Chapter 29

Chapter 29

It seemed as though the judges were gearing up to say something like, So, you guys think Raebin is the one at fault here? at any moment. We had to choose our next words carefully. It has to sound like we’re recounting facts, not trying to throw one another to the wolves.

“Yes. Raebin… He’s quite capable when it comes to arranging music, so he spoke with a composer. As for the general theme, we decided on that as a group.”

Raebin twitched. Keep your mouth shut.

Thankfully, Chungwoo piped up right away. “That’s right! We will definitely discuss the issues you pointed out and handle them as a group. We’ll work hard to ensure the performance is top-notch by the day of the team battle.”

There. Safe. Chungwoo and I tactfully said no more. The judges seemed to be deep in thought but eventually nodded. They probably think they missed their window to be critical. This was good news for us.

“Then you’ll have to start from scratch. You’ll be considerably behind the other teams, time-wise. Are you sure you can pull it off?”

“Yes, we’ll do it. We can do it, right guys?” Raebin asked.

“Yes!”

“Of course!”

Unless the troll had a brick for brains, he wouldn’t mess things up now. Thankfully, he joined the rest of us in hollering an affirmative answer.

Youngrin nodded. “All right. But you need to remember that you may have bitten off more than you can chew and that you’ll be responsible for whatever happens as a result of that.”

“That’s right. Even if you change everything now, there’s no guarantee that what you end up with will be better.”

But if we refuse to change the song and the performance flops, you’ll ask us why we didn’t listen to your feedback. Then we’d be described as a team that feared rising to a challenge. The judges’ warnings were rather pointless. In the end, the process would be edited and evaluated to match the results regardless of what we did. All the contestants knew this implicitly, filling the team with tense anxiety.

“All right. We’ll take that into consideration,” Chungwoo replied diplomatically. We all expected the conversation to end at that point when a voice suddenly chimed in.

“May I say something?” It was the original artist, who’d picked up a microphone.

“All right… Go ahead.” The judges seemed a little puzzled by the man’s behavior. He adjusted the microphone in his hand with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Your performance did not have the power ‘Blazing Like the Sun’ should have.”

We’re already done with the evaluation. What are you going on about? The man seemed oblivious to the vague air of confusion that had fallen over the set.

“This song is supposed to inspire courage and enthusiasm in people. You need to remember, everyone, that just being good-looking and good dancers won’t accomplish that goal.”

Right…

“When we performed the song, we really tried to inspire those feelings in people. You shouldn’t forget to do justice to the song just because your star power is on the rise.”

I wondered how the man had been able to say all of that with a straight face—to contestants on an audition show who hadn’t even debuted yet no less. He seemed to think talking like a boomer was equivalent to giving good advice, and possessed an over-inflated ego. The part that really sucked was that I now needed to consider how his little speech was going to be incorporated into the final episode.

It was already hard enough just trying to think of a suitable alternative arrangement. Did I really have to pay attention to his nonsense, too? It was irritating, but talking back would only make us look like we were trying to steal a song from some obscure artist. So everyone just answered politely.

“Yes!”

“We’ll remember that!”

Well, I guess this is just working to level up my charm.

***

After all the other teams performed and received their interim feedback, we were just about to get down to discussing how we were going to redo the arrangement when the troll went up to Raebin hesitantly.

“Uh… Sorry about earlier…”

Is it okay to let him apologize in front of the camera like this? We’d done damage control for the entire team, but it was still true that he needed to take care of his own mistakes.

Raebin was silent for a moment, but he finally nodded. “It’s all right. It’s true I was in charge of the arrangement.”

Frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned around and said, “F*ck you, you wanted me to arrange the song that way.”

In any case, Chungwoo wrapped the interaction up by patting both of them on the back. “Good work. Guys, once we’re ready, let’s discuss the arrangement again.”

By ready, Chungwoo was referring to the production team, who were setting up the cameras.

“Okay!”

We were given a brief moment to rest, and the contestants scattered around the room, all attempting to do their game faces.

None of them seemed all that happy since the interim evaluation had been far from ideal, but they hadn’t given up hope yet. Maybe this was because we’d managed to avoid what had the potential to be open carnage toward the end of our evaluation.

But that hope will be pointless if we can’t think of a different strategy. It was obvious none of them had any bright ideas. They were probably hoping we’d chance on something good mid-discussion. In other words, they were twiddling their thumbs and wishing for a miracle. Not a good sign.

“Uh, Park Moondae?”

“Oh, yes?”

Raebin approached where I was sitting in a corner, trying to think. Surprising. We hadn’t spoken much over the past three days. Come to think of it, I had spoken to almost no one over the past three days—practicing had taken all my focus.

In any case, Raebin sat politely next to me and said in a serious tone, “Thank you.”

“No. Don’t mention it.” He was probably thanking me for intervening earlier with the troll.

“Nobody’s ever helped me before in a situation like that...” he continued.

I knew it. I understood his situation. Kim Raebin had been worried—if he was portrayed as failing to get along with his team again, it might become impossible for him to come back from that in the public’s opinion. No wonder he seemed so meek.

As if confirming my thoughts, he rambled on. “I was worried people would think I lacked teamwork again, just like in the last team battle. Things could have gone really bad for me if you hadn’t stepped in, Park Moondae. I knew I was making the right choice by choosing someone so great at working in a team.”

Is he saying that he picked me first because I’m a good team player? I asked him that very question, and he nodded.

