Chapter 33 - The Conditions for Becoming a Gentle Idol Leader - Chapter 33
To put it bluntly, he was clearly less skilled than the other members. That didn’t mean he was bad, exactly, but in vocals, in dance, even in charm—on the strength of this stage alone, there was nothing especially distinctive about him.
The song DTD had brought wasn’t bad in itself, but since this was a performance showdown, there was no telling how the final rankings would turn out. There were still plenty of stages he hadn’t seen yet, after all.
Soon, DTD’s stage came to an end as well. He could see the members returning to their seats, clapping along as they came back.
They all looked pleased with themselves, their expressions bright, but among them, Na Woo-ri—the only one who had been buzzing nonstop until just a moment ago—was strangely quiet. Was it because of the stage?
When someone who had been noisy all day suddenly went quiet, it was impossible not to notice the change, even if you weren’t paying attention. Of course, before long he was lively again and back to bantering with the DTD members as if nothing had happened.
After that, the competition continued in order of whoever wanted to go next, and when Triple Shot and Eternal Seven stood up at the same time, they had to go through another round of negotiations.
Neither side would yield the order, and there was a bit of an argument over it, made worse when Triple Shot’s blue-headed guy blurted out, “Could the seniors maybe let the juniors have this one?” That dragged things out even more. If handled right, this one guy could end up taking all the aggro for the entire program.
He could already picture it: that line would be in the preview, it would be edited to death, sliced up, chewed over, and used everywhere under the sun. He could practically see the PD’s delighted face.
In the end, Eternal Seven gave in, saying that as seniors they would yield to their juniors, and Triple Shot’s stage followed.
Triple Shot had brought an arrangement of the MR from their original house-genre title track, transformed into a different mood.
The music opened with a guitar sound so sharp it seemed to tear the air apart. It was a song built on a simple hip-hop base, made memorable by a knife-edged, rough guitar riff. In every way, it was the sort of track made for an intense performance.
The song is definitely built for the stage. So they’re planning to win with performance, huh?
Even the song’s flow seemed tailor-made for a group dance, so everyone looked eager to see a flashy choreography showcase. Since they had the largest number of members among the competing teams, if the formation was good, it should make for a pretty strong visual.
Watching them dance with crisp, precise movements to match the music, it was clear they had come aiming for perfectly synchronized choreography. Their outfits were even styled like uniforms.
But… for all that, the formations were strangely tangled overall. It felt clumsy somehow. It wasn’t as though they were singing separately; they really were just dancing, so why did it look like that? Had they not rehearsed?
Apparently Go Young-in wasn’t the only one who felt that way, because several faces were filled with sympathy. The audience’s anticipation quickly curdled into disappointment.
From Eternal Seven’s side, who had reluctantly yielded the order, it looked as though they were watching Triple Shot’s stage with sour expressions, as if wondering whether this was what all that earlier arguing had been for.
Maybe I should’ve looked up their live video too. Are they nervous, or are they always like this? That blue-headed bastard’s half a beat off on his own, right from the start. Looks like he’s not syncing properly with the members at all—not in rehearsal, either.
Go Young-in had been seated too far in front to notice, but even Kyeon In-woo was barely holding back the urge to say they danced like absolute shit, watching the stage with a grave expression. If this hadn’t been on broadcast, he probably would have said it flat-out.
The choreography itself had a powerful, cool structure. That much was true—if they could pull it off properly.
In the end, Triple Shot failed to deliver a stage that left much of an impact, especially considering how decent the song was.
They seemed to know it themselves, because their faces were not looking good. A few of them were even bickering among themselves, and from their expressions, it looked like they were fighting.
From that interview earlier too, and now this—there doesn’t seem to be a single person in that group who knows how to manage their expression properly except for Jeong Hae.
Whatever the mood inside Triple Shot might be, the stage kept going.
After them, Eternal Seven presented a performance centered on artistry, built on a dreamy track and modern dance, while XINX fused 808 bass with punk, delivering a fierce sound, hard-edged rapping, and crisp choreography.
The Road brought a song with an Eastern aesthetic, the kind that was guaranteed to at least be above average if performed well.
And just like that, all the groups’ performance competitions were over. Only the rankings remained.
* * *
“Let’s take a break here!”
At the PD’s cut sign, they finally entered a short break before the voting.
It wasn’t much of a break, more like a quick check-in. Still, a pause was a pause. They came down from the stage, returned to the waiting room, adjusted their clothes and hair, and swapped out microphones.
When he finished preparing and looked around, only Pyo Jae-ho, who was still not quite ready, and Lim Se-bin, who was standing alone in a corner with his eyes closed, remained. In that tiny span of time, everyone else except those two had already gone out ahead.
……Why is it that whenever I can’t see these bastards, I end up worrying about what trouble they’re going to cause?
He wanted to think there was no way they’d cause an incident, and yet he just couldn’t bring himself to trust them. Of all people, those two were the ones who’d gone out first?
[Article 35｜A gentle idol leader does not make baseless suspicions about the members.]
He figured he should at least pretend to look for them, so he left the waiting room. As he walked down the hallway, he greeted the people he passed here and there.
As he kept walking, the place somehow grew more and more deserted. For a pretense, he’d gone far too far. Just as he was wondering whether he should turn back, he caught the faint sound of voices near his ear.
“What I’m saying is, isn’t this unfair? You can tell they’re blatantly favoring him.”
