Chapter 368: 2nd Competition (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 368: 2nd Competition (1)
Until now, I had never doubted that I was acting as Spark’s most devoted, hardcore stylist. Based on seven years of big data accumulated through my proxy-fandom, I took pride in the fact that I had done my absolute best to showcase Spark in a variety of stunning ways.
However, as of today, I have come to repent for that arrogant attitude.
“Hyung, what should I do? I think Cheong-hyeon is a bit far from ‘cute’ today.”
Looking at Lee Cheong-hyeon as he adjusted his slicked-back hair in front of the mirror, I realized the truth. I had been a frog in a well, and everything he had shown until now was merely the raw, unpolished stage of a gemstone.
His navy-blue outfit, which shimmered at every fold whenever it caught the light, looked incredibly good on the black-haired Lee Cheong-hyeon. Not to mention the lavish gold embroidery covering his coat.
The heavy makeup, characteristic of musical theater actors, made Lee Cheong-hyeon’s features stand out even more. How on earth can a human being pull off blue eyeshadow like that...?
“Is it bad? You’re not giving me your usual unconditional praise.”
“There are no words on this Earth capable of expressing your beauty.”
“Okay, I’ll give you points for that wit.”
Wit or whatever, I honestly didn't know what to say. Humanity was truly powerless in the face of genuine beauty. All I could do was hand him the Polaroid camera and his phone for selfies.
Beside the young poet Lee Cheong-hyeon, the watchmaker Kang Gi-yeon was having his outfit adjusted with the help of a stylist. The monocle, attached to an antique chain, gave Kang Gi-yeon’s already sharp face an image of perfectionism that bordered on neurotic.
The shirt, workwear, and boots—filled with details to ensure he didn't look plain—evoked the atmosphere of an illustration in an old newspaper. If I put the matching newsboy cap on him and stood him under a streetlamp set, Kang Gi-yeon would monopolize all the nostalgia in the area. Though, it probably wouldn't be the kind of nostalgia a Korean citizen would typically feel.
Jeong Seong-bin, who was scheduled to act out writing a novel with a quill at a desk, wore a calm, reddish-brown coat. I had worried that the ivory shirt covered in frills might swallow him whole, but it was a needless concern. Once the coat was on and the shoes were laced, he looked like a 20th-century European man of letters.
For the record, Lee Cheong-hyeon had pulled up a photo of a top hat, suggesting that if they were going this far, they might as well do it right...
‘Is that a magician’s hat?’
...But he was silenced instantly by a single comment from Choi Je-ho. Since someone with zero knowledge of fashion saw it that way, there was a high chance the general public would too. Lee Cheong-hyeon deleted the image immediately without a word of protest.
Park Ju-woo became a painter immersed in nature. His denim apron, messy with paint, had shoulder straps and pockets made of faux leather to give it a rugged feel. I was surprised to see how large his frame looked with the apron layered over a loose white shirt. Our dorm chinchilla looks like he could easily pull a 400kg total on the big three.
And then there was Choi Je-ho, who was currently having a massive amount of hairspray applied to his head while holding a plastic shield to protect his makeup...
‘Your concept is... a nobleman who is suspiciously competent, but no one knows exactly what he does.’
‘What?’
...He took on the role of a mysterious, rising aristocrat. I had tossed him some reference materials to help him understand, but I wasn't sure if he’d actually read them all.
Still, as expected of the Center Emperor of a thousand years, he pulled off an outfit that could have easily looked excessive. I had his hair dyed an ash-gray with the faintest hint of purple, and it was a choice I didn't regret for a second.
Spark’s visuals, looking as if they had jumped straight off a musical promotional poster, drew everyone's attention even while they were waiting. Everyone was focused on Spark—especially their makeup.
“Cheong-hyeon-ssi is seriously... incredible.”
“He looks like someone from another world.”
Even with all the noise, those comments pierced right through to my ears. I’ll have to make sure to relay this news to the styling team.
Though their directions differed, the other contestants' outfits were also dazzlingly ornate. It would have been a disaster if UA had budget issues this time as well.
The brilliant idols gathered together to determine the performance order according to instructions on the electronic display—there were no MCs for this particular turn-selection segment. Since they couldn't make everyone wait until the actual competition time, they called in the lower-ranking participants early to film the cut.
Thanks to Park Ju-woo exerting his "divine powers" and being the first to draw the marked lot, Spark got to choose the order they wanted. Since we had a lot to set up on stage, I wanted to pick an earlier slot with a longer prep time if possible, and luck was on our side.
“Ju-woo hyung, how did you know that was the winning lot?”
“There was a bit of tape residue left on the stick...”
“...?”
It wasn't luck, but a result of his meticulous observation. After hearing the full story, Lee Cheong-hyeon clapped, impressed.
