Chapter 397

Chapter 397

Practice was in full swing on the Wise set. The trainees appeared grim and completely focused on the finals, but there were many quiet conversations taking place. Who among the lower ranked contestants would survive?

“Who are you going to pick?”

“Depends.”

The vote was supposed to be anonymous, but the contestants were asked subtle questions in the interviews.

“Have you decided on who to vote for?”

A contestant from the low-tier team’s response was non-committal by saying “I am thinking hard about it” but believed that his decision was almost made already.

I have to vote for two people. There is nothing to worry about in this scenario. It would have been difficult if he’d been asked to choose one person to disqualify and one person to stay on, for instance. He would instead get to vote for the best choice, and the second best as well. There was nothing difficult about that.

I will just exclude the people I don’t want to vote for. There was one person who’d already straight up lost his vote.

“What did you say to me, you f*cker?”

Ugh. I don’t want to work with someone who loses his temper in the middle of a meal and tries to beat the hell out of someone.

The contestant was completely unaware that Shin Jaehyeon, who knew that there would be an incident involving assault three years from now, had created a situation wherein the problematic person would act this way. He’d also arranged for rumors of his bad attitude to spread. The contestant nodded to himself decisively.

That naturally meant the ill-tempered contestant was excluded, which left only three. It was even easier to exclude one more person. It was the person he didn’t really know that well—he wasn’t very close to him, and he didn’t have any experience as a trainee. He was also from the supplementary team and had only recently been brought onto the show.

Ryu Chungwoo. I’m sure he’ll manage just fine even without this show. A former national athlete was paid annuities by the government. He felt no sense of friendship toward him.

That leaves the remaining two. The existing trainees had already made up their minds to choose safe people they had practiced with and felt uncomfortable voting for. The four contestants in danger of elimination could also vote, and because of existing friendships, alliances had already been established.

I suppose that’s how it’s going to go. Decision made, he began to laze about once more, enjoying the short and precious free time he had on his hands. The practice room door opened, and he heard somebody speak.

“…is why I am not sure who to vote for.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

He heard the familiar voices of some of the other contestants.

Huh? He was lying behind the audio equipment in the room and resting, meaning they couldn’t see him. Ryu Gunwoo and Jung Woodan continued to converse.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Ryu Gunwoo said.

“Well… Are you going to vote for Ryu Chungwoo?”

“For now. What about you?”

They were conversing without any hesitation, apparently unaware that another person was in the room. The contestant from the low-tier team found himself listening in quietly.

“I was thinking about voting for Dahwan.”

“Oh.”

Kim Dahwan was one of the two people that he’d been meaning to vote for. Since this was a topic he had been thinking about himself, he strained to listen with bated breath.

“I like that. It does feel to me, though, that the dancer position is a little over-saturated.”

Ryu Gunwoo paused for a moment, but seemed to reassure himself that there were no cameras around. He said without holding back, “But it doesn’t matter to us, though, since we’re vocalists.”

The dancer position?

“Yes. It would be good if the more skilled guys got through and upped the over all quality of the group,” Woodan said.

“Yes. We don’t need to worry about that sort of thing though. The president will handle it for us.”

Ah. The two chatted for a little longer, resolving to stick by their decisions before leaving the practice room, which still looked empty to their eyes.

“It looks like the others aren’t here yet.”

“It’s a bit too early,” Woodan said. “Why don’t we step out for a bit and—”

The door shut. The contestant felt slightly disoriented, however.

What did he say? That the dancer position is over-saturated?

“He’s right…”

What he’d said was true. There were only four among the remaining contestants who were vocalists, including the two that had just left the room. There was only one rapper left—the guy from the supplementary team who always wore a fierce look on his face—but there were a total of seven dancers. At the top of those dancers were Shin Jaehyeon, who was basically a monster, and Cha Eugene from the supplementary team, who had come out of nowhere.

There is no space… There were almost twice as many dancers as there were vocalists. The contestant swallowed nervously—he himself was a dancer. Something else that had been mentioned bothered him as well.

“We don’t need to worry about that sort of thing though. The president will handle it for us.”

The president would be the one who chose the final group, not the viewers. Given the president’s personality, he would certainly think about positional balance. That made his situation very precarious. The contestant bit his lip, a sudden sense of danger looming over him.

When given the freedom of choice, people were bound to justify making choices that benefited them personally. This was especially true if a massive lure like the prospect of debuting was hanging over them. He quickly came to a conclusion.

It’s only right to get rid of competitors. I’m not stupid. The dancer at risk of being disqualified has to go. He hesitated for a moment, then came to a decision. Quietly leaving the practice room, he raced down the corridor.

Ryu Gunwoo and Jung Woodan, who had been sitting in the vocal practice room opposite, watched him go.

“He really came out,” Woodan said.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that worked?”

“Yes,” Ryu Gunwoo said with a grin.

There was one thing he was sure of—his position. His popularity and recognition with the public were among the best. He also had top-tier skills and the favor of the president.

