Main Character of a Dating Reality Show C9

Chapter 9

Tommy and Kang Hee-jun insisted on giving the other the honor of drawing first. After a lengthy back-and-forth, Tommy—“like a true Alpha,” as he put it—finally stepped forward. His hands and even his ears burned crimson as he shuffled toward the draw box like an overboiled potato about to burst.

There was a reason Gyeol had hoped not to succeed in the first pheromone matching.

In past seasons—when only the “Skinship Time” option existed—couples who matched early and entered the Time Booth together almost always ended up as the final pairs. As if once conquered by instinct, they could no longer escape it.

Because of that, the first matched couple of every season carried sky-high audience expectations. Watching them falter later was seen as a kind of betrayal, and the backlash was merciless. Negative reviews, angry posts, snide commentary—entire threads dedicated to dissecting their “failed chemistry.”

“Stop!”

Tommy’s booming voice cut through the tension as the spinning numbers on the large digital screen halted.

“Number one!”
“Ahhh!”

Kang Hee-jun jumped up, cheering, while Tommy sank dramatically to his knees and lifted both arms toward the sky in a comically triumphant pose.

The tension among the cast broke, laughter rippling through the group.

“You did great, King Potato!”
“Please don’t call me that!”

Despite his embarrassment, Tommy grinned and high-fived Hee-jun.

Apparently, Gyeol wasn’t the only one who saw the resemblance. Later, he’d learn that Tommy’s YouTube channel name—ironically enough—was PotatoTV.

“Give me your hand, King Potato.”
“I told you not to call me that…”

Hee-jun offered his hand, and Tommy, still mumbling in awkward Korean, took it sheepishly.

And so, the two of them entered the Time Booth with bright, nervous smiles. The rest of the cast was granted a brief and blissful stretch of free time.

“Is this really only the second day? I feel like my energy’s been drained dry…”

Yoon I-soo collapsed onto the mattress, mumbling weakly.

“You look pale, I-soo. Like some creature from a wizard movie just sucked out your soul.”
“You mean like the one from Harry Porter? Ah, I shouldn’t have imagined that.”

He wheezed out a laugh at Gyeol’s quick wit.

“The part where it goes ‘Huuuuhhh’—then collapses dramatically.”

Gyeol mimed the action, flopping onto the bed, and I-soo burst out laughing.

“That was spot on! Wow, your expressions are insane, hyung. Can you really show that kind of acting on the show?”
“As long as it makes you laugh, that’s enough.”

Gyeol rested his chin on his hand, voice softening. The playful warmth in his tone made I-soo groan and roll over.

“Wow, are Omegas supposed to flirt with other Omegas now?”
“Doesn’t count if you don’t fall for it.”

They’d grown close over the past two days—remarkably so. I-soo, as it turned out, was genuinely pleasant to be around. Their sense of humor clicked perfectly, and his gentle nature made every moment easy.

It wouldn’t be so bad, Gyeol thought, if this easy camaraderie between the Omegas became the norm.

“Do you think Tommy and Hee-jun are doing okay in there? I kind of wish I could watch as a viewer.”
“Yeah. The producers probably know exactly what’s going on, but we won’t find out until it airs.”
“That’s probably for the best.”

“What is?”

Gyeol tilted his head. I-soo stared at the ceiling, voice thoughtful.

“That no one matched with Joon-oh.”

“Ah.”

Of course. Shin Joon-oh.

“To be honest… I wanted to match with him.”

So that was it. I-soo really did like him. Even on camera, he didn’t hide his feelings, his admiration for Joon-oh spilling out without filter.

Meanwhile, just hearing the name made Gyeol’s stomach twist. Having recently been engulfed in Joon-oh’s pheromone scent, he was still on edge. Maintaining a neutral expression, he subtly turned his back to the camera so his face wouldn’t be visible.

“I see.”

“Yeah. I mean, the pheromone matching is such a big deal, right? Once you’re drawn to someone’s pheromone, you spend an hour doing skinship—it feels like there’s a real chance there. Well, not all the sessions are skinship anymore, but still.”

“True.”

He nodded.
From I-soo’s perspective, it must have felt like two consecutive missed chances—especially since at least one Alpha’s vote (likely Joon-oh’s) had gone to Gyeol.

Seeing his crestfallen face tugged at Gyeol’s heart.
He might’ve come here with hardened resolve, but compassion still came too naturally to him.

“It’s only the second day, I-soo. There’ll be more chances. There are still a few pheromone matchings left.”
“You think so?”

It was a strange feeling—comforting someone who had a crush on his ex.

“Of course. You’re a great guy, I-soo.”

