Conditions for Becoming a Kind Idol Leader - Episode 56

Cheon Sa-yoon and Pyo Jae-ho were assigned to the vocal team, Lim Se-bin to the rapper team, and Go Young-in and Kyeon In-woo to the dance team.

The team assignment itself wasn’t bad—except for the fact that Jeong Hae was on the rival dance team. Of all things, their positions overlapped, too.

Still, at least they weren’t on the same team, so there was no need to run into each other. The immediate problem was…

“Whoa, seriously? Why’d you pick our team, hyung? Honestly, I didn’t think you’d come over here. We’re not even that good at dancing! Ah, I mean me! Not the XINX members!”

They had avoided the worst-case scenario and settled for the second-worst. In the end, it had only ever been a choice between two options anyway.

“You’re all working hard,” Go Young-in said politely.

“Sure, we are. But working hard doesn’t mean everything works out, does it?”

Beside Na Woo-ri, another DTD member was muttering under his breath, telling him to quit hitting the bones and let the guy’s meat survive for once.

Well… what was he supposed to do with that? Was that supposed to be praise or criticism? Kyeon In-woo, listening from the side, seemed to have had the same thought. He plastered on an unnaturally easygoing expression, one of those faces built entirely for image management, and answered with a roundabout question.

“So you’re saying you don’t like it?”

“Huh? No, not at all! I mean, it’s surprising.”

They had seen so many of those empty, laughing smiles by now that, if he didn’t make that face, it almost felt disappointing. Was that bastard’s hobby self-deprecating jokes?

Leaving the noisy Na Woo-ri behind, they exchanged polite introductions with the remaining participants.

There were three from XINX aside from their leader, Sio; Na Woo-ri and one other member from DTD; and Kyeon In-woo and Go Young-in.

All seven of them sat around a round table. Since the conversation had started, everyone had been sitting quietly and reading the room. Maybe because the cameras weren’t rolling.

This gathering had supposedly been arranged so they could meet without cameras, introduce themselves properly, and talk freely.

That was only the official version. In reality, surveillance cameras had been installed all over the room.

Damn it. They really did love their surveillance cameras. Tiny red lights hidden in the room swept over the participants.

Since he had to watch his mouth anyway, that was one thing. But for now, all he could think about was how he needed to keep Kyeon In-woo under control.

“Does anyone already have a song or concept in mind?”

Even so, perhaps because they were already debuted idols, once someone opened the conversation, everyone began exchanging opinions with surprising enthusiasm.

“We should go with performance! Isn’t this round judged by more than just the contestants now?”

Na Woo-ri was the first to speak up.

Until the first round, voting had been based only on internal contestant evaluation, but now a panel of experts had been added as well. Maybe that was why everyone seemed more fired up than they had been for round one.

Or maybe they had all seen The Road get eliminated so meaninglessly under the internal vote and were feeling extra competitive because of it. Either way, this program’s voting structure was a mess… no, scratch that. The whole premise was rotten from the start.

“Exactly! Let’s do something like that too! Uniforms, military formation dancing, all of it!”

“If it’s uniforms and group choreography, there are plenty of songs we can reference. That’s not bad,” Go Young-in said, giving the bare minimum of agreement. So that was what the hype about wearing uniforms had been about.

“But uniforms are boring… I want to try something different.”

One of the foreign members of XINX hesitantly straightened her hunched shoulders, raised a hand, and objected to Na Woo-ri’s idea.

“Asian concepts are popular, right? So let’s pick Asian-style music. We can wear hanbok, mix in martial arts moves, make it look cool. Ninja and kung fu are great. For the background, let’s go with something flashy, like a shrine.”

“An Asian feel is nice. But if we’re going that direction, wouldn’t it be better to settle on one clear theme? If we mix too many things, it might look sloppy.”

“It would be super cool, though….”

Cool? No. The live atmosphere would turn so cold it’d freeze.

For now, he understood that the suggestion didn’t come from malicious intent.

It sounded like she had just shoved together every image she thought looked impressive, but it was one of those subjects that could spark controversy no matter how they handled it. Unless they wanted the title of the first Orientalist idol group in Korea, this was a hard no.

Besides, there was no foundation for it. And once the idea was rejected, the member who’d proposed it seemed to lose all spirit, shrinking so much that Go Young-in started feeling awkward on their behalf. Then the DTD member raised his voice, saying he had another idea.

“Then what about Crack Down by our senior group, In-der-stream?”

In-der-stream was DTD’s label senior group. It was obvious the company had nudged them to bring it up for promotion’s sake. The guy had clearly been waiting for the right moment to jump in.

If it’s that song, Na Woo-ri’s idea of performance and uniforms would actually work.

