Breakwater Team (1)

Myung Idam’s family reported the incident to the police. Officers came to the set, and Producer Seok O-young, half skeptical that it would amount to evidence and half willing to cooperate, turned over every last recording from the security room showing who had gone in and out.

The problem was that Myung Idam himself had also been among the people who entered the supply room. Worse, his fingerprints were found on the water bottle that had been left there containing the drug.

The police concluded that Myung Idam had mixed the solution himself and drunk it on his own. His family protested that he would never do such a thing, but there was no other evidence strong enough to overturn the situation.

By the time Myung Idam had been shuttled from one emergency room to another, the analysis of the solution and his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠treatment had been delayed so long that he was no longer fully conscious. He was given emergency care, transferred to a large hospital, had his stomach pumped, and was admitted.

In the editing room, Producer Seok O-young propped his chin on one hand and replayed the hallway CCTV footage over and over.

Right after Myung Idam went in, Kim Ji-rok had followed. And of all things, ethylene glycol had ended up in the two-liter bottle of water that only Gal Neoul usually drank. Then, after Kim Ji-rok moved the bottle, Myung Idam came stumbling out with a face gone paper-white and snatched Gal Neoul’s water away before gulping it down.

And everyone knew Kim Ji-rok and Gal Neoul ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were on terrible terms.

Something’s off.

He couldn’t completely rule out the possibility that one of the staff members who had gone in and out of the supply room was the culprit, but…

Myung Idam’s awkward expression in the footage, the clumsy way he moved, the way he had rushed off in such a panic and gone straight to the practice room where Gal Neoul was waiting—no matter how you looked at it, he seemed to know exactly what was in the water.

If a staff member had done it, then someone would have had to enter after Myung Idam and come back out again. But at that time, the only person who had gone in and out of the supply room was Kim Ji-rok.

Considering that Myung Idam had gone in wearing light clothes that could hardly conceal anything and carrying only a single pad, while Kim Ji-rok had been dressed in a way that could easily hide a bottle of water, one could make the following assumptions.

1. Myung Idam and Kim Ji-rok had planned it together, and Myung Idam, pricked by conscience too late, had tried to stop Gal Neoul from drinking the water.

2. Myung Idam had hidden himself and witnessed Kim Ji-rok’s crime. In that case, the reason Kim Ji-rok’s fingerprints were absent was either because he had wiped everything down thoroughly or because he had worn gloves.

But whichever it was, there was one thing that made no sense at all: why had Myung Idam drunk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the solution-mixed water even though he knew what it was?

Is there no way to know until Myung Idam wakes up?

* * *

Fortunately, Myung Idam regained consciousness not long after. But his voice would not come out properly. Whenever he tried to speak, only a rusty rasp emerged, and his throat hurt.

Alarmed, Myung Idam clamped his mouth shut.

The doctor concluded that he had suffered temporary unilateral vocal cord paralysis. During the stomach pumping, the endotracheal tube had apparently pressed on his vocal cords.

“We’ll need to keep monitoring him and continue the medication. Vocal cord paralysis usually recovers naturally within three months, so there’s no need to worry too much. In some cases, it improves within six months.”

Three months. Six months.

That’s too long….

The police came by at his parents’ request, but he was in no condition to speak. He didn’t even have the strength to move a finger, much less write his statement down or type it out. In the end, his testimony was postponed.

Lying on a hospital bed that smelled of disinfectant, Myung Idam stared blankly at the ceiling. He was in no condition to sing, and no condition to stand on a stage.

Hah…. Fine. It works out, doesn’t it? I wanted to quit everything anyway.

What stage, when he could barely even drink water? People were already calling him a plagiarist over a song that hadn’t even been released yet, so what was he supposed to do by going onstage?

Myung Idam felt like he might cry. He had only meant to pretend to drink, and then, by mistake, he had swallowed it for real. Even he thought it was ridiculous.

He thought of the comments that had been favorable toward him, the messages of support from fans.

So it really had been people seeing him wrong. They could still like him and cheer for him because they didn’t know him well enough yet. He was this stupid, this pathetic, this insignificant.

A counterfeit that had slipped mindlessly among jewels. That was me.

To hell with it all.

I’m not doing anything anymore. I’m tired.

Myung Idam wanted to distance himself from everything. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t even have to look at the white ceiling.

“Oh, Idam. Why are you crying? Hm? Look at Mom. Are you hurting? Should I call the doctor again?”

Myung Idam shook his head weakly.

He remembered the scene he had last seen in the practice room. Amid all the people running around in confusion, Gal Neoul had looked shocked.

In the end, I never even got to say thank you…. I just snatched the water out of nowhere, drank it, and threw up….

He’d made a complete fool of himself.

Still, I did save you, Gal Neoul, so you’d better debut.

He was furious at himself and hated himself for being so pathetic, but he didn’t regret saving Gal Neoul.

If you don’t debut, you’re dead.

* * *

In the end, Myung Idam withdrew from Idol Travel midway through the competition.

Idol Travel contestant Myung Idam has withdrawn due to sudden deteriorating health.

Because the culprit had not yet been definitively identified, revealing what had happened could cause a major scandal. Producer Seok O-young worried about that and covered up the incident as a personal health issue on Myung Idam’s part.

If they handled it wrong, an innocent person could be blamed as the perpetrator, and someone else might end up hurt.

To minimize the shock to Myung Idam’s fans and the damage to the program, this was the only option for now.

If the culprit were ever revealed, viewers’ anger would turn on that person. But for the present, with the truth still hidden, the production team had to bear that rage in full, for failing to protect one of their contestants.

If it became known that a participant had drunk water mixed with antifreeze, no one could say what furious Myung Idam fans—or fans ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the other contestants, terrified the same thing might happen again—might do.

