Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Genius Idol's Strategy for Conquering the Entertainment Industry
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The thirty or so underachievers who'd been spacing out here and there suddenly snapped to attention, claiming their minds had cleared or strength had returned to their limbs, and dove headfirst into practice.
The kids from the other classes eyed our sudden transformation with suspicion, but none of us cared about such trivialities.
Now that we'd gathered our wits, it was crystal clear that if we didn't bust our asses right then and there, our class mentor would chew us out.
Still, for most of the trainees in the Comet Class, the choreography wall loomed impossibly high.
They wanted to try hard, but their heads and bodies just wouldn't cooperate.
'Even with the buff, they're struggling this much? Guess their average stats are about as low as mine.'
Let's rally, boys. Fighting!
In the midst of it all, since I'd memorized the choreography and could at least mimic it decently, the guys whose eyes met mine latched onto me like I was their one lifeline, begging for help with the moves.
"Raon, I'm lost on this part."
"What the hell do you mean 'Raon'? Be more specific!"
"Raon-ah, save your hyung!"
"Saving you might be beyond my skills, but I could probably die alongside you."
"What? I don't wanna die with you."
"Fine then. Die alone."
Of course, as a paragon of humanity with impeccable character, I helped even the jerks who talked like that.
Truth be told, even though I'd memorized it, my understanding was under 10%, making it laughable compared to the Ji-hee Class kids flying through it effortlessly.
So I wasn't really teaching properly—just slowing down the quick flashes from the choreography video—but that alone was a godsend for the hordes of Comet Class trainees who couldn't even manage that.
That's why a hack like me, who'd only memorized the steps, could still be useful.
"Raon. Help me, please."
This season's foreign trainees, mostly lumped into Comet Class for lacking basics, included the Star Production trio and Jing Xiao, whom I'd seen before entering the studio.
From scanning the names floating above heads during filming, at least four nationalities were gathered here: Korean, Japanese, Chinese, and English-speaking.
With that ratio, language barriers and cultural clashes would surely headache us later during team practices.
Yet the Star Production guys, who'd been hesitating among the Koreans, sidled up to me cautiously and asked for help.
"Okay, okay. What part?"
"[That part right now...] Ah, this dance."
Using surprisingly decent English pronunciation and universal body language, I probed further. Then Nagase Ritsu rattled off something rapid in incomprehensible Japanese before switching to my equally clunky English and gesturing wildly.
But then.
Huh?
Huhhh?
I recalled the Star Production guys and other Japanese agency trainees speaking Japanese earlier, with interpreters translating.
Hearing it a few times then and just now must've met the acquisition threshold. And now English was suddenly on par with my Korean?
'But why tell me now? I would've picked Charm over Korean back then.'
...A rational rethink confirmed Korean was the right choice.
I even asked Nagase Ritsu to speak Japanese to test; I could barely understand a word.
So the skill didn't kick in instantly.
"Raon, me too, can't do this part."
Seeing the Star Production kids get help, our class's foreign trainees swarmed over noisily.
Trainees from cultures where rhythm-fitting dance wasn't idol-essential struggled especially with this choreography.
Do I look that idle and easygoing, like I can babysit every rival one-on-one?
"Thank you!"
"No, no. Thank you."
Damn it, it is easy. What a sucker I am...
In my defense, ignoring little-bro types struggling alone before mustering courage to ask isn't as easy as it sounds.
At least it wasn't a total loss—my understanding ticked up bit by bit while teaching.
Teaching's the best way to learn, right?
Helping around like that let me chat briefly with nearly every trainee in class.
For a shut-in gamer and notorious social misfit like me, it was overwhelming relationship progress, but I endured by reminding myself, 'This is just a game.'
I was almost proud of my orangutan-level social skills holding up.
"Raon-ah, you've barely practiced yourself—what're you gonna do?"
"It's fine. It's not like today is our only practice day."
"Whoa, an angel. Total angel."
"From today, Raon is the Comet Class guardian angel."
"Ooh, guardian angel oooh."
"These hyungs are nuts! Creepy!"
Inappropriate language detected
(Remaining time: 02:29:59)
You damn system, don't filter for crap like that.
