Assembling the Purple Team
Once the ranking announcement wrapped, the Platinum-ranked contestants gathered during the thirty-minute break to talk things over. The absurd rule made a strategy meeting unavoidable.
"What should we do? I'd prefer we set a shared standard."
Song A-seong spoke first. He had a point — whether they used every card or only some of them, the Platinums were better off aligning their approach as much as possible.
Until now, rankings had been decided by internal evaluation. From here on, though, they would compete on viewer votes, so standing out alone carried real risk.
"I'd like us to use the brown cards as much as possible," Han Sang-jin said. The brown cards were the right to draft teammates from the Bronze and Iron ranks, and he was arguing against anyone simply discarding them. At that, An Do-hyeon looked uneasy.
"Well… honestly, ten people on a team is kind of a lot."
He checked the faces around him, then continued.
"When you're dancing, too many people makes the formation messy and hard to read. I was thinking around seven."
Seven. Looking at the stage alone, that was neither too many nor too few — just about right for a clean performance.
"If we all lock it at seven, there are going to be too many people left over," Cha Ji-heon said. He had looked fed up with the rule from the moment he first heard it.
"I'm not going to pretend I don't want the highest possible quality. This is a competition."
An Do-hyeon finished more firmly than expected. With no consensus in sight, Lee Jae-jin cut in.
"We set the minimum at seven, and the rest is up to each of us."
I nodded. We couldn't force anyone's hand — this was the best we could do.
"Let's go with that."
At least no one was planning to run with only five. Seven was already a luxury.
"We're rolling cameras! Everyone take your seats!"
The set was reset and filming resumed. A staff member approached the cluster of Platinums and guided us to a conspicuously imposing spot.
"Please sit here."
It might as well have been a judges' panel. The seats looked down over the stage, and on the broad table in front of us lay the cards from earlier, neatly arranged — three yellow, three white, three brown.
"All right, we'll start with the Gold rank. Gold-rank contestants, please come up on stage!"
Twenty-five contestants, ranked eighth through thirty-second, filed onto the stage. Draft order would be decided by lots. I stared at the seven I had drawn in my palm. Luck really was not on my side.
"I'll take Gold-rank contestant Han Min-hyeok."
Song A-seong, going first, called Han Min-hyeok. After a light high-five, the names that followed came without hesitation.
"I'll take contestant Seo U-ri."
"I'll take contestant An Jae-seo."
"I'll take contestant Woo Cheong-hee."
"I'll take contestant Im Su-han."
Most of them prioritized their roommates. An Do-hyeon took his younger brother, An Jae-seo; Lee Jae-jin took Woo Cheong-hee. After Han Sang-jin and Kwon Do-ha, it was my turn.
I carefully compared the remaining contestants' status windows, then made my decision.
"I'll take contestant Kim Yo-han."
Kim Yo-han. Of everyone left, he had the highest Vocal stat at 87.
Dance is low, though.
Dance: 78. Like Han Min-hyeok, he was twenty-four — one of the oldest here. His easygoing personality meant he had no enemies. Someone with that kind of social sense would be good for team chemistry.
"Let's do well."
Kim Yo-han and I had already broken the ice after the collision incident in Dance Mafia, so there was no real awkwardness. He accepted a purple armband and headed for the waiting room. When the rotation came back around to me, the person I chose was Yu Sang-hyeon.
"I'll take contestant Yu Sang-hyeon."
Yu Sang-hyeon looked like he had never expected his name to be called. Ranked thirty-second — the very tail end of Gold — and having caused a scene in the practice room, he clearly had reasons to feel uneasy.
I picked him because his stats had been climbing. Vocal: 85.
His growth rate is fast.
It felt like only yesterday he had cracked Vocal 84 and set foot in the upper ranks; now he had already gained another point. He wasn't someone who skimped on effort. That was probably why he had felt so wronged when no one seemed to notice.
Still wearing a complicated expression, Yu Sang-hyeon took his purple armband and left for the waiting room. Of the twenty-five contestants who had filled the stage, more than half were gone. Eleven remained. Seven seats left.
Among faces tight with nerves, my eyes met Lee Won-yeong's. He looked pale. Kim Seong-min stood beside him, his expression equally hard to read.
One of them is going to be left behind.
Both ranked fairly high, and yet neither had been chosen. Cha Ji-heon was filling his team with his own circle, and Kwon Do-ha, Lee Jae-jin, Han Sang-jin, and Song A-seong showed no sign of wanting either of them.
And just as I expected, one person was left standing.
"…I'll take contestant Kim Seong-min."
When An Do-hyeon's turn claimed Kim Seong-min, Lee Won-yeong's face went dark in an instant.
Kim Seong-min accepted a yellow armband and bowed his head toward Lee Won-yeong. Of the five who shared a room, four were now on the same team — and Lee Won-yeong alone had been left out. Even An Do-hyeon looked conflicted about the choice he had made.
Then, after Lee Jae-jin, Han Sang-jin, and Kwon Do-ha, it was my turn again. Five people remained on stage, and I already knew my decision.
"I'll take contestant Lee Won-yeong."
"…Thank you."
Lee Won-yeong took the purple armband, bowed his head low, and left for the waiting room. The four contestants still on stage filed down with hollow expressions. Cruel staging.
"All right, next up — Silver-rank contestants. Please come up on stage!"
While thirty contestants, ranked thirty-third through sixty-second, climbed onto the stage, I sorted my thoughts. From Gold I had taken Kim Yo-han, Yu Sang-hyeon, and Lee Won-yeong. What they shared was simple: all three were vocal specialists.
Kim Yo-han 87, Lee Won-yeong 85, Yu Sang-hyeon 85.
