Legends Never Die

Back in the seats reserved for the remaining contestants, I looked around.

"Haa."

A sigh—half relief, half grief—rippled through the air. With so many people gone, the waiting area that had always been loud and restless was strangely quiet.

It was an unfamiliar stillness. Given how many had been eliminated in a single cut, more than a few seemed lost in their own thoughts.

"…"

While we waited for the next shoot in that slightly subdued atmosphere, I checked the time remaining.

Thirty-four days. I shook off the thoughts that had been quietly gathering before I even noticed them. There was no time to sink into complicated feelings. We were only a single step away from the finals.

"Alright! We've finally reached the third team battle. It feels like only yesterday that I first saw all you sprouts, and now we're already at round three. Time really flies."

Once the set was reset and filming resumed, MC Cheon Tae-rim—back to his usual energy—stood center stage and delivered the line with playful flair.

"Well then, no need to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drag this out—shall we jump right in? Eyes on the screen, please!"

He raised one hand high and pointed toward the screen. A spark bloomed across the crystal-clear display, and in an instant a roaring blaze gave birth to a cascade of brilliant letters: Legends never die.

"The theme the production team has prepared for the third team battle is none other than—Legends never die! Legendary artists who wrote the timeless anthems of their eras! Your goal this time is to choose one of their signature tracks, reinterpret it in your own colors, and create a stage that will blow everyone away!"

The moment I heard the theme, a question surged up from deep inside me that I could barely suppress. Why would they choose something this dangerous?

Isn't this the kind of thing that gets you crucified if you so much as touch it wrong?

Legends weren't called legends for nothing. They wrote great songs, earned the respect of countless people, and that was why the word stuck. And now they wanted a bunch of fledglings to reinterpret those songs? One wrong step and you'd be roasted forever, your name preserved in digital amber as a cautionary tale.

I tried to tell myself the production team must have some plan if they'd gone with a theme like this—but the moment the artists themselves were revealed, my insides burned as hot as the flames on the monitor.

From the band that had swept every major award, to the living-legend veteran female vocalist, to the male vocalist in his forties who had defined the previous era, the male musician credited with opening the age of K-pop, the female musician called the current face of the genre—and even Vesta, the idol group still writing its own myth in real time.

It was a minefield so densely packed you couldn't take a single step without landing on a trap. Age, gender—none of it mattered. Every single one of them still commanded massive fandoms.

Why are they doing this?

Even if the show was riding high right now, hadn't their guts gotten a little too big? Seeing a lineup cherry-picked from people who would leave nothing but bones if you mishandled them left me speechless. Sure, the average level of the contestants was pretty high—but still. This was something else entirely.

I felt it in my gut: the hidden theme of this mission was survival. How the hell were we supposed to climb out of this swamp?

While my mind raced, the lottery for team assignments began.

"Contestants, please draw one slip of paper from the box!"

So it wasn't the usual system where one person became captain and picked the rest—this time it was completely random. Watching the drum approach from the front of the line, I thought of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠newly drawn Crisis Detection traffic light. Had it been given to me for a situation exactly like this?

One tiny misstep and you'll be buried under a mountain of hate comments. Isn't this a dangerous situation?

Yet even as I carefully selected a slip, the traffic light stayed dark. So this wasn't that kind of crisis. Left with no choice, I drew one. The paper rustled in my palm. When I unfolded it, a sunflower sticker looked up at me.

"…"

A sunflower?

"Han-hee, you got a sunflower?"

"Yes. What about you, Jae-jin hyung?"

"I got… is this a violet?"

On the paper Lee Jae-jin had opened was an elegant illustration of a violet.

As I looked at the hand-drawn violet, Nam Hye-seong, who had drawn next to us, spoke up with a note of disappointment.

"Hyungs, you got violet and sunflower? Mine says narcissus. Looks like we're all on different teams…"

"Well, nothing we can do. Hang in there, everyone. See you later."

Lee Jae-jin gave the dejected Nam Hye-seong a light pat on the back of the head, clapped him on the shoulder, and headed off in search of the other violets. Nam Hye-seong flashed me a determined fist and left to find the narcissuses. Just as I was left standing alone, a familiar voice reached me.

"Oh, Han-hee hyung, you got sunflower too?"

"A-seong, you as well?"

Song A-seong hurried over and unfolded his paper. A bright yellow sunflower sticker greeted us—his even came with a pair of tiny sunglasses perched on it.

"…?"

I tilted my head without meaning to at the oddly childish sticker. Why was the violet a drawing while the sunflower was a sticker?

"Hmm…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

What did it matter if one was a sticker and the other a drawing? The important part was that Song A-seong and I were on the same team. I took the clearly excited A-seong with me and started looking around.

"Looking for roses!"

"Anyone got tulip?"

Watching people pair up by the flowers they had drawn, I stood. We needed to find the rest of the sunflowers. As it turned out, we didn't have far to go—someone was already walking toward us with a light step.

"Looking for sunflowers?"

"What? Hyung, you drew sunflower too?"

"Hello, Min-hyeok hyung."

"Hey, Han-hee~."

Han Min-hyeok fluttered his slip so the sunflower was clearly visible, then threw an arm around Song A-seong's shoulders—or rather, pretended to and started lightly choking him.

"By the way, A-seong, how could you just run off without waiting for your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hyung to draw…? Even if you're happy, that's cold. I'm hurt. Deeply hurt."

"Why would I wait for something that gross!"

While Han Min-hyeok kept teasing with A-seong trapped under his arm, a bright, energetic voice came from behind us.

"Ah, good afternoon~! Is this the Sunflower Class?"

"What, Min Ho-su, you're a sunflower too?"

