Chapter 384

Chapter 384

Thirty minutes had passed since Ryu Chungwoo had suddenly appeared from beyond the dry ice as part of the viewer supplementary team.

“I’ll be looking forward to even stronger performances from you this time,” the president said.

“Yes!”

The supplementary team was ushered onto the stage and sorted into their roles. Before moving on to practicing, there was a short break, during which the contestants could mingle. The cameras were relentlessly trained on me and Chungwoo as if hell-bent on capturing our first meeting. They’d gotten plenty of footage earlier when Chungwoo had stood in front of the screen for Vocalist B.

The greedy bastards.

“Gunwoo, are you surprised?”

“Yes.”

“Very surprised?”

“Yes.”

It was already obvious to me that I was going to come off as very stupid when the episode aired. I was also aware of all the work the editors would do to embellish my reaction.

They’ll have a bunch of interviews put in next to this… I turned out to be right, since the interview with the production team was slated before anything else, and it lasted longer than any previous.

“Were you already aware that Chungwoo was going to participate? Did he give you advance notice? Oh, you didn’t know at all?”

“I thought you two lived together?”

“Are you excited about Chungwoo participating?”

“What about things that you are wary of, or think you should be careful of now that he’s here? He is a competitor now, right?”

They’re so excited. I expressed my confusion in a lighthearted way and replied as gently as I could manage.

“Both of us need to do well, so I suppose I will have to work even harder on the upcoming performance,” I said.

There was no need to draw any more attention to this or employ hyperbole.

[I-is that right?]

Nope. The moment that this goes live, there’s going to be chaos. A relative who attended the same university as me and was a former Olympian had just appeared on the same show.

F*ck, I would watch that. I repressed a groan and returned to the practice room after the interview was over. I called out to the next person who was set to be interviewed, Chungwoo.

“The writer wants to see you,” I said.

“Gunwoo.”

I waved my hand at him and, pretending to put my notebook down, showed him the sentence written on it, sure to linger in the camera’s blind spot. I had to tell him this, at least.

“Be as indirect and soft-spoken as possible.”

Chungwoo nodded slightly, then left the practice room.

Based on the way he’s acting, I can see he’s not completely tactless. So why did this happen? He had been attending university with seemingly no problems. Why had he suddenly decided to try out for this survival show?

I didn’t suggest it to him intentionally. He seemed to be doing so well, and he probably didn’t have the look that this agency wanted. I’d wanted to just leave him be.

So why had he decided to try out himself? And without even telling me.

[Ahem, don’t you think you should just ask him?]

I knew that asking him directly would be a bad idea while the cameras were still running. With the right background track, it would seem like we were fighting.

I’ll ask him gently before we go to bed tonight, I concluded. Then I began to adjust my strategy, pondering what I now needed to do in a solo survival performance that included an unexpected new variable—Ryu Chungwoo.

***

The interview lasted longer than expected, and thus practice started later because of it.

After returning from his interview, Ryu Chungwoo seemed to catch on to the vibes and took a gentle approach as he began to provide the explanation I needed.

“I was going to tell you, but they told me I’d been accepted out of the blue this morning. I didn’t want to distract you,” he said.

I decided to just let it go and adopted a lighthearted air.

Slapping him on the back, I grinned.

“Hey, it’s cool.”

“…!”

“You’re not the sort of guy to suddenly go for something just because it looks fun. I know you’re going to take this seriously.”

“Yeah… Of course, I will,” he said, nodding and smiling weakly.

Combining this with the interview will give them a heartwarming moment. Of course, I knew that some people wouldn’t like it if I seemed too relaxed because he was my relative.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” I said.

“Haha. All right.”

Good. I wouldn’t have to worry about the cameras anymore after this. After the situation was dealt with, our final team member, who had been studying us with a troubled look on his face, finally opened his mouth. He was the de facto owner of this team performance—the former main vocalist of VTIC.

“Uh… I would like to tell you about the song now. Is that okay?” he said.

“Oh, right. Thank you.”

He seemed to sense that his screen time was at risk and was rattled by it. He quickly curbed this emotion, however, once the cameras turned to him.

Hmm. So he isn’t stupid. Instead of asking for our opinion regarding what song to choose, he started by telling us that he’d already selected it.

