The Eighth Broadcast
By the time we arrived at Lee Jae-jin's place, spent the night, and lazed around until noon, the airtime for Idol Survival Episode 8 had crept up on us almost without warning. Why did time always fly so fast when you were lying around doing nothing?
"Hyungs! It's been forever!"
"Hello."
At six-thirty sharp, Nam Hye-seong and Seo Woo-ri showed up right on time. They'd come together.
"Long time no see. Get some good rest?"
"Yes, yes—oh, but hyung-nim! What on earth happened yesterday? The reaction on SNS is insane!"
"We just went out and had fun, that's all. More importantly—what do you guys want for dinner? I was thinking of ordering in."
I gently steered Nam Hye-seong away from the SNS videos the second he walked through the door. Everything from the photos we'd taken under the giant billboard to the Han River picnic and the busking performance had been uploaded in droves—photos, clips, the works.
I dragged Nam Hye-seong, who was clinging to my leg and asking if the three of us had had fun, into the house.
"Food first. Let's pick something."
Ordering dinner mattered more than chatting. I'd eaten a big lunch, but after putting in a hard workout that afternoon whenever I had free time, my stomach felt hollow again.
"Uh, as long as it's not too greasy, I'm fine with anything."
Seo Woo-ri, who had smoothly sidestepped the clinging Nam Hye-seong and settled on the floor with his back against the sofa, added his condition. Greasy meant no fried food, no pizza.
"Anyone hate seafood?"
"I'll eat anything!"
"Same."
Woo Cheong-hee shouted that he wasn't picky at all. Still, something with actual rice felt like the right call.
"How about sushi?"
"I'm good with that."
"Seconded!"
"Oh, I know a decent place."
Once the menu was settled on sushi, Lee Jae-jin finished the order on the delivery app in seconds. Then the estimated arrival popped up: ninety minutes. That would put it well after the show had started.
"Says ninety minutes. This place never used to take that long…."
Jae-jin sighed that orders always backed up around this hour lately and poked at the screen like it had personally offended him.
"Same in my neighborhood. Order delivery around seven on a Friday and you're looking at over an hour minimum…."
"I guess a lot of people are doing exactly what we are—ordering takeout and watching the broadcast!"
It wasn't like delivery was jammed for a World Cup match, and yet every neighborhood seemed to bottleneck at this exact Friday hour. Listening to Seo Woo-ri and Nam Hye-seong, something struck me all over again.
Even little details like this make it sink in that this is a different world.
Idol culture here felt far more mainstream. A successful idol was someone practically anyone walking down the street would recognize on sight. That level of public awareness was just built in.
"The show really is doing insanely well."
"Now that you mention it, even my friends' reactions have completely changed."
Being locked inside the lodging for so long had made it hard to grasp just how popular the program had become. These days, it was massive.
We talked about the buzz around us until seven slipped past and the broadcast began. Since our team was up first, the cameras opened straight on our practice room. Before long, Nam Hye-seong crumpled to the floor. The screen filled with the image of his calf muscle spasming.
"Eek—they're showing all of that?"
Listening to Nam Hye-seong's horrified squeak, I pulled out my phone and opened the community boards.
The sight of him collapsing in a daze must have hit hard—posts flooding in asking whether they were pushing too far. Last week's mid-check evaluation had drawn some sharp criticism toward Nam Hye-seong, but the mood had completely flipped.
"They're showing everything…."
When the footage cut to Jae-jin and me taking Hye-seong back to the room and discussing difficulty and parts, Jae-jin covered his face with both hands. Then came Hye-seong storming back out, shouting that he would work harder, followed by all of us yelling a fighting chant together.
"Han-hee hyung, are you even human?"
"You put us to bed and snuck out to practice?"
They'd even lit the scenes of me sneaking out before dawn to grind stats, which drew a few unexpected reactions—but stitched together the right way, the whole arc played like a youth drama.
"Our team got a ton of airtime…."
After the successful stage that closed out all the ups and downs, the broadcast moved on to Kwon Do-ha's team. Out of fourteen teams, cutting them in half meant seven would air in Episode 8. Eighty minutes split seven ways should have meant roughly ten to twelve minutes per team at most—yet ours had claimed nearly fifteen.
I checked the board reactions again. All the vicious comments calling Nam Hye-seong a freeloading Iron who was dragging the team down after the judges scolded him for wrecking the balance had vanished. Anyone could see he'd worked hard and delivered.
"Stage reviews look good. At this rate, we made it."
I glanced around at Jae-jin's words. Everyone wore the same satisfied expression. Regardless of the final ranking, it had been a stage where we'd given everything we could in that moment.
The results of the angels-versus-demons, good-versus-evil matchup wouldn't be tallied until after Episode 9 aired, along with the online votes, so we settled in to enjoy the rest of the performances with an easy mind. No results tonight, after all.
Apparently the pure live-vote system from the first team battle had drawn enough backlash that they'd changed it.
Anyway, the sushi arrived just as the broadcast was winding down, and we demolished it in minutes. The second the credits rolled, we ripped open a few bags of snacks on the floor, each of us with a drink in hand, and the after-party began.
"Ahh, this feels amazing!"
"Hye-seong, are you drunk on carbonation?"
"Hyung, take one with us!"
