Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Strictly speaking, Park Moon-dae’s dancing wasn't exactly awe-inspiring. It was just at a level where he wouldn't stand out in a group performance.
But to put it another way, he now possessed enough visual appeal to hold his own in a synchronized routine.
‘Even if that were the debut song right now...’
It seemed like he wouldn't fall behind the other members. It was an unbelievable improvement!
The choreographer was slightly excited by the unexpected situation, but he soon regained his composure.
‘Talent doesn't just appear out of nowhere in two days.’
If the kid had used his head, he would have focused solely on the very beginning to create an impact with the intro.
‘In just a moment, he’ll go right back to those stiff nursery school movements—’
“…….”
But he didn't. Park Moon-dae maintained that same level of quality as he headed into the chorus.
In fact, his control over the tempo and power actually improved during the chorus.
Unlike most of the lower-class participants, his limbs didn't flail limply. He wasn't just blurring through the movements around his joints; he was striking clear, sharp angles.
—The one shining on stage today… is me!
Furthermore, he was singing every single part honestly, without missing or skipping a single note.
He lacked technical finesse, but his voice was clean and resonant, without a single crack or flat note.
Beside the choreographer, the judge Mudie tapped her pen rhythmically.
It seemed like an unconscious action, which meant she was thoroughly impressed.
Even to the choreographer’s ears, though he wasn't an expert in vocals, Park Moon-dae was the best among the participants so far.
—Watch closely, this moment… I’m the one who shines the brightest!
No, he was actually excellent.
His clean tone pierced straight into the ears.
‘How much effort did a novice have to put in to sing so stably while keeping up with that choreography?’
The choreographer found himself thinking sympathetically.
He treated those who were 'skilled, promising, and full of potential' distinctly differently from those who weren't.
And now, within the choreographer’s mind, Park Moon-dae’s grade—which had been dropped because he seemed to have no talent for dancing—was being re-evaluated.
‘Since his strength is singing, was he so preoccupied with singing stably during the dance that he looked like he was barely struggling to just memorize the moves before?’
Still, a sense of incongruity remained.
‘…It’s hard for dancing to click like this in just two days without some kind of catalyst.’
Meanwhile, Park Moon-dae managed to finish the song, maintaining his tempo and energy all the way through the end of the second verse.
The judges' table was silent.
Aside from his curiosity, the choreographer felt a sudden surge of positive emotion.
It was a sense of pride.
“Huff, huff… Thank you.”
Immediately after the song ended, Park Moon-dae was gasping for breath, his face flushed bright red as if he had squeezed out every last drop of his stamina.
Instead of the brazenness he showed during the first evaluation—when he boldly picked a difficult song without a change in expression—his face was now full of heat.
It was a face that made one think, ‘Wow… he really worked hard.’
That kind of contrast had a way of making the viewer feel unexpectedly emotional.
Sure enough, Mudie was sitting next to the choreographer with eyes that looked ready to pour out a bucketful of compliments at any moment.
The choreographer guessed that the other judges probably felt the same, even if to a lesser degree.
However, no one could capitalize on this impact for the broadcast as well as he could. After all, he was the one who had been grilling the kid in the dance classes for the past two weeks.
So, the choreographer deliberately ignored the production staff’s silent cues to let Young-rin give the first evaluation.
He spoke into the microphone first.
“Moon-dae.”
“Huff… Yes.”
“Good job.”
“…….”
It was a simple compliment, which made it all the more definitive. Instead of answering, Park Moon-dae gave a broad grin.
It was a clear, almost mischievous smile, unlike the stoic participant he had been for the past two weeks.
As expected, a good plot twist always wins.
There was no way this formula wouldn't work in an idol audition program.
Even while I was so out of breath that it felt like my heart was going to leap out of my throat, my mind felt at ease with a sense of relief.
The judges were giving great reactions.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so proud of him.”
“Moon-dae, there’s really nothing to criticize today~”
“You did very well.”