The other contestants would find it difficult to ignore my opinion. He was using the power of rank and authority, rather than friendship. It required a different approach than if he’d had a personal friendship with the others, since directly attempting to persuade any of them could have an adverse effect. That was why he’d chosen an indirect approach instead.

People will be more accepting if they think they arrived at a conclusion themselves after analyzing what they’d heard. Oversaturation of a single position could work out depending on the group, but now they would no longer be able to think this way.

Gunwoo had no intention of explaining all this, so he simply said, “I would be willing to bet that the mood will have changed by tomorrow.”

“I am not one for uncertain gambles, but I’ll respect your opinion since you’re a key player.”

Gunwoo kept quiet on that. After marveling for a short while, Judan put a hand to his chin. “How many more times do we have to do this?”

“Just once more, but a little differently this time,” Gunwoo said.

“Will it be enough?”

“People will talk. The remaining trainees are all in a similar position, and they will try to group up. You saw him running out, didn’t you?”

Now that TeSTAR and VTIC had taken up all the vocalist roles, the other contestants were slated for the position of dancer. They were basically in the same boat, which meant they would share this strategy among themselves. Their votes had to be strategic, and because of the similarities they shared, their needs were bound to coincide.

That means no matter how they choose to vote, as long as Chungwoo manages to get at least one third, he will safely qualify. There were six people from VTIC and TeSTAR who had their memories back. That was half of the contestants, so it would be enough.

Gunwoo shrugged, and Judan agreed with him in a serious tone. “You must do a lot of thinking about human psychology. I do that sometimes, too. It’s an interesting habit.”

Gunwoo did not bother to respond, deciding that he would just focus on quietly explaining their next target.

In the meantime, in the corridor they were now no longer watching closely, something was happening that not even Gunwoo had predicted.

“Whoa.”

It happened in three stages. First, the contestant racing down the hallway tripped and fell.

“Ow!”

Second, he felt a sharp pain in his ankle.

“Are you all right?”

Third, Ryu Chungwoo, who had been returning from filming an interview, witnessed the fall and reacted immediately.

“One moment. Don’t move.” Chungwoo reacted the way he had been taught to do. “Is this where it hurts?” He isolated the pain. “Your muscles seem a little strained, but don’t worry. You aren’t injured.”

He gave advice based on his own experiences, then went and fetched a spray for pain-relief from a nearby lounge and handed it to the contestant.

“Use that.”

“Oh, yes… Thank you.”

He then left without saying anything more—it was a lighthearted gesture that could easily be written off as nothing more than a casual incident. It was the sort of thing that Chungwoo was wont to do. The situation, however, was slightly special.

“Hmm…” said the contestant, after spraying the medication on his ankle and thinking.

Chungwoo was calm, generous, and quick to react. It was obvious his time as a national athlete had made him so.

He would be a reliable member to have on the team. And he was a vocalist as well, which meant there was no competition. He realized that if he wasn’t going to vote for Kim Dahwan, who was a dancer, the remaining candidates were Chungwoo and the idiot with anger management issues. It was at this point that his common sense kicked in.

I would rather choose someone who is a team player than that asshole. The contestant made up his mind to slightly change what he’d been about to say to the others about the voting. He walked slowly down the corridor, back to his dorm.

A few days later, the long-awaited final episode aired.

- Yes, finally

- I want to see this, but then again maybe I don’t… T_T Do you think it will work out for everyone?

- I was told this was going to be extremely fun. Is it true?

The viewers, unable to hold back their curiosity, were ready and waiting as the episode began to air. The president started off by announcing who had survived from the low ranked contestants, which depended on the number of votes they’d gotten.

[“Here we have a contestant who got a total of eleven votes and will be staying on for the final performance.”]

- Wow, eleven?

- It must be one of the existing trainees, then

- Dahwan?

Guesses were thrown around. A voting screen appeared, and the name of the contestant in question was shown.

[“Ryu Chungwoo.”]

Chungwoo was the first to qualify, having taken eleven out of twelve votes. It was basically a clean sweep except for one vote, which had been withheld by one of the other contestants at risk of disqualification.

-??

- Ryu Chungwoo got ten votes?

- Is that even possible?

The viewers were confused, but accepted the result when they saw the contestants clapping with smiles on their faces, no saw to be seen.

- Ryu Chungwoo must have an amazing personality

- Yeah, I guess he made lots of friends already

- Wait, maybe the trainees aren’t that close at their agency? LOL

Moondae was actually a bit taken aback.

What? He hadn’t thought that Chungwoo would get this many votes.

I was expecting eight or nine votes. Then he realized something. He’s not the sort to make empty claims.

“I’ll earn my own votes.”

Chungwoo had been confident in his ability to win people over. This confidence was obviously well-founded, since he would have gotten second place easily, even without Moondae’s help.

He’s pretty smart. He’d often taken the role of leader during Idol Inc., too.

