The One Who Reaches for the Sun (5)

"Alright, we'll take a quick break. Contestants can move around — bathroom, water, whatever you need. No smoking! We'll be back to recording shortly!"

At the PD's voice calling the break, the trainees who'd been sitting bolt upright and tense unclenched in their own ways, each letting out some half-dead sound.

'Only reason it's this manageable is Seo Taeil hasn't blown a take yet. For guys doing this for the first time, it's brutal.'

Even in a college lecture — ten minutes in and my eyes were closing, games were calling. However much of my future was riding on this shoot, sitting there listening to a host ramble on solo was harder than you'd think.

Mountains are mountains, water is water, and everything you're saying is bullshit — check out with a mantra like that and time might just breeze by. But on a set where every last one of my reactions was being recorded, even that wasn't easy.

'One tight expression or slouchy posture and that's a whole separate problem.'

Back when I'd been the one behind the camera, I'd fumed over the zoning-out bastards who showed up to make money and wouldn't do the work — turns out from this side, it's not so easy either. Doing a lot of reflecting today, huh.

The (Fixed) Regressor has reached a life realization. 777 cash credited as a bonus! (Item: Admirable)

Seriously, for that?

'What are you, my mom?'

The fanfare rolling out of the System window made this feel less "admirable" and more "good boy, here's your treat." Kind of pissed me off. Skipping.

Face gone flat, I was about to keep stretching when Kim Wonho — apparently back from the bathroom, half spaced-out — came trudging over.

"Kangha-hyung…. What do I do."

"About what."

"How am I supposed to beat Lee Yugeon…."

Ah — the battle.

"Right. There was that."

The moment I dragged the half-forgotten topic back into focus, Kim Wonho's eyes went wide with disbelief all over again. Kid, get some years on you and go through four regressions — you'd be forgetting stuff too.

The System is enraged — 'A guy who's only twenty-nine, spouting nonsense.' 666 cash deducted as penalty. (Reason: Insolence)

'Yeah, give and take, having a real good time up there.'

Leaving the System to its fun — thrilled to be back after a while, pinging out alerts left and right — I patted Kim Wonho's back as he sat down beside me again, face full of worry.

"What's there to worry about. You picked him."

"You backing out now? After shoving me into it?"

"There wasn't really any other option besides him anyway."

I glanced over at Lee Yugeon, sitting silently across the way with earbuds in, and said as much. Lee Yugeon's stats — which I'd already scanned when we had to pick opponents — popped up small off to one side.

label: Lee Yugeon (Affiliation: Miro) Debuff: All traits reduced by 20% from their existing achievement rates Position: Dance Vocals: 37% (−20) Dance: 33% (−20) Expression: 45% (−20) Special: Copy & Paste (64%) (−20) Appeal points: 'I still have twelve ships.{}(#r8p6g5ine003)' — Responsibility, tenacity, high focus

{'Numbers like that? Fine.'}(#r8p6g5ine003)

For a guy whose whole rep was 'go-to center of the special class,' the numbers were ordinary. Sure, if the percentages jumped higher, different story.

'Honestly, hiking numbers that far in a short window isn't easy.'

Lee Doha had gotten a huge boost from the last boot camp, but he'd at least had three weeks — no way survival-show logistics let anyone prep the first mission that long. Seeing my unbothered face, Kim Wonho seemed to privately buy it too — simple guy — and his face loosened a little as he cocked his head and eased back into his chair.

Once Kim Wonho quieted down, I spotted the AD strolling around with a slate in the distance. Shoot picking up again soon. I was fixing my clothes (checking whether the tape covering brand logos had come loose) when another shadow suddenly fell over me.

"…What, is my seat a hot spot? A tollgate? Why do you all keep coming over one at a time."

"……"

The two blocking my view — Ju Eunchan and Seo Taehyun — stared at me, sulking. What's up with these two now.

'Teens really are a pain, damn it.'

"Hyung."

"What. Where'd you dump Dan Haru."

"He's getting his mic batteries swapped. Anyway — hyung."

Seo Taehyun and Ju Eunchan, eyes both blazing, hit me at the same instant—

"Beat Han Seongwoo no matter what."

"Don't get tangled up with Han Seongwoo-hyung."

Two exactly opposite takes.

"……? Could you two align your positions and come back?"

"Alright, we're heading back into recording — everyone in your seats!"

Right on cue, the AD picked up the slate and got the contestants on standby. Seo Taehyun and Ju Eunchan both stared at me with faces full of things they still wanted to say, and at the crew's rushing voice they turned back to their seats with resentful, resigned steps.

"…Ah!"

Wondering what their problem was as I watched the two of them go, I got thwacked in the leg by someone brushing past. Is my seat cursed today? I looked back on reflex—

"Ah, sorry. Didn't see you."

"…You should get glasses, hyung. Sounds like some serious nearsightedness."

The problem man from moments ago — Han Seongwoo — brushed past me fast, wearing a face plainly smug at a glance. The cameras better have caught this.

