Guys Lololol, Who's Hitting Up Cheonbihoe Audience? Lottery Draw...
-Guys lololol, you all going to the Cheonbihoe audience this time? They're doing a lottery...
"Ah, the Supreme Beat Contest? They abbreviate everything. Ridiculous."
Cheonbihoe sounds like some martial arts sect from a wuxia novel. Pretty cool, actually.
"Ho-ho-."
He blew on it. Dust caked the camera sensor. The puff from his mouth wasn't enough—his lung capacity gave out, face turning red. He pursed his lips and grabbed the camera blower rolling under the monitor, puffing away.
"Should've used this from the start."
A couple light squeezes, and the annoying dust in the sensor was gone. Not a speck left behind.
"Gotta maintain it if I wanna scrape together one more grain of rice. This is my livelihood."
He wiped the camera with a microfiber cloth. Idols were so unpredictable. Like stocks with zero talent involved. The K-pop market expanding worldwide, mid-to-small agencies debuting hundreds of groups a year combined. Even big agency kids poured with money from head to toe couldn't predict tomorrow—how could anyone remember every small fry that flashes by?
This one's kinda meh.
An idol you skimmed past could rise as the new king of the industry a year later. And that "meh" merch from back then? Priceless now.
Why? Everyone's got the same eye for talent. The other hommas laughed it off too.
Those with high-res pics win. That's the painful lesson from his past—he couldn't miss a lottery like this.
Mash that button. Mashing solves everything.
Park Jin-seon steadied his breath. Ticket-buying breath. To defeat the villain Lee Seon-jwa, he synced his clock to Snet's server time and rolled his wrist.
He held up the photocards of newly solo-debuted "Han-seo" like a talisman and prayed.
"Idol god, pour all the passing energy of the universe into me just for this moment."
Chanting his prayer, he shook the photocard.
"If I win, I'll stan the idol I pick hard. Even if it lands me in the society pages later...... ah."
Park Jin-seon froze and smacked his mouth with the photocard. Mood killed.
"I said something dumb."
Who knows, maybe the idol god was listening.
"Ahem. Ahem."
He cleared his throat and reset the vibe.
"One ticket."
Nah. Audience seats were no joke. Especially not for a survival audition—not devouring time but whole dimensions. Stage setup alone took forever, and judging comments? Solo would be exhausting.
"Idol god. Grant me just two Cheonbihoe tickets, and I'll dedicate this body to pressing the shutter like mad, getting your fated idol to the top leagues—"
The server bell chimed mid-prayer. Park Jin-seon squeezed his eyes shut and glared at the monitor. Face muscles locked, but fingers flew.
Payment was 0 won, but the system treated it like a concert ticket frenzy. Shady bastards.
He clicked faster and smoother than anyone. Multiple browsers open, fearing mid-boss security. Seats needed picking.
Photospot seats? Sniped already. No way. 100%. Total BS. That sleazy PD reserved them for sure.
No time to agonize. Quick, quick. Picked his usual backup spot, hit checkout.
No final boss "Lee Seon-jwa." Glitchy loading on the net. Couldn't relax till the end.
White screen refreshed—two seats reserved. Success.
Park Jin-seon dusted his hands and twitched his brows.
"This?...... Piece of cake."
Just gum on his shoe, yet the popup congratulated and thanked him for the reservation.
Among the packed Cheonbihoe lineup flooding the popup, one idol caught his eye. Gotta be an idol—that face couldn't be anything else.
Who? Familiar, but name wouldn't click.
Park Jin-seon rested his hand on the monitor.
"God? Is this handsome devil the price for my ticket win?"
Target acquired.
Chaos erupted. Major AD shakeup during shift change.
A few composers rose from their seats, slipping out unnoticed—or so they thought.
They paused frantic work, timing it like crew on break. But no.
"Moving way too obviously."
They think they're slick exiting the auditorium's back door, but those anxious eyes scream it.
These punks.
Fancy term? Cartel. Cronyism.
Blew up on Nutube once. Composers "colluding" with judges leaked favorable tourney info.
Rekka Nutubers hyped on community drama tore in, but ripples were small.
What could you do? Contest over, top 4 including winners raking fame and cash.
Snet could've flipped, but no real hit. Why? Core allegation wasn't rigged beats, scoring opponents low/high. Just advance schedules leaked.
Leaked tapes? Judges and composers trash-talking rivals. Nothing more scandalous.
No deals uncovered. Backlash hit.
Devilish editor Jo Young-soo was PR genius too. Leaker composer? One of the same crew, salty over skill-based elimination.
All the same slop, different weeds.
"Um...... Composer-nim. You're Falcon Composer, right?"
The AD runt timidly tapped my knee.
"Yes. PD-nim."
"Eek. Not PD. Say that elsewhere and you're toast."
I know. Lip service. You'll be main PD someday?
Acted clueless. "Sorry. They all look the same to me. What's up?"
"Ah...... well......"
AD whispered in my ear.
"Kim Min-hyuk-nim wants you outside for a sec."
"Hyung?"
Lips tight, AD nodded. Gesturing sneakily, but I clocked it. Black Label shot "go quick" looks too.
At the whispered spot: puff of smoke.
Kim Min-hyuk vaped on the rooftop.
"Holding up?"
"We cool like this?"
"What's not cool?"
Kim Min-hyuk eyed the railing beyond my shoulder—packed stares already, judges fake-coughing.
He shrugged broad shoulders boldly.
"I did jack shit? Just called you for a smoke."
"You know I don't smoke, yet you pull this."
Kim Min-hyuk laughed, headlocked my neck, whispered.
"Dude! Play shameless like everyone else. They flaunt every connection. You got a solid lifeline—what's with the hesitation."
"Just confirming if I can grab it."
"Mouthy brat. Everyone does it—why not me?"
"Got much to offer?"
Info flowed one-way. Key stuff already taped-leaked. No desire for blacklist over nothing.
Kim Min-hyuk grinned.
"Something? More for your partner than you. Round 2—public audience, right?"
Saw old broadcasts. Knew, but shouldn't.
I furrowed brows. He patted my shoulder.
"See? Helpful. Not even day-before."
Exhaling smoke, he spy-kept spilling.
"Show day. PD drops surprise. 'This stage is ours too.' Bullshit."
Not always bad—this dramatic twist. Guerrilla stage? Adapting fast for perfect perf is skill.
I smiled proudly. Trained my hyung well.
Stale news, but him rushing to tell me? Adorable.
"What that smile?"
Kim Min-hyuk paused.
"Huh? What."
"That smile. Feels off."
"What's bad? Brother smiling at bro."
"That smug 'I'm above you' grin pisses me off."
Hate sharp guys. Pivoted.
"Anything else?"
Might as well dig—info's spilling.
"Uh...... something dumb...... ah, right. Usage rights."
"Huh? Usage rights?"
Not empty harvest.
"Tournament opponent swap ticket."