Watching him beam for selfies, I somehow got dragged into the frame. After a full photo session, Nam Hye-seong looked a good deal lighter as he mumbled,
"Thank you, hyung. Really."
"…."
This was the second time Hye-seong and I had shared a team stage. Having watched him struggle through all of it, I wordlessly ruffled his round head. A faintly bittersweet taste lingered on my tongue.
"Hello, Representative."
"Come in, Han-hee! How have you been? My god, you've gotten even more dazzling."
The next day—Saturday morning—at a brunch café. Arriving right on time, I found Heo Jeong-in, whom I hadn't seen in a while, still flaunting a baby face that could pass for early twenties. Beside her sat the co-representative of the company and famous actor… Ju Seong-ho?
"This is my husband. Ju Seong-ho. You've probably seen him on TV?"
"Yes, I watched you in Tasal. It's a drama I really love."
It truly had been a gripping watch. The K-plus original drama Tasal.
A hard-hitting piece that showed just how far a collective could fall under reckless agitation and selfishness. It captured the terror of anonymity especially well.
I hadn't planned on watching it, but after signing up for K-plus to check the ratings and comments on Idol Survival Plus, a drama with unusually high scores had caught my eye. It was a short six-episode series, but so packed with things to think about that I'd rewatched it until my ancient laptop overheated—so his face was familiar.
Ju Seong-ho had played the lead detective in Tasal, and his performance had been genuinely impressive.
"Pleasure to meet you, Lee Han-hee. I've been enjoying Idol Survival myself."
"Ah, it's an honor, sir."
He was only in his early thirties, but he'd been acting nearly twenty years since his child-star days. So why was someone whose schedule was surely packed solid making time to sit here?
I looked back and forth between them with a touch of puzzlement, and the representative smiled as she explained.
"Oh, this guy heard I was meeting Lee Han-hee today and insisted on tagging along. Wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Ahem."
Ju Seong-ho cleared his throat quietly and fluttered the menu as he spoke quickly.
"Lee Han-hee, is there anything you'd like? My treat."
"Ah, I was the one who invited you so I could treat you…."
"Don't worry about it, Han-hee. The one who crashed the party pays."
The couple worked in such perfect sync that I was swept along before I knew it. By the time I came to my senses, I found myself chewing on a sandwich whose name I didn't even know.
"This salad is good."
"Don't drip it everywhere."
Watching Representative Heo crunch through her salad, the actor laid a napkin under her plate, speared a shrimp, and asked,
"Lee Han-hee, have you ever studied acting?"
"Acting?"
I thought of my status window. I did have a trait that boosted acting ability.
"Yes. Watching TV yesterday, your facial expressions were exceptional."
"Ah…."
So that showed? It was true I'd been careful with my expression work on the stages after drawing the acting trait, but the fact that he'd caught it so uncannily was impressive. Were all actors like this?
"Right? Han-hee's expressiveness is incredible. This man looked like he was about to get sucked into the TV screen."
"Ahem."
The actor cleared his throat again and muttered under his breath,
"Enough."
"You're the one who crashed our date first."
Even their bickering made them look close. I took another bite of the nameless sandwich. It was good—flat bread with a distinctive acidity that paired perfectly with the meat and pickle fillings. Maybe I'd grab one to go.
I was focused on the food—properly tasting something for the first time in a while—when I felt eyes on me. Looking up, I found both of them had stopped arguing and were watching me with fond expressions.
"You're really digging in. Is that good, Han-hee?"
"…Yes. First time trying it, but it's delicious."
"This place does an excellent Cuban sandwich."
Ah, so it was called a Cuban sandwich. I filed the name away and took a long pull of the fresh fruit juice that had come with it. The juice was good too.
The meeting turned out far less pressured than I'd expected. I relaxed and traded small talk. Ju Seong-ho's stories from set were entertaining, and Representative Heo's occasional jabs only made the conversation better. Time flew.
By the time we parted ways, we'd even exchanged autographs. They remained a cheerful couple to the end.
"If you ever need anything, Han-hee, call me. I'm very capable."
"Yes, thank you."
I saw Representative Heo off with her little wink, and on the way home it suddenly hit me: I hadn't spent a single won all day. I'd come to repay them somehow, and yet—
So this was what it meant to be an adult.
I shook my head, but my steps were light as I returned home and checked the rest of my schedule. Next Friday I was meeting Song A-seong; the day after that I'd go to the hospital, and then the final lodging period would begin.
That leaves about five days.
From the finale onward everything would run nonstop, so there was a lot to prepare beforehand.
I pulled out the low desk, powered on the battered laptop sitting on top of it, and opened the calculator, notepad, and spreadsheet in turn. First I needed to analyze and organize every piece of the game system I'd experienced so far.
What I was building was essentially a strategy guide for the game.
I started logging every participant's stats one by one and running the numbers. I had no intention of simply accepting whatever members other people handed me—not when we might be living and working together for years.
"Come to think of it, I still need to film a vlog…."
Mid-document, the thought struck me and I scanned the apartment. An empty space with no bed, no sofa, not even a TV. Hardly the ideal place to shoot a vlog.
"…Ah."
As I turned over how to handle the vlog, something occurred to me. I fired off a quick message on my phone, and before long a reply came back agreeing.
"That settles it, then."
The fast answer lifted a weight off my shoulders. I stretched hard and went back to organizing the data. It was time I properly understood this life.