As far as Go Young-in knew, the song’s concept was about revolutionary fighters resisting oppression. It had a grand, gutsy atmosphere overall, and the choreography was intense enough to suit a competition stage.

XINX, apparently confident in strong performance concepts like that, immediately started agreeing as soon as they heard the explanation. The two members who had been silent until then joined in, with the exception of the one who wanted an Asian-style song.

Kyeon In-woo, who had been quietly watching the situation without saying a word, abandoned his bored expression, put on his usual public-facing smile, and nodded. Since it seemed decent enough, Go Young-in also agreed.

He had thought the song choice would be settled without trouble.

“Can’t we just pick a different song?”

That was before Na Woo-ri, who had so far accepted every suggestion with enthusiasm, spoke up to object.

The DTD member who had proposed the idea turned to stare at him in open shock, apparently not expecting resistance from one of his own team.

“Hey, come on. It’s a song by our seniors.”

Even when a teammate bumped him in the side and tried to nudge him along with a whisper, Na Woo-ri refused to budge.

“Still, wrong is wrong.”

“Why! Didn’t you say you wanted performance and group choreography? You said you wanted something tough!”

“Yeah, but there are limits. I’m not confident I can pull off that choreography properly. What if we ruin our seniors’ song for no reason?”

“You won’t know until you try!”

“Some things you can tell without trying! Honestly, I probably couldn’t even handle choreography that hard.”

Neither can you. Na Woo-ri added that last bit jokingly and lightly patted the DTD member beside him on the shoulder. Still grinning, he seemed to think of something else and went on.

“Ah! I’m not saying I hate the song. If the majority agrees, I’ll do it. The others will probably dance it well anyway, so it’s fine, right?”

“Or do you have another song you want to do?” Go Young-in asked, but Na Woo-ri shook his head and said he was fine as long as it was easier than this.

At some point, Kyeon In-woo, who had been crossing his arms with a dissatisfied look on his face, was smiling with thinly veiled mockery at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s hilarious. So that’s why every time you go on stage—”

Damn it. That felt bad. He couldn’t just slap a hand over the bastard’s mouth.

Go Young-in had no choice but to pretend it was an accident and flicked his phone with his elbow, sending it tumbling onto the top of Kyeon In-woo’s foot.

“Oops—Ack! Hey! Go Young, are you cra—”

He had survived because it hadn’t been direct physical injury. He had only tried it because the camera was far away; if it hadn’t been, things would have gotten awkward fast. Still… that was usable.

“We can just rehearse it together, you know.”

Part of him wanted to stomp on the top of Kyeon In-woo’s foot, but never being able to do it had become one of his life’s great regrets. Instead of the foot, he tapped the side of the shoe with his own. Only then did Kyeon In-woo shut his mouth like a well-behaved dog, though he was still glaring at him like he wanted to split a watermelon with the back of his head. But what else ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was he supposed to do? Compared to usual, that might even count as a milder glare.

Kyeon In-woo seemed to decide there was some reason behind it after all, because he stopped glaring and slowly scanned the room. Thank goodness he wasn’t a complete idiot.

Go Young-in put on the broadcast smile he had become so used to that he could probably make it automatically even in his sleep.

And how much more am I supposed to smile than this?

Separate from stopping Kyeon In-woo, he didn’t like what Na Woo-ri was saying either. That kid was no ordinary weirdo either.

“Guess we have no choice.”

Na Woo-ri, who had been blankly watching the conversation this whole time, suddenly lit up and laughed aloud.

“If Zero One seniors are going to carry us, then of course we have to do it!”

He was interpreting people however he wanted again.

Still, the member who had insisted on the Asian concept seemed mildly disappointed that his idea hadn’t been chosen, but he did obediently follow the majority vote.

With the majority’s agreement, the song for the second round, first stage, was decided.

Once the song was set, everything else moved quickly. Most of the time was spent deciding the stage composition and practicing.

Now that they had roughly settled the concept and chosen the song, they agreed to rotate between companies for joint rehearsals before the next studio recording. This week, they gathered in Zero One’s agency practice room.

Na Woo-ri did, in fact, follow along once they actually taught him the choreography.

“See, hyung? I told you I can’t do this! Even with practice, it’s impossible. I’m not some monster like you.”

…Sure, he occasionally said things that made it sound like his motivation had died on the spot.

By this point, though, Go Young-in was more worried about the other team. Pyo Jae-ho, for instance… though at least Cheon Sa-yoon had ended up on the vocal team with him, so that was something to be relieved about, if only a little.

Unlike the previous round, they had been assigned to the same team as DTD, but that didn’t guarantee the same thing wouldn’t happen again. Even if it wasn’t exactly the same, something similar could happen—or something worse.

