Prevent Stage Accidents

It was the day of the main stage, and we were going on first. I hadn't slept thanks to everything that happened yesterday, so this was actually a blessing — the longer the wait backstage, the more the exhaustion would pile up.

This much I could handle. Pulling all-nighters was something I was used to, after all.

Let's just get this over with.

Honestly, I was being crushed by so many things I felt like I was about to lose my mind. I was barely holding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it together.

In the original, this stage would've scored the lowest. But we have a shot. We didn't follow the original, after all.

Jeong Hui-min and the rest of the team had huddled together for a long meeting, putting our heads together. We'd even added a few choreography moves, mapping out exactly where to land the biggest impact in the performance. And once our suggestion to go bolder than expected was accepted, the costume concept and the set design both came out far more conceptual than originally planned.

If we put on a good show this time, we'll have a chance to bounce back.

Won Ji-an, Jeong Hui-min, the rest of the members — all of them. Of course, as long as Yoon Hyeon-min didn't pull anything weird in the middle, we should be able to finish the stage without incident...

Why am I already getting anxious?

I glanced at Yoon Hyeon-min beside me. Just as Jeong Hui-min had said yesterday, his unfocused eyes didn't look normal. And then there was that muttering Jeong Hui-min had overheard — that insane remark about how if he couldn't debut, he wouldn't let me debut either.

Did he actually mean that?

It pissed me off, but I didn't particularly want to press him about it. Honestly, I didn't even want to talk to Yoon Hyeon-min anymore, let alone get involved with him.

I'd really like him to exit both my life and this show already.

Yoon Hyeon-min's very existence had reached the point of being a nuisance. He'd been annoying from the start, but now just having him next to me was enough to get on my nerves. Well, I didn't expect to be looking at his face for much longer anyway. Once this mission was over, he'd get eliminated at the next ranking announcement on his own.

I just need him to somehow get through this stage without a disaster.

Of course, I wasn't completely without a plan. I'd already thought about what to do ever since Yoon Hyeon-min started acting like this. I didn't know if it would work, but I intended to take advantage of this damn System even in a situation like this.

"Hyeon-min hyung."

"Yeah?"

"I think you'll do well today. No mistakes. Right?"

Currently, a title was hanging over my head.

So if I drilled it into him right before we went on stage — like some kind of brainwashing — that he could do this, I should be able to keep Yoon Hyeon-min in check for a little while. Of course, he was so far from normal that I had no idea how well it would actually work, but it should still help.

"You got this."

Honestly, I had zero desire to cheer Yoon Hyeon-min on, but this was the only way to get through the stage in one piece. The surrounding staff looked at me with something like pity as I tended to him. I was practically coaxing him like a child.

Please. Just let us finish this perfectly.

The lights came on, and cheers erupted from the audience across from us. This was it. We were holding our breath, waiting for the stage to begin.

"?"

Suddenly, as if a filter had been dropped over everything, the entire world bled into black and white. Everything went still, as though time itself had stopped. Among the frozen people, I stood alone.

"What the hell is this..."

Then, with a notification chime, a System window appeared before my eyes.

What?

Out of nowhere? A special quest?

I'd never received a special quest before. My mind was reeling. This insane System. Dropping this on me right before we went on stage — there was no way to read it as anything other than a blatant attempt to sabotage me.

Get a grip.

I didn't know what a special quest even was, but I figured there was nothing I couldn't handle. As long as I kept my head on straight, I believed I could pull off whatever came my way.

Yeah, it doesn't matter—

"...You've got to be kidding me."

Stage accidents? That meant an accident was going to happen during this performance...

And it gives me this right before we go on? This insane System always seemed determined to find the breaking point of my sanity and patience.

First, what would even count as an accident...

My mind raced. The accidents that immediately came to mind were either something involving the stage equipment, or a mistake by one of the members. Of course, something completely unexpected could blow up too. Whatever it was, the important thing was that I had to stop it.

No, wait — what am I even supposed to do?

I checked the quest again.

More importantly, there were two items. Which meant two accidents were going to happen on this stage. Would it have been better not to know? Now that I knew they were coming, I couldn't help but have every nerve on edge.

Can I even... focus on the performance?

This is driving me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠insane.

More importantly — did Won Ji-an get the same quest?

I turned my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head. Sure enough, in the frozen black-and-white world, Won Ji-an was the only other person standing there in color.

"You got it too. The quest."

Won Ji-an was looking at me, expressionless.

"I'll say it again. Don't go thinking anything weird — just focus on the stage."

"......"

"I'll handle the accidents somehow. You just do what we practiced. We have to raise our ranking this time, no matter what."