Someone was venting their dissatisfaction about something. That voice sounded familiar…
When he moved closer in the direction of the sound, he saw two people standing face-to-face in conversation. One of them was a face so familiar it was almost nightmare fuel, and the other one…
Cheon Sa-yoon and the blue head.
Fuck, Cheon Sa-yoon. What is that bastard, the one with the suspicious personality problems, doing right now? If those two get together, it’s synergy.
Cheon Sa-yoon stood quietly and listened. Every now and then, just when the blue-headed guy seemed about to look at him, he’d conjure up an innocent expression out of nowhere and act like he was the one in trouble. To anyone who didn’t know better, it would look as though the blue-headed one was clearly putting Cheon Sa-yoon on the spot.
No, he was obviously half-assing his expression management and toying with him. Meanwhile, the blue-headed guy was so wrapped up in his own rant that he didn’t seem to realize what kind of face Cheon Sa-yoon was making at all.
On reflex, Go Young-in took out the transmitter connected to his pin mic and checked it. Fortunately, since it had just been swapped out, it wasn’t on yet.
He deliberately made his presence known and walked toward Cheon Sa-yoon and the blue-headed guy.
“Sa-yoon.”
What now, you little shit?
“Ah.”
Cheon Sa-yoon let out an awkward laugh, putting on a troubled expression. Ah? What do you mean, ah? I saw you standing there just a second ago with no trouble at all on your face, you bastard.
The blue-headed guy also turned around and looked this way. He broke into a grin, sounding genuinely pleased to see him.
“Oh, Zero One’s leader? How old did you say you were? You look younger than me, so can I talk casually?”
Everywhere you looked, people were just deciding on their own to drop honorifics like it was nothing.
“Honestly, even if it’s for ratings, this is ridiculous. Did you hear what he said about us earlier? Something about machine-like sounds, something about not being able to sing. Fucking hell, how good do they think they are? That PD’s a total lunatic too.”
Having appointed himself as the one who could drop honorifics, the blue-headed guy went on and on in a stream of complaints.
He’d really stepped on a landmine. This was exactly the kind of story that, the more you heard, the less good it did anyone to get involved. Even though no one responded to him, the blue-headed guy kept talking with unstoppable enthusiasm.
The subject matter was all over the place too. He started by badmouthing the program, then went right on to badmouthing his own group, Triple Shot.
“That bastard Jeong Hae is going to grab all the good close-ups just because he’s the representative’s nephew, and I’m the one who’ll get edited into a villain and end up taking all the blame for it.”
After having done plenty of things that deserved criticism already, why was he suddenly worried about bad editing?
“This team itself was made for that bastard, you know. So of course the company’s only pushing him, and the other members are all practically shaking in their boots whenever he says anything. As if that’s enough—what’s the use if the one they’re pushing doesn’t have the skill to back it up?”
As he spoke, the blue-headed guy began rummaging through the inner pocket of his jacket, like he was searching for something.
This feels bad. He’s not going to—
Go Young-in watched the man’s hand with careful attention.
“Honestly, everybody probably knows already, right? That we’re the most screwed of all the teams here? Anyone who doesn’t know that must be an idiot… Well, I’m just suffering through this on purpose so I can screw that bastard over.”
The blue-headed guy held something up and shook it slightly.
It was a cigarette. Was he for real?
“I’m going to smoke. You two coming?”
Watching the blue-headed bastard pull out a cigarette with that brazen, one-legged stance of his, Go Young-in could feel the old-man energy he wasn’t sure he even had inside him rising from the dead. Did he not care about his throat?
Article 32｜A perfect idol must be skilled at managing their expression.
He briefly wondered if he should smile in front of this bastard, but in a harsh broadcast environment where you never knew who might be watching and from where, facial management was unavoidable.
As if that were so hard. As if smiling would wear him down. But saying that was easier than doing it; his own fragile—well, not exactly fragile—mental state and heart had already been worn thin. Fuck. They said smiling brings good fortune, but judging from his life, that didn’t seem to be the case.
Forget fortune. All I’ve got around me is poison.
“No. I’m not smoking.”
“You’re a soft one, huh. Anyway, don’t get mixed up with that bastard Jeong Hae. I’m off.”
The blue-headed guy ended the conversation on his own and swaggered away. Fuck… damn it…
Was Cheon Sa-yoon the sort of person who had to go around collecting every bizarre bit of information he could get his hands on to feel satisfied?
“…Sa-yoon.”
“Yes, you called?”
Why are you answering so obediently when there’s no one else here? Creepy bastard…
As he hesitated for a moment, unsettled by the whole thing, Cheon Sa-yoon reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled something out. It was the transmitter connected to his pin mic. So that was why he still hadn’t changed his mic. No wonder he’d been answering so nicely.
Cheon Sa-yoon, holding the transmitter in his hand, moved his fingers toward the power button. No way…
“Sa-yoon, we’re not supposed to turn those off ourselves.”
Cheon Sa-yoon was not the kind of person to stop because of a warning. The moment he pressed the button, the glowing power light went out. This was insane. What if it developed a glitch or a malfunction? He’d been on broadcasts before; he knew this wasn’t something to do if you wanted to avoid trouble. What the hell was wrong with this bastard?
“I just needed to check something. I’ll go tell the sound director myself.”
Cheon Sa-yoon—the lunatic bastard—remained shameless to the end.