Chapter 37: Joo Seong-hwan Spoke
Joo Seong-hwan said,
"Before these two players set out to defeat the demon king, they both awakened. This has caused some difficulties with the judging. We'd like to ask for your understanding from all the viewers, players, and composers. We'll be grateful if you just wait a moment."
It didn't matter. The scales had already tipped.
Black Label Search Count: 123,432 / 10,000
A quest that succeeded just by hitting 10,000—and we'd crushed it by more than ten times that. Honestly, this deserved extra rewards. System, you acknowledge it?
"Yeah, acknowledged."
The system gave its usual lame response. Exactly as expected.
They'd picked the wrong opponent—way wrong. In global portal searches on Google, a top-tier K-pop girl group member's daily searches hit 20,000. For a... fourth-tier group like Black Label, 10,000 keyword searches was a big number if you called it big, small if small. Even bottom-feeders could climb if they tried.
I stepped onto the stage. It felt strange. Not just because it was a stage only for players.
I'd been a player once. Like Black Label, I'd moved my body to someone else's song, felt joy from a single line that lasted less than three seconds, lived in a world where the few fans screamed my name, Seo Hyun-woo's. All ancient history now.
The clueless puppet Seo Hyun-woo was dead.
"Oppa!"
Won Ji-min, who'd climbed up beside me, called out.
"Yeah."
"What do you think? The stage is huge, right?"
She spread her arms wide, bragging about the stage they'd filled.
"Yeah. Huge. Must've been tough for just three."
"Pfft, three was plenty. We had dancer unnies too."
Won Ji-min whispered toward me.
"Someday, I'll fill it solo!!"
Her hidden solo ambitions peeked through slyly.
"You'll write my solo track then, right, oppa?"
"Ooh, what's this? Planning to shine solo, Miss Won Ji-min? Nah, can't have that. Gotta tell the girls."
"Aang. Oppa, nooo."
Ray, who'd been staring holes into the Black Label manager and her phone, popped her head up like a meerkat. She tilted her head at Won Ji-min and me.
"What? What's up with you two? Why whisper all sneaky like that? Spill!"
"Oh, was just about to say something anyway."
I beckoned her over. Come if you're curious.
My acting was nonexistent. I'd figured this goofy routine would hook her, but Won Ji-min's icy leader glare shut it down from right beside me. Leaders are leaders, huh.
Ray played it cool, pretending she saw nothing, and finished chatting with Hye-soo and the manager.
Hye-soo, Ray, Won Ji-min. Black Label was a trio.
Thinking about it, yeah. Weird. Didn't girl groups usually plan around four members as the base? Was it like this before? No clue. Scratching my head and digging through memories, I couldn't recall Black Label's original number.
"Ji-min."
"Yes!"
"Just... suddenly curious, so I'm asking..."
"But why the pause? Just say it, no pressure."
"Uh... was Black Label always three?"
"Members...?"
"Yeah."
I asked, wondering if there was some behind-the-scenes member selection drama the public didn't know. It happened sometimes. Watching idol debut survival docs, you'd see them shoving each other for fixed seats, yet ironically comforting one another in melodrama. Even though the PD had already locked in the debutees anyway.
As Won Ji-min's pause dragged, my suspicions grew that Black Label might've been through it too.
"No."
The answer came quick. No eye contact, but firmer than anyone's, drawing a line.
"Black Label's been three from the start."
***
The red light on camera blinked steadily. On Air. Shooting in progress.
But no recording. Joo Seong-hwan had dipped backstage with Jo Young-soo, judges too.
The manager muttered,
"Sounds like they can't agree on judging."
"That tight, huh? We did that well?"
5959. Ray beamed proudly and asked. You, answer energy?
"Hey, why ignore me!"
I skipped answering since she already knew. Turning, Rock Garden and 350 had left the stage. The assistant director approached awkwardly, asking forgiveness.
"Sorry for the wait. Uh... judging's not fully done, might take longer. Could Black Label and Falcon head to the waiting room for now, and we call you back once shooting prep's ready?"
