Chapter 15
The song ended.
Silence filled the meeting room.
Even breathing felt cautious.
‘It’s good…’
Everyone was thinking the same thing — and asking the same question.
‘Did Jinwoo really make this?’
‘Wait, this song was actually written by that Jinwoo from Lumis, the failing idol?’
‘He had this kind of talent?’
Expressions were a mix of disbelief and awe — with a hint of hope hidden beneath.
They all wanted this to be real.
“Hey, hey–!”
Tap, tap–!
Ruha’s back scratcher rapped on the table.
An employee, snapping back to reality, hurriedly pulled out the USB.
The first to speak was Seo Ji-won, the A&R team leader.
“I’m… in favor.”
All eyes turned to her.
“As you know, the current trend is self-producing idols. Fans don’t just want idols who can perform a song well anymore. They’re drawn to artists who tell their own stories through music.”
Her voice carried conviction.
“Of course, stage performance matters too — but writing your own songs is on another level. ‘We make our own music.’ You know how powerful that message is.”
She wasn’t wrong.
In the past, it was rare for idols to compose their own songs.
Now, most groups tried to have at least one member capable of producing.
For companies, self-producing idols had obvious advantages.
No endless back-and-forth revisions with outside composers.
No delays waiting for feedback.
If you make the music yourself, the concept stays clear — and you save time.
Composition, arrangement, session fees, directing, even mixing and mastering — production costs plummet.
And the producing member gets a bonus: royalties.
But the biggest benefit was image.
From idol to artist.
It’s just one extra word, but it changes everything.
And even if the attempt failed, there was no real loss.
If the song doesn’t fit the group? Sell it to someone else.
If it’s a hit? The creators get just as much attention.
It becomes free marketing — promoting the group without any new activities.
Cost reduction, new revenue, brand renewal, and marketing value —
There was no reason to oppose it.
The atmosphere in the meeting room shifted.
Doubt turned into confidence.
Then suddenly—
BEEP-BEEP!
A loud sound blared from somewhere.
“OHHH! It’s finally happening! Harp–!”
Everyone looked over.
The genius producer — who had once proved it all by rising to the top — was bouncing excitedly while holding a tablet.
On the screen, <Piano Fairy Doremi> was playing.
CLEF Entertainment Practice Room
The Lumis members were deep in practice as usual.
In one corner, a small figure glared at a tablet.
“Grrr…”
Ruha’s eyebrows twitched.
The My Youngest at Home camera had been tailing him all day.
But what was really bothering Ruha wasn’t the camera.
It was something much worse.
“Hey! Come on!”
He finally exploded.
“Can you stop filming me already?! It’s driving me nuts–!”
The camera director’s pupils trembled in fear.
Before him stood a five-year-old who thought he was a tiger, baring his “claws,”
while behind him, real predators — PD Lee Geon-woo (the tiger) and writer Seo Yu-jin (the wolf) — were gesturing fiercely:
‘He’s only five! Don’t you dare lose this time!’
‘What do you expect me to do?!’
The poor, timid cameraman sighed in defeat.
“I can’t take this anymore–!”
Ruha’s shout echoed through the practice room.
The Lumis members froze mid-dance.
“PD-nim–!”
He stomped over to Lee Geon-woo.
“Uh… Ruha?”
Creak—
PD Lee’s head turned stiffly, like a broken toy.
When Ruha switched from his usual “Geon-woo hyuuung~” to the formal “PD-nim–,”
it meant one thing: Ruha was not in a good mood.
“You don’t look happy, Ruha… what’s wrong?”
Lee’s eyes flicked to the back scratcher behind Ruha’s back.
Back Scratcher Secret Technique! Chapter 2— Reckless Whack!
Yeah… that thing hurt.
“PD-nim! What is this, huh–?”
Ruha jutted out his chin and drooped his eyebrows and lips dramatically.
Then he waved the tablet in front of the PD’s face.
“Look at these comments! How can people say things like this to a five-year-old? Don’t you moderate the comments?!”
“Ru… Ruha…?”
Lee Geon-woo was stunned.
A five-year-old talking about malicious editing and comment moderation?!
— Isn’t this a parenting problem?
└ He’s still a kid, but he’s already twisted.
└ Being a kid doesn’t excuse bad behavior. Abolish the juvenile law!
└ Why are we even talking about that here…?
— Using a weapon at that age? His future looks grim.
└ That’s not a weapon, it’s a back scratcher.
└ Ever been hit by one? Hurts like hell, trust me.
└ He’s five, how hard can he even hit?
This far?
Lee frowned.
Public opinion was turning strange — though, thinking about it, he kind of understood.
“Do the laundry.”
“Clean up.”
“Don’t rest, go work out.”
“Practice.”
“Monitor the others.”