“Yes. I saw how fairly you treated your team members. And you have a great voice, of course.”

“Uh… Okay. Thank you.”

He was a strange one. The editing had done him no favors, but he’d still believed what the producers had shown him. To think he believed in Park Moondae’s ability to work well in a team when he was portrayed early on as so gruff and unlikable...

I found myself shocked. It’d have been easier to understand if he’d picked Big Sejin. Oh, but maybe he didn’t pick Sejin because he was a team leader last time, like Chungwoo. They might have butted heads. I supposed he had his own criteria that I wasn’t privy to. While I sat there in a daze, Raebin continued to speak.

“Oh, by the way, you don’t have to speak so formally with me. I don’t mind.” He offered.

“Uh… All right.” I supposed I had nothing to lose by being on good terms with someone as highly ranked as him. After answering him, I realized that I had a question I wanted to ask him. “About the arrangement. Do you happen to have any ideas?”

“Honestly, things are looking pretty bad right now.” Raebin’s handsome, slightly mean-looking features twisted into a grimace, leaving him looking sad. “Even if we redo the arrangement, we don’t know how much we’ll be able to change everything else around.”

He was referring to what we’d already practiced and choreographed for the current arrangement—it was unclear how much we could change and still have a performance ready by the deadline.

“I don’t think we can change much of what we already have… It’s such a mixed bag right now, I don’t know where to start.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I said.

He didn’t have any ideas, and didn’t even know where to begin with fixing things. I felt the same way. Once the floodgates were open, Raebin couldn’t seem to stop spilling his concerns.

“We have to incorporate the original artist’s advice, but I have no idea what it means to ‘inspire courage and enthusiasm.’”

“Yeah.” I had to agree with him on that one. In fact, I didn’t think the man’s words deserved to even be considered advice. We aren’t trying to make a superhero movie. How are we supposed to inspire courage and enthusiasm?

Wait a second. I think I just had a lightbulb moment. I mentally went over what I’d just been thinking and realized I’d chanced on a strange idea. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like it might actually work.

If we went with the concept I was thinking of, we’d be able to maintain the original key and still pull the whole thing off. We wouldn’t have to change the cheer squad choreography much, which we’d already practiced and memorized, and we could even make the performance seem passionate and “courage-inspiring.” It might be just what we needed. There was one small problem, though. It’s a bit much…

This much was true. It wasn’t just that my idea was probably too much—it could end up looking straight up childish. Then the performance would end up in a worse state than ever before. If any one of us made a single mistake, the resulting silence would be heavy enough to kill our performance. But wait.

“No...” I said.

“Uh, Moondae?”

“One second,” I said, ignoring Raebin.

The team was starting to congregate as the break came to an end, and I shouted internally, Status window!

I quickly skimmed over everyone’s stats. Their stats in charm were all B- or above, at the very least. A B grade signified that they were competent enough in that area to take a main role in it. It was a good thing all the members had high rankings.

This... might work. No wonder the judges hadn’t been overly critical of the old-fashioned cheer squad concept.

“Raebin. About the arrangement.”

“Y-yes?” Kim Raebin stuttered.

Once I’d told him my idea, he was more confused than ever. He grew calmer as I continued explaining, and soon his eyes were glowing. He liked my idea far more than I’d expected him to.

“H-hold on a minute.” He ran to the keyboard installed on one side of the practice room and began to tap out a tune. I recalled the special trait I’d seen among Raebin’s stats earlier.

[Trait: Maestro (A)]

What I need is a little inspiration.

When inspired, speed in creative pursuits increases by 120%

Just like Ahyeon, he had an amazing trait tucked away in his arsenal. I wonder if there’s a trait that duplicates another contestant’s trait? I’ve seen plenty of abilities like that in web novels.

I felt a little put out by their good fortune but had a job to do. I quickly fired up the status window and devoted my remaining point to the charm stat. This put me in B- in charm. All right. That aligns me with the rest of the team.

“Moondae, why is Raebin suddenly on the keyboard?” Chungwoo asked me, instead of asking Raebin himself.

I shrugged. “I suggested an idea for the theme, and he seemed to like it.”

“What idea?”

“Transforming superheroes.”

While Chungwoo stared in confusion, Eugene whispered to the person next to him, “What’s he talking about?”

This all went down five days before the team battle. And it wasn’t long before the day of the battle arrived.

***

The building containing the set for the second team battle of “Idol Incorporated” was surrounded by a huge crowd. It wasn’t that there were more people in the audience than there had been last time—but thanks to the rising viewer rating and all the buzz the show was generating, people were hoping to hear some of the music from outside the building. People were handing out little signs and photo cards, even though the season had only just begun.

Wow. Look at how many people are here. A young woman thought to herself as she clumsily made her way through the crowd to join the line for entry. She’d applied to be in the audience with her friend at that same friend’s request, and she’d been the only one between them who’d been successful in applying. She’d considered just staying home, but in the end, had decided to skip her classes for the day.

This show’s so popular these days. Of course, her friend’s tearful plea to tell her how Moondae did had something to do with her decision to go as well. What does she like about this show so much? She wondered vaguely to herself.

She’d seen a picture of Park Moondae on social media, after he’d dyed his hair golden brown. He was pretty attractive, but not handsome enough to warrant that level of devotion. Her friend had offered to buy her a meal if she agreed to come, so she resolved to keep a close eye on him for her sake as she entered the building.

She had no idea that she’d end up begging her friend for photos of Park Moondae by the time the show was over that day.