"Sure. Got it."
The assistant director clasped hands politely, bowing nonstop.
"Sorry."
"Sorry? Nah, means we killed it, right?"
I echoed Ray's line. The assistant director looked troubled, glanced back, stepped closer.
"P-positively speaking, yes! Black Label and Rock Garden are neck-and-neck. Black Label even dominated in spots. Judges can't compromise."
"I see."
This one's done too. No PD material. Stab, and it bled. Mouth must've itched bad.
"Hey! What're you doing there!"
The head AD tossed bait for anyone catching his eye, and the guilty assistant spun.
"G-gonna go!!"
He bowed to us.
"I'll head out then."
"Yeah."
Go. Got all the useful info.
Black Label lit up hearing "neck-and-neck" from a lowly assistant. Ray poked my side.
"Hmph, ignores my words but parrots them."
"Same words, different speaker—changes everything. Got it?"
"Shoo!"
"Then get it from now on. Ray, your mutter gave us a key clue."
"M-my mutter...?"
The "domination" the assistant mentioned? Probably online votes. One vote, two. Rock Garden led totals, but on-site and judge scores dismissed their kiddie stage as a joke.
If we'd barely hit the 10,000 benchmark, I'd be sweating. But we dominated. Human metrics.
"What? What? Oppa, search it. We really advancing to quarters?"
Ray nudged the manager's elbow. The manager, who'd pondered if it was hype, showed one post. Invisible hands like on clay memes squished Ray's face. Her phone face crumpled in real-time.
"This is the real jackpot."
***
"S-so, drop Rock Garden?"
A frayed "MC Waiting Room" print hung, but now it was command central. Judges plus Jo Young-soo PD sat.
The one who should control from the front leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the judges' "debate" (chaos).
"I can't agree. Musically, Rock Garden nailed it. Why drop them?"
"No, sunbaenim. Not dropping blindly—Black Label scored higher, so they advance."
Split clean into two camps. Black Label and Rock Garden. Black Label's champ: Jay-Q. Rock Garden's: guest judge Park Yeon-soo, next-gen trot queen building buzz in trending trot.
Five voices with guest. Minus Bitboy Kim Min-hyuk, even 2:2 split.
Black Label stan Jay-Q fired first.
"Still don't get it. Why drag this? Judge scores, on-site, online votes—Black Label wins all. Obvious they advance, so why..."
Park Yeon-soo turned to Jo Young-soo. Ally, she thought.
"PD-nim, your take? Black Label's idols. Skipping them kills quarters, semis, finals fun."
Jo Young-soo checked his smartphone.
"Dropping Rock Garden axes trot slot. Genre diversity loss makes sense."
"Trot quota then?"
Jay-Q scoffed, but Jo Young-soo shook his head.
"No need to decide yet."
Vague answer. No rush. Both stages were viewer-worthy quality. Fan stones bounce off anyway.
Lukewarm, Park Yeon-soo gained steam.
"Live text votes left too. Could flip. Who knows, Jay-Q-ssi."
"Texts matter. But 10%. Even all-in on Rock Garden, can't overturn."
"Sure? So sure?!"
Chaos, but great for slippery PD. Jo Young-soo turned.
Aimed at undecided Kim Min-hyuk.
"You?"
"Pardon?"
"Wondering which team our Bitboy gives quarters to."
Uncrossed arms, shrugged.
"Yeah. Only you haven't answered, Min-hyuk-ssi."
"True."
Park Yeon-soo clapped, heels clicking toward Bitboy.
If you're smart, you know the line. Intense eyes bonus.
"Min-hyuk-ssi? Think hard. Rock Garden's fans prove her singing moves hearts. Huge potential—not dropping for one slip, right?"
Waterfall words. Kim Min-hyuk grabbed the tail.
"Moves hearts?"
"Yeah, uh— not just sad songs daily, fun ones too. You know..."
"Black Label."
"Huh?"
Kim Min-hyuk spoke with conviction.
"I'm voting Black Label."