The Platinum Benefits

Two days after the music show filming wrapped, the participants gathered to prepare for the first team mission at last—and the tension on every face was impossible to miss.

The venue was a sprawling set built inside the lodging itself. Long benches ran down both sides so the contestants could sit, split by a wide stage that cut through the middle. Once the participants ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had clustered onto the right-hand seats, MC Cheon Tae-rim stepped to the center of the stage and offered a greeting.

"Hello, my Seeds. Did everyone sleep well?"

MC Cheon Tae-rim often called the contestants Seeds, and he seemed to enjoy the way they recoiled from it.

"First, a round of applause for every one of you who is giving everything you have to be reborn as idols."

He clapped with a solemn face, as if he had never teased them at all, and a few people wiped at the bridges of their noses. There was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠real respect for their effort in his expression.

Project Blossom. If the show was the soil, the contestants were the seeds growing beneath it—drawing on the viewers' love as nutrients, nourished by the tears and sweat they shed themselves. A childish concept, in a way.

Still, the meaning fits, doesn't it?

Seed and Sunshine—the names the program used for contestants and viewers. Childish or not, the image of raising a seed suited an idol group surprisingly well.

Idols tended to be made by many hands rather than by their own alone. Without sunlight a seed could not grow, and without fans an idol could not exist. In that sense, the metaphor held.

"All right, then—before we properly introduce the first team mission…"

After a brief pause, the MC set a box the production staff had handed him neatly onto a table prepared at center stage.

"We'll start with the grade announcements you've all been waiting for! Please listen carefully with an eye toward what strategy you'll need for the team mission, depending on your grade."

Inside the opened box lay seven emerald badges—the most lavish design of any badge distributed so far. They caught the eye at once.

"Grade evaluations were decided by internal review. The criteria include the first and second auditions, two individual evaluations, and the pre-recording footage from the music show."

Two individual evaluations had been held over the two weeks since lodging began. Those evaluations had not only set the music-show formations for Sunlight and BLOSSOM—they had also been used for grade assignment.

I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠received an Upper-Upper for Sunlight in the first evaluation and an Upper-Upper for BLOSSOM in the second. The auditions had given me heavy on-air push, and at the music show I had stood on the main stage and held center. That one of those badges was mine was a certainty I didn't need to hear announced.

I sat at ease. Rankings tallied without viewer votes were, for someone who could see status windows, nothing more than listing what I already knew.

They'll line us up by total stats.

Scanning the visibly tense contestants, the MC began calling ranks.

"First, Gold grade, starting from eighth place… Ah—exceptional charm, and truly formidable in the real thing. In eighth place: contestant Han Min-hyeok!"

"…!"

Whether the rank had caught him off guard or not, Han Min-hyeok's eyes went round. Quite a few contestants wore expressions that said they couldn't quite understand it—but the truth was Han Min-hyeok was nowhere near a level they could afford to dismiss.

A total of 252 stats, plus the Loves the Camera! (S) trait. And it had been less than twenty days since I'd first met him—in that short span his vocals had risen by one and his dance by two. He had hauled vocals and dance that had once been C+ all the way to B0 in almost no time at all.

"Thank you. I'll work even harder."

Eyes reddening, Han Min-hyeok stepped forward, delivered a brief acceptance, and headed for the opposite seats. The screen that had been used to capture reaction shots filled with his face. Knowing how much practice he had put in while sharing a room with him, I clapped in respect.

The sheer volume of work was one thing, but raising stats this much in so little time without any system help could not have been easy. His focus was remarkable.

"Continuing with Gold grade!"

Tenth: Kim Seong-min. Sixteenth: Lee Won-yeong. Seventeenth: Woo Cheong-hee. Twenty-third: Min Ho-su. And thirty-second: Yu Sang-hyeon.

When I clapped generously for Woo Cheong-hee, who had gone wide-eyed at a ranking higher than he'd expected, he came bounding all the way to my seat in high spirits and flung his hand up for a high five before either of us quite realized it.