I felt like I had moved one step further away from sudden death.
‘I knew it. Investing all three points I gathered during filming into my dance stat was the right move.’
So, my dance was now Rank C.
Honestly, the feeling of leveling up was more palpable than when I raised my vocal stat.
It felt as if things my head understood but my body couldn't follow were suddenly being internalized.
The sensation of suddenly being able to use muscles I couldn't use before was vivid throughout my entire body.
It was almost euphoric.
At this level, even if I couldn't make it to the advanced class, I should be on par with the intermediate participants.
Since I had spent the first week memorizing the choreography without sleeping, I had mastered it to the point where it would come out automatically if someone just tapped me.
If we were strictly talking about this song, I might even be better than most of the intermediate dance class.
‘And I let it all explode at once without showing the middle process.’
As long as this doesn't get edited out completely, I should pass the first elimination with this.
It feels like I’m making steady progress toward survival.
And then, the expected question came.
“But Moon-dae, what on earth did you do for the past two days?”
I could see the judge Mudie mouthing ‘Why?’ back at the choreographer.
As if answering her, the choreographer added an explanation.
“His dancing suddenly works. Just like that, in the two days we didn't see him.”
“That’s…”
I caught my breath and ran a hand through my hair, acting a bit awkward on purpose. I probably looked embarrassed.
“I asked a friend who’s good at it.”
“A friend who’s good at it?”
“Seon A-hyun.”
It was, so to speak, a smokescreen.
I couldn't exactly say I leveled up through a status window, so I intended to gloss over it with an emotional angle.
It just so happened that my roommate was Seon A-hyun, who was in the advanced dance class.
Since there are cases where someone improves drastically after receiving practical advice from a peer, I decided to try that narrative.
—Do you have some time?
—W-were you talking to m-me...?
—Yeah. Sorry, but if you’re able, could you show me this move...?
—Y-yes! I can!
—...Um, okay.
Besides, when I had just barely brought it up, Seon A-hyun had been so delighted and taught me so earnestly that I would have felt guilty if I hadn't improved.
I was actually a bit flustered because he spent almost two hours passionately breaking down every single movement.
I had only intended to make it look plausible...
Anyway, being seen as someone who helped a clueless non-celebrity participant wouldn't be a loss for Seon A-hyun at all. It’s a win-win.
Should I reinforce the situation a bit more? Let’s add some unnecessary words.
“...A-hyun is very kind.”
“Hey, are you saying I’m not kind then?”
The choreographer immediately poked back.
But he had a smirk on his face, clearly just teasing.
It felt like I had successfully moved past it. A warm atmosphere settled among the judges.
“Do you remember what I said during the first evaluation?”
Young-rin from ‘Saint You’ asked gently. It wasn't a real question, but more of an opening statement.
“I said that because you had zero experience in dancing, the upcoming missions would be a struggle for you.”
Young-rin smiled faintly.
“It seems I was wrong. I think you’ll be able to overcome those struggles just fine, Moon-dae.”
“Thank you.”
“I really enjoyed your performance today. Next time, I hope you can show a bit more ease in your movements.”
“I will work hard to do so.”
It’s not like I could suddenly gain ‘ease’ just because she said that, but in an audition program, you have to give a firm answer. This is kind of fun.
At any rate, it was a success. As I received the following praise from the judges, I made a reasonable prediction.
My grade will probably be Gold.
Like any other idol audition program, the theme song of Idol Inc. was the first content exposed to the public.
And naturally, the screen time for the theme song revolved around those who were skilled. This grade evaluation was what determined the criteria for being ‘skilled.’
As you could probably guess from the badges used to divide the classes, they were split into Gold, Silver, and Bronze—representing high, middle, and low.
“However, any participant who fails to meet even the criteria for Bronze... will be expelled!”
They said that every season, but it had never actually happened, so there was no need to worry.
And there was one more grade above these three categories.
