Butterfly Effect (4)
"Should we use Park Hye-in's storyline to spotlight Lee Seo-yeon?"
The PD crossed his arms, sinking into thought.
"If we look at it from that angle, it's worth considering."
The conference room fell quiet again.
Lee Seo-yeon. Currently one of the hottest trainees on the show. Her skills were already a proven quantity, and she hadn't kicked up any real controversy on the personality front either. And on top of all that, they could highlight her humanity — the fact that she hadn't resented a teammate who'd been a complete liability, and had even cried watching her perform?
"Having the program come across as the one that debuted a trainee who's perfect in every way… that's not a bad look."
"If we treat it as Lee Seo-yeon material instead of Park Hye-in material, the picture actually comes together."
A writer jumped in.
"Right. Say we center it on Park Hye-in's growth — the takeaway becomes, 'Oh, Park Hye-in finally got her act together.' But if Lee Seo-yeon cries watching her change, the focus shifts to, 'Wow, Lee Seo-yeon is such an emotionally deep kid.'"
The PD flipped the monitor to the stage footage. Park Hye-in giving everything she had, then shedding tears as the results came in. And the shot of Lee Seo-yeon's eyes welling up as she watched it happen.
"She already cried once at the ranking announcement, right? The reaction was great when we caught Seo-yeon tearing up in that scene too, so carrying that thread forward wouldn't be a bad call."
One of the writers tilted her head.
"But isn't this way too merciful an edit for Park Hye-in? We've been setting her up to get roasted this whole time, and then we suddenly flip it into a touching redemption arc? That might feel unnatural."
The PD clicked his pen at that.
"You're saying we might catch heat for whitewashing Park Hye-in with the edit?"
"Yes."
"That's a fair point, but ultimately it's effective for elevating Seo-yeon. It gets people invested in the drama."
Then another writer, who'd been listening quietly, spoke up.
"…But do we even need to go that route?"
Everyone turned to look at her.
"What do you mean?"
She flipped through the footage, pulling up other trainees' performances.
"If those concerns are an issue, we can just attach the shot of Lee Seo-yeon tearing up to a different stage."
A brief silence settled over the table. Then one of the writers let out a snort of laughter.
"That's actually diabolical."
"So we don't even have to debate whether to salvage Park Hye-in's storyline — we just use the footage of Lee Seo-yeon being moved?"
"Then we don't have to worry about the noise, and we don't have to waste unnecessary screen time on Park Hye-in."
"And we can still build Lee Seo-yeon however we want."
"I like that."
Everyone in the conference room was thinking the same thing. There was no need to salvage Park Hye-in's growth. What they needed was the shot of Lee Seo-yeon being moved — and that didn't have to be attached to Park Hye-in's stage. No need to emphasize the change in a contestant who'd been selfish, and no risk of the broadcast's flow feeling awkward. They just needed to highlight the warm humanity of a trainee the viewers already loved.
"Okay. Then we'll pair Seo-yeon's emotional cut with a different stage."
And just like that, one person's growth story was about to vanish, while another person's perfect image was about to be locked in.
"Wait a second."
A hand went up, stopping the meeting from wrapping.
"If we do that, we're not spotlighting Lee Seo-yeon. We're spotlighting the trainee who performed the stage."
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean it has to be Park Hye-in's stage for Seo-yeon's reaction to actually have a story behind it."
The PD pressed the pen hard against his brow.
"Now that you mention it, attaching it to someone else's stage wouldn't create that synergy. It'd just end with 'that stage was good.' Park Hye-in's stage has a layered narrative."
The writers started typing on their laptops again.
"That kind of drama is what pulls in the ratings, after all."
"Then let's just save Park Hye-in? The visual of Seo-yeon looking after her like a mom and the teammate growing from it is a pretty picture."
"There's been a lot of talk about vicious editing and all that — if we show a warm side like this, it also sends the message that the show isn't just mining for shock value."
There were opposing voices too.
"What if that makes them start wanting to be on the same team? Then it's no different from us pairing them up ourselves."
"We honestly don't care who debuts."
"How do we not care? The group needs to be well-formed and successful so we can do another season and build a quality track record."
A few heads tilted.
"Is it a problem if Park Hye-in becomes a member?"
"The personality controversy from the beginning will definitely have a negative impact. And if she climbs over other popular members, she'll get even more hate from those fandoms."
Suddenly, hypotheticals about Park Hye-in's debut were flying around the table.
