Choose Your Prince

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Woo Hwi-gyum, a victory garland from the round perched on his head, studied Ye-chan's face. Ye-chan, wearing a matching garland of his own, offered a smile that never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quite reached his eyes.

The instant the quest window had appeared, some superhuman surge of strength must have kicked in from the sheer determination not to fail — because the moment he set Hwi-gyum down, every last drop of power drained from his body.

Even more draining was the news that the next round wouldn't involve forming new teams. Instead, several of the current teams would be merged together to play the games.

So much for showing my face in the behind-the-scenes footage.

Unlike Ye-chan, the hologram window was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, rocketing skyward with zeal.

……Give it a rest already.

"Thank you all for your hard work. Now then — a round of applause for trainee Gi Tae-rang, who served as today's special MC!"

Clap, clap, clap.

Applause filled the auditorium. Gi Tae-rang bowed left and right with shameless good cheer.

"Next — applause for today's MVPs!"

A cascade of applause poured over Ye-chan and Woo Hwi-gyum, five garlands stacked between them. Ye-chan watched Hwi-gyum wave with a solemn face and thought,

Woo Hwi-gyum as MVP. That means every last recreation clip is headed straight for the trash.

He'd played along with the hologram window's rampage, and the result was sweeping every single event alongside Hwi-gyum — a guy who ranked number ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one on the mid-to-late-edit chopping block. Body and mind both shredded to ribbons, Ye-chan settled for waving his hand with all the energy he had left.

By the time they left the auditorium, the sun had long since set. They'd spent an absurdly long day filming footage that would never see the light of day, even stopping for a meal in the middle of it.

"Ye-chan! Hwi-gyum! We're gonna use our meal vouchers right now — you guys in?"

Nam Ji-yu, wearing a single garland, bounced over with a step so light he seemed half airborne. Having ended up on the same team midway through, he'd already dropped formal speech with Hwi-gyum. A camera behind him was fixed squarely on their group.

Ye-chan's eyes curved into a smile.

"I'm saving mine for later."

Looking privately close with Hwi-gyum was the last thing he wanted.

"What about you, Hwi-gyum?"

"I'm fine as well."

You, go away.

"Yeah? Got it! Rest up, then~."

It had only been a casual offer. Nam Ji-yu headed for the convenience store with a few other garland-wearing trainees, several cameras trailing after them.

"……Shall we go too?"

Hwi-gyum nodded.

The long first day of the dorm stay was finally over.

Or so they thought.

It was midnight. Trainees had just begun drifting off, each imagining tomorrow's filming, when the small TV in every room switched on by itself. The moment the PD finished speaking, the Chumaf 99 theme song — Choose Your Prince — poured out.

Ye-chan, half-reclined on his bed, watched the screen, then flicked a glance at the camera stuck in the corner of the room. The red light was on, but this scene would never make it to broadcast.

Sneaky bastards.

The way Ye-chan remembered theme song practice for Choose My Prince 99, it had always started with trainees checking the choreography video on tablets in grade-divided practice rooms after moving into the dorms. One viewing, then straight into practice — and the trainees who memorized the choreography exceptionally well or sang with perfect accuracy got cast as early "genius" characters for a bit of entertainment value.

Except they'd been tipped off months in advance.

A minor bit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of manipulation. Certain trainees who'd received the song from production beforehand reenacting the theme song perfectly after a single viewing left room for other trainees to talk behind their backs.

So this was their safety net.

Play the video the night before and let them practice into the early hours, and no one could complain. If you argued that a trainee being hailed as a genius wasn't a genius at all — just someone who'd practiced all night — you'd just look like a sore loser bitter that a hardworking kid succeeded.

In the cycles where Ye-chan hadn't interfered, this issue had never once surfaced. Choose My Prince 99 never rigged the trainees' vote counts, but in every other petty detail, they quietly handed out favors to the agencies that had lobbied them — just like this.

It was a fact Ye-chan had dug up across multiple resets, and of course he'd spread it far and wide, helping drive Chumaf 99 into the ground. Naturally, Jung Chan-yang would use every scrap of information Ye-chan had once known, so countermeasures would be necessary…

Three round backs of heads entered Ye-chan's field of vision. His three roommates had already sat up straight and were watching the video with total seriousness.

Right now, I'm more curious about how those three are going to practice.

In the past, all three of them had absorbed the theme song with startling proficiency from the very start, so Ye-chan had naturally assumed manipulation and gone hunting with glee. He'd left Hwi-gyum alone — the guy was dropping out anyway — and torn through Beom Se-hyuk's and Shim Sang-rok's agencies, but no evidence ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever turned up that either of them had received the material from production in advance.

Given that they were now stuck on the same team, that was actually welcome news.

Ye-chan climbed down from the bunk bed and looked at Beom Se-hyuk's profile — still sitting in front of the TV long after the video had ended. Se-hyuk, lost in thought, seemed to sense the gaze and lifted his head. Their eyes met, and Ye-chan smiled gently.

"Shall we head to the practice room, then?"

His pride would not allow Beom Se-hyuk — now bound to him by fate — to fall short of the Beom Se-hyuk from previous cycles. He knew the guy would do fine left alone, but wouldn't he do even better with someone coaching him wholeheartedly from the side?

Blissfully unaware of Ye-chan's excitement at the prospect of working him hard, Se-hyuk rose from his seat with a bright smile.

"Yeah."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Shim Sang-rok and Woo Hwi-gyum fell in behind them.

