Chapter 57

Guessing the second mission wasn't hard.

'It's a survival-show staple, isn't it?'

〜〚TO THE TOP〛〜

"Your second mission is a cover-song mission."

Covering jaw-dropping hits by the giants who came before us.

"Right now, the K-pop scene is packed with stars shining bright. Through this mission, you'll be reinterpreting your senior artists' songs in your own style."

"You can play the original charm up to a hundred percent, or you can flip it completely into your own thing — both are fair game. The important part, though, is how much you can shine within it."

True to his pro reputation, Seo Taeil rattled off that long stretch of lines without a single NG. Moments like this, staying too quiet isn't ideal either. You've at least got to fake some surprise, or you're leaving cuts on the table.

'Though I'm pretty sure I can already guess what songs are coming.'

Copyright is trickier and more expensive than people think, so when you make a show like this, you almost always pick songs where the copyright issues are minimal. And when an outside production company's involved, they're not printing money either, so they'll want to trim licensing fees wherever they can.

Which means the go-to solution for an agency-run survival is—

'—use songs by the agency's own seniors.'

Especially with a hit-making idol lineup like Miro's on hand — this is basically the play.

Production company loves it, no licensing fees.

Broadcaster loves it, no gambling on a risky song.

Senior artists get slotted in for mentor cameos too.

Not just three birds with one stone — more like seventeen. That's the kind of value setup we're talking about.

'The question is which of the many hits they picked….'

"Alright, then. First up — we'll reveal the keywords for the songs you'll be covering!"

At Taeil's cue, the scoreboard spun. A sharp sound effect punched in, and letters stamped themselves across the screen.

〜〚TO THE TOP〛〜

BLUE SCANDLE (7)

Cinderella (6)

SAD ENDING (5)

"There are three mission songs in total, and you'll be choosing them in the order of last mission's rankings."

"Each song has a first-come-first-served headcount cap. Once a song fills up, that team will elect a leader and go into their meeting."

'Three songs, huh.'

I looked at the three keywords on the scoreboard. Jung Siwoo, sitting next to me, leaned over and asked,

"Where are you going?"

"Me? Why, hyung, planning to follow me?"

"Well, wouldn't I be picking before you?"

"…Can't argue with that."

Faced with that thoroughly grounded confidence from Mr. Pure-Blood Wings-Tier Celestial, I just shut my mouth. Reading the room, it seemed like this was reaction-fishing time. Fair enough — a little banter helps the cut land — so, looking at the scoreboard, I answered.

"Well… I'm kind of tempted by BLUE SCANDLE, though."

Had a rough idea of what song it was.

"I like the color blue."

That was definitely Upia's debut song. Title: Paran — surge. Written and composed by Seo Taeil.

And—

—On the racing part, ease up on the pronunciation a bit.

—It has to sound like it rhymes with the next line.

—Yes, Kang Hajin-ssi. Good work.

—it also happened to be my Miro audition song.

'No point challenging myself with something else when I've got a safe pick already vetted by the original artist.'

Headcount was seven anyway — even if the whole Wings crew lost their minds and picked that same song, no problem. This time, for once, I was going to lock in the pick I actually wanted—

"Alright, before team selection, we have a quick announcement."

—was the plan.

"Winners of the previous battle, trainees Han Seongwoo and Lee Yugeon."

"The two of you will be granted the right to designate the song for the trainee you defeated in your respective battles."

'The hell is this bullshit.'

Felt like my eyes were going to pop out.

You'll what? That wasn't mentioned before.

A stunned dry laugh escaped me, and across the way I caught sight of Han Seongwoo. The second I saw that mashed-lip-balm face of his — no trace of surprise, wearing a smug, self-satisfied smile — I knew.

'This is that bastard's work.'

Did I push the taunt too hard last time? I'd hammered him hoping he'd blow a fuse and do something reckless, but I hadn't expected the feedback to come back this fast, this finely tuned.

"Alright, trainee Lee Yugeon. Please choose your own song first, and then trainee Kim Wonho's song."

