CHAPTER 91: A CALL WITH NINE

A stage with five thousand people—

For many of them, it was the largest crowd they had ever faced. Before this, the most they’d ever performed for was maybe a thousand.

"Do you think the seats will all be filled? Right? The fans are all coming to see us."

Justin was visibly restless, practically leaning his head into Joshua’s face.

Joshua raised a hand to ruffle his hair, and Justin immediately nuzzled into his palm like a spoiled pet.

Compared to when they first met, Justin’s hair had grown longer—a tousled gray that hadn’t been styled, a bit coarse rather than soft.

Joshua couldn’t help but chuckle. "Justin, why do you keep clinging to people like that? You’re like a puppy."

"I only cling to you, Joshua," Justin said softly.

The makeup artist’s hand trembled slightly. Oh god, stay calm—stay calm. You’re at work. Be professional.

Just then, Luther suddenly spoke up. "Speaking of which, Joshua, you’re the youngest one here. After debuting, you’ll need to remember your seniors. As the youngest, you should respect your elders!"

Joshua snorted. "I only respect old people."

Luther: "..."

Joshua looked at him and smiled. "Three years is a whole generation gap, old man."

Old man?!

Luther’s hands itched. That expression on Joshua’s face made him want to pinch those cheeks until Joshua cried for mercy.

But since Joshua’s styling was already done, Luther couldn’t touch him until after the performance.

"Just wait till we finish performing!" Luther said in a mock threat.

Joshua let out a small, amused huff, clearly unbothered.

At that moment, the makeup artist said, "Joshua, pout your lips."

Joshua instinctively did as told, puckering slightly and blinking innocently at her.

The makeup artist felt her hand trembling again.

Standing off to the side, Henry quietly lifted his phone, then quickly lowered it again. After so many failed attempts, at least this time, the shutter sound was finally off.

Joshua’s hair had been styled in the picture—the ends a little long and slightly flared outward. His eyes, already beautiful and bright, sparkled even more now. His lips puckered like that, he looked adorably innocent, as if waiting for a kiss.

"I didn’t know you had a passion for photography, Henry."

Leonard’s voice suddenly cut in. Henry immediately locked his phone and ignored him.

But Leonard wasn’t about to let him off so easily. "You like Joshua, too, don’t you?"

Henry said nothing. His calm, unreadable expression only irritated Leonard further.

Why did everyone seem to have feelings for Joshua, but Joshua only avoided him? Was it because he’d been too direct? Because he couldn’t pretend as easily as the rest of them?

Just as frustration welled up in him, Henry suddenly spoke.

"If Joshua likes you, I won’t object, Leonard."

Leonard couldn’t help but sneer. "So that’s the kind of person you are—sacrificing your happiness for love? As long as the person you love is happy, you’re happy too, huh? Pathetic."

Henry didn’t seem fazed by Leonard’s words. He replied slowly, "Too bad Joshua doesn’t like you either, Leonard. So you have no right to comment on whether I like him."

Leonard clenched his fists in silence. Damn Henry—he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Every time he spoke, he somehow made people hate him even more!

Since their group would be the last to perform, they had plenty of time to prepare. They were even placed together with other groups to film their reactions to the earlier performances—footage later used for the show’s editing.

Joshua glanced at the monitor, then out toward the sea of spectators. Even through the camera, he could feel the overwhelming size of the audience. The roar of cheers seemed endless, echoing in every direction.

He couldn’t help but stare at the screen, hands clasped together, his right thumb unconsciously scratching the side of his left finger as he murmured, "The stage is so big."

At that moment, his hand was suddenly grasped.

Joshua startled slightly and turned his head—only to see Luther holding his hand gently, patting it twice before smiling and turning his gaze back to the screen as if nothing had happened.

Only then did Joshua notice that one of his fingers was bleeding—a small cut near the nail where he’d scratched himself. He pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

"How’s this stage even big?" Leonard suddenly spoke up, as if answering Joshua’s muttered comment. "Just imagine the crowd as a grass field, that’s all."

Joshua’s tone turned soft but firm. "You’d better not let the fans hear you say that."

Leonard let out a derisive chuckle but didn’t respond.

The performance of the third group began, meaning theirs was next.

Joshua instinctively reviewed their routine in his head. He licked his lips nervously, then stood up. "I’m going to get some water," he said, before heading out.

"I’m thirsty too," Justin immediately said, jumping up to follow.

Joshua knew he shouldn’t be nervous—but physiological reactions weren’t something he could control.

His fans loved him deeply. In his memory, it was the first time he’d ever been adored by so many people.

They’d sent him countless support messages, even putting his face up on enormous LED screens—as if proudly showing him off to the entire world.

He kept telling himself to do well, but now, standing on the brink of the stage that would determine his future, the anxiety hit him all at once.

At that moment, his phone suddenly rang—it was Nine, yelling excitedly.

[Joshua, it’s almost your turn, right?! I’m down here—front row! You have to look at me, okay? Look at me!]

[You’re going to be the center! I told you from the very beginning!]

Joshua’s fingertips trembled slightly. Then, in a quiet voice, he said into the phone, "Nine... I’m scared."

The announcement sounded paused for a moment, then suddenly the phone rang. Joshua flinched slightly but still answered the call.

It was a video call, though Joshua’s face wasn’t visible on screen. The moment the call connected, a deafening wave of noise burst through the speaker. Nine’s voice shouted over the chaos: "If I tell people I’m talking to Joshua right now, no one’s gonna believe me, hahaha!"

"So many people standing next to me came here just for you, Joshua! Maybe you’re feeling pressured by all the love they’re giving you—but trust me, they wouldn’t want that!"

"How do you fall in love with an idol? Sometimes it’s just a glance, a wink, a fleeting moment when you think, ’This person is adorable,’ or ’This person is so handsome.’ Every bit of affection starts from the simplest reason. Just existing as an idol—you’re already a source of strength for your fans! They’re all out here cheering, they’re happy, Joshua. So stop worrying and enjoy the stage they’ve built for you. Enjoy the results of your hard work. Just like before—you’ve always done it so well!"

After a brief pause, Nine laughed again: "Or maybe you can just admit that not having me by your side makes you nervous, hahaha! Cowardly little bunny!"

Joshua was momentarily stunned. His already glistening eyes grew wetter, sparkling under the light like a precious gem was about to fall. Then, the corners of his lips curved up slightly, and he murmured, "Nine, you’re the worst."

With that, he ended the call.

Joshua stared at his reflection in the mirror, tightening his fist until it no longer trembled.

That’s right—his perfect state, his most beautiful face, all of it was for the stage, the fans, and himself.

Joshua, you can do this!