Save Black Label
Ray's eyes went wide.
"M-Me? I'm supposed to fix this?"
A quest popped up that even she didn't know about. Named 'Save Black Label.'
Save Black Label
Don't panic. If there's sweet, honey-like rewards on the line, this kind of quest? Piece of cake. I managed it at the start, after all.
As for the reward? Popularity. I'll make sure she gets all the solo one-shots she wants.
Black Label erupted in backlash. Even the ever-calm Won Ji-min lost her cool.
"Wh-What are you planning to do?"
"Oppa. Did you take the wrong meds yesterday? Or get brainwashed or something?"
Hye-soo shot me a glance.
"Nah. You got blackmailed, right? She threatened to leak your panty pics if you didn't push Ray."
"Feels more like you're the one blackmailing here, Hye-soo?"
Panty pics? Really.
"No way... You have them?"
'Why the hell would I have dirty pics of Oppa's underwear?'
I knew she'd say that. It was just a throwaway line, something to dodge with. But Hye-soo just cackled.
"Do I~? Or don't I~? Curious? If you're so curious, put Ray on stage right now."
No, can't do that. I shook my head.
"I need time."
These were idols who'd run countless stages—even pro ones who'd performed at network award shows. Debut year or not. Even if stage fright wasn't an issue, a sudden position switch like this...
"Ray needs time to adapt."
Network award shows draw huge crowds. Music shows have audiences every week, and Supreme Beat Contest live broadcasts do too. The finals stage this time? Same deal.
But the scale's different. Not hundreds or thousands. PD Jo Young-soo booked Jamsil Arena. Crowds in the ten-thousands.
Even I'd get shaky. Sure, rehearsals are closed-door, no audience. But for Ray, pulling off a stage she's never done before? She needs every chance she can get.
"Even pro rappers rehearse their lyrics to death."
But vets don't bust out killer choreo that leaves you gasping. No need to memorize movements down to the second.
I turned my head. But this kid's different. She has to carry all of it.
It's not just about time and space. Having the stamina to nail it all in 3-4 days? That's impressive in itself.
I said it clear.
"I told you. Ray's the core of this stage. We need to get her adapted as much as possible."
Won Ji-min, piecing it together step by step, got it. She rested her chin on her hand and nodded.
"True. PD just mentioned screen time. Didn't touch the stage itself. Any performance we bring is fine."
Her nodding stopped.
"But the beat?"
"Huh?"
"We don't have a song for Ray to rap over besides ours. Can't just use a sample track."
"Fake beat. Right. We need a beat."
I grinned.
"Don't worry. I've got beats. Tons of unused ones. A few thousand, maybe?"
No hard drive. But my brain remembers, my hands remember. Songs that'd drop years from now, tickling eardrums and topping charts—album cuts alone could dominate.
Birthed from my fingertips, my mind. But copyrights? All shifted to Red Dice now.
They're all in my head anyway. No way that Red Dice timeline repeats.
"Eh?"
Black Label and the rest stared, eyes bulging like it'd never crossed their minds. I took Ray's hand and stepped center stage.
Alright. Let's go, Choi Ray.
-How are you handling this? Seriously. Telling us to prep a stage out of nowhere? I'm freaking out!
-No. You guys. Selling me out? Making bank? And you're pulling this... why?
-Trying to make a national fool of me? Who said surprise events? You little cuties!
-It's not that I hate surprises, but even for TV, a heads-up would've been nice. Right?
-S-Sunbae. I'll radio back later. Sorry.
The youngest PD, who'd gone into the contestant lounge, cut the radio unilaterally. The last bit trailed off like a dying message.
"Tsk tsk. Kid's getting shredded too."
'Compared to me, she's got it easy.'
"Why? What's up with Team 5?"
The audio director butted in, asking for details, but what good would spilling bad news do? Shim Yu-jeong clammed up.
"Just the usual crap rookies deal with. Taking all the heat."
"Yeah, soon as they climb a bit, the bullshit starts."
Audio director dropped it. Entitled celebs throwing tantrums? Old news.
"I'll just do my job."
That's why she was here.
Knock knock.
"Yes, one sec."
The studio door—barely fitting three adults—creaked open. Seo Hyun-woo peeked in.
"What's up? PD-nim."
Shim Yu-jeong asked with genuine apology. This was real.
"Uh... We want to film the composer at work."
She checked around. Just Falcon inside, but she tiptoed anyway.
"If it's a bother, we can set up cams and leave?"
"Won't that take time?"
"Y-Yeah, but we'll be quick and quiet."
Falcon tilted his head.
"Nah, I'm fine. But the crew? Delays the next shoot."
He turned.
"Tight space, but cram in and film all you want."
"Ah. Yes. Thanks. Our fault for the squeeze."
Shim Yu-jeong grabbed a camera herself, squeezing in one audio director. Shooting started. They held their breath. No heavy breathing, no farts. Just silent cams.
Jackpot. Prime drama material.
1. No prep song, but he bluffs multiples to players.
2. Fools his own team. Precise song picks, no limits.
3. Turns out it's all to boost Ray's rapper adaptation.
4. Thought no beats? They're overflowing.
True? For real? PD's head who scripted this twist? Soared.
Other players flipping out, but Falcon seizes it perfectly. Human reflexes calculating this fast?
Seo Hyun-woo, main PD material for Supreme Beat Contest?
Can't miss it. Can't chop this big picture. No behind-scenes clip. Show it whole to the world.
Even if they call it a Black Label promo-fest. The cathartic head-slap twist unseen in survival shows? Here only.
Brain whirring on edits, inserts—like speakers humming.
Thump thump. Ta-k. Boom boom. Thudding bass filled the cramped room.
Click. Seo hit spacebar, turned.
"Uh... Super grateful for the quiet, but..."
"We leave? Director Han, your foot's twitching."
"No. Wasn't."
"Then what? Breathe through your nose, Director. Falcon's suffering your breath."
"Hey, Shim PD. Look. Mask on. You're the stinker."
"Am I?"
Shim Yu-jeong huffed into her hand, sniffed.
"Ugh. Lunch doenjang jjigae rising. Guilty. Sorry."
Seo, who'd opened his mouth, watched quietest. Big eyes screaming, What are you two doing?
He spoke.
"Not that."
"Yes?"
"Too quiet. Got questions? Ask away."
Uncontainable joy—doenjang breath hand waving, patting audio director's arm. Han's face crumpled.
"Really okay? Won't bug you?"
"Fine. Questions?"
"Oh yeah."
Why not? Memo app out, scanning prepped list.
First up, burning question.
"Toughest team in finals?"
Clickbait king, even if cliché. Peek his thoughts too.
"Toughest team..."
"KickKickBand?"
Firm no. Quick headshake.
"No. DigDug crew."
"Pardon?"
"Can't read what Jang Hana's team brings."
"Uh... Okay."
Unexpected. Figured KickKickBand rivalry. For that Black Label vs. them winner arc everyone wants...
Answers kept swerving.
"I think Jang Hana's team could win."
"Eek?"
Audio Director groaned unknowable. Listening slow, then yelped.
This guy's a screamer too?
Interview stalled, Shim eyed him.
"D-Director. No sudden yells!"
"S-Sorry. Slipped. I thought the same."
Expert says so, pile on...
Shim probed.
"Why? They haven't impressed like Black Label or KickKickBand."
Falcon smiled.
"You really think that?"
"Pardon?"
"This whole setup? All for Jang Hana. Or precisely, DigDug."
For DigDug? Lie. Just now it was Ray's XP grind.
Now this twist? Seo pulled an incomprehensible drift.