Since Yugeon's ranking was apparently higher than Seongwoo's, the pick went to him first. Lee Yugeon, who'd been silently sitting to my left the whole time, hesitated a beat and stood up.

'Come to think of it, I haven't managed to exchange a single word with this kid.'

Just never had the occasion. Since we were seated side by side, I took the chance to openly appraise Lee Yugeon's face. Clean-cut eyes, bold, well-defined features. The overall vibe was, as everyone kept saying, a bit like Lee Doha.

Where Lee Doha had the mafia-boss look — the kind of guy who'd wear a three-piece suit with a tie pin and gloves — this one had more of a street edge, like he'd be out at dawn on a skateboard doing graffiti. What people usually call a dinosaur face. Short lower jaw, maybe.

'And yet his dance turned out surprisingly delicate.'

Scratching the back of his head, Yugeon took the handheld mic the AD passed him. Across the way, Kim Wonho's face wore an expression pretty close to mine — as in, what fresh hell is this.

"I'll… go with Blue Scandle."

At Yugeon's pick, his name went up on the scoreboard and the headcount ticked down. And now it was time to pick Kim Wonho's stage—

"Hey, hyung."

"Huh?"

The hell, why is he suddenly calling me.

"Kim Wonho — what would he like, do you think?"

"Huh?"

Lee Yugeon, mic dropped mid-turn, had swung his head toward me — and my eyeballs nearly popped out again. Why the hell are you asking me, dude.

"Well… you asking so you can pick something to avoid?"

"No, so I can pick that one for him."

"……?"

"Quick. Hyung, you're close with him, right?"

Now he was pressuring me for the answer key. I glanced across at Kim Wonho watching us. That desperately scrunched-up face, two fingers held up straight, mouthing a fervent please — pretty ugly, honestly.

"…Uh. Cinderella?"

"I'll go with Cinderella."

The moment I named Cinderella — presumably the recent hit by Enderway, a group one seniority tier above them — Yugeon locked it in without a second thought. Kim Wonho, who'd been praying his heart out, was so startled he let out a strangled uhk and jumped.

Utterly baffled by the situation, I looked at Yugeon, but he just calmly returned the mic and sat back down next to me.

"You—"

"Alright, next. Trainee Han Seongwoo?"

Wanted to ask him more, but this wasn't the moment — I hurried to look forward. Han Seongwoo, looking like a burst fried dumpling with its guts spilling out, stood up.

"I'll… go with Blue Scandle."

'Ah, screwed.'

The way he picked without hesitation, that bastard clearly knew what kind of song Blue Scandle was too. Well, obviously — his backing was the CP.

Anyway, that wasn't the issue. There was no way Han Seongwoo was going to plant me on the same team as him, so Blue Scandle was out. He also knew I was close with Kim Wonho, so odds of him sticking me on the Cinderella team with Wonho were zero.

Which left…

"For Hajin, I'll designate — Sad Ending."

—only the third candidate song, one I couldn't even begin to guess at. Fuck!

---

The one saving grace was that team luck wasn't too bad.

"Dan Haru, come here. There's water on that spot."

"Ah, yes!"

Seo Taehyun was rounding up Dan Haru, who was scampering around the practice room. Sad Ending's headcount was five. Setting aside me — dragged in by Han Seongwoo — and the two Feather-class guys who'd landed here without a pick of their own, Seo Taehyun and Dan Haru were a genuinely unexpected win.

Especially Seo Taehyun.

'I'd been sure he'd go for Cinderella.'

That song was almost certainly Enderway's most recent hit, Mood Night. Enderway had gone full dark-fantasy as their concept, and out of their whole catalog, that was the one song that was (relatively) lovable and (fairly) flashy.

'That's Seo Taehyun's specialty.'

Well, he must have had his own reasons. Either way, for me, it was pure jackpot. Even the Feather-class guys who'd been shoved onto the team were no problem.

"Park Jaeyoung, come over here and sit down."

"Yes."

