The Price of a Kind Idol Leader

30

He was another member of DTD.

“Na Woo-ri.”

“Huh? What, you know my name?”

“Of course.”

I had looked him up a little. For some reason I’d filed away the fact that he was the same age as Cheon Sa-yoon. And there was something else too. The word I’d seen most often while searching him, if I remembered right, was rabbit. It must have been the nickname fans used for him.

Since their debut dates were close, he was awkward to call a junior, and adding the honorific ssi felt like it came with its own subtle set of controversies, so there was nothing else to do.

Maybe that bothered him, because Na Woo-ri immediately started flailing his hands and feet, making a whole spectacle of how could I do that, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how could I know his name and still act like this.

“Whoa. If I’d known you knew me, I should’ve said hi ages ago! I was nervous for nothing? I thought you wouldn’t care at all.”

He already seemed extremely lively and social, and Go Young-in was terrible with people like that. Keeping up with his energy alone was hard. He was already tired...

“Anyway! Don’t call me anything formal, just talk comfortably. Technically we’re the juniors here.”

“It’s only a two-day difference.”

“I’m younger than you too, though? Just speak casually! It’s not that hard!”

It wasn’t that he’d speak casually just because someone told him to. Who dropped honorifics the moment the other person asked?

“I’ve been jealous every time I saw those older guys being close with the seniors, you know. We’ve overlapped on comebacks plenty of times, but we never really had any reason to interact! I was looking forward to seeing how this would go when I heard we’d be on here together.”

No, at the moment there weren’t many people he could really call close besides Kyeon In-woo, who was still chattering away somewhere, and Cheon Sa-yoon, who could act friendly with anyone. That was a misunderstanding.

“Then you should start talking casually first. I’ll ease into it too.”

“Whoa. I was counting on you! Then I’ll call you hyung!”

He was already calling him hyung, so what was all this permission for? Na Woo-ri was absurdly easygoing. In a way, it was a remarkable personality. Even now he was flashing a V-sign toward the camera, laughing brightly like this was all wonderful.

First that guy Hae-rim earlier, and now this too. Go Young-in couldn’t help wondering if something was happening behind his back without him realizing it. Or maybe it really was simple goodwill, and the problem was just his own twisted inability to take that at face value.

He was in the middle of a sudden round of self-reflection when someone shouted his name.

“Go Young-in!”

Again? No, seriously, was today some kind of special occasion?

It was the Triple Shot member Jeong Hae, the same one who’d greeted him earlier.

Me? Damn it, I really can’t remember. Is that really me, and not some namesake of Go Young-in?

“Long time no see! Our schedules kept missing each other, weirdly enough. You’re hard to recognize, though?”

He gave an awkward response and then forced a casual smile, knowing he had no idea how this might be edited later. The main camera wasn’t on him right now, but still. Ha... seriously, what even was this. He said it had been a long time, but Go Young-in genuinely had no memory of him.

He was about to say something, but before he could, Jeong Hae turned to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kyeon In-woo, who had been chatting with the DTD members.

“Kyeon In-woo, you little punk. Why the hell won’t you pick up your phone? That’s cold of you.”

Considering his tone, and the fact that he was bringing this up in front of the camera, was he trying to throw some shade? Or was he just hopelessly oblivious?

What was certain was that the moment they were close enough to face each other, Go Young-in’s instincts told him they were not going to get along. The fact that he was doing this in front of the camera was already a problem.

The fact that both I and Kyeon In-woo know him... could he be an old classmate?

He watched Kyeon In-woo’s reaction, vaguely thinking that. Up until just now Kyeon In-woo had been talking nonstop, but he suddenly went quiet. Before anyone knew it, he had frozen completely and was staring at Jeong Hae with a very, very awkward expression. What was that face supposed to mean?

He was clearly trying to keep his expression under control for the broadcast, but honestly, it showed. It was a little suspicious, but not the kind of face that would cause a problem.

“What? You all know each other?”

“Whoa! I had no idea at all since I didn’t show it! You guys look close, though? That’s unexpected.”

When Kang Ji-ho, one of the DTD members talking with Kyeon In-woo, asked in confusion, Na Woo-ri, who had been listening beside them, also exclaimed in surprise.

Just hearing Na Woo-ri’s voice made it even more ridiculous. This really looked close? So in DTD, was this sort of half-baked conversation enough to count as being on good terms?

Because there were several people gathered together, Go Young-in could feel, against his will, that the eyes of the other groups and the cameras were increasingly shifting toward them. No, damn it. Don’t pay attention to us.

“Ah. Well, we...”

—Boom! Boom boom!

At exactly the right moment, a grand, dramatic background score suddenly roared to life. If Go Young-in had any one moment of satisfaction in today’s shoot, it was right now. It cut the context off beautifully.

Jeong Hae, cut off mid-sentence, laughed awkwardly and said they should continue the conversation later before heading back to his seat. Thanks to that, the atmosphere naturally dispersed, and without needing an answer he could turn his attention back to the stage.

Damn, I’m alive. Along with the booming sound effects that seemed designed to build tension, the spotlights that he hadn’t even noticed until now snapped on.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Another group was entering.

Since there had been no real music when Zero One came in, this was apparently arranged differently depending on rank. The group that had just entered and the group coming after them were apparently occupying second and first place, respectively.

And the person assumed to be the MC had come in with the team ranked first. When the first-place team entered, there were even more excessive lighting effects than there had been for second place.

This rotten broadcast was shamelessly petty from the very start. On top of that, it was overflowing with people who looked significant in all the wrong ways.

* * *

“Welcome to the Who’s the K stage, everyone! Since we’re all gathered, let me give you a quick introduction first.”

