The Butterfly Effect (1)
The song titles alone didn't ring many bells. Except for the ones I'd looped dozens—hundreds—of times because of Na-bin, nothing came to me. The rest would click into place once I actually heard them.
"This evaluation isn't just a simple new-song assessment. Renowned composers have each gifted you an original track with a completely different concept."
"Woooaaah!"
A cheer erupted among the trainees. They seemed giddy at the possibility of becoming the owners of a brand-new song.
"We'll now take some time to listen to five songs, each with its own distinct concept."
The moment the MC finished speaking, the giant screen shifted, and the composers began to appear one by one.
When the first composer came up, most of the trainees didn't seem to know who he was. The instant his songs were revealed, though—
"AAAAAHHH!"
"No way, he wrote that one too?"
"This is actually insane."
It was one shock and gasp of admiration after another. He was a composer behind songs that were already legendary.
"I'm so excited."
"Is someone like that really giving us a song?"
While the trainees' excitement showed no sign of dying down, the concept explanation for the first track followed immediately. Then the choreography video began to play.
"...Whoa."
"That's actually so good."
Each time a song ended, the trainees let out another gasp of admiration.
"This one is so me, though?"
"I definitely want this."
"I'm losing it. This is my number one pick too."
There wasn't a single throwaway in the bunch. Listening quietly, I realized I remembered every last one of them. These were the same songs that had appeared on the survival show I'd watched in my previous life.
I was still turning that over in my mind when the last composer's face appeared on the screen.
Who is that?
He looked strangely familiar. But it wasn't the kind of familiarity that came from seeing him on a broadcast. If it had been, the other trainees would have reacted too, not just me.
Is this leftover from a memory of the show I watched in my past life?
I decided it wasn't that important. Then the final song was revealed.
And this one was different.
I don't remember this song at all.
With the others, even if I couldn't recall the verses, the chorus had always come back to me. This one I was hearing for the very first time. Even allowing for the possibility that a later arrangement might have transformed it, I couldn't get a read on it at all.
Well, I can't remember everything...
It was possible one song had slipped through the cracks. The track itself seemed decent enough... but given how completely unfamiliar it was, it must have been a flop.
"Does everyone like the songs?"
"Yes!"
"It looks like you've all decided which ones you want. In that case, we'll now begin the new-song evaluation track selection."
In that instant, a current of tension ran through the trainees.
"Each song has a capacity of six members. But how many trainees are there right now?"
"Fifty!"
"That's right. So for now, up to ten people can choose each song. However, even after a song hits ten, you can still keep choosing it."
The trainees tilted their heads.
"Is this another push-out?"
"Looks like they're picking from last place again."
Everyone seemed to be trying to predict the selection order. Usually it was either the high ranks choosing first, or the bottom ranks going first. Either way, the real power of choice always ended up with the top ranks.
"There will be no push-outs in this song selection."
"...?"
"However, there will be expulsions."
"...!"
Joy and despair crossed the trainees' faces in the space of a breath. The relief of hearing there would be no push-outs—the thought that they could safely practice whatever song they picked—vanished the instant the word expulsion left the MC's mouth.
"Who holds the expulsion authority? It goes to the trainee who chooses that song first."
"Ah..."
A collective sigh rippled through the room. Those words made it overwhelmingly likely that the highest ranks would be choosing first.
"Still, maybe they're giving the lower ranks a chance this time?"
"What if they pull a total twist and let last place pick first and get the expulsion rights?"
As a few of them started indulging in wishful thinking, a faint glimmer of hope lit the eyes of the lower-ranked trainees.
Sorry, but there's no way that's happening.
If they had, some viewers would have praised them for giving the underdogs a chance. But there would just as surely be cries of reverse discrimination. And since that second camp was made up of fans speaking for the top-ranked trainees, their outrage would hit that much harder.
Which side the network is going to cater to is obvious.
That said, they weren't entirely wrong. I remembered this mission being ruthless from the selection stage onward.
"All right, then. The song selection order begins with the first-place vocal trainee and overall vote leader, trainee Lee Seo-yeon."
"I knew it."
"We're doomed."
The trainees had already given up before the MC even finished speaking. My name coming out first was all they needed to assume the top ranks would choose first.
They were half right and half wrong.
"Next is the first-place dance trainee, Yu Na-bin. And last, the first-place rap trainee..."
"Last?"
"Why last?"
"Are they only assigning three songs?"
"Wait, are the three of them nominating people?"
"Whoa, is this a first-place benefit?"
The trainees started murmuring, too impatient to wait for the rest of the explanation.
Wow. Creative theories.
In some ways, they were crueler than the network. If the first-place benefit meant assigning every other trainee's song, you could call it a benefit all you wanted—it would still mean shouldering every last bit of resentment and backlash alone.
Thankfully that's not how this works. Though looking at it another way, it's not that different.