Recognizing the somewhat familiar face, Song A-seong—still pinned under Han Min-hyeok's arm—offered a greeting.

"A-seong too! Yes! Our team luck is crazy this time. New transfer student to Sunflower Class. Looking forward to working with everyone."

Min Ho-su. The one who was supposedly friends with Song A-seong and Woo Cheong-hee. He bounced into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the group with his usual clowning. His hair, which I remembered as a brighter yellow, had faded to a lemony shade that stood out even more.

No matter how the draws fell, it had somehow landed like this. With so many familiar faces already gathered, and the group now at four, people started finding us on their own without us having to search.

"Excuse me—did you draw sunflower?"

"We're sunflowers too…"

Two contestants approached hesitantly: Yu Min-seong and Jo Min-jun. We'd never had any real contact before; they were essentially strangers. I'd only first seen Yu Min-seong earlier when he'd broken down crying after placing 41st.

"Just one left now."

Judging by how the others had clustered, there appeared to be roughly six teams, seven people each—so one person remained. As I scanned the area for the last member, my eyes met a familiar face.

"Hello, Han-hee hyung?"

"…Hello."

Kim Seong-min. The middle-school contestant who'd had friction with Song A-seong on the first night of the dorm stay. The same one who'd also argued with Yu Sang-hyeon.

Beaming with a cute, sunny smile, Kim Seong-min greeted me and then swept his gaze over the rest of the Sunflower members. When I looked with him, Song A-seong's face had already hardened into a blank wall. Han Min-hyeok looked thoroughly uncomfortable as well.

"Whoa, our team has a lot of high-ranking people. What a relief."

Kim Seong-min grinned and clapped his hands. The two who had been standing awkwardly among the familiar faces quietly chimed in.

"Yeah, really lucky."

"Seriously, we survived."

I ran through their faces and rankings. From what I remembered, Kim Seong-min was 11th, Yu Min-seong 41st, Jo Min-jun 33rd. And Min Ho-su had been around 23rd after the first team mission. Min Ho-su, noticing that Song A-seong's expression was off, was staring hard at his face.

"Shall we pick a class president for Sunflower Class first?"

Unfazed by the strangely stiff atmosphere, Kim Seong-min casually suggested choosing a leader.

I wondered for a second if he meant himself—then suddenly realized Kim Seong-min, Yu Min-seong, and Jo Min-jun were standing on the right, while Song A-seong, Han Min-hyeok, and Min Ho-su stood on the left, all of them looking at me in the middle.

This wasn't a neutral zone. Being split down the middle like this was seriously unnerving. Was this team going to be okay?

"…Should I do it?"

"We'd be grateful if you would!"

"Seconded~."

The moment I stepped forward, Kim Seong-min clapped as if that was exactly what he'd been waiting for and called out brightly.

"Perfect! Looking forward to working with you, Han-hee hyung! And please, feel free to speak casually with me. We're teammates now, after all."

"Yeah… looking forward to it."

Kim Seong-min, smiling with a face that somehow reminded me of a fox, looked thoroughly pleased. That said—something felt noisier than usual.

While the contestants finished finding their teammates, I scanned the filming set, which was louder than normal. What was going on? Was something happening? I watched people bustling around below the stage when Cheon Tae-rim's voice rang out.

"Has everyone found their teammates?"

Looking around, all six teams seemed to have settled into place.

"Then please gather with your teams and take your seats. In order: Forget-me-not, Narcissus, Sunflower, Tulip, Rose, Violet."

Following the instructions, we sat seven to a row on the stepped seating. Once settled, I watched the stage empty little by little. Something was definitely up.

An uneasy premonition made me glance behind me—and I spotted several heads of vividly colored hair. Wait, could it be…

"Idol Survival, third team battle—Legends never die! Before we begin, we've invited a few special guests. Please welcome—Vesta!"

"Huk!"

"Aaaah!"

"Hello! Nice to meet you, juniors!"

I'd heard they were on hiatus, yet people with hair dyed everything from blonde to pink climbed onto the stage in a burst of color.

"Aaaaaah! Vesta! Vesta!"

"Noonaaaaa!"

The instant Vesta appeared, thunderous cheers erupted from both sides. One particularly piercing cry made me turn. The person who had shouted it clapped a hand over their mouth, as if the word had slipped out without permission.

Calling them 'noona' without a shred of fear—are they that good that you completely lose your mind?

I'd known they were popular, but I hadn't realized it was this intense. No wonder the reactions to Huey had always felt a little extreme.

The atmosphere was still unfamiliar enough that I felt slightly awkward inside, but I put on a happy face. Seniors were seniors, after all.

"I'll be your star! Hello, we are Vesta!"

"Nice to meet you, juniors. We've been watching closely."

"Wow, this is wild."

After their practiced greeting, Vesta looked over each team. They seemed fascinated as they studied the contestants' faces—and I was equally fascinated studying their stats.

How are there this many URs…

Just as people said they were a once-in-a-generation idol group: of the five members, three were UR. The remaining one was a perfect SSR.

What kind of group is this?

They were only in their late twenties, and yet half of them had Dance at A+. Looking at stats that simply didn't exist in the real world only reinforced that this was a game world. No wonder they were so popular.

The one with the relatively lowest singing and dancing is…

The last member, famous as an acting idol: Choi Hyun-seo. Even he had top-tier singing and dancing. Stats packed all the way to their caps were impressive enough, and every single trait was S-rank. It looked like a player had poured serious effort into him—and then a faint memory surfaced.

Didn't these stats feel familiar somehow?

I was turning the inexplicable sense of déjà vu over in my mind when Choi Hyun-seo's eyes suddenly met mine and he flashed a radiant smile. It wasn't a coincidence. That gaze had locked onto me with perfect precision.