“For Main Vocal 2, I pick Kurosawa Yuri.”
“I liked Suyeon.”
At Hyeryeong’s words, Park Taesu nodded.
In truth, both candidates for Main Vocal 2 had shown solid stages with good skill, so it wouldn’t have been strange no matter who went up on stage.
However—
“The reason I chose Yuri is because of the other members.”
“The other members?”
“When Suyeon did that part in Team B, there was no problem. But what about when she’s on stage together with the other four who’ll go up?”
“Ah···.”
At Park Taesu’s words, Hyeryeong let out a small sigh, like it was finally clicking.
‘When she’s with the others, Suyeon becomes too ambiguous.’
The hexagon.
It was a term usually used when evaluating trainees—those who did multiple areas above average were often called “hexagon trainees.”
At first glance it sounded like praise, and it really was praise—but the hexagon also came with a fatal trap.
“Compared to the other members, Suyeon doesn’t have a single point that really breaks out, does she.” ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
“Yeah.”
That trap was that everything was just middling.
‘Her dancing, her singing, her stage performance—everything’s above average.’
In Park Taesu’s mind, if a hexagon trainee wanted to survive, they had to choose one of two paths.
Either they made one side of that hexagon jut out so far that they gained an overwhelming strength in a single field—or they enlarged the hexagon itself to the maximum.
‘The former is Yoon Jaei, the latter is Seo Ryujin.’
Outside of the one slot for Main Vocal 2, the other four members had already been agreed on by both Hyeryeong and Taesu.
And the most unexpected of those four was, of course, Yoon Jaei.
—She’s clever.
—If you’re an idol trainee, I think that kind of calculated strategy is necessary.
Yoon Jaei’s skill was lukewarm.
She wasn’t especially good at singing, but she wasn’t bad either; her dancing wasn’t outstanding, but it wasn’t awful.
If you really wanted to compare, you could call her a downgraded version of Suyeon and it wouldn’t be wrong.
What mattered was—
‘Even surrounded by the other standout members, Jaei will still be able to show off her own charm.’
At least when it came to Starlight Umbrella, the song the Girlish Pop concept team would be performing this time, Jaei was better than Suyeon.
—Hands together beneath the small umbrella
Back then we really laughed so much
Within the very short part she’d been given as Sub Vocal 2, Jaei had clearly made her presence felt.
Another contestant who’d gotten the same part had tried to leave as strong an impression as possible in their allotted time and ended up feeling over the top, to the point of being uncomfortable.
But Jaei wasn’t excessive.
Even in that short moment, with only delicate shifts in her expression and small hand movements, she carved her presence into both Park Taesu and Hyeryeong’s minds.
“Haa··· Suyeon works so hard, though.”
“I know. Even this time, I could feel how well-prepared she was for the part she’d been assigned.”
It seemed that, in the end, Hyeryeong agreed with him.
But from the way she spoke, there was a lingering regret, an unmistakable pity toward Kim Suyeon.
She’d been watching Kim Suyeon far longer than Taesu had, so it was only natural that she’d be more emotionally invested.
‘From where I’m sitting, someone like Kim Suyeon ultimately has to become a Seo Ryujin.’
But the idol world was cold.
Being diligent and working hard was, of course, good—but it wasn’t enough on its own.
In the end, to survive, you either needed to secure a firm personal weapon like Yoon Jaei had, or become a perfect hexagon like Seo Ryujin.
From what Taesu could see, Suyeon had the potential to become that.
Just not yet. That was why she’d lost out to Kurosawa Yuri this time.
“Even so, I’m really looking forward to this team’s stage.”
“You too, Hyeryeong? Honestly, I’m really looking forward to it as well.”
The Girlish Pop concept team had cut even someone like Suyeon for “lacking individuality,” and that fact alone made their stage all the more exciting.
On top of the already-mentioned Kurosawa Yuri and Yoon Jaei, the remaining two members each had their own powerful weapons, more than fitting for contestants who’d survived this long.
‘I can’t believe a lineup like this is even possible···.’
In fact, picking four members with such strong charms could be dangerous.
If things went wrong, they might not mesh and the stage could turn into a chaotic mess.