Won Ji-an looked like he had a lot on his mind.

"No. We do it together. We both got the same mission."

"But you..."

Won Ji-an's question left me speechless.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"...Ha."

I wanted to ask if that was really something he should be saying — the one who was dead set on shouldering every misfortune and dying for it — but I decided to keep that to myself.

"Anyway, you just think about ranking up. You know as well as I do how much is riding on this stage."

Having said that, I looked straight ahead.

I don't know what kind of accident is going to happen.

For now, all I could do was my best to prevent it.

...Let's go.

And with that, the black-and-white world regained its original color, and frozen time began to move again. The lights came on, and the familiar intro we'd heard countless times filled the stage. At the same time, the audience's cheers slammed into my ears and rang out.

Everyone's faces were full of anticipation, but I couldn't help wearing a different expression.

Just what kind of accident is going to happen?

A woman standing in the audience let out a loud cheer, waving the fan banner in both hands. The stage began, and at last the Do Won-woo she'd been waiting for appeared. The moment she saw him, she was about to shout his name even louder — then she saw the trainees appearing beside him, and her expression froze.

What's this?

The arms holding the banner slowly lowered.

Fuck, why is Yoon Hyeon-min up there?

The woman couldn't understand. She'd heard that Yoon Hyeon-min hadn't left the show, but she'd believed he wouldn't get mixed up with Do Won-woo. This mission, like last season, would have had an elimination system. Given their rankings, she'd assumed they'd be in a position to pick their own songs — because if Yoon Hyeon-min got cut, he'd just get placed into a leftover team.

What the hell happened?

She couldn't figure out why Do Won-woo and Yoon Hyeon-min were on the same team. It didn't make sense, and it left her confused, but she decided to think about that later and just cheer for now.

Whatever. I'll figure it out when I watch the broadcast later.

It was awkward, but she waved her banner, hoping it wouldn't be a big deal. The moment she looked at the stage, what caught her eye was how distinct the color was.

Ah, they really committed to the concept.

The costumes were cyberpunk, giving off a futuristic vibe. The set was the same — colorful wires laid out all around, and various props that seemed placed to sell the concept. On the stage, monitors with flickering screens were stacked like a tower.

I don't think I've seen a concept like this in the entire last season... I wonder what song it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is.

Since it hadn't aired yet, she didn't know what song it was. The concept being so clear only made her more excited.

Ah, it's starting.

Soon an intro packed with electronic sounds poured out. It was pretty much the sound she'd expected. With a concept this committed, the song was bound to have this kind of atmosphere.

Won-woo, did you decide to go for a completely unique concept this time?

She felt a slight pang of regret, thinking there must have been a safer, better song they could've chosen, but it wasn't bad.

Won-woo must have his own reasons for taking an experimental risk this time. As a fan, it's true I want him to take the safe path, but...

Before she could dwell on the disappointment, the verse started. The opening began with Jeong Hui-min's voice. It was a pleasant verse.

What stood out most was Jeong Hui-min's dancing. There was clearly more power in his movement than usual. He looked like he was dancing with every last drop of energy he had, pushing himself right up to the limit.

Is he that desperate?

Even though she was a fan of a different trainee, seeing how desperate Jeong Hui-min was made her want to root for him. She knew well that dancing wasn't his strong suit, which meant pushing himself this far was him grinding every last bit of effort he had.

Won Ji-an took over the next part, singing and dancing at center stage.

Honestly, it's so experimental I don't know how people will take it, but...

Listening to it, it wasn't bad. She liked the melody — bright yet somehow sad — and the unusual lyrics.

Soon after, the electronic sound cracked and crushed, as if it were glitching. And the screens of the monitors stacked like a tower on the set started crackling, broadcasting static. It was one of the ideas Jeong Hui-min had proposed that they'd adopted.

Then Do Won-woo came forward to the front of the stage, delivered his part, and moved back.

He seems a little different from usual today. Is he not feeling well?

As a fan, the woman noticed Do Won-woo's condition faster than anyone else — something others hadn't picked up on.

In the chorus, she could see Won Ji-an dancing at center stage.

So Ji-an's the center, huh.

Won Ji-an, too, looked like he was giving it everything he had.

Along with the crushed electronic sound, the lyric there's no love repeated as if it were lagging.

Oh, so this is the pre-chorus.

It was definitely a song with a peculiar, unique feel. Weird, but weirdly addictive, you could say. She was thinking it wasn't bad when, all of a sudden, a murmur rippled through the audience.

...Huh?

The woman's eyes went wide.