Chapter 48 - The Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader

“Who's the K! At long last, the day has come for the final stage of the first-round competition, Top of COVER! Which team, exactly, will be able to perform their opponent’s song even more perfectly than the original?”

The MC used the kind of loaded wording that was practically guaranteed to spark controversy without a moment’s hesitation. If anything, he looked as though he was hoping for it.

The contestants seemed to have grown used to that style of speech by now, because no one reacted much at all.

“Let me briefly explain the judging process. Each competing team will perform in order. After that, the four remaining groups, excluding the competing teams, will choose which of the two they think did better….”

The MC cut himself off mid-sentence and gave a light clap.

“Now! It would be nice if the votes split cleanly like that, but with numbers like these, the odds of that are low, aren’t they? So here’s the added rule. If there’s a tie, both groups become candidates for elimination! Didn’t I tell you luck is part of skill?”

Amid the low murmur spreading through the contestants, Go Young-in stared blankly at the MC, his face shaded with exhaustion that even makeup couldn’t quite hide.

He’d been tormented by memories for nearly half a month now. They were the kind that vanished again almost as soon as they surfaced, but the mental fatigue they left behind wasn’t something that reset along with them.

He absently worried at a fingernail until a warning from the status window made him flinch, then dropped his hand and straightened his posture.

Instead, he bit lightly into the inside of his cheek. Focus. Once this is over, that’s enough. As long as it doesn’t show on the outside, that’s fine, right?

Yoo In-hyeok, the leader of Triple Shot, leaned back in a hard, cheap plastic chair the kind you’d normally see at a street stall and stretched lightly.

Damn, I’m tired. The chair was miserably uncomfortable, but since he wouldn’t be sitting here forever, it was tolerable enough.

In the large waiting room, the contestants who weren’t representing their group were seated according to their team’s ranking. Meanwhile, the chosen representatives from each team had gone one by one into a small room where a makeshift polling station had been set up, after first gathering their teammates’ opinions.

Most teams had sent their leader, but Triple Shot had chosen Jeong Hae instead. Yoo In-hyeok honestly didn’t mind; watching the whole thing was more entertaining anyway. Besides, the one wearing the leader’s title was just for show. The real leader was that bastard Jeong Hae.

No, wait. I should’ve just forced my way in, used Triple Shot as the eliminated group, and blown the whole damn thing up.

Well, what was done was done.

All the groups had finished their stages. The first vote, in which they chose the teams most likely to be eliminated, had been conducted in secret.

Normally, three teams should have ended up on the elimination list, but because the rival teams Triple Shot and The Road received the same number of votes, a total of four groups were now candidates for elimination.

The XINX idiots had tried to save face with that whole “fair and square competition” nonsense and picked a song that didn’t suit them at all, only to end up putting on exactly the kind of half-baked stage that deserved it. So they were out, for starters.

As for Triple Shot, well. They were already the kind of group everyone assumed would lose, because they were just that fucking bad. The Road, meanwhile, was probably the one that caught the rest of the contestants off guard.

They probably didn’t expect Triple Shot, of all people, to tie with them when the difference should’ve been obvious at a glance.

That was why they’d been sitting there with those dumbfounded expressions for the entire time.

What else were they supposed to do? They’d been handed nothing but garbage from the start—terrible songs, terrible outfits, and a mess so unsalvageable it was practically designed to fail. If they’d somehow managed to salvage it, he might even have applauded them sincerely.

Apparently, the company on the other side had already reached out to them, but their own representative—who had never shaken the habits he’d picked up running a hostess bar—wasn’t about to cave to something like that.

Yoo In-hyeok let his thoughts flick past quickly, just to keep his expression in check. In any case, this was the sort of situation that made it impossible not to laugh.

And DTD, for their part, had just proven firsthand that it wasn’t enough to have one or two decent members.

If that leader over there had been in a better group, he could’ve debuted under much better circumstances. How the hell had he ended up in a group like that? Either way, it wasn’t Yoo In-hyeok’s problem, so he offered his silent condolences and moved on.

The teams that hadn’t landed on the elimination list generally looked relaxed. They only had to vote, after all.

The others looked uneasy, as though they were worried they might become the butt of jokes after taking the disgraceful fall. The Road, who had ended up on the list at the same time as Triple Shot, was no exception.

Ah, the look on their faces was fucking hilarious.