"There's nothing good about debuting on pity votes with no star quality. We debut her and then just abandon her, you know? Then even the stuff that would've sold might not sell because of her."
"It's not just our problem. Park Hye-in herself claws her way to debut only to get hated on, becomes an unpopular member, merch doesn't move — imagine how much stress she'd be under."
The PD furrowed his brow and closed his notebook.
"Let's think about this part a little more."
"Let's go eat!"
Everyone was practicing at their own pace, but mealtime was non-negotiable. When stamina was your weapon, skipping meals was just stupid.
"I grabbed seats! Next to Seo-yeon's girlfriend!"
Han Yu-ri waved her hand and shouted. Trainees' eyes locked onto us, and my ears burned.
Please, just stop…
Still, sitting next to Na-bin — I was grateful for that, at least. Na-bin, already seated beside me, was grinning as she gave Han Yu-ri a light shove.
"What is that, unnie! Don't say weird things."
That smile was hazardous to my heart. If we'd been on the same team, I could have seen more of it.
It's a shame, but I'm happy enough as it is…
Just being able to see her like this was something to be thankful for. The moment I sat down with my assigned lunchbox, Na-bin naturally struck up a conversation.
"Unnie, is prep going well?"
"About the same as usual."
"That means you're killing it! Go easy on us!"
"You're the one who's better."
"Nooo."
Han Yu-ri waved her hands through the air, trying to draw every eye in the room.
"These two are dating!"
"Ah, unnie!"
Yu-ri's teasing was embarrassing, but Na-bin's reaction was so cute that I ended up laughing more than anything. Watching that flustered response and that sweet, coaxing voice, I found myself smiling like an idiot — and then, suddenly, a question I'd wanted to ask for so long surfaced. A question I hadn't asked because even if I did, there was nothing I could change and nothing I could really find out.
"Hey, Na-bin."
"Yeah?"
"This evaluation song — why'd you pick Blue Echo?"
"Oh, that?"
She popped some sausage and vegetable stir-fry into her mouth, chewed, and answered lightly.
"I was torn between that and Overdrive, but right before I picked, Blue Echo just pulled me in more."
So Overdrive had been an option.
"Both songs are so good I really agonized over it, but Blue Echo has that pretty, swaying feel, you know?"
"You look good in everything, Na-bin."
"Aish! I can't keep up with you, unnie. Anyway, I just wanted to try a stage like that too."
I nodded, quietly sinking into thought. Something clicked into place in my head. Ultimately, what had influenced Na-bin's choice was most likely the first team battle stage.
Did changing the song she originally picked for the team battle from the previous life cascade all the way into this choice?
The song Na-bin had performed back then was Electric Fever. The track itself was different, but the concept sat in the same girl-crush pop vein as Overdrive. So she might have wanted to show a different style for this concept evaluation.
That flow makes enough sense, but…
The thing that still nagged at me most was that no matter how hard I thought, I couldn't remember Blue Echo at all. Had the song been swapped out midway? If something had gone wrong with the track itself and they'd pulled it, that would explain why I had no memory of it.
"Why'd your face get so serious all of a sudden?"
Han Yu-ri's sudden question made me flinch and look up. Had it shown on my face without me realizing?
"Guess I'm a little nervous with the midterm evaluation coming up."
I brushed it off. Na-bin looked at me, puzzled.
"Come on, unnie, you don't usually get nervous."
"It just feels like there's not much left until the end. I've been getting a little tense."
"Ooooh~ It is getting close to the finale~"
Han Yu-ri played along with my half-baked excuse. Then she picked up her chopsticks and added,
"Want me to teach you how to calm your nerves? It's super simple! Right before you go on stage, take a big deep breath, and in your head shout 'Everyone except me is trash!' three times!"
"……"
The trainees eating around us all stared at her.
"I'm serious! This actually helps a ton?"
"You've been thinking that every time you go on stage? That the rest of us are all trash?"
I asked in a deadpan, and Han Yu-ri answered with a completely straight face.
"Yep! This is my secret technique that I don't tell just anyone!"
The deadpan wasn't landing.
"Everyone's trash! Just say that and the nerves go away, I'm telling you!"
Na-bin burst out laughing at that sheer audacity, and I couldn't help but chuckle too. Then Han Yu-ri opened her mouth as if something had just occurred to her.
"But what are we doing about our midterm evaluation?"
"……?"
Now what kind of random, anxiety-inducing question was that.