A staff member in the hallway directed them to a practice room. When they arrived, trainees who'd gotten there first called out in recognition.

"Whoa, it's Sang-rok hyung!"

"Hello, hyung!"

"Yeah, hey."

The practice rooms were divided by grade, so everyone there was S-Grade — and two of them latched onto Shim Sang-rok with blatant familiarity. Ye-chan clicked his tongue inwardly. Even within S-Grade, Sang-rok was special S-Grade, so a degree of admiration was understandable. But advertising so nakedly that you wanted to ride the Shim Sang-rok bus was just ugly to watch.

"Hyung, want to practice with us? We split up the parts to memorize, so we've already got almost all the song and choreography down."

"We'll make a special exception and let you in, hyung."

They lowered their voices while glancing toward Ye-chan's group, but every word carried. No — you already learned it beforehand, you manufactured idols. The sheer shamelessness of the fabricated idols drew a hollow laugh from him unbidden.

Ye-chan didn't think Sang-rok would actually join those sycophants.

I saw him practicing with Beom Se-hyuk on Chumaf before.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm practicing with my roommates."

Just as Ye-chan expected, Sang-rok declined with a smiling face. The two manufactured idols joined the remaining trainees with disappointed looks.

"Should we stretch first?"

"Why didn't you go?"

Separate from the fact that things had unfolded exactly as the future he knew dictated, Ye-chan was curious about Sang-rok's intentions. It wasn't as if some sense of loyalty to roommates of a single day had suddenly sprung up. So why stay?

Sang-rok blinked at the question.

"Is there a reason I should go?"

"They said they already have the whole song and choreography memorized."

"You guys have it memorized too, don't you?"

"Not all of it."

Beom Se-hyuk cut in with a cheerful grin. Apparently he found Sang-rok's choice to stay just as puzzling. Ye-chan glanced at Hwi-gyum — still wearing that unreadable blank expression that gave nothing away.

"Hmm…… Can you really memorize everything perfectly after watching it once? I just figured they were overflowing with confidence."

Fair enough — if you didn't know about the manipulation the way Ye-chan did, that was a reasonable conclusion. Sang-rok checked that the staff were still setting up cameras, then lowered his voice.

"Even if they really had memorized everything, I still would have chosen to practice with you guys."

Sang-rok met Hwi-gyum's eyes, then Se-hyuk's, then Ye-chan's in turn.

"I've wanted to practice with you ever since the grade evaluations."

Looking into Sang-rok's shining eyes, Ye-chan revised his assessment of the guy slightly. What a strange one.

Practice continued deep into the early morning. Ye-chan finally understood how his three roommates had perfected the theme song so completely in previous cycles. He hadn't needed to push them at all. Se-hyuk and the other two were rolling themselves into the ground of their own free will. Back then, too, these three had clearly practiced until dawn, sleep forgotten, just like this.

Perhaps conscious of their group, the other S-Grade trainees from different rooms had stayed fairly late — but all except one had returned to their rooms hours ago. Sang-rok invited the remaining trainee to practice together, only to be refused flat out. Said he preferred working alone, or something like that.

"Should we head to bed soon?"

The wake-up time they'd been given was less than two hours away. Ye-chan nodded, then called out to the trainee still practicing alone on the far side of the room.

"Hae-sol hyung, you should go get some sleep."

Trainee Kang Hae-sol turned to look at Ye-chan. That youthful face was unfamiliar.

"You guys go. I'm gonna keep at it a bit longer."

"We'll be filming late again today. You should get at least a little sleep."

A camera was still rolling in the corner of the practice room. Ye-chan smiled kindly. When he kept insisting with an uncharacteristic stubbornness, Hae-sol frowned as if annoyed.

"I'll sleep after I practice a little more."

"You won't be able to. You don't have your door key, hyung."

"……."

The ones who'd gone to bed first didn't seem the type to leave a key outside the door out of consideration. And given Hae-sol's personality, he didn't seem the type to bang on the door at this hour and wake sleeping roommates either.

"Sleep in our room tonight."

Hae-sol nodded reluctantly. Having secured the answer he wanted, Ye-chan turned back toward his roommates with satisfaction.

"That's okay, right?"

After watching the three of them all day, Ye-chan was certain. Of course they'd say it was fine.

"Obviously. Hae-sol, I'll lend you some of my clothes."

Just as expected. Sang-rok answered, and the other two nodded.

"Alright, we'll hand out tablets with yesterday's video on them! Practice however you like, and once you feel confident, head up to the booths prepared on the second floor and film yourselves."

A writer who'd come to the practice room early that morning began the briefing.

"Based on those recordings, the theme song center and stage positions will be decided. Deadline is nine o'clock tonight! Do your best!"

The second day of the dorm stay had begun. Sang-rok accepted the tablet the writer handed over and looked around at the S-Grade trainees with an awkward expression. Being played by the PD's little prank seemed to have left him thoroughly flustered.

"Well, shall we watch the video once first?"

Gathered in a circle, the trainees who'd practiced the theme song until dawn watched the video again, then decided to run through it together as a group, spacing themselves out appropriately.

As always — and this cycle would be no different — S-Grade was going to overflow with geniuses, both the manufactured kind and the real ones. Of course, there would be no room for the mediocre pretenders to strut around this time.

I'll show them that even among geniuses, there are ranks.

Ye-chan — the representative manufactured genius who, in this world, had listened to this song more times than even the theme song's own composer — grinned.