Not Tired At All! ♬ -No More Wasting Time On You! ♬ -I Believe In Myself! Let's Go~ ♬
Ji-soo burst onto the stage first, unleashing a powerful kick with all her might. What would have been slippery oil if they'd worn their original outfits had transformed into a stunning effect thanks to their barefooted grit. As Ji-soo landed from her leap, the oil splashed up like a video game effect.
A water spirit, huh. If Black Label saw nasty commenters as eyesores, they'd mock this line—but to me, it felt real. Ji-soo, stepping back to sync with the group choreography, looked just like the water nymph Undine.
Good thing. I wasn't the only one feeling it. Fans who'd rushed over just to cheer for Black Label alone erupted in cheers behind me. The face of the closest fan caught my eye, rippling with emotion. A longtime Black Label stan, probably.
What could have spiraled into a total disaster had turned into a fervent performance thanks to my quick thinking. No need to worry about the stage anymore. I turned my head back and caught the judges' satisfied expressions.
And the cameras too. The broadcast cams, itching for the judges' reactions, stayed glued in place.
"Definitely."
At this level, advancing to the round of 16 should be a breeze. If this had been a live broadcast, victory would've been a sure thing. Unfortunately, it was pre-recorded. Not live.
The judges seemed to have smoothed over any rough edges nicely, but on-site voting was the wildcard. Online votes got converted to on-site ratios. No matter how harshly the judges critiqued Opus, if Opus racked up votes from the live audience, those critiques meant squat.
Some spectators frowned at the heavy exposure, but voting stayed strictly secret. Pure vs. sexy—it was all personal taste.
I needed to minimize any risks I could. I rubbed my furrowed brow.
"What now."
What to do. We'd already cut the killing verse and parts as much as possible right before the stage, and the performance had gone off without a hitch.
"Need something special."
I blinked, staring up at the stage a few times.
Munchkin as expected—Won Ji-min. A solid 3 stars, towering over the other members' shaky 2s. And her latent potential was leagues ahead too. Right now, Won Ji-min's charm could...
I dashed to the front of the stage, squinting at Won Ji-min.
Huh? Luckily, she was backing them up from behind, gaping like a crucian carp, mouthing What?
No point in a long explanation mid-performance. A single gesture said more than a hundred words. I pointed to my eyes, firing off winks and eye smiles nonstop.
She's smart—she'd get it.
Her part came up. Past the bridge, heading into the climax. Won Ji-min charged forward, nailing the choreo, staring straight at the camera.
Was it right for a mere composer to micromanage the performance mid-stage? Manager or composer, didn't matter now. Gotta eat to live. What choice did I have?
Couldn't waste overflowing stats either.
"For you~!" ♬
With the piano session signaling the climax, Won Ji-min squeezed her eyes shut and flashed an eye smile. The broadcast cam caught it perfectly. On the studio's giant screen, Won Ji-min beamed wide, winking bright.
"Waaaaaah!!"
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!!"
Idol vs. idol. Even with different concepts carving out distinctions, in a sea of copycat idol culture, it was tiny details that stood out. That's what I targeted.
Cheers exploded. As expected—gap moe was the ultimate cheat code in idol fandom.
Won Ji-min's Charm has grown!
"Whoa— that choreo is brutal, for real."
Park Jin-seon snapped shots, then switched modes. Photos wouldn't cut it. He flipped to video and started filming Black Label.
"One hundred percent."
Snet would milk this fancam for YouTube views. Trickle-down effect. Park Jin-seon smirked faintly. Lemme lick some of that overflowing honey.
Fancams came in flavors. From solo member edits to "screw the dance, just my fave's face" close-ups. "Dongpari" Park Jin-seon picked GIFs from the bunch.
Fancams got taken down anyway. GIFs were the play.
"Koreans are busy as hell—folks speed vids to 1.5x. No way I'm filming full clips just to hit copyright."
Arm'd cramp holding steady too.
"Exactly!"
Snag the essence and bail. Community highlights were all GIFs anyway.
"Nail one, and you're done. Just one."
Black Label's ace, already hyped as a 4th-gen munchkin, Won Ji-min, stepped forward. Time to snipe. Park Jin-seon aimed at her, watching through the viewfinder as she panted fiercely, powering through.
And now. Hit record—Won Ji-min faced the lens dead-on, winking with a radiant eye smile.
Their eyes met by accident. Park Jin-seon jolted.
"Gah—!"
If not for the wrist strap, the camera would've shattered. Lens dipped toward the floor as stunned Park Jin-seon gaped at Won Ji-min.
"F-freakin' insane!"
Screw who heard the curse. Park Jin-seon heaved a deep breath.
"What the—! Why's she this pretty?!"
He bellowed, but cheers drowned him out across the studio. Everyone stared blankly at Won Ji-min on the screen—even Opus. Opus's Ji-hyun, stunned by Won Ji-min's visuals, got caught by the broadcast cam.
A rival member's own teammate crushing on her? Instant viral post. Community drama incoming.
"Heh heh heh."
Capturing Opus's Ji-hyun too, Park Jin-seon grinned ear-to-ear, checking the camera.
"Straight-up nuts."
Won Ji-min's expression in the memory card? Gold. His brain was already spinning edits, free hand twitching.
"Nailed it."
This? Black Label was money.
Not Hitel or Cheonrian. The 21st-century info age moved at warp speed.
Black Label's stage ended, and SNS lit up with instant reactions. Opus, waiting backstage, took the stage next. Black Label caught their breath, awaiting judge feedback.
I waited for our online judges' verdicts too.
Quick-fingered homas were already dropping B-cuts. As long as no spoilers, Snet let stage stills flood from homas. Hell, they encouraged it.
"Composer-nim."
Black Label's manager tapped my elbow. Cameras were closing in. Faster ones might've already nabbed me checking reactions. Whatever. If they caught my phone screen, viewers'd see it as hardcore Black Label support, not apathy.
Stage cleanup wrapping up—lights hit the judges too.
"Great show!"
MC Joo Seong-hwan kicked off with his hype voice alone jacking up the energy. Opus and Black Label split the stage left-right; cams missed no expressions. Black Label wore cool, satisfied post-performance grins. Opus looked puzzled. Some Opus members grimaced like they'd eaten shit, then ducked heads camera-aware.
"Opus and Black Label, Black Label and Opus. You two groups filled this stage for a solid 10 minutes. But sadly, time for cold hard critiques!"
Joo Seong-hwan swung focus from the teams to the judges.
"Who'd like to go first? Ah, Bitboy Kim Min-hyuk."
First up as expected—lowest seniority. Dead last in the seats, he cleared his throat, mic in hand.
"Ahem. Yeah. Loved both Opus and Black Label's stages. Uh..."
Kim Min-hyuk glanced at scribbled notes—probably jotted to not blank mid-review.
"First off, 'great show' doesn't cut it."
"Pardon?"
He slid off his shades, staring me down outright. Then dropped it.
"I was moved."