Which was exactly why I hated this moment.
"The three trainees will come forward as representatives of their positions and play rock-paper-scissors."
"???"
"AAAAAHHH!"
The reactions split sharply between the trainees who hadn't understood and the ones who had.
"Based on the rock-paper-scissors results, the highest-ranked trainees of the winning position will choose their songs first."
"Ahhh! That's what it meant?"
"Oh no! Na-bin sucks at rock-paper-scissors—we're so dead!"
"She lost every single time last round."
"Na-bin! Please win this time!"
Every trainee was praying their position's representative would win. But that wasn't what mattered.
Once you take the trainees who pick first out of the equation, it doesn't matter who chooses which song when.
In the end, everyone except the room leader holding expulsion rights was on equal footing. Whether you were the second person to pick a song or the last, your chances of getting expelled were the same.
Not that being room leader is all that great either.
If you became room leader, you couldn't be expelled yourself, which meant you were guaranteed to perform the song you'd chosen. But that only held until the ranking announcement. At this point in time, I was the only one who knew that.
Of course, being able to practice that song until then is an advantage, if you can call it that.
The person who chose a song first would have to expel someone. It meant taking on the role of hurting another person. And for all that, the payoff was vanishingly small.
Na-bin is especially bad with that kind of stress.
So I had to win. Even if it meant becoming the villain who did the expelling, I didn't want Na-bin shouldering unnecessary stress or having to watch her back.
The silver lining is that Na-bin's rock-paper-scissors luck is catastrophically bad.
And there was one more thing only I knew.
When Na-bin played rock-paper-scissors, she always threw scissors first. So if I threw rock, I would win for certain.
Even if Na-bin doesn't become room leader, she won't get expelled, so this is the best play.
Unless someone was a complete idiot, they wouldn't kick out Na-bin—not when she pulled in votes the way she did. And if I were the room leader, that would be even less of a concern.
"All right! On three, everyone!"
Tension stretched taut among the trainees.
"Rock! Paper! Scissors!"
I threw out my hand and instantly regretted it.
We can't have a three-way tie here...
I threw rock, just as planned, and Na-bin threw scissors, just as expected. But the rap-position representative threw paper.
...Na-bin almost won?
Almost winning at the exact moment she wasn't supposed to. Na-bin really did have the worst rock-paper-scissors luck in the world.
"We'll go again!"
A variable had entered the equation. I knew Na-bin's opening throw, but from the second round on it was completely random. I had no idea what she'd do. From here on out, it was down to luck.
"Rock! Paper! Scissors!"
The instant the result came out, the rap-position trainees shrieked. And I screamed internally right along with them.
Yes!
Na-bin and I had both thrown paper, and the rap representative had thrown scissors. A result that meant I wouldn't have to play punching bag for no reason either.
Now I just need to lose.
If Na-bin won, the dance position would feel the relief of not being last to choose. At the same time, whatever disappointment they felt toward the result would soften. And that disappointment was a stand-in for how they felt about Na-bin.
Our team will be disappointed in me, but since it came down to luck, they can't blindly hate me for it.
I ran through the calculations. And if someone had to take on the responsibility, it should be me.
"One last time!"
The problem was that no matter how carefully I'd planned, from this point on it really was pure luck. And given how terrible Na-bin was at this, the real danger was that I might win.
"Rock! Paper!"
Sorry in advance for winning, Na-bin!
"Scissors!"
Na-bin and I threw our hands out at the same time.
"YEAAAAAH!"
The dance position lost their minds. The reason, of course, was that Na-bin had won.
...?
I lost? I'd wanted to lose, but I hadn't actually expected to. I was happy—I was definitely happy—but it felt strange. Losing to Na-bin, of all people, at rock-paper-scissors.
"Yes! Na-bin won!"
"I can't believe there's someone worse at rock-paper-scissors than Na-bin!"
Still, relief washed over me. Now Na-bin wouldn't have to deal with any unnecessary stress. And watching her bounce around in delight was pretty adorable.
This isn't the time for that.
I immediately turned to my teammates and bowed my head.
"Sorry. I thought I was going to win."
"No, it's fine. Anyone can lose."
"Yeah, it's just rock-paper-scissors."
Fortunately, the mood stayed light. Rather than sinking into disappointment, it felt more like they'd simply gained one more idiot who couldn't play rock-paper-scissors.
And then the song selection began.
The selection process was conducted in secret. You entered the practice room assigned to your chosen song and waited quietly until everyone had finished picking. The reason was simple: if the trainees could see who was choosing what, they might pick based on teammates rather than the song itself, assembling combinations designed to win.
Before I knew it, it was my turn. I looked at the practice room doors and, without meaning to, thought of the song Na-bin had chosen in my previous life. Then I carefully pushed a door open—and the realization was inescapable.
What the hell is going on?
The future had changed.