In the worst-case scenario, filming itself could be shut down.

They contacted Myung Idam’s parents, apologized, and asked for their understanding. They promised that once the culprit was found, a correction article would be issued. And in acknowledgment of their failure to protect the contestants properly, the production team also agreed to cover the hospital bills and pay compensation.

Filming has to go on.

Ratings were steadily climbing, and the show’s popularity was soaring by the day. They could not stop now.

And in the meantime, the third round approached like an arrow loosed from a bow.

* * *

Gal Neoul’s fansite manager carefully fiddled with the camera she had smuggled in, wrapping it in her coat.

Heh-heh-heh. I’ll get the best shots possible, Gal Neoul.

Having successfully sneaked the camera inside, she looked at the stage with a wicked grin.

I’ll photograph him at the peak of beauty, pour my soul into the editing, and upload it right on schedule for the broadcast date!

She was in the middle of devising a terrifying, merciless plan to conquer the Earth—from the desert to the jungle to Antarctica—using Gal Neoul’s beauty, when someone beside her spoke shyly.

“Who do you like…?”

“Gal Neoul.”

“Wow! I see…! I’m cheering for Do-bin.”

And why are you telling me this?

She eyed the person beside her with guarded indifference. Then, right in front of her face, a slogan decorated with a jelly and Gal Neoul’s face was thrust forward.

“I got this outside… should I give it to you?”

“Oh. Thank you.”

What a nice person. Hehe.

Her wariness eased, and she made a suggestion to the Yeo Do-bin fan beside her.

“If you cover him a little while I’m taking pictures of Neoul, I’ll take a few shots of Yeo Do-bin for you too.”

“Woooah…! Really? I’ll cover him as much as I can! Are you a photographer?”

The other girl’s eyes sparkled like a child’s, and she seemed not even to know what a fansite manager was. Was this her first time stanning an idol?

“Something like that.”

By then, MC Jeong Ondo had stepped onto the stage and the lights had blazed on.

A large title appeared on the stage screen behind Jeong Ondo.

“Self-produced?”

“Uh…?”

The audience rustled with confusion. After waiting for the reactions to settle for a moment, Jeong Ondo spoke again.

What? So they said they were investing a lot, and still they’re going for cost efficiency at the same time…? Preparing a stage is already brutal, and they made the kids build the whole thing themselves?

It was respectable that there were contestants with composing skills, but the announcement could not help sounding a little suspect.

And they’re still trainees. Can they really put out a proper quality stage?

Wouldn’t this just hand ammunition to the antis for no reason?

Gal Neoul’s fansite manager stared at the stage with a mixture of worry and unease. In other words, she was looking at it in a very, very negative light.

And no matter how trendy self-production is these days, not all composers in the world are dead. Those people have to make a living too!

If idols truly had the talent to create their own work, then as a fan, she would be proud and thrilled. But even if they didn’t, that didn’t mean there was anything shameful about them.

It was enough to receive a good song, add their own interpretation, sing it in their own voice, and build a wonderful stage. That was why there were separate professions called composers and producers in the first place.

Didn’t the world risk placing too much of a burden on already busy idols if composing and producing became mandatory?

“Wow. Lyrics and composition too! That’s amazing…!”

Beside her, Yeo Do-bin’s fan muttered the words of an uninformed but bright-eyed person, and Gal Neoul’s fansite manager grew more and more tight in the chest.

Why are the keywords like this?

Seriously, who picked these? She, being a person whose poetic sensibilities had long since dried up, could not understand what on earth they were supposed to make from words like that.

What is this, a list of words for an elementary-school spelling test?

Anxious though she was, all she could do was hope Gal Neoul and his teammates had managed things well on their own.

Then the names of the team members assigned to each keyword began appearing one by one, and with them, the roles each had taken on were revealed.

Unlike the other teams, which had only listed composition, lyrics, and choreography, the Breakwater Team had something strange mixed in. Every time a team’s members were revealed, the audience had screamed, but at the end, when Gal Neoul was listed as an instrument, the whole hall burst out laughing.

Neoul’s voice really does sound like an instrument.

Even Gal Neoul’s fansite manager, who had been negative the whole time, could not hold back from grinning at that part.

“It looks like Do-bin and Neoul are on the same team…! That’s so great! Let’s cheer together!”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Yeo Do-bin’s fan seemed extremely friendly toward her, a fellow Neoul fan. But from the other side, someone else quietly joined in.

“I’m a Baedaz fan!”

That meant they were cheering for Gal Neoul, Yeo Do-bin, and Woo Cheong as a trio.

“I’ll help cover your camera too. Hehe.”

Before she knew it, Gal Neoul’s fansite manager had walls on both sides. The feeling was as reassuring as if she had gained an army of a thousand men and ten thousand horses. Even if she got chased out while taking pictures, she had thought that was simply the fate a fansite manager had to bear.

“Thank you.”

If both sides were helping, she could take more photos with much greater ease! She was burning with the desire to capture a legendary shot! The determination to take a photograph that would be remembered for ages flared up inside her.

At Jeong Ondo’s explanation, everyone let out a sigh of relief and patted their chests. During Round 2, the existence of negative votes had caused fans a great deal of stress, because they had to block those sabotage votes as well.

It was a system that allowed you to give votes to all six teams if you wanted.

Even so, people would still ignore the quality of the stage and vote only for the contestants they supported, trying to check the other participants at every turn…. Still, it was better than the negative votes that had actually taken away points before.

A special benefit?

At the tempting news, she unconsciously leaned forward.

Oh!

Wednesday Music was FLu’s music broadcast program. It was an unquestionably good opportunity, since it would let them appear before the public one more time. Gal Neoul’s fansite manager joined hands with the Yeo Do-bin fan and the Baedaz fan, all three of them practically hopping in place with excitement.

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