He wants control. This guy was two years younger than us. In a team battle, it was usual for team members to drop the formal tone with each other in an effort to relax, but he was clearly calling for a more formal tone.

He’s moderately smart and very proud. There was only one type of performance that someone like him would aim for.

“This team is made up of people who are aiming for the vocalist position, so I focused on the vocal side of things,” he said.

“Oh, right.”

Just as I thought. He’s not confident when it comes to dancing. Even though he was in his third year as a trainee, his dance stat was C+ at best—my level when I had been on Idol Inc. If he wanted to ensure that he only showcased his strengths, it was only right that he would choose a stage which focused solely on singing.

His singing stat is A-. He seemed to believe that my singing skills were similar to his.

So he’s likely to believe that the deciding factor will be the song choice.

Fine. Do as you wish. This wouldn’t work out so bad, since Chungwoo’s dance stat was similar to his.

Chungwoo won’t be forced to fall behind because of dancing. I brought up Ryu Chungwoo’s status window.

[Name: Ryu Chungwoo]

Singing: B (S-)

Dancing: C+ (A)

Physical attractiveness: A- (A+)

Charm: B (A)

Trait: Full Draw (B)

His stats weren’t bad. In fact, if I was being honest, it was shocking that a mere college student had stats this good.

If I was someone working for the agency, I would do whatever I could to get him to sign a contract. The thing was, I knew what stats Ryu Chungwoo had achieved as a member of TeSTAR, the idol group at the top of their game with five years under our belts.

Time to compare.

[Name: Ryu Chungwoo:]

Singing: A (S-)

Dancing: B+ (A)

Physical attractiveness: A- (A+)

Charm: A- (A)

Trait: Full Draw (S)

He was the perfect vocal-based all-rounder. He would do perfectly fine as a main vocalist in any other group, while his dancing and charm were good enough for him to be the center of the group in both categories.

The Ryu Chungwoo here, however, was a raw resource that hadn’t been refined yet—he didn’t even have the basics down. With the exception of his physical attractiveness, his stats had all dropped by one or two levels.

And there is something wrong with his trait. I thought about the trait that the real Ryu Chungwoo had possessed.

[Full Draw (S)]

When you pull the drawstring, the arrow will aim exactly where it should.

: +150% to composure on stage

It was a corrective trait that allowed him to be natural on stage and express himself precisely how he wanted to. It meant he always came off as professional. His trait had been at an incredible S ever since he appeared on Idol Inc.

Why does this version of him only have a B in the trait? I had always believed that he’d gotten the trait when he was an archer. I had no more time to think about this, however. The cameras were rolling.

The nightclub guy, who had been staring at the lyrics, suggested in a careful tone, “As for the parts… we need to follow the rules.”

“Yes.”

I have to deal with this bastard first.

I repressed a smile and said, “The rules are important.”

He was trying to get me to say it because he didn’t want to seem selfish by saying it himself.

I considered what the president had said.

“The high-tier team member is going to lead the performance. The rest of you can think of yourselves as features in the song.”

“Rules are there to be kept,” I said. “Taejun, you take half of the song as the main vocalist, since it’s your performance. We are simply the people challenging you.”

“W-well, that wouldn’t be fair. Though that’s how the rules work, so…”

Yes, keep emphasizing how humble you are. I get what you’re trying to do here, but it’s only going to backfire on you. If you have other people speak for you, they will control the narrative. He had forged ahead in choosing a song that best suited himself, but he was tripping up now.

You should have done it the opposite way. Though I’m not complaining, of course.

“I think it would be best if you took most of the song, since you’re responsible for the entire performance,” I said.

“Right… Uh, thank you.”

I assigned him the climax of every part except the bridge, and he accepted willingly.

[Oh no. Didn’t you just give him too much— Oh, you didn’t! I see it now!]

I’d managed to secure exactly what I wanted. I smiled to myself as Big Moon read my thoughts and marveled. I took the remaining parts and waved the page at Chungwoo.

“Is there any part that you want?” I asked.

“Oh, I would like to try this,” he said. He hadn’t interrupted the conversation between me and the nightclub guy, simply nodding here and there. But when I asked him, he didn’t try to back away.

He is willing when I need him to be. I listened to what he had to say and immediately called over the nightclub guy.

“We thought we would split the remaining parts between us. Do you mind?” I asked.