"Slate!"

Snap! With that crisp sound, recording started again. Everyone kept their own awkward business quiet — we all pasted our pretty smiles back on, clapped, and refocused on the shoot.

---

"You who would touch the sun — fly high. Your journey to become Miro's Icarus! Unveiling Miro Maze's first mission."

At Seo Taeil's cue, the video on the LED started up again — letters rose across worn, elegant stationery like ink seeping into paper.

〜〚Daylight 日光〛〜

And then a lyrical acoustic guitar filled the set. At the same time, the LED played a choreo video of nine dancers moving in formation to the song. Neither Seo Taeil nor anyone else explained what this song was, but everyone gathered here caught it right away.

The title track of this program.

'What is this quality doing here.'

The song, which opened on a guitar line, laid soft pads over it and built. A rolling timpani cued the orchestra in, and the sound burst out crisp and bright. The dancers on-screen worked through the range of formations, structures, and paired choreography that a nine-member setup really lets you exploit.

Then every sound dropped out, and the remaining eight froze in eight different poses around a single figure at center.

Hi. It's me.

"Whoa~."

"Holy shit, insane."

The first line came in on a coy, silvery voice that raised the hair on your neck. Anyone could see it — 'this right here is the killing part,' fed to you on a spoon. I looked over at Seo Taeil, who'd almost certainly written this song.

'What kind of face are they making at a guide vocal, seriously…'

Watching like a parent at their kid's talent show. Wondering what was up with that — turns out the guide vocal we were hearing was the voice of Upia's main vocalist. That fourth member of the group Taeil openly called his muse — the one he doted on to death.

'The old man's got it bad for that kid, huh.'

Another sun will rise, shining down on you and me

Let's take each other's hands so we don't lose the way

I'll walk with you so the night doesn't come

Never fallin' down (down down)

At the end of this labyrinth of a world

Never Going back (back back)

Only our story — yours and mine — will remain

The chorus burst out like it was built to test a main vocalist's full range. A melody that fit perfectly with a spring-breeze-in-May feeling. Every part of it had the unmistakable sense of a song built by someone who loved it, and expensively.

Now the song came back around to the guitar line from the very beginning. As the dancers walking slowly along their tracks came to a stop—

Hi. It's me.

Finally, glad to meet you.

"……"

With the last line, the video ended. A brief silence held.

Seo Taeil looked around at us with a smile like this reaction was familiar to him. And then—,

"Whoaaa!"

Gasps of awe broke out along with applause. I couldn't hold back my own admiration either — I clapped, respect welling straight up from the heart. This — this was definitely a masterpiece. And the guy writing songs like this had a composition stat of only 60%?

'Geniuses. What can you do.'

I felt a small stab of envy for someone with a talent I could probably die and never reach. Then I glanced over at the other genius sitting placidly next to me.

"Hey."

"……?"

"You can write a song like that too."

"……what?"

At my out-of-nowhere line, Lee Doha seemed to sit with something for a beat, then nodded.

"I'll work on it."

Not saying he couldn't. A perfectly Lee Doha answer.

"The song you just heard, as you probably guessed, is your lovely first title track — written by yours truly. How was it? Did you like it?"

"Yesss—!"

"Ha ha, glad to hear it. Alright — let me introduce your first mission."

Up on the central screen, the eighteen trainees' names rose into view. At the same time, on the display panels on either wing, empty slots labeled Team A and Team B appeared.

"As you just saw, you'll be split into two teams of nine, and you'll practice the title track."

"……"

"The time you have to master the title track is only — three days."

Sharp gasps — "Huh?!" — broke out from every direction. Seo Taeil pressed on unfazed.

"Three days from now, you'll be performing this title-track stage in front of me and the other mentors. Scoring is split between team scores and individual scores separately."

"……"

"All the trainees on the winning team — A or B — get benefit points. On top of that, the top three individual scorers on the winning team, plus the overall number-one individual scorer, automatically lock in Wings class. So you'll want to win, right?"

"Yes!"

"But losing the team battle doesn't mean it's over either. The top three individual scorers on the losing team receive that 'Challenge Right' I mentioned earlier. And depending on how those Challenge battles go, the final Wings class for the next mission gets locked in."

'No shot in hell I'm placing overall number one in this pack of geniuses.'

Which meant, win or lose, I had to be in my team's top three.

'Teammate luck's going to matter here too.'

"Trainee Kim Wonho and trainee Kang Hajin, who've already locked in their Challenge battles, will have their outcomes decided by this mission's individual scores. The winner earns benefit points regardless of the team result."

Even if my team lost and I didn't crack the top three, as long as I scored higher than Han Seongwoo, I got automatic benefits? Sweet deal. My eyes met Han Seongwoo's — still looking at me like he'd bitten into something bad.

"Please give it everything you've got preparing for the mission."

And looking at Han Seongwoo, I gave him the biggest smile I could manage.

'Hi there, my bonus mob! Great to be squaring off, buddy!' — hoped the message landed.