Park Jaeyoung, the one supposedly on the verge of dropping out, had luckily recovered from his cold and rejoined the show. Apparently he'd earnestly begged his parents — who'd been absolutely dead-set against it — until they gave in.

And on the subject of Park Jaeyoung rejoining, the System — back at last — offered this take:

In fact, Park Jaeyoung leaving the trainee lineup was a fixed future. But for some reason, in this timeline, a process for him rejoining has been added in. Probably the introduction of the 'survival' was the variable. Just missing the first mission was enough to satisfy the fixed event.

The concept was a little hard to wrap my head around, but either way, since I'd been quietly carrying some guilt over the kid, it was good news. And the last member, Jayden — no real trouble last mission either.

"Alright, then. Let's find out what the song actually is."

The five of us clustered in a circle. Holding the cue card the crew had passed over, I prayed sincerely.

'Please. Anything but a hopeless off-the-wall pick with god-tier difficulty.'

You penny-pinching Voluntary-Resignation crew — I do still trust your instincts.

Don't you dare pull out something like disbanded Project W's tacky, brass-heavy full-band rock sound (former Director's handiwork). If you do, honestly, I'm going to deck Han Seongwoo exactly one time and regress right on the spot.

Hey — that habit of threatening regression is a really bad one!

If you're not going to hit Han Seongwoo in my place, shut up.

"Should I open it? I'm opening it? Really opening it?"

"Ah, hold on! Argh! No! I can't look!"

"What do I do! Taehyun-ah, my heart's pounding."

"If yours isn't pounding, hyung, you're dead! Aaah, Haru-ya!"

"H-hyung! I can't — can't breathe!!"

Wringing every last drop of tension out of it is half the fun.

I flipped the cue card with the title on it face-down and hammed it up shamelessly, and Seo Taehyun — well-versed in broadcast ecology — grabbed Dan Haru's head in a hug and played along. With me making that much of a scene, even the Feather-class guys, who'd looked mostly indifferent, started clapping hands over their mouths.

"Drumroll, drumroll, drumroll—"

"One, two…"

"Wow, I'm losing my mind."

"Three!"

What was written on that neat square of paper wasn't, thankfully, as unfamiliar as I'd feared.

〜〚TO THE TOP〛〜

SAD ENDING

〈Sarin — "To You I Declare"〉

Though the pick itself was unexpected.

"Sarin-sunbaenim?"

Sarin. Who is she?

In this crazed K-pop market where everyone lumps together into groups and debuts as idols, Sarin was a female {balladeer}(#po7elobcqlo4) who'd boldly thrown her hat in as a soloist. She was also the flagship artist of Lime Ent — a solo-artist specialist agency that had, at one point, been one of my own audition candidates.

Her strength was piercing, aching breakup songs delivered with an intense, expressive voice, and since every OST she touched turned into a smash, she was currently known as the Queen of OSTs. That Sarin.

And out of all those OST classics, the one considered her signature song was this one — 'To You I Declare.'

So how did an aching, high-drama ballad — not an in-house senior's song, not even an idol song — end up on a Miro survival, out of nowhere?

"Ah, this song… Seo Taeil-sunbaenim wrote it, right?"

That's why.

'Diversity kept, licensing fees saved — god-tier-value.'

"Still, glad it's not one we don't know."

"I love this song! Already know all the lyrics."

Luckily, even though the song was pretty old, everyone seemed to know it well. Which, hey, great news, sure.

"……"

Sitting there with a troubled expression, mouth shut, I caught eyes with Seo Taehyun. This kid — hardly even surprised — had clearly figured out it'd be this song and picked it on purpose.

Well, he's sharp, so no surprise there.

'Setting aside why Seo Taehyun would go for this song….'

I hummed the melodies that started auto-playing in my head and let out a dry, ha, laugh.

'Nothing ever comes easy!'

Voluntary-Resignation, you savage bastards.

God-tier value or not — is dropping an ultra-hard-mode deep ballad into an idol survival really on the menu?