“What? Of course not,” he said immediately, but I could tell he wasn’t interested. It didn’t matter how we divided up the remaining parts. He had the advantage.

He’s not very interested in working with others and increasing the overall quality of the performance. He was the sort of person who didn’t care about anything other than looking good in other people’s eyes and not losing out himself. I could see how Cheongryeo had managed to control him for so many years.

“All right, thank you.”

I continued to flatter the guy an appropriate amount as we practiced, all while being careful not to speak with Ryu Chungwoo unaccompanied.

I can’t leave room for anyone to accuse us of trying to conspire against or exclude him. In other words, I was taking great care to make sure I looked like I was being considerate of him. Chungwoo followed my lead throughout the practice without any complaint, but that was the extent of what he did.

[Huh? But he’s good.]

Yes, he is. But he was a non-trainee, and because somebody else had control of the team, he wasn’t making much of an impact.

Hmm. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want more say in what happened, now that Chungwoo was on the team. But right now, unless I could somehow randomly select him as a companion and awaken him, there was nothing that I could realistically do. There was too little time.

Besides, I have no idea what he’s thinking right now. It can’t be helped. I would try to ensure that Chungwoo could treat this as an intriguing experience and just focus on avoiding criticism before he left the show.

[Oh…]

I manipulated the nightclub guy to ensure that he made corrections to the performance himself, slowly working according to my strategy.

Three days passed in this way.

Time flew, as it always did when one did nothing but practice in a secluded room like this. As for Chungwoo, surprisingly, his skill was improving at an inhuman rate.

[Chungwoo’s dancing stat is at B- now…]

How does that make any sense? If I didn’t know him personally, I would have my doubts about whether he really hadn’t had any training in the past.

[Wait… That’s what people said about you on Idol Inc.]

That was thanks to the status window. But Ryu Chungwoo didn’t enjoy such advantages.

But even so… I don’t think it will be enough for him to take the show by storm and debut. He had been brought on quite late into the show, and in order to achieve that, he needed to be incredibly good.

I wasn’t sure that he would get anywhere considering that all he had to his name was moderate fame, thanks to his Olympic gold medal and his cousin’s presence on the same show. He wasn’t awakened, and he had no traumatic backstory to propel him over the finish line, either.

[T_T]

Can’t be helped, I guess. I pressed my lips together and continued walking. I was taking a walk in the corridor in the early hours of the morning in order to organize my thoughts. It reminded me of the days I’d worked nonstop, relying on the Sleep is for the Dead trait.

[Oh, look!]

Huh? I noticed a practice room that was still lit. I had been in that room until only a moment ago.

Wait, don’t tell me… I gripped the handle and slid the door open.

“…!”

I was immediately met with my teammate’s face. Ryu Chungwoo was covered in sweat.

“Aren’t you going to get some sleep?” I asked.

“Oh. I thought I would do a little more,” he said.

Even the remote cameras were no longer running, since they would have run out of battery. It was three in the morning, and he was still in the practice room.

“What about you, Gunwoo?”

“I had some thinking to do,” I replied.

The nightclub guy, on the other hand, had vanished as soon as the cameras turned off. He wasn’t at the dorm, so I supposed he must be up to something with the other trainees.

Is this why his skill increased so quickly? Has he been practicing like this every night, burning through every last drop of his stamina?

“Have you been doing this for a while?” I asked.

“Hmm… Well, I didn’t want to waste this opportunity.”

“You need to take care of yourself, too. You don’t want to end up messing up the performance because you’re exhausted, do you?”

“Yeah, right,” Chungwoo said quietly, lying down on the floor of the practice room. Despite saying this, I could only assume that he had no interest in going back to the dorm.

Come on. I closed the door behind him for now. He had been staring at the ceiling, but he suddenly spoke again.

“Sorry, Gunwoo. I never had any intention of getting in the way of your performance.

The writer suggested that I choose Vocalist B. I should have given the matter a little more thought before acting on it. This is a TV show, after all.”

Then I realized something.

His tone has changed. He had been ensuring that he was informal with me at all times, not wanting me to come under fire for speaking formally with someone who was my age.

“I know that. There is no need to apologize,” I said. I quietly sat down beside him and asked, “So what is the real reason that you applied?”

