

Don't get me wrong, philanthropy is great. But Gihyun is paying us for our time, so it isn't truly altruistic. Plus, I prefer to do my charity work on my own time and by choice, so it's actually real. Now is just a PR stunt. Another smile, another photo op. All wrapped in glossy press releases. Performance, not purpose.

When did everything become so choreographed?

We were originally just supposed to be guests, but when Gihyun heard that the charity gala staff needed a few extra hands, he took it as the perfect opportunity for good press. Half an hour—and a quick makeup touch-up—later, we were being ushered into this room and put to work.

Even after this, we have to network at the charity event, which starts in an hour.

No rest for the wicked, I guess.

"Hey, Minjae! Are you going to stand there looking pretty, or are you going to help us out?" Woobin calls, grinning.

I roll my eyes again, picking up my bowl of vegetables. "I am helping."

Taehyun lords over the stove, long black hair pulled back into a bun. His skin shines, and I'm not sure if it's because of sweat or the pound of makeup our PR team had insisted we wear.

"Do you need to switch, hyung?" I ask him as I bring the vegetables over.

He shakes his head, gaze fixed on the pot as he stirs methodically. Carefully.

Of all of us, Taehyun is the most comfortable in the spotlight. The kind of guy that makes thriving under the attention look effortless.

But now his brow knits tight, and he refuses to look anywhere else besides at the pot. And this time, there are no cameras, only curious eyes at the edge of the kitchen.

"Are you sure? You're not usually this quiet."

Whatever he was about to say evaporates as quickly as his hesitance wavered, when a voice cuts through the tentative moment, calling my name.

I give him a look that says we'll finish this later before following the voice.

Gihyun waves me over. He's standing with a man who's probably in his thirties. The man carries himself with the confidence of someone used to navigating conversations with celebrities. It's a persona I know well.

This should be fun.

"Minjae, this is Han Jisoo, a reporter for an independent press company. And one of my closest friends." Gihyun gestures to the man, who bows. "He would like to speak to you about tonight and our upcoming album. I told him you'd be the perfect one to open the discussion with."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Han Jisoo." I bow in return as I remove my gloves. "I'm happy to answer any questions you may have."

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Minjae, I'll cover your spot in the kitchen while you two talk." Gihyun pats me on the shoulder before brushing past me to help the other three. 

A loud clatter echoes through the room as a pan hits the floor, and I cringe. I would much rather be helping them than getting interviewed.

Jisoo scans me with practiced efficiency, his sharp, almond-shaped eyes framed by rectangular glasses that add to his no-nonsense demeanor. His hair is clean-cut and styled with extra care.

"So, I hear you like to cook. Is today a welcome break from your normal idol duties?" His expression remains calm but alert, poised to catch a perfect quote.

"I do love to cook, yes. And it is definitely a welcome change in activity, but I love my duties as an idol just as much," I reply, taking care to give him a response that measures up to his expectations. I can't afford to give him a response that he can misinterpret or put a negative spin on.

"What's on the menu? Did you have any input in choosing the dishes?"

"Right now, we're making typical comfort foods - tteokbokki, bulgogi lettuce wraps; things like that. As this is a fundraising event, it is important that potential benefactors can still easily network and talk to each other, so simple foods are a must. This was the pre-set dinner menu for the night, so besides minor recipe changes, we did not make the menu."

Jisoo nods and jots something in his notebook before looking up again. "Now, I'm sure you've heard of Seoul's Kitchen Showdown. It's an up-and-coming cooking show that has recently become more popular this season." He cocks his head to the side, watching me closely. "Word on the street is, there's a participant that shares some striking similarities with you. But he always wears a mask. You wouldn't happen to have any information on that, would you?"

Ice coats my veins in a slow crawl up my back. 

Does he know? He can't.

I tilt my head. "That's odd. I haven't seen the new season yet, but I'm intrigued if there's someone that looks similar to me." I grin. "He must be pretty good looking, huh?"

A groan sounds behind us. "Please, don't feed his ego."

Woobin wraps an arm around me, and I'm immediately grateful for his presence. Hopefully, it will deter Jisoo from asking any more questions about the competition. The last thing I need is for him to get proof of his suspicions.

"Any questions for me?" Woobin asks.

"Yes, actually," Jisoo says. Though there's something behind his voice. Like he isn't dropping the topic so easily. "You two seem very close. What's your secret?"

"We've been best friends since our time as trainees. We share everything." Woobin makes a slicing gesture with his hand, palm flat and facing the ground. "No secrets."

"No secrets, huh? You must know everything about each other."

Woobin nods, but guilt tugs at me, lodging a lump in my throat. Even before the competition, I couldn't have necessarily agreed. He knows my discontent with idol life, but he doesn't know that I'm falling out of love with it. That I feel trapped.

"Do you ever feel like Minjae is holding something back?"

Woobin's arm tenses around me, but he isn't visibly affected. "Nope. Minjae is an open book. Even to his fans."

It's so blatantly a lie, but I appreciate his willingness to cover for me. He may not know everything about my life and feelings, but he knows how important our image is. Plus, he's not the kind of friend to just air out my dirty laundry like that.

"Well, we've gotta get back. I hope we answered some of your questions. Would you like to speak to Dohyun or Taehyun?" I interject.

Jisoo shakes his head. "No, that's all I needed. Thank you." His jaw tightens as he turns and walks away, typing something out on his phone. 

Woobin and I return to our previous tasks in the kitchen. He glances back at me, and I shake my head. 

I'm fine, I mouth. 

I plant my hands on the counter and lean forward, staring at a tray of neatly rolled gimbap. Perfect on the outside. Just like me. But lately, I feel like I'm holding it all together with rice and hope.

My reflection glares back at me through a pot. Dark circles peek out, barely covered by my concealer.

If my fans saw me like this... I can't imagine.

I'm an idol, but I'm hardly someone to look up to. Someone to hold in such high regard.

What even am I? Who am I?

Do other idols feel like this? Woobin has never said anything negative about our job. And Dohyun is too young to be burnt out yet.

Maybe that's what was up with Taehyun earlier. He's three years my senior and has been in the industry since he was seventeen. Almost ten years. Is he just as tired as I am? 

"Cheer up, oppa!" I can almost hear the fans say.

If only it were that easy.