He remembered one of The Road’s members looking as though he might burst into tears the moment the results were announced.

Yoo In-hyeok almost tried to replay the scene in his head, but he was afraid he’d start laughing again, so he cleared his throat far too loudly for no reason at all.

Then a giant monitor mounted on one wall of the waiting room suddenly flickered on, and the rooms where each group’s representative had gone began to be broadcast one by one.

“All right, everyone! Since just waiting around would be boring, we’ve installed observation cameras so you can watch the voting live!”

The screen split into six panels, each showing a different contestant.

“Who will choose which group as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the elimination team? You were curious about the first round vote just a little while ago because it was private, right? This time, for your sake, we’re running it as a 100 percent transparent public vote!”

Some contestants were already writing a particular group’s name without hesitation on the large paper board, while others hadn’t even stepped into the polling station yet.

“Observation cameras,” my ass. Since this had been sprung on them without so much as a word of warning, it was no different from a hidden camera prank. It wasn’t even a decent CCTV feed. The framing itself was grotesquely voyeuristic, and weirdly direct.

Yeah, good thing I stayed out. I almost missed this fun little show and ended up being the monkey in the zoo. Yoo In-hyeok rested his chin on his hand, his face brightening with interest as he focused on the monitor.

Looking around the rest of the contestants, he could see that they were all whispering in confusion, yet none of them could take their eyes off the screen. Honestly, they were probably curious too.

Familiar faces came into view. He didn’t know the other groups, but first and foremost, that bastard Jeong Hae and the leader of Zero One were the ones who stood out the most.

Zero One was a group that almost nothing was known about, even among idols. Except for a few specific members, they didn’t socialize much, and they kept their mouths shut so tightly they rarely even talked about one another. As a result, rumors about them had only multiplied.

For no good reason, they were all tall and good-looking enough to hold their own even in an industry full of people who were supposed to be handsome for a living. On the contrary, they were so quiet they bordered on suspicious.

And among them, that leader, Go Young-in—well. Maybe it was because he kept seeing Jeong Hae pretending to be close to him, but Yoo In-hyeok just couldn’t bring himself to like him.

The last time that pretty-boy creep from the same group happened to come up to him, he’d grabbed him hoping to wring out at least one useful thing, and spent the whole time spouting nonsense. In the end, he was the only one who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walked away with his guts laid bare, and he hadn’t gained much of anything at all.

Though, come to think of it, half the bullshit he’d said back then had probably turned out to be lies anyway. Fuck.

Anyway, he’s weirdly interesting.

Setting aside any personal feelings, he was nothing like the way he’d looked before filming.

Go Young-in on the screen still had that pale face of his, but maybe because the camera was rolling, his expression alone looked perfectly normal.

He’d been looking so half-dead just a little while ago that it wouldn’t have been strange if he’d collapsed at any second. Yoo In-hyeok thought back to what had happened earlier.

Before filming began, Yoo In-hyeok had left the waiting room to find a decent spot and deal with the remaining cigarette in his hand.

He’d stuffed his lighter into his pocket, flipped Jeong Hae the finger when the bastard asked where he was going, and was wandering down the broadcasting station hallway when he heard a pained sound from somewhere ahead, the kind that made it sound as if the person were about to lose their last breath.

What, was someone getting the shit beaten out of them? If it was a fight, there was nothing more entertaining than that, so he followed the sound and found a restroom tucked away in a corner, the kind only staff members would know about.

When he peeked inside, he saw the Zero One leader—Go Young-in—collapsed on the floor, clutching the sink as though it were his lifeline and gasping for breath. Between the strands of sweat-soaked bangs, his dull reddish-brown eyes were twitching faintly, as if they were seizing up.

Anyone could tell he was in no shape to be called fine. Where the hell were his manager and the rest of his members, leaving him like that all alone?

Just as Yoo In-hyeok unconsciously took a step forward, Go Young-in suddenly snapped his head up and slowly pushed himself to his feet the moment he sensed someone nearby. At first, Yoo In-hyeok thought he’d been caught snooping, but that wasn’t it. The unfocused eyes hadn’t been aimed at him at all. Go Young-in was staring blankly at empty space.

After that, he washed his hands as calmly as could be and straightened his clothes neatly, but in the end he still couldn’t hide the fact that he couldn’t quite keep his balance, or that his legs were trembling beneath him.