That was how things had always gone.

But that didn’t mean he could be certain something would happen, either. So he couldn’t just storm in and tell them to go to hell without thinking.

At any rate, he quietly asked Cheon Sa-yoon, his fellow vocal team member, whether they shouldn’t be keeping an eye on Pyo Jae-ho. Even as he said it, he half expected Cheon Sa-yoon to brush him off, so he wasn’t exactly hopeful.

And yet, for once, Cheon Sa-yoon agreed, which shocked Go Young-in more than if he’d ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠refused outright. What was he hiding this time? That was what he wanted to know.

Cheon Sa-yoon just looked at him for a while before saying, “Looks like you’re not completely thoughtless after all.”

What the hell is wrong with him?

Now I’m in a situation where I have no choice but to trust that bastard…. Well, it’s a shoot, so I guess I do trust him, but still. He’s not the kind of guy who’d bother looking after someone else for no reason.

He had hoped there wouldn’t be anyone over there annoying enough to get under that bastard’s skin, but then he remembered that Triple Shot’s leader, Yoo In-hyeok, was on the vocal team opposite them.

That’s a cursed pairing.

He sincerely hoped Yoo In-hyeok wouldn’t provoke Cheon Sa-yoon. As for Lim Se-bin’s screentime… strangely enough, those two looked more worrying than Se-bin alone.

Maybe he should have sent Kyeon In-woo to Se-bin’s side instead.

Later, when he asked Cheon Sa-yoon what the vocal team atmosphere had been like, Cheon Sa-yoon only smiled brightly and gave him a single line.

“How do you think it went?”

Mm. Suddenly, he didn’t want to know anymore.

* * *

A week passed, and it was time for episode 2 to air.

As in the last broadcast, Kyeon In-woo came shuffling over and sat beside him, so they watched it together. This time, too, things played out exactly as expected.

Episode 2 aired the remaining teams’ ninety-second performances, along with the ranking announcement and interviews.

Once again, the parts where Yoo In-hyeok had said something stupid, and where the Triple Shot members failed to keep their expressions under control, had been cut, leaving only the parts centered on Jeong Hae.

After episode 1 aired, Yoo In-hyeok had acted however he pleased during every shoot, as though the rules didn’t apply to him at all. Go Young-in hadn’t known whether he was relying on editing or had some other reason for it, but watching today’s broadcast made it look much more like the former.

If they aired that bastard’s mouth without editing, the network might even end up suspended. At this point, it really did feel like he was hoping for exactly that—just trying to trip over anything he could.

Maybe because their ranking had gone up, Zero One’s screentime was fairly generous after the ranking announcement as well. Most of it showed them socializing with Triple Shot and DTD, though.

That PD really loves friendship segments. Damn it, I should’ve known from the way he kept ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠going on about drinking.

The audience reaction was, well… mostly negative, just as expected.

It was because a report had broken out right after the first episode, at the very moment when accusations of unfairness were already surfacing over the obvious differences in editing, subtitles, and effects between groups.

When posts appeared online containing testimony from broadcast staff believed to be from other agencies’ groups, along with criticism of the network’s attitude of ignoring complaints, the story eventually made it onto the news.

Go Young-in’s thumb quietly pressed the thumbs-up icon beneath the comment. Like.

People would be watching closely since the show had already been hit with penalties last season, but from Go Young-in’s perspective, this season didn’t look like it was going to escape punishment either.

Fortunately, this controversy wasn’t Zero One’s; it was the network’s, so their goal of making it through safely was still alive.

Nothing more, nothing less. Just keep going like this. He was quietly reminding himself of that goal while reading the article when Kyeon In-woo, who had been watching the broadcast with an indifferent expression as though he couldn’t care less, called out to him.

“Hey, Go Young.”

“Yeah?”

“No matter how hard you bust your ass, it still ends up like this. Aren’t you pissed? You’re obsessed with this shit.” Kyeon In-woo leaned his head back over the sofa and stretched, letting out a lazy, mocking laugh.

Obsessed is a bit much… It’s not me that’s obsessed. It’s the status window.

He was probably talking about devilish editing. But wasn’t that the kind of thing that happened everywhere? It wasn’t like they’d only been hit once or twice.

“I’m not pissed,” Go Young-in said.

He was stunned more often than he could count, but that didn’t mean he felt wronged. Maybe it was because he had started this knowing it was that kind of show.

Kyeon In-woo’s face twisted at the answer. Then he abruptly hurled the innocent remote onto the sofa and started throwing a fit, calling people idiots and whatever else came to mind.

Honestly… what a temper.