He meant it.
And the sincerity must’ve reached him, because I-soo’s eyes softened immediately.

“…Gyeol-hyung. You really are a good person.”
“Nah, I didn’t even do anything.”
“Let’s drop the honorifics. You can talk casually to me.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I’d like that.”
“Then from now on, I’ll call you hyung.”

Hyung.

That word always hit a tender spot in him. Maybe because he’d never had a brother who actually cared for him. During his SAVE ME days, too, he’d been the one looking after younger members who’d called him “hyung” with bright trust in their eyes.

“Okay. Me too, I-soo.”

The easy warmth in I-soo’s voice, the unguarded affection—it was comforting. Gyeol felt his heart open just a little more.

After chatting a while longer, he rose to his feet.

“I-soo, get some rest. I think I’ll shower. Guess the nerves got me sweating.”
“Mm, okay, hyung. I’m gonna nap for a bit.”
“Should I turn off the light?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got a sleep mask.”

I-soo pulled out an eye mask from the drawer—a cute one with cartoon eyes drawn over the fabric.

Smiling faintly, Gyeol slipped into the bathroom.

Inside, he locked the door and took out his phone—the one place on set without cameras.

Unread messages from Bae Hye-seong filled the screen.

Dropped Yuli off at daycare.
(Photo)
He’s throwing a fit asking where his dad is

The attached photo showed Yuli’s cheeks puffed out, eyes red from crying.
He looked utterly miserable—and heartbreakingly cute.

The sight melted away the last traces of frustration Yohan had left festering in him.

He traced Yuli’s cheek on the screen, the hard glass cool beneath his fingertip. He couldn’t feel the real warmth of his son’s skin, but even the thought soothed him.

Snuck into the bathroom during filming. Sorry for leaving you alone with him.

Perched on the bathtub’s edge, Gyeol typed quickly. The reply came almost immediately.

I miss you already, Gyeol.

He exhaled softly, tilting his head back against the wall.

It had barely begun—just day two of filming—and already he wanted to quit. How was he supposed to endure fifteen more days of this?

He pressed the edge of his phone to his temple before slowly typing a reply.

Tell Yuli there are only fourteen nights left till I come home.
I told him before leaving, but still…
This is the first time I’ve missed you this much.
ㅋㅋㅋㅋ
Then enjoy missing us properly.
ㅠㅠ

He chuckled. Another photo came in—Yuli gripping a chocolate bar the size of his face, nibbling the corner like a little hamster. His eyes were still puffy, but the tears had stopped.

“Come on. Stay strong, Gyeol.”

He stretched, forcing himself to smile. His precious boy was being brave; he could be, too.

When he stepped out of the shower, I-soo was already asleep.

Moving quietly, towel draped over his head, Gyeol tiptoed across the room—only to nearly scream when he opened the door.

“Ah—!”

He froze. The towel slipped from his head.

Had that been loud enough to wake I-soo?
He glanced back nervously—then turned toward the figure waiting outside the bungalow.

Shin Joon-oh.

He’d caught the towel mid-fall and now held it out.

What the hell was he doing here?

“Gyeol.”

The camera was pointed straight at them.

Keeping his face calm, Gyeol took the towel and placed it back over his head.

“You scared me, Joon-oh.”
“You sound so stiff. Just talk to me like before.”

Was he insane? The cameras were rolling!

Anger bubbled up inside him.
They weren’t on those terms anymore—weren’t anything.

“Sure. What’s up?”

He forced a polite smile, pretending ease.

Joon-oh’s gaze traced the droplets on his damp hair, down his jawline, to the soft curve of his neck. He quickly looked away, speaking lowly.

“Actually, I was waiting for you.”

Get lost.

The words sat heavy on Gyeol’s tongue, but he swallowed them.

“Oh?”
“Yeah. Wanted to talk. We haven’t had a chance, right? Thought this free time was as good as any.”

Every part of him screamed no.
Of all the Alphas, Joon-oh was the last person he wanted to spend a single second with.

If not for the cameras, he might’ve punched him in the gut and gone back inside.

But he could already imagine the production crew watching from the monitors, eyes gleaming.

He didn’t have a choice.

There was a reason they’d cast both of them together.

Former bandmates.

The downfall of SAVE ME had been no secret—Joon-oh’s sudden departure had shattered the group, ending their careers overnight. While SAVE ME faded into obscurity, Joon-oh re-debuted as the leader of Moving, amassing a colossal fanbase. His betrayal, instead of ruining him, had turned him into a star.

The producers knew all this, of course.

They knew exactly what they were doing.

Whatever angle the cameras caught, it would make for explosive television.

“Alright. Let’s talk.”

That—unfortunately—was the nature of their relationship now.