All Teams to the Live Finals
All the performers had gathered on a single stage. Kickkick Band, Black Label, Kim Won-sam, Jang Ha-na. Each had broken through to the semifinals with their strongest genres.
The matchups were already set. The instructions from the associate director were straightforward: to ensure a fair stage, they'd draw lots fairly for the performance order. Each team's representative would pull a capsule, and the team drawing '1' would be king, free to set the order as they pleased.
But as the saying goes, nothing ever goes according to plan.
If this was the future I knew, Jo Young-soo PD would be making his entrance any second now.
"Ahem. Hold on a moment. We've just gotten some breaking news."
Joo Seong-hwan, glancing at his cue sheet in confusion, halted the shoot. But the cameras were already rolling, their red lights blazing as they captured the performers' bewildered faces in full.
Jo Young-soo pushed up his cap and strode into frame. The main PD, who had never once appeared on camera before, boldly wedged himself into the center of the group, radiating presence.
"Ah, hello. I'm Jo Young-soo, the PD in charge of Supreme Beat Contest. First off, I must apologize to all the performers."
Everyone froze. The cameramen, sensing the moment, zoomed in close. A simple 'sorry' was one thing, but with semifinals and finals looming, what could possibly warrant it now?
"Um... Oppa, do you know what's going on?"
Won Ji-min clutched my sleeve and whispered. It was a close call. No room for talk. Everyone was mic'd up, and the audio director was listening.
If I spelled out Jo Young-soo's scheme right now, it'd just invite a headache. Pretending to jot notes, I pulled out my mini notepad and scribbled one line to sum it up.
Semifinals canceled. All four teams to finals stage!
Won Ji-min's bunny eyes went wide, turning into exclamation points. What a mismatch. The cameraman on her lit up, shooting from every angle. Perfect, one take good.
Heaven-sent PD. Having milked the reactions, Jo Young-soo finally spoke leisurely.
"The reason for my apology is an unavoidable schedule change."
"Wasn't today meant for sorting that schedule?"
Jang Ha-na's producer, Jung Da-ye, raised her hand. Jo Young-soo PD smiled kindly as he fielded it.
"Yes. That's why, abrupt as it is, I judged it best to announce it today. So here I am, shamelessly on stage. After our production team's internal meeting, we've decided: no semifinals."
Ba-dum! A screen unfurled behind the performers with a whoosh.
Sudden internal meeting, my ass. When the hell did they prep this?
"As originally planned, it would've been tournament rules: two-team matches, winners to finals."
Jo Young-soo PD wagged his head.
"But Supreme Beat Contest is different. It's not fast enough. Viewers will get frustrated."
Not fast enough = ratings aren't climbing, they're stagnating. Viewers frustrated = no buzz, channel surfing.
"Viewers aren't the only ones. What about us players?"
Surface-level concern for performers too, but bullshit. You think hits drop with a snap of your fingers?
"We can't drag it out. Gotta slay the demon king quick for peace in Esland, right? Um-hah-hah-hah."
Is the demon king dead? You're the biggest one grinning like that.
Jo Young-soo PD hammered it home to the trembling players.
"The semifinals, planned for a week from now, will be your—our four groups of heroes'—final stage."
The projected data shifted.
"Perfect timing. Fortunately, the emperor ruling Esland Continent granted a special slot."
Special slot. Live broadcast, in other words. No room for even tiny slip-ups.
"As you guessed, it's live. Rehearsal once. One-take go."
What wordplay. Live means one-take by default. Not some massive fake-out party; audience allowed too.
Even top contenders could plummet from medal contention with one flub.
The shock hit players and judges alike—judges murmuring among themselves, hearing it first too.
One silver lining for players: more buffer before the quarters aired. A week. Short for composing, long if you think about it.
I eyed Black Label. Brutally short for them, needing to choreograph too.
The true demon king, Jo Young-soo PD, checked his watch.
"That's the announcement. Good luck to all players from now. Over and out."
He cut it short and exited. Unlike him dumping the bomb solo and sauntering off, the performers crumpled.
Beyond the week-long crunch, others scrambled to size up rivals.
"So how's the order decided?"
Kim Won-sam's composer partner, SpicyToughPot, raised a hand.
"Same as today: draw capsules that day. Luck of the draw."
Unhappy with that, SpicyToughPot puffed his cheeks and sat.
Ray fired a deeper question.
"What's the best slot?"
"Obviously 1 or 4."
I answered. Strongest impressions on the audience. In a row of four, 2 and 3 risk being filler.
"Wish we'd locked order today—at least we'd know how to prep."
Hye-soo muttered what wasn't a cheat but strategy. Pointless now; nothing set.
Just hindsight for now.
"First thing: nail the song concept?"
Mealtime hit conveniently. Other teams headed to the cafeteria, but Won Ji-min paused. Cue the donkatsu killer, Shim Yu-jeong, halting camera too.
"Eat here?"
***
We grabbed lunch boxes. With a week given, no meddling unless cheating. Some composers ate and napped for clear heads; others dove into choreo. No right way—just deliver quality on finals day.
"Hm..."
Ray, done eating, cracked popcorn snacks. Shoved a fistful in. Chewing, everyone circled up.
"Got a song in mind?"
Leader Won Ji-min broke the ice.
"Hm..."
Jung Hye-soo tied her hair, chugging energy drink like binding her slipping focus.
"Wanna show something fresh."
Hye-soo waved the new notice printout.
"Finals or not, it's like any group stage."
One performance. Under 3:30. Short for survival shows that drag intros for concept.
"Fresh..."
Won Ji-min polled members. Talk now locked to fresh ideas. 'Fresh' was nose-ring or earring—don't overthink or nothing comes.
I raised a hand.
"No need to overcomplicate 'fresh'."
"Huh?"
"New genre we haven't tried. No need to obsess."
I pressed on; audio director to all Black Label hung on my words.
"Last Supreme Beat Contest stage for us. 'Black Label can do this too.' That time's past."
No regrets showing this stage.
"To leave none, do what we're best at."
"Won't overlap last stage's concept?"
I caught Jung Hye-soo's point.
"Our genre, but fresh twists galore."
"Like?"
Sharp, un-Ray-like pinpoint.
"Show new in what we ace."
"New in our ace genre...?"
Won Ji-min latched on. Easy words, no knee-slap clarity.
Time to unleash saved items. I opened inventory.
Pulled weird candy, handed to Black Label.
'Item use!'
Thought it'd activate like a game button. Nope.
"Whoa! What's this? Candy?"
Shoddy wrappers on a pile; passed to Black Label.
"Tension drops sugar. One each, then go."
"Yum. Good."
Foodie Ray bit first; effect hit instant.
Target 'Ray's potential has manifested!
Target 'Ray's new talent has opened!
New talent category unlocked.
I grabbed Ray.
"Favorite rapper?"
"Rap? Sudden... Why rap?"
Ray cupped hands over mouth. Then butchered beatbox.
Spit flew despite cover.
"Boom boom. Beat beat. Boomboomboomboom."
Even Shim Yu-jeong PD and audio director chuckled. Everyone laughed, but this kid. Might be next-gen K-hiphop top.
"How's that? I'm good, right, oppa?"
Ray flashed soaked palms, joking. I took it serious.
"Yeah. You rap great."
"Huh?"
I finished my earlier point.
"You said fresh? How's this: Black Label lead rapper, Ray."
"What? Say that again?"
Jung Hye-soo balked in disbelief.
"How, after all this, disband Black Label? Oppa."
I shook my head. Firm.
"Nah. She's K-hiphop's future."