The audience was buzzing with excitement, and David appeared equally energized. Paradoxically, however, the entirety of Sparkle seemed steeped in lethargy—so much so that the phrase "I couldn't care less" might as well have been etched across their faces.
Eren was no different in his indifference. Had he not already resolved to live in the place of the body's original owner, he would never have been able to sit beneath the scrutiny of so many eyes. He detested the sensation of being observed, loathed even more the cameras trained relentlessly upon him.
For that reason, among several others, when David asked the band members to introduce themselves, the living room fell into a complete and utter silence—devoid of even the faintest sound.
David wiped the sweat from his brow and offered an awkward smile.
"W–well, it seems our dear guests are feeling a little shy."
(Hahaha, I'm dying of laughter. Who would believe that Sparkle has even a shred of shyness?)
(If they're really embarrassed, this man is going to eat dirt.)
(Ooh, how thrilling—I'd genuinely love to see that.)
…
The comments section boiled with mockery and banter—until Harry suddenly spoke.
"What nonsense is this about introducing ourselves?" he snapped. "Who doesn't know our band and the impending scandal of its disbandment? Stop wasting time and let's get on with today's task. I want to rest early."
Harry's glare burned as fiercely as the color of his hair.
This idol was infamous for his utter disregard for both people and the entertainment industry's rules. He had always spoken his mind bluntly, without polish or restraint.
Yet for some reason, the other members—who had habitually reprimanded Harry whenever he crossed the line—said nothing this time. No one stopped him.
The implication was unmistakable.
They did not believe their volatile friend was in tat faults time.
Mel, seated beside Eren, tapped his fingers lightly against his knee. The gentle smile on his face remained unchanged as he looked toward David, who now clearly appeared unsettled by Harry's words.
As the group's leader, Gil showed no inclination to assume responsibility or speak up.
Eventually, David responded curtly to Harry's sarcasm.
"Since everyone already knows the veteran members, let's have the new member introduce himself and greet the audience."
Without warning, Eren was dragged into the fray—and his expression was no better than Harry's.
Still, he maintained perfect composure and impeccable manners. Faced with someone seeking civil discourse, Eren was not the sort to repay courtesy with rudeness.
Perhaps this was something ingrained in him since childhood; his noble, aristocratic habits were not easily discarded or forgotten.
Even after years of working as an assassin, everything about him still carried an air of dignity and poise—his appearance, his behavior, the way he sat, the way he stood.
For instance, at that very moment, he was seated on the same sofa as Mel and Gil. Yet his posture alone made him appear exactly as the audience had described him: complete.
He sat perfectly upright, shoulders straight without the slightest stiffness or affectation. He neither leaned back nor let his body slacken, despite having endured an exhausting day—and despite being injured.
His hands rested neatly atop his knees, fingers lightly interlaced.
He radiated authority, elegance, and courtesy—like a breathtaking work of art.
Sensing David's focused, inquisitive gaze, Eren let out a soft, audible sigh.
Gil and Mel, who appeared to be staring straight into the camera, subtly angled the corners of their eyes toward Eren.
Eren lifted his gaze to the camera slowly and calmly, the motion almost flawless—his expression neither hostile nor ingratiating.
Only then did his voice emerge—gentle and pleasant, yet imbued with an undercurrent of awe-inspiring strength.
"Good evening."
The words were spoken with complete calm—no exaggeration, no excessive enthusiasm, no artificial performance.
And yet, every eye in the room turned toward him.
"My name is Eren. I am the newest member of this group. I appreciate your support and your viewership. Thank you."
The young man paused briefly, as if allowing the audience time to acclimate to his voice, before continuing.
"I hope we work well together during this time."
…
Once again, an absolute silence descended.
Even Harry—who never missed an opportunity to provoke Eren—was now staring at him in stunned disbelief.
No one knew what he was thinking.
The others were staring as well, though thanks to their greater self-control, they did not display the same blatant shock and foolish amazement as Harry.
"That's all?" David asked when it became clear that Eren had nothing more to add.
When Eren nodded in confirmation, David sighed in mild regret.
Still, he did not forget his role as host. Quickly, he shifted the conversation toward the band's first task—one that might very well mark the final stretch of their journey in the entertainment world.
"I don't know if you're aware, but this variety show isn't like others. For instance, there are no competitive missions for food, rooms, or basic necessities."
"Throughout your stay here, the kitchen will be stocked with fresh ingredients—meat, vegetables, and beverages. Of course, the quality of what you eat will depend on you."
"Are you saying we have to cook for ourselves?"
Albert asked incredulously, scratching his smoky-blue hair.
Perhaps due to his mischievous and elusive nature, Albert seemed almost invisible when silent. He possessed an uncanny ability to suppress his presence entirely—until he chose to reveal it himself, as he had just done.
Eren looked in Albert's direction for two seconds.
Then he averted his gaze casually, though his mind was already at work.
(This group is unbelievably interesting.)
No one knew what Eren had thought—or what he had discerned.
As for Albert's question, David crushed his last shred of hope with a simple nod.
"Now, since today is your first day here and you're completely unfamiliar with your surroundings, the production team has been considerate. Your first task will be a group game—both entertaining and physically intense. Naturally, it will take place within the villa's grounds."
"A game? I'm interested."
"What kind of game?"
"Are there rewards and penalties?"
Harry, Albert, and finally Mel—those three spoke almost simultaneously.
Their personalities and mindsets were clearly reflected in their questions.
Instead of answering immediately, David smiled and began explaining the rules and mechanics of the game.
"In this game, you'll be divided into two teams. Each person will have a numbered tag attached to their back. Your objective is to tear off your opponent's tag. In other words, you'll be playing a mix of hiding, escaping, and combat. The team with the most survivors at the end wins. Simple enough, right?"
"Oh dear, do you want us to pluck each other like chickens?" Albert couldn't help laughing as he imagined the scene.
Mel, on the other hand, showed a hint of reluctance but remained calm as usual.
As for Harry—the perpetually ruffled bird—nothing ever pleased him. He nearly exploded in anger, were it not for Mel's warning glance.
Nathan was like a body without a soul—expressionless, devoid of any visible thoughts.
Gil, meanwhile, agreed without hesitation. Anyone who knew him understood that he was the last person to ever take anything seriously.
As for Eren, all he wanted was for this to end so he could retreat somewhere alone.
That was precisely why he was the first to speak.
"When do we start?"