Wasn’t Ruha the one who bossed the older members around with his back scratcher every day?
Even now, his fingers twitched like he was ready to pull it out at any second.
Even the PD sometimes thought, “Isn’t this a bit much?” — so to viewers who only saw the edited clips, Ruha just looked like a tiny tyrant.
Couldn’t they just edit it differently, then?
In theory, yes — but in practice, not really.
Because Lumis was competing on RE:VIVAL, they couldn’t air practice footage or schedules — too many spoilers.
So the only usable content was their daily life.
And the center of that daily life was always Ruha.
Besides, Ruha’s clips brought in views.
— How is he this handsome?!
└ They weren’t kidding calling Lumis the “visual genius group.” Even the youngest is gorgeous 😭😭😭
└ Can’t wait for his future ㅠㅠ
└ I told my mom I want Ruha as my son-in-law ♥
└ LMAOOO 😂
— Cute and chic 😭😭😭
└ So this is what it means to “live up to your face.”
└ The way he glares to watch Piano Fairy— so adorable I can’t stand it 😭😭
└ Even muttering “harp, harp” in his sleep, too cute 😂
— Does Ruha carry his back scratcher to kindergarten too? He’d look like a Ninja Turtle 😂
└ Gotta gift him another one then 😂
└ LOL I imagined it and choked laughing
└ The way he shouts “Secret Technique!” every time he pulls it out is so cute ㅠㅠ
The hate comments were few.
Most viewers were in love with Ruha.
Thanks to him, <My Youngest at Home> was steadily rising in popularity.
Unlike episode 1, episode 2 saw a massive increase in views.
If they could keep it up through episodes 3 and 4, they might even get a full-season order.
That was Lee Geon-woo’s take on things.
“Grrr, arf arf!”
Ruha, oblivious to his worries, continued barking indignantly at the few mean comments.
“……”
Lee suddenly wondered.
What kind of parents does Ruha even have?
He was supposedly Yoon Tae-jin’s nephew, but… they couldn’t be more different.
Not just in looks — in personality.
The Yoon Tae-jin he knew didn’t fit the usual “CEO” mold.
Not that he lacked ability — but when people think of a company president, they picture someone decisive, charismatic, maybe even money-obsessed.
Yoon Tae-jin was none of that.
He was the embodiment of warmth and understanding — the type to smile softly and say, “It’s okay, what matters is doing your best.”
Always putting others before himself — which, rumor had it, was why he’d been scammed more than once.
And that man’s nephew was… this tiny menace?
“Ruha! Don’t be rude to the PD! I’m so sorry, PD-nim!”
Baek Do-ha rushed over to calm him, but—
“What–?”
Ruha just glared harder.
‘…Never mind. I don’t want to know anymore.’
Best not to pry into someone’s family.
“Jinwoo hyuuuuung–!”
Ruha waved his short arms and ran toward Ha Jinwoo.
Lee’s eyes sparkled.
Finally! A heartwarming moment!
THUD!
“Ugh!”
Ah… nope.
Not a hug. A full-on body slam.
“I told you, right?! If the hyungs don’t listen, you have to scold them for me! You don’t wanna use the studio? Huh?!”
“R-Ruha… how am I supposed to scold the others…?”
Ruha continued terrorizing his older members as always.
So again — nothing usable for broadcast today.
Still, Lee couldn’t help smiling.
Well, maybe it doesn’t matter. Their chemistry is too good.
Because of the spoiler restrictions, they couldn’t air much — but those who saw it firsthand knew: their bond was real.
Lumis practiced relentlessly, and there was Ruha — fussing like a tiny trainer, giving feedback, correcting posture.
And the crazy thing? The members actually listened.
At first, they humored him because he was cute.
But over time, they realized his feedback was… surprisingly good(?).
They even started asking for it.
After practice, someone would always gently carry the sleeping Ruha from the corner.
They looked like a family.
Clack–!
At that moment, the practice room door opened, and CEO Yoon Tae-jin walked in.
The My Youngest at Home camera naturally followed him.
“Hello, sir!”
The Lumis members’ voices boomed in unison.
“Oh— yeah!”
Yoon Tae-jin’s chest swelled with pride.
They’ve changed. Totally different now.
Lumis looked stronger, more mature.
Though they’d been thrown off by the position changes at first, they’d fully adapted now.
Between <My Youngest at Home> and RE:VIVAL, he didn’t know if he’d grabbed a rotten rope or a golden one — but retreat was no longer an option.
Standing at the cliff’s edge, the failing idols had to turn even a rotten rope into gold —
because that was the only way to survive in this brutal industry.
Rattle, stomp–!
Through the open door, cameras and staff poured into the room.
“…A mosquito… brat?”
Ruha’s pupils dilated.