From tenth through thirty-second, the scores were packed so densely when I checked the status windows that even a slight difference could easily flip the order.

Yu Sang-hyeon, hanging on at the bottom of Gold, wore a complicated look. He had been completely cut from episodes one and two, but the metrics he had actually earned weren't that bad. If he had truly left, he would have been throwing away a real opportunity.

And so twenty-five contestants from eighth to thirty-second received Gold grade. Next, thirty contestants from thirty-third to sixty-second received Silver, and twenty-one from sixty-third to eighty-third received Bronze. That left Iron grade, and Platinum—first through seventh.

Five grades to sort a little over a hundred people. They really were obsessed with subdividing ranks.

"All right—from here on, the contestants who will receive Platinum grade. We'll announce from seventh place. Seventh is… ah, known for leading by example and being multi-talented, isn't he? Contestant Han Sang-jin!"

"Whoa!"

Plenty of contestants clapped freely for Han Sang-jin as relief washed over his face. Among the participants, he ranked near the top in popularity. He never conspicuously took the lead, but he was the type who looked after people in small, unseen ways—and that was probably why.

True to the "multi-talented" praise, his solid stats of 84, 86, and 86 were a bonus. Han Sang-jin's vocals had also risen by one in the meantime. He was a hard worker too.

"Next is sixth place. Ah—a contestant whose dance skill really stands out?"

He swept his gaze over the tense faces. With the stats visible to me, I already knew who would be called. An Do-hyeon, most likely.

"Yes—sixth place is contestant An Do-hyeon!"

"Thank you!"

He looked faintly disappointed, as if he had been aiming a little higher, but An Do-hyeon quickly composed his expression and strode out firmly to receive his badge.

By total stats he sat at 255, lower than Han Sang-jin's—but most of this evaluation had been weighted toward dance, so contestants with high dance scores had the advantage. He had entered with his younger brother, An Jae-seo, who had also made Gold. Around thirteenth, if I remembered right.

Come to think of it, they had been quite the team at the sports festival too. Sitting clustered with their roommates, they stood out: An Do-hyeon, An Jae-seo, Kim Seong-min, Lee Won-yeong, Park Beom-gyu. One Platinum and four Gold.

How did that many end up in one room?

Of course, that wasn't the only room packed with top-tier contestants. The next person called was from one of those as well.

"Fifth place—ah, a contestant I personally root for. Contestant Cha Ji-heon!"

"…I'll do my best. Thank you… thank you."

I'd heard secondhand that he had been a well-known trainee. Affiliated with a major agency, he had sadly lost a debut chance two years ago, and a lot of fans still felt for him over it.

His roommates were all Gold as well. A room of nothing but Platinum and Gold.

"Fourth place—ah, what an incredible tone. I was completely drawn in! Contestant Song A-seong!"

Having drawn things out a little as we climbed into the upper ranks, the MC finally announced fourth. Song A-seong. Trying to stay composed but unable to hide how pleased he was—when I casually held out my palm, Song A-seong, halfway to his feet to collect the badge, burst out laughing and high-fived me.

And that left me, Kwon Do-ha, Lee Jae-jin—and fifteen other contestants. As if they could already see first through third, I slowly scanned the faces that had gone dark. One contestant in particular stood out: he looked extremely young, and it was hard to look away from his status window.

Is this what people mean by the seed of kings and generals?

While I was briefly lost in that thought, Lee Jae-jin's name was called.

Grinning as his name rang out, Lee Jae-jin offered his hand, so I reached out and gave it a light slap. These people really loved high fives.

"All right—then the long-awaited first place. First place is… congratulations! Contestant Kwon Do-ha!"

With Kwon Do-ha named first, I naturally became second. I was clapping steadily when Kwon Do-ha smiled and held out his hand, so I slapped that one too. I had expected this result from the start, so I had no complaints. Kwon Do-ha's status window was simply overwhelming.