The MC continued explaining the program in a bright, cheerful voice, as if he didn’t care at all what the mood in the room was like.

“There will be a total of three rounds of competition, and the voting format will change with each one. The team that wins overall will receive a solo comeback show, along with a special reward!”

At the mention of a special reward, everyone started murmuring. Since it hadn’t been announced in advance, that made it worse. The word itself sounded appealing, so some people were already hoping, though they didn’t dare believe it, while others were simply curious what the reward might be.

Special my ass. That wasn’t a winner’s privilege, it was just a damn trap. It would be revealed closer to the final shoot, but the so-called special reward was a ticket to participate in the next season. Still, it would definitely pull in new viewers and buzz.

The reason he was saying it this way was that it had the same meaning as a sports promotion system.

For example, in football leagues, there were lower leagues and upper leagues, right? In the same way, this meant the group that won here would be granted the right to compete in what they called the higher-tier circuit.

In other words, the groups participating in this program were being told, in the producers’ eyes, that they were lower-tier acts compared with the groups they would face next season.

It was such a perfect fit for a program obsessed with ranking people right until the bitter end.

“Before we begin the main filming, we’ll start with a short interview. The interview will be based on an online pre-survey for each group. Then shall we take a look together?”

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remembered this also not feeling very good. In any case, it was obviously not a program that planned to say anything flattering. In the previous timeline, he’d taken everything with a grain of salt, so he hadn’t really felt the impact.

Just as he was sinking into thought, the MC’s voice thundered through the microphone.

“First, let’s meet the team in first place. It’s EternalSeven! Let’s start with a quick self-introduction!”

Following the MC’s cue, EternalSeven’s leader took the mic. That should be the leader. His name was Yoon Ho-su, if Go Young-in remembered right. The rest of the members greeted the audience in unison to Yoon Ho-su’s call, then began introducing themselves one by one.

He hadn’t recognized him right away because his hair was different from the image he’d looked up. Bright pink hair, with a crisp, sharp impression. He’d filed him away as looking like someone who’d win a speech contest, and apparently that had been true.

EternalSeven was, as the name suggested, a seven-member group that mostly sang about love. A boy falling in love, poetry about unrequited feelings, a serenade for the person you like... things like that.

They were a group specialized in easy-listening songs. Because of that, they had decent public appeal, and there were even a few tracks you could call hit songs.

In keeping with their overall concept, the members’ images were neat and youthful. They also wore school uniforms, and the fact that many of them were younger made that impression even stronger.

“Thanks for the introduction. Then shall we check our first-place team’s results?”

The so-called performance metrics were laid out with brazenly obvious ranking. The intent to provoke people was plain as day.

There was another small monitor next to the large screen, and on it the words COUNTDOWN appeared alongside a spinning hourglass icon that showed the time remaining.

Since the time was visibly ticking down in real time, it meant they planned to finish the interviews within that limit.

“How do you feel after seeing that? These are excellent numbers! No wonder you’re the number one team, right? Not just anybody can do this!”

The MC leaned hard into his overly theatrical line, trying to draw a reaction. Not just anybody can do this? So that meant the teams that weren’t first were just anybody? From the MC’s lines alone, there was not a single thing to like about this program.

He was obviously fishing for a reaction. Was that supposed to be better than making a subtle dig? Damn it.

And if they acted too pleased, they’d be accused of showing off. If they reacted too modestly, they’d be accused of putting on airs.

“It feels like we’ve confirmed once again that we were able to achieve these results thanks to our fans. Thank you!”

EternalSeven’s leader, who genuinely didn’t seem to be in a terrible mood, answered in a perfectly safe way with a pleasant expression.

After that, the MC kept tossing out lavish praise while interviewing the other members.

Wasn’t this the sort of program that usually explained a group’s history from debut to the present, or each member’s profile, one by one?

The interview continued with quite a bit of time spent talking about EternalSeven, to the point that it really did feel like their solo special.

Since the MC wasn’t saying anything bad, the atmosphere actually started to feel warm. Before long, the tension in the studio began to loosen, and everyone looked a little more relieved.

They always praise you up front and then tear into you later. No matter how he looked at it, this was buildup. Go Young-in knew exactly how much this broadcast loved to screw people over. Just looking at what these bastards were doing, it was obvious. They were the sort of people who even made the chairs this damn petty; there was no way they’d keep going like this.

This time, too, they were definitely going to create differences between groups. That was just the kind of program this was.

The second-place team that followed, The Road, seemed to get a fair amount of time as well, though not as much as EternalSeven.

The Road’s interview also started with mostly praise. As with EternalSeven, the warm atmosphere continued, the members’ expressions brightened, and the MC supplied the right amount of back-and-forth, pulling a solid amount of airtime from it.

Then, in the middle of that steady interview, the MC said with a sunny smile, “Come to think of it, there’s one particularly noticeable metric here. Do you see the NewTube views? It’s fourth place!”

So EternalSeven had taken first place even with two second-place metrics because The Road’s NewTube views were lower, apparently. EternalSeven also hadn’t been first in views, so maybe the number-one spot went to whoever had the biggest overseas fandom.

For example, XINX. They and DTD were tied for fourth place here, right? That must be why they shared a ranking. Otherwise, a group like XINX, with almost no domestic fanbase and much weaker digital performance, couldn’t possibly be tied with DTD.

Did they really need to confirm it in such a damn obvious way? It was a skill, all right. A real skill.

“Then shall we look at the next metric too? There’s no growth without praise and criticism together.”

No, why were they trying so hard to pick a fight? What the hell, you lunatics.

“I mentioned that we conducted a pre-shoot survey, right? I’ll be sharing the items that got the most agreement from the survey results. So what do people think? Please put the screen up!”