No doubt he’s doing the same now. Park Moondae gladly accepted that he’d made an error in judgment.

Chungwoo blushed slightly, but delivered a short, but sincere speech before returning to his spot.

[“I appreciate the vote of confidence from my companions. I will do my best to make sure that this vote is well-deserved in our final performance.”]

TeSTAR’s Park Moondae, in the body of Ryu Gunwoo, clapped for his leader enthusiastically.

Another of the trainees was named, a vocalist, and the two people who would be disqualified were decided. There was no great outcry from the audience, since they had been in the lower ranks in votes, even though the outcome saw them being booted off the show.

- Oh, man T_T

- Let them perform, at least. That’s cruel

- They’re still young. I hope they let you debut somewhere else!

There was a short break to allow the viewers to mourn.

[Yes I am!]

The final performance began. The four lower ranking members had practiced the same parts, which meant the performance was able to go ahead smoothly with only ten contestants. The viewers’ emotional responses were exactly what one might expect given that this was the final episode of a survival show.

- T_T

- Please let all of them debut

- President Taein, it’s not too late. Please, leader of the K-pop industry, be merciful!

- Taein, Please make a reasonable decision, I beg of you

The fans pleaded, pointing out that ten people wasn’t too many—there were groups nowadays that had more than eleven members. To them, none of the hopefuls deserved to be disqualified. But Kim Taein sat in the judge’s seat, his face completely unreadable.

The viewers cursed, expressed their resentment, and threw around jokes. The camera abruptly zoomed on someone in the live audience. A face appeared that was familiar despite the face mask covering it.

-??

- Hey wait

- Was that who I think it is

- Lee Sejin?

A handsome man could be seen in the front row of the standing section—notably, not in the audience seats reserved for staff.

- OMG

- What is Lee Sejin doing here?

- My god, it is him

- Is Lee Sejin LeTi??

└ Don’t be absurd, LOL

It was Bae Sejin, the actor, who had yet to change his name in this world. He generally made very few appearances, focusing solely on filming movies. And yet here he was, suddenly watching the live final episode of a male idol survival show in person.

Naturally, the reaction to this was effusive and exciting. The cameramen and the director were made aware of Lee Sejin, and from that point, he began to appear often on the screen.

[“Who can be a STAR?”]

He was shown for a couple of seconds here and there, and the comments chatted about Lee Sejin in addition to saying encouraging things about the trainees. His reactions were very obvious.

[“The talent sliding across the stage—it’s mine!”]

Whenever somebody appeared on the screen, his eyes would widen, or he would swallow visibly.

- He is here for Ryu Gunwoo

- Yeah

- He seems to like Cha Eugene, too

- So he’s into skill. Me too

- I would argue that he’s into handsome faces. LOL

The viewers who had initially been annoyed by an audience member constantly appearing on screen grew amused by the mysterious actor.

- It is so obvious who he is here to cheer for

- LOL I thought he was supposed to be an actor?

- So that’s the reason he is so good at playing psychopaths. When he is immersed in something, he pays little attention to much else

└ LMAO

The few moments of amusement this gave them soon wore thin, but posts about Lee Sejin appeared in real time on social media, drawing quite a lot of interest.

- Is this the survival show that Lee Sejin watches?

- So who do I root for? Please tell me quickly

- What’s the fun in a survival show without any text votes?

His presence drew more people to watch the final episode. Two performances were already over, and they were now gearing up for the climax. There were two things that were necessary for every climax— sympathy and tears. This genre of television already had an established formula for easily inducing both of these things.

[Surprise letters arrive for the trainees]

A warm, middle-aged voice played from the screen above the stage.

[??: Yunshin, how are you?]

The contestants family’s had appeared.

Bae Sejin nearly bit through his lip as he watched.

Don’t tell me… It seemed that only some of the parents had been contacted—short video calls and affectionate recordings played out.

No. Bae Sejin did not know much about Park Moondae’s real family history as Ryu Gunwoo, but the way he’d reacted whenever his parents were mentioned told him all he needed to know. Gunwoo’s situation wasn’t so different from Park Moondae’s.

I wonder what it’s like here? Bae Sejin began to sweat. The topic hadn’t come up in conversation. He alternated glances between the screen and Gunwoo, who was standing on stage. He realized that Gunwoo was standing frozen without any expression on his face.

[“Hey, Gunwoo. How are you doing?”]

The screen went black. Gunwoo’s name had come up.

[“The people on the show emailed us, so we gave them a call.”]

[A letter from an outpost in the Antarctic]

The comments went wild.

- Wow. Ryu Gunwoo’s parents are both researchers?

- The Antarctic? That is so cool

- No wonder he’s so smart. His parents are super smart, too T_T

- I envy him

Gunwoo had his head down. He might have looked moved to hear his parent’s voices to anyone else, but Bae Sejin had known the guy for years, and he sensed something else was behind the gesture.

He is trying to hold something back. Bae Sejin balled his hands into fists.