His total stats alone were a full 271—274 with the traits factored in. Mine were 86, 84, 98; roughly 268 in total. The outcome had been decided from the beginning. Most ranks had come out almost exactly as I first predicted.

Compared to the tightly packed Gold grade, Platinum was so uneven in stats even among itself that prediction had been even easier.

If twenty-five Gold contestants were jostling inside an eleven-point spread, Platinum had only seven people and still saw gaps as large as nineteen points.

Against An Do-hyeon, who had the lowest total among the seven, Lee Jae-jin held an eleven-point edge—and Kwon Do-ha held an eight-point edge over Lee Jae-jin. The one who runs is outdone by the one who flies, and the one who flies is outdone by the one who's completely insane.

"All right, then—Kwon Do-ha, Lee Han-hee, Lee Jae-jin, Cha Ji-heon, Song A-seong, An Do-hyeon, Han Sang-jin. The seven contestants I just named, please come forward."

With the grade announcements finished, and the seven wearing Platinum badges standing at center stage at MC Cheon Tae-rim's call, the bombshell began.

"These are your Platinum grade contestants—and the ones who will serve as team captains. The benefit we give the seven Platinum contestants is none other than… the right to choose your teammates! Here—please take these."

Three yellow cards, three white, three brown. Holding the nine cards they had handed out, my head swam.

Captain… and teammate selection…

Letting contestants pick their own teammates was a format survival shows used often enough, but I personally wasn't fond of it. Things like this drained you dry.

"Those of you not selected by these seven will form teams among yourselves! That means a total of ten teams for the first team mission! However—Platinum contestants, you do not have to use every card you're given! Any questions?"

I had only just begun thinking how to navigate the situation we had been given when an absurd rule slammed into my ears. Cha Ji-heon raised his hand.

"Does not having to use every card mean there's no set number of members per team?"

"That's right! There isn't! However many teammates the captains want to take, that becomes the team's size!"

Groans broke out on every side. No limit on members, but a hard cap on the number of teams—everyone felt how vicious the production staff had been. Seven teams with no roster limits, and three teams that had to be built from whoever was left.

"Then couldn't the remaining three teams end up with far too many people?"

"That, too, is left to the Platinum contestants' choices."

I raised my hand carefully to ask, but Cheon Tae-rim's answer was firm. The staff's choices left my head spinning. What kind of confidence was this?

Excluding the two who had voluntarily left, there were ninety-eight contestants in total. Put bluntly, if the seven Platinum contestants each took only five people, the remaining fifty-six could be forced to form three teams. An outrageous rule.

Eighteen or nineteen people could end up standing on stage at once.

If that happened, part distribution would clearly collapse. That many people would have to split a single song, and in a survival program where each person's grade was already fixed, there was no way parts would be divided fairly.

If they use their cards sparingly on Gold and Silver and abandon everything below that…

The few Gold and Silver members would seize as much airtime as possible, and everyone beneath them would descend into chaos. How far the three teams left out of the seven—the so-called "leftover class"—would fall was anyone's guess.

The faces of the contestants who grasped the structure went white. They had realized that failing to be picked by Platinum could put them in an extreme position. Bronze and Iron, of course—but Gold and Silver looked just as grim.

There were fewer cards than people. Someone was going to end up in the leftover class no matter what.

"If there are no more questions, take a short break—we'll resume filming in thirty minutes! We'll prepare the set!"

At the writer's words the studio erupted into noise in an instant. This was the sort of break when people might drink water or head to the restroom—but every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Platinum contestant sat motionless, lost in thought.

"That's vicious…"

Cha Ji-heon muttered under his breath, then startled and covered his mouth. The words must have slipped out on their own.

I looked over the seven of us who had been chosen for Platinum. This was… how to put it. The duty felt far too heavy.

"It really is a benefit, though. In that it keeps us from ending up at a disadvantage."

An Do-hyeon said it with a hollow laugh. Put another way: everyone except Platinum was at a disadvantage.

I agreed with both of them. The more I thought about it, the easier this rule was to abuse.