By the time filming actually started, the Go Young-in who appeared was back to looking immaculate, as if nothing had happened.

He’d never been the type for dramatic facial expressions in the first place, so at a glance it didn’t look all that strange.

If Yoo In-hyeok hadn’t happened to see that earlier state, and if he hadn’t gone over there in the first place just because he thought he might squeeze out some sympathy footage, he might never have noticed anything was off. Still, once he realized something was wrong, it was almost stranger that he hadn’t noticed sooner.

That slightly unfocused gaze. The hollow look around his eyes. The atmosphere that had sunk even lower than usual, and the subtly delayed reactions that came half a beat late each time.

If that wasn’t a sick person, what was? Did that company’s CEO get his kicks out of exploiting his artists?

Even that noisy, tactless DTD member—the one who’d been trying to cling to him and act friendly lately—kept hovering around him and watching his face, unusually quiet for once. But Go Young-in didn’t even glance at him, as if he had no time to spare for it. More accurately, he seemed to simply not have the spare capacity.

At the time, all Yoo In-hyeok had thought was that if he collapsed, that was his loss; at least it would make for good controversy. That was it.

Then it was Zero One’s turn to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠perform, and seeing Go Young-in stand there with his eyes suddenly clear and not a single line out of place, Yoo In-hyeok had no choice but to click his tongue.

Even as the choreography grew more intense, he kept pulling it off without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a hitch, his face set in a ferocious expression that never wavered. By that point, it was almost getting old.

Is he stubborn, or just stupid?

What was the point of working that hard when it wouldn’t change anything anyway? Did he still not understand that hiding pain so stubbornly and doing his level best wouldn’t make everyone care?

If it had been him, during the moments when the blocking changed and there was a blind spot where the cameras couldn’t see, he would’ve wiped his sweat a few times and let his expression slip just enough to make it obvious he was hurting. That kind of thing could be surprisingly effective. Sure, the company would get torn apart for not adjusting the schedule while the kids were sick, but that was none of his business.

And yet that idiot, with his hopeless lack of finesse, kept breathing hard and clenching his trembling hands even in the side corners where the cameras couldn’t catch him, struggling with everything he had not to show a thing.

It still wouldn’t escape anyone with decent eyes. He was just making extra work for himself.

The other members didn’t seem to know—or maybe didn’t care—whether their leader was sick. Aside from the one member who was friends with Jeong Hae and kept glancing over a few times, they didn’t seem especially shaken.

It would be easier if they just gave up. Yoo In-hyeok always found people who threw themselves into something that desperately fascinating.

After finishing his train of thought, he focused on the huge screen again.

There was no need to watch Jeong Hae take his time with that thoughtful little expression he put on while already knowing the result. Go Young-in, with his pale face, lightly brushed a hand over his cheek and began writing each character with careful precision.

The neatly written word came into view.

Triple Shot.

As soon as Go Young-in finished voting and opened the door to come out, the MC abruptly cut in and asked him why he’d chosen them.

He definitely wouldn’t have expected the vote to be watched live, but even with the huge monitor displaying him and the contestants in the waiting room staring at him so intently, he didn’t seem flustered at all. He just kept talking calmly, fluidly, as though everything were perfectly natural.

He looked like someone who had known this would happen and prepared for it in advance.

Hahaha. Was he laughing this easily because he was in a good mood today? Yoo In-hyeok bent his head, resting his chin on his hand as he laughed under his breath.

He had expected Go Young-in to write Triple Shot’s name, but seeing it happen with his own eyes was funny and satisfying all at once. Ah, this was one Jeong Hae should’ve seen for himself.

The names written by the other contestants were soon revealed one by one. The noise in the waiting room started growing steadily louder. It was impossible to feel good when your own group was openly being picked as one of the losers.

Even the Triple Shot members had been venting their complaints toward the contestants who’d written their names since earlier.

Idiots. Did they really think they wouldn’t be written down after dancing like that? If it weren’t for Jeong Hae, they wouldn’t even have debuted.

When was their first broadcast again…?

Well. They’d find out soon enough without him saying a word.

He remembered what the manager had told them in the van before they’d come to the set: even if they did only the bare minimum, someone would handle the rest, so they should just cause trouble in moderation.

If only the world worked the way you wanted just because you tried hard. For once, Yoo In-hyeok felt genuinely sorry.