Spark boldly chose the first slot. It was also an unavoidable choice to liberate their skin from foundation as quickly as possible. We would finish our turn swiftly, return to lighter makeup, and then enjoy the following performances with skin that could actually breathe.
“Cut! We’ll begin audience admission in 30 minutes. Participants, please wait in your dressing rooms!”
Thirty minutes until audience admission. One hour for announcements regarding admission and filming etiquette, clearing the floor, and explaining how to use the voting devices. Add another thirty minutes for filming the opening remarks. A total of two hours of waiting time remained.
Just wait a little longer, Spark’s silken skin. Kim I-wol will save you soon...
The musical Night tells the life story of a 20th-century novelist. The core plot involves him experiencing various professions and artistic worlds in search of freedom; while the progression isn't extremely dramatic, it is a masterpiece that has remained famous for its relatability even in modern times.
Among the many numbers, Spark decided to sing “Loneliness.” Both the play and the song were chosen by Lee Cheong-hyeon. He had made an excellent choice, picking a song with a good mix of solo and choral parts.
‘These lyrics are a combination of prose and poetry published by the author during his lifetime...’
Before memorizing the lyrics, we even had an intensive crash course. Thanks to the boost in our understanding, everyone learned the song quickly despite it not being our original track.
Though the protagonist lived a fierce life, he could not escape the waves of hardship. When he feels isolated from the world, the mentally exhausted protagonist dreams of his past days.
In the dream, his past selves gather together and look toward the front where he stands.
Light flooded one side of the stage.
『Close by, and
In the distance,
My brother』
Bathed in white light, Jeong Seong-bin sang while sitting at a mahogany table, writing a letter. The audience stirred at the sound of his voice, which boasted the most perfect vocalization among us. I tried not to let it show, but a corner of my heart swelled with pride.
『O, piteous souls,
Do you remember the days and nights gone by?』
Jeong Seong-bin set down his quill and folded the paper neatly. The letter, tucked inside an envelope, was handed to me as I slowly brushed past him.
I walked toward my designated space in front of a bookshelf, leaned my shoulder against the stacks, and untied the string of the envelope.
『That the long suffering might vanish,
That rest might find us,
I dreamed while gazing at the stars』
As if reading the letter. Recalling the key points of my role, I enunciated each note like a written word.
As the final syllable ended, the spotlight moved from me to Kang Gi-yeon.
Sitting alone on a small chair, he toyed with his glasses chain with a detached expression.
『Did you crave consolation?
To whom did that
Desperate longing reach?』
Lee Cheong-hyeon used one hand to shade Kang Gi-yeon’s eyes from the light pouring down as he looked toward the sky.
Lee Cheong-hyeon looked down at Kang Gi-yeon and gave a lonely smile.
『Is the reason the starry night is so pale
Because the heart
Is empty?
The joyful days
Seem to have vanished into nothing』
In the next part, Choi Je-ho, standing on the opposite side of the stage, reached out toward Park Ju-woo.
『Those two raised hands,
For what do they pray?
A sweet, fleeting salvation?
A hope yearned for, yet unpromised?』
The question posed by Choi Je-ho was taken up by Park Ju-woo.
『From this agonizing sleep,
I wish to wake.
Let me breathe』
His tone, piercing the pitch with precision, stood out even more over the calm accompaniment suited for a monologue.
The music swelled. The orchestral instruments surged all at once. Everyone walked forward, meeting each other's eyes and syncing their breaths.
『The never-ending
Long night.
The dark and sorrowful
Deep night』
Choi Je-ho took the lowest register, Park Ju-woo took the high notes, and the other members divided the parts in between. A blue light shone over Lee Cheong-hyeon, who had his hand over his heart, and Kang Gi-yeon, who had his eyes closed.
『A sky without shimmer,
A tomorrow without expectation.
Even so,
The morning dawns』
Reaching the highlight, Park Ju-woo and Jeong Seong-bin faced each other, filling the ceiling with their powerful chest voices. The other four members filled the lower register without a single gap. Having removed my left in-ear to match the harmony, I could clearly hear the members' vocal volumes exploding.
Thick smoke settled at our feet. Even though there were only six blue lights on the dark stage, it didn't feel empty at all.
『You, my friend,
The blue sky, the time spent with me—
Do you still remember?
My dear friend』
The final line, sung with a long, trailing breath, ended without a single tremor. All the lights went out, leaving only Choi Je-ho shining under a small spotlight.
『I leave my final farewell.
When you open your eyes,
Wave your hand to me
As you greet the rising sun』
Choi Je-ho’s whispering voice scattered, blending into the sound of the cello. A sense of relief that we had pulled it off washed down my throat.