Judged purely on singing, those were solid numbers. On vocals alone, Kim Yo-han would place in the top five, and the other two in the top ten.
Dance is 78 across the board, though.
In dance, it was faster to count from the bottom. So when Silver-rank selection began, the first thing I looked at was Dance stats.
"I'll take contestants Choi An-seong, Lee Tae-su, and Jeong Han-seo."
Unlike Gold, where I had gone last, this round let me choose first — and since we could pick three at once, I brought over the highest Dance stats without a second thought.
Choi An-seong 85, Lee Tae-su 84, Jeong Han-seo 84.
I finished quickly. The people after me took longer.
Not enough information.
With Gold, everyone had shared practice rooms for long enough to know each other's level. Drop into Silver, and the stage was full of names and faces no one recognized.
Most of them hesitated, then simply called people off by the ranks they remembered. The faces of those at the bottom of Silver went pale. And that same pattern carried into the next round of selections.
"All right — next, the Bronze-rank and Iron-rank contestants."
Thirty-six people took the stage: twenty-one Bronze, fifteen Iron. Bronze gathered on the right, Iron on the left. The moment they finished lining up, MC Cheon Tae-rim lifted his mic.
"From this point on, there is no set order. Use your cards freely, however you like."
He reminded them that using every card was not required, and the faces of everyone on stage fell. So did the faces of those still watching from below.
They're openly pushing people not to pick anyone.
Through the Gold and Silver drafts, no Platinum had held back a card, so four Golds and nine Silvers were still waiting below. If the brown cards went unused here, those thirteen plus the thirty-six on stage — forty-nine people — would have to form just three teams.
That would be survival in the truest sense.
I could picture it, but while the other Platinums hesitated, unsure whom to call, I scanned status windows. I meant to take three with the best overall balance I could find.
An Do-hyeon had said ten was too crowded, but if the lineup was solid, numbers weren't really the problem. I was about to raise the mic when a loud voice cut in from the left.
"Um—"
"Just a moment! Could I have a little time, please?"
He locked eyes with me, asking for a pause. I lowered the mic in agreement, and the contestant who had taken the mic from the MC began to speak. An Iron-rank contestant — Nam Hye-seong.
"I figure none of you really know who I am, so if it's all right, I'd like to introduce myself!"
His boldness caught me off guard; I found myself nodding. His stats were a touch short of my cut, but I had already planned to take him anyway. Still, he had found the courage to grab the mic — I wasn't going to shut him down.
"I'm fifteen, Nam Hye-seong! I'll dance a short piece!"
He handed the mic to the person beside him, stepped into a few counts, and launched into b-boying. The sudden talent showcase left everyone staring, eyes fixed on Nam Hye-seong. No wonder some people were born for the spotlight.
"I'm still learning, so it might not be perfect — but I'll work hard!"
True to his word, it was a little rough around the edges, but the confidence was rock solid. Faced with those desperate eyes, I raised the mic. And once again, I was cut off.
"I—"
"Give me a chance too! Eighteen, Go Ju-ha! I'll sing a short piece!"
A rich, folksy voice rolled out, and I swallowed a dry laugh. Let me talk, will you?
"I want to bury my face in your chest, and cry my heart out today~."
After the full cascade of impromptu showcases finally ended, I managed to fill every last slot. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — the last of the rainbow colors. The Purple Team was complete.
Once the teams were set, all ten members of the Purple Team gathered in the waiting room. A short meeting window while the remaining three teams finished forming. Introductions first.
"Hello. I'm Lee Han-hee, your team leader. Looking forward to working with all of you."
Starting with me, we introduced ourselves in order, beginning with Iron and Bronze.
"I'm Nam Hye-seong. Fifteen. Looking forward to it!"
"Eighteen, Go Ju-ha! Looking forward to it as well!"
"Hello. Kim Jin-su, eighteen."
After the two who had shown off b-boying and trot, and Kim Jin-su — whose Dance and Vocal stats were solidly average — the Silver-rank contestants spoke up. This team's dance line.
"Choi An-seong, eighteen."
"Lee Tae-su, nineteen."
"Jeong Han-seo, twenty."
Choi An-seong's Dance stat of 85 was the highest on Purple. The other two sat at 84, same as me — if I didn't want to get outclassed, I would have to push harder.
They're aiming for main dancer.
Vocals, at least, I could trust. Gold rank. This team's vocal line.
"I'm Kim Yo-han. I'm twenty-four, but treat me easy."
"…Nineteen. Yu Sang-hyeon."
"Lee Won-yeong. Twenty. Looking forward to working with you."
All three happened to share the same Dance stat of 78, but their singing was excellent. And the low Dance numbers weren't really a problem.
Actually, this works out. I happen to have three slots.
I planned to register these three under the Producer Exclusive Quest and test the effect.
Starting from the same baseline would make it easy to measure results. Sample subjects, essentially.
How far can I push their dance before we hit the stage?
To put on a strong performance, I needed to raise their Dance stats hard. Three birds with one stone.
I get comparative data, they get higher stats, and the team gets a better stage. Everyone wins.
It was a one-sided experiment — I couldn't exactly ask for consent — but there was no other way. It wasn't the kind of thing you could get permission for, and I didn't have the bandwidth to weigh every individual's circumstances.
They might hate being steered without a say…
But how many people ever live entirely on their own power? Family, talent, fate — whatever the force, people are always being pushed around by something.
Still, this wasn't a bad push. I finished rationalizing it and threw out the question.
"So — what are we going to choose?"
Lover. Friend. Rival. Fan. Idol. On the stage visible through the waiting-room monitor, five placards had already been set in place.