Did the production team offer to pay for your tuition or something?

“Well…” he said slowly. “You seemed different.”

I froze. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you remember how you made that alcohol abstinence diary for the new year?”

The what?

“You didn’t tell me, but the calendar was on the fridge. It was only natural that I figured it out.”

I didn’t see why I would have done such a thing, since this version of me didn’t have much of a reason to quit drinking.

But wait, so this means… Does he suspect me? Chungwoo wasn’t done explaining, and a variety of possibilities were flying through my head.

“But you drank without any hesitation…”

Yes, and?

“You seemed to be having a hard time. That could be the only reason. And yet you kept going, which suggested that you were having fun.”

“…!”

I considered our conversations. He’d asked me about being a trainee.

“How is it?”

“It’s fun. It’s one of the most fulfilling things I have done.”

Is that how you saw it?

“And you seem to have changed a lot this year after you challenged yourself to do something new…” He hesitated for a moment. “And you felt sort of different. I envied you a little as well.”

What?

He said in a low voice, “To tell you the truth… I don’t really know why I quit archery.”

I stared at him.

“It used to be my entire life. All of a sudden, I felt as though it didn’t matter even if I couldn’t do it anymore. Or something like that.”

I was able to immediately deduce something from this. The original version of Ryu Chungwoo had been forced to quit archery against his will because of an injury. He’d be so frustrated by it that he’d broken his bow in frustration.

The injury never happened, and instead… There is a gap. The easiest reason the system could cook up had been used to explain the sudden end to his career.

“I just felt like I didn’t need to do it anymore.”

I had believed he was having a good time at college. Apparently there was a lot that I’d missed.

Phew.

Having leapt impulsively into an industry his cousin was trying on for size, he now spoke in a firm tone, “It’s been so long since I stayed up doing anything at night. I’m lacking right now, but I can feel myself improving, and it feels amazing. That’s also something I haven’t felt in a while. It’s probably why you like it as well. I get it now.” He laughed briefly.

I was unable to speak for a moment, then said, “Do you want to win?”

“Huh?”

Do you want to stay on the show?

Chungwoo looked a little taken aback, but he eventually burst out laughing. “Of course! Gunwoo, nobody wants to lose.” He added in quite the firm tone, “The same is true of me.”

I stood up. I’d intended to give Chungwoo an isolated position so that the audience would be unable to compare him to anyone, while I focused on taking out the nightclub guy at the right moment, but I’d changed my mind.

“All right.”

My plans would have to change.

The next day, before going to the trainer, I held out the lyrics to the nightclub guy. Some new marks had been made to the pages.

“If this is how we are going to do things, I would like to suggest a few changes so the performance feels more complete,” I said.

“Huh?” he glanced at the pages carelessly, but the moment he saw what I’d written, he focused.

I saw greed flash across his face.

There we go.

“If we do it like this… I think it would really emphasize that this is Choi Taejun’s stage. And it suits the theme of the performance. What do you think?” I asked.

“Oh.”

He knew that he needed to refuse a few times in order to protect his reputation. But I was simply making a suggestion, not demanding anything. The moment he refused, it was likely that I would simply give up without a second attempt. That was too much of a risk for him.

“Hmm. Right. For the sake of completeness.”

Good. He took the bait.

[Oh gosh! Does this mean that Chungwoo can beat him?]

This was not the case. I did the calculations with a cool-head. Given the way that this survival show worked, I would only be able to tell once the finalized episode aired.

[T_T I don’t want to give up hope…]

You do as you please. I had decided, on the other hand, not to be too complacent about the situation.

In the worst-case scenario, at least we won’t be criticized. What I had failed to realize at the time was that a premise which had been present in Idol Inc. was also being applied here. It was that Chungwoo had never once taken a loss on a survival show.

In the dress rehearsal on the day before the main performance, the president announced, “Someone is going to be disqualified among those who are not selected to participate in the final performance. And it might not be just a single person per team.”

The contestants exchanged nervous glances. He was saying that he was going to start properly reducing the headcount. I assumed that this was intended to warn us that no team would pass in its entirety and to wreak havoc on morale as we prepared.

Then he said, “And I won’t be judging this time.”

Wait, what?

“The public is the most objective judge. It is the viewers’ votes that will determine the results.”

I balled my fists for a moment.

We win.