“Idol Inc. is back with a brand-new look! Who will be the participants to receive the Platinum grade, representing this Re-listing season!”
It was the Platinum grade.
On the internet, people had turned this grade into a meme, comparing it to everything from multi-level marketing to toxic games where people insult your parents.
Honestly, I was a bit relieved the production team’s naming sense didn't go all the way to Diamond.
Regardless of my inner thoughts, the other participants were all stiff with tension, waiting for the MC’s announcement.
A flashy metal box was placed in front of each participant, containing the badge that symbolized their grade.
Since I had already guessed my grade, I didn't think much of it.
Silver started from 26th place, and based on my status window stats, I was definitely within the top 25 now. But my stats weren't high enough to be among the 10 people in the Platinum grade.
So, it had to be Gold.
“Participants, please open your grade boxes!”
I opened the box with a click, trying to keep my expression neutral so I wouldn't look indifferent.
And then I froze.
Inside the box, a platinum-colored badge with a holographic finish was shimmering.
It was a Platinum grade badge.
“…….”
As I stood there frozen, Seon A-hyun, who was lifting his own gold badge next to me, tilted his head. Then, he let out a startled gasp.
“W-w-wow, wow!”
“What is it? ...Whoa, no way!! Wow, that’s insane!!”
Lee Se-jin (formerly 20th), who was also holding a gold badge, shouted as he looked into my box.
Then, he slapped my back and yelled.
“You’re seriously amazing! Platinum!!”
I don't know since when we became close enough for him to do this.
Haven't we just been greeting each other in passing? And even then, I only did it reluctantly because he initiated it.
I took a deep breath and picked up the badge from the box.
The other participants seemed to think I was overwhelmed with emotion, but in reality, my mind was a mess.
‘Why Platinum?’
I knew that every season, they gave the Platinum grade to two or three people based on their growth rate rather than their absolute skill level.
But I didn't think I was at that level yet.
And then I realized.
‘...The order of that grade evaluation!’
Because of that, the number of people who could have surged up from the middle-to-lower ranks had decreased. So, I stood out relatively more.
The fact that I had mastered the dance through my ‘preview’ from the regression and all-night practice—making me look better than others with similar stats—probably played a part too.
“……Hmm.”
I rolled the badge in my hand. I had definitely made my mark, but for some reason, it left a bitter aftertaste.
‘If I’m not careful, this could turn into a disaster.’
If I messed up even slightly in the next evaluation, there was no telling how they would edit me. In the first season, a participant had been torn to shreds after following a similar route.
No, come to think of it, I didn't even have to wait until the next evaluation. If the editing for me receiving the Platinum grade was even slightly off, I would be buried in hate.
If Choi Won-gil, who was currently glaring at me, gave an interview saying something like, “To be honest, I couldn't fully accept it,” I would become perfect prey.
Still, it would be insane to show that I was unhappy here.
‘It can't be helped.’
I slowly picked up the badge and pinned it to my chest. When I turned my head, I saw other participants wearing Platinum badges.
As expected, the 1st and 2nd place finishers from the first evaluation were both Platinum. Most of the others who had sat on the sofas were also Platinum again.
It seemed like the participants in the top 10 had filled the gaps left by those who dropped to Gold.
I was the only one from the 20s.
Dammit.
‘I’m going to be under heavy fire.’
…No, let’s think positively. It is actually a good thing.
‘At least I’ll get a lot of screen time.’
Until the stage fancams are released, it’s all a battle for screen time anyway.
Since I’ll definitely avoid elimination in the beginning, I’m steadily approaching my goal of ‘debuting within a year.’
‘I just have to make sure I don't become incredibly unlikable here.’
I made a firm vow. I would reduce any chances of being nitpicked.
I’ll level up like crazy and pour everything into my dance and vocal stats.
“Participants who received the Platinum grade, please come up to the stage first!”
……And for now, during the theme song performance, I must avoid being near participants with an A in their dance stat at all costs.
Because if we’re compared, there’s no hope.