But because there was a contestant who could stand at the center and unify those four strong personalities, both Park Taesu and Hyeryeong had been able to agree on this lineup.
Lee Sion.
This combination was only possible because Lee Sion was on the Girlish Pop concept team.
“By the way, what on earth did you do to Lee Sion?”
“I really didn’t do much.”
After choosing the five who would go up on the main stage for the Girlish Pop concept mission, while the staff went to call in the contestants who’d been waiting in another room, Hyeryeong started pressing Taesu with relentless questions.
“I get it when it comes to her vocals changing to fit your style, but the choreography, the outfit, the hair, and then the acting she showed on stage today—what on earth···.”
Taesu truly had no idea what to say to her when she grilled him about how he’d managed to change Sion so much in such a short time.
Of course, he had done his best to direct Sion, but she’d shown up prepared even in areas he’d thought were too much to tackle, so he was just as shocked as Hyeryeong.
‘If she’s going to go this far, I can’t just sit still.’
Taesu found himself thinking he needed to check the schedule of TSP’s makeup team and styling team.
Up to now, he’d worried that mobilizing company staff might be too much of a burden on the other producers—but the moment the image of Sion performing with a completely perfect outfit and makeup flashed through his mind, the idea of giving that up was unthinkable.
***
“Are you a thief or something? How··· how can you copy my expressions exactly like that? Give them back! How can you steal even that from me!”
Mm.
I was pretty taken aback.
My head was already a mess, and now, seeing Jaei clinging to me and whining, it felt like a tangled electric cable had twisted itself into a full pretzel.
“Sion-chan, were you plagiarizing Jaei?”
“Hey! There’s a much nicer word called homage instead of plagiarism, you know!”
“Ah! I know that one! They said if the plagiarist gets caught, you just say it’s an homage!”
“Where are you even learning this stuff?”
“The internet has everything, Sion-chan!”
I was starting to feel like I should file a formal complaint with Japan.
These insane Korean internet communities that had twisted a normal girl’s common sense into nonsense.
I wanted to correct Yuri’s vocabulary on the spot, but there was something more urgent right now.
Namely, Yoon Jaei.
“That was mean! You already have everything, and now you’re going to steal my last remaining acting too?”
After the stage ended, Jaei had stared at me in shock, stammering, and now she was clutching me and venting.
—Uh··· did you just copy my expressions on stage?
—Yep! Yours were definitely the best.
—G··· give them back!
Judging from how she was acting, what I’d said right after the stage had ended had really shaken her up.
Thanks to that, from then until the moment the five who would go up on stage were announced, I’d been busy trying to calm Jaei down as she begged me not to steal her acting.
‘Damn··· I need to look after Suyeon too.’
Right now, I was feeling impatient.
Because, in the announcement of the final lineup for the Girlish Pop concept stage just now—
—You all worked hard preparing for the stage. I’m really grateful you all did even better than I expected. Now I’m going to call the five who’ll go up on the main broadcast stage, so if you’re not chosen, I hope you won’t blame yourself too much.
After the midpoint check stage, we’d been guided to another waiting room to hear the results.
About ten minutes later, the staff led us back to the practice room.
And waiting for us there was the producer of Starlight Umbrella, Park Taesu, ready to announce the results.
—First, Main Vocal 1 is Lee Sion, and Main Vocal 2 is Kurosawa Yuri. Next, Sub Vocal 1 is Jang Yuna, Sub Vocal 2 is Yoon Jaei, and lastly, Sub Vocal 3, Park Jiho. Those five will go up on stage.
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t worried about Suyeon.
“Boo!! Lee Sion, apologize to Yoon Jaei!!”
“Hic··· Thank you, Yuri. But··· it sounds a little weird when you’re the one saying ‘apologize.’”
“Why?”
“It’s just a thing···.”
Even now, chatting away with Jaei without a care, Kurosawa Yuri was, for all that silliness, a serious position rival.
—I’m going to be alone for a bit, okay?
When Kurosawa Yuri’s name was called as Main Vocal 2, Suyeon’s expression had gone dark fast.
On top of that, Sojin, who’d overlapping my position, had also worn a hollow expