Cue Card Crisis
Even while I was in the middle of rehearsals, the idol who co-hosted with me didn't show up until quite a while later because of his schedule in Japan,
"Starting today, the ranking system is changing. The viewers themselves will be participating as producers! And not only that—"
Sure enough, disaster struck.
"…."
Hey, Seo I-deun. It's your line right now. Why aren't you saying anything?
I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, not glancing sideways. If I looked over at him now, it would be obvious we were having a broadcast accident.
Still, relying on his idol-honed instincts for reading the room, Seo I-deun managed to wedge a line in.
"A big! share of—"
Hey. That's the wrong line. The next word is 'globally.'
"That's right, I-deun! Pre-voting scores will now be combined with global pre-voting scores."
Then came Seo I-deun's part again. I could feel his panic rising.
…There's no way around it.
On a live broadcast, even a single second of dead air was enough to give away a meltdown. So I switched our script cards.
Seo I-deun was smiling pleasantly enough, but cold sweat was trickling down his back.
This is bad….
He'd clearly organized his cue cards properly earlier, but in the rush of grabbing them, a few pages had apparently gotten shuffled together.
"You can vote through the app below! Now then, I-deun, would you say a word asking the viewers watching Music N to cast their votes?"
Seo I-deun had always trusted his own short-term memory, and having Han Yeo-reum smooth things over beside him was almost enough to bring him to tears. Still, he kept his face perfectly composed.
"Yes, Music N! We're waiting for your votes, so please show us lots of interest. Now, Yeo-reum, shall you introduce the next song?"
Seo I-deun turned toward the camera, its red light glowing familiarly, and turned on the aegyeo. Then he tossed the cue right back to Han Yeo-reum.
"It's a ballad that suits autumn perfectly…."
At last, the camera light went dark. An instrumental intro began flowing across the stage.
"Whew…."
Seo I-deun quietly let out a breath. Beneath the MC desk, fans were looking up at him.
That last slip had been unmistakably his fault to anyone watching. He had a sinking premonition that posts like this would be going up any minute now.
"Haaah…."
Beside him, Han Yeo-reum let out a big sigh too. Now was not the time. He needed to check his cue cards again, and before that, he had to thank her.
But at that moment, Han Yeo-reum lightly tapped the cue cards in her hand.
"Huh?"
"You're making a troubled expression, more or less."
It was close to ventriloquism — speaking for someone else's face.
Han Yeo-reum was looking at Seo I-deun with an expression that said, 'That almost went wrong just now, and it definitely wasn't I-deun's fault… but something's off, isn't it? What on earth could the reason be? We were fine right up until rehearsal.'
Oh… wait.
Something clicked.
An irrational certainty washed over him: nothing would be posted tearing him apart on the portal sites. Han Yeo-reum deliberately turned her head toward the staff seats and gave a small shake of her head.
"This one."
"Oh…."
Then she held out the cue cards she was holding. Seo I-deun accepted them in a daze. Han Yeo-reum was acting as if his cue cards alone had been the problem from the very start.
"I-deun, what's wrong?"
Questions started trickling up from the fan seats below. Before Seo I-deun could answer, Han Yeo-reum spoke first.
"We had a little issue with the cue cards…."
Nice.
Seo I-deun knew full well how sly she was being, and yet he was so, so grateful. He could feel himself steadily drifting away from the portal site front pages.
It felt as though all the comments that had been dominating his mind were quietly melting away.
"I-deun, are you okay?"
"I was so flustered—!"
When the fans called out to him, Seo I-deun managed his expression like he always did. He let his eyebrows droop, then gave a solemn nod.
"Cute—!"
Exclamations burst out from everywhere. A staffer signaled for them to get ready again.
But wait — if she took my cue cards, what about her side?
Just as Seo I-deun's head was about to fill up with panic all over again, the camera light came on without waiting for him.
"Our next stage is by an artist with a charm that only grows the more you listen—"
Han Yeo-reum was a true professional. She seemed to have memorized the entire stack of cue cards cold.
She carried the show forward while only pretending to read Seo I-deun's hopelessly shuffled cards.
She could've just let on that she'd memorized everything….
It was clearly consideration for him. If word got out that the cue cards had gone wrong but professional MC Han Yeo-reum had memorized her whole script anyway, it would turn into a story about clumsy folding-screen Seo I-deun in comparison — and she'd blocked that scenario a second time.
The stage introduction flowed along smoothly.
"Yes! Could you show us just once — the point choreography from your new comeback song?"
A few of the performers came over to the MC desk separately for a short interview and to introduce their new song, and thankfully Seo I-deun was the type who could easily follow light choreography. He was an idol, after all.
"I-deun, haven't you been practicing a little too hard for this?"
Beside him, Han Yeo-reum tried to copy the choreography, then laughed as if it was simply too hard for her.
Seo I-deun relaxed. With this, the looming title of Seo I-deun, who bullied his way into a spot despite being unable to even MC just to have solo activities was receding into the distance.
"I-deun! Do a finger heart!"
"I-deun! A wink! Just one wink!"
Seo I-deun's heart felt lighter. And because of that, he was able to deliver legend-tier fan service. Every time they went back to hosting, Han Yeo-reum was right there beside him, so everything ran like clockwork.
And so, once Part 1 ended and the commercial break before Part 2 began, Seo I-deun stepped briefly off set and offered Han Yeo-reum his heartfelt thanks.
"Thank you, truly…. If it hadn't been for you, something terrible would've happened today. I will! absolutely pay you back."
Seo I-deun bowed at a full ninety degrees. When he raised his head and looked at her again, Han Yeo-reum's expression was—
"Oh, really?"
—nothing like the bright smile she'd worn in front of the cameras.
That's my Han Yeo-reum. Rescuing a live broadcast that was about to fall apart like this.
Marveling at myself all over again, I spoke to Seo I-deun with all seriousness.
"First, let's go with the cost-effective route. Don't say anything like 'this was the problem.' Instead, leave it vague enough that people assume it wasn't really either of our faults — don't post anything on SNS at all. There's no reason to get innocent staff members dragged through the mud, is there?"
"Ah, right. Of course."
Must be from his group days — he catches on fast. I looked at Seo I-deun, who'd grasped the gist of what I was saying immediately, and continued.
"Also, later on, something like 'I was really struggling then, but I was so grateful…' — with a little extra name-drop of me? Whoa. Nope. Not doing that. I'm fine, really. Colleagues helping each other out is just colleagues helping each other out."
"Ah, got it! Understood."
And we had to be as careful as we possibly could.
It was nice to lean somewhat on an idol's overseas recognition like Seo I-deun's, but there was nothing to gain from getting on the bad side of his domestic fans. Keeping things strictly professional was far the better move.
After all, I've spent my spare time monitoring a certain corner of the internet for a while now….
Dramas, movies, plays, musicals — fans for all of them usually gather on one particular site, in these minor-gallery style communities. Which meant I knew the Abyss fairly well.
Just thinking about it makes some corner of my heart feel gloomy and dark already….
No. Anyway, that's enough of that. What mattered was what came next.
"In exchange — you're a professional idol, aren't you, Seo I-deun? Which means it's my turn to ask you for a little help."
"Specifically, what kind of…?"