"Nuts" is everyday talk. Need countermeasures for this annoying filter ASAP.
Multiple group members feel affinity toward you.
Overall group favorability +7
Intelligence won't budge, but favorability skyrockets.
Should've asked the president for a dating sim instead.
Seriously, can I reroll genres just once?
"Everyone practice hard? Let's see each class go once."
Practice time ended before we knew it.
Ji-hee Class took the stage first; the rest shuffled to the edges.
'Nail this and boost my Wisdom a bit.'
The Ji-hee Class trainees, aware they'd been picked first for excelling under her, wore subtle tension.
They were the most scrutinized group here.
Under the pressure, every Ji-hee Class trainee performed admirably.
"Whoa... They're seriously good."
"All A-graders gathered there."
No Wisdom boost, though.
Choreography understanding inched up like a hangnail. Songs felt hopelessly distant.
Next, Su-young Class, Chang-yeon Class, and Joo An Class showed mixed results: duds, aces, and averages blended.
Standouts per class by skill or looks: Ok Do-yoon from Su-young, Kashima Sora from Chang-yeon, Seo Moon-gyeol from Joo An.
"Next, Comet Class."
Our 30+ trainees, me included, lumbered to center stage.
Even securing minimal dance spacing was a chore with the numbers.
I stood roughly right-middle, but Ban Yo-han and Kim Jun-woo grabbed my arms, dragging me to the front-center.
Center, basically?
Funny part: others parted willingly, eyeing me expectantly.
Buffs haven't worn off, huh.
That earnest gaze demanded a response.
"Comet Class! Ready?!"
"Ready!"
"We! Can do it!"
"We can do it!"
A few Hye-seong Class trainees looked mortified chanting along, blushing and ducking heads.
Embarrassed? Huh? Ashamed?
Own it. You just snagged screen time.
The mentors chuckled.
"Nice. I like this vibe."
"These kids get it."
Don't play coy. You thought weirdo.
"Give it a go."
The melody, familiar from constant practice loops, flowed out.
Locking eyes with you
When you call my name
I aim for your heart
Heart a-ttae-ttae-tack!
Bluntly, we sucked hardest compared to the prior four classes, no contest.
In the cramped spacing, turns tangled us up; backhands smacked neighbors routinely.
Yet no one dropped hands or feet midway—we kept eyeing sides, front, back, trying something till music stopped.
That desperation shone through. Despite the utter mess leaving mentors clueless where to start, their faces weren't grim.
Some even looked proud.
"Great energy. That's the hard part."
"Kids, keep this tension for three days, and you might pull off what seemed impossible. Keep pushing."
"Ooh, Comet-sunbae is smiling."
Is that a smile, humanly?
Muk Hye-seong's faint lip-twitch—1-pixel up in 2D terms—bumped his favorability to 2.
Long road to moist on moist.
"Raon-ah, you sat up there alone for hours, yet you're bursting with energy. Eyes sparkling while dancing. Not tired?"
What is this person saying?
I'm dying of exhaustion here.
Can't you see me gasping on my knees like a stone statue repenting?
Yet if I didn't look beat, credit the #1 chair dropping Fatigue to 20, plus donut snack refilling HP.
Mulling that, I sprang up rookie-trainee-style and replied brightly.
"Yes! Still good!"
"Youth is a blessing."
How old even is noona?
Looks mid-to-late 20s tops, but seasoned beyond appearance.
As a director-mentor, not just any; must have serious tenure.
"Raon dances a bit like a wooden doll, but seems to have most choreography down? Right?"
"Yes. He nailed it from the start and helped us."
Kim Jun-woo nodded at Lee Chang-yeon's words.
'Though it was mud-dog teaching shit-dog level.'
Makes them impressive. They gleaned something from my crap demo.
"Worried most about your class, but you seem solid. Relieved."
Lee Chang-yeon smiled warmly, wrapping up.
An hour later, group buff faded; Hye-seong Class exhaled, retreating.
Now for individual lessons per mentor.
But space for proper lessons here?
100 jumping at once might collapse the set. Impossible.
Yet PDs made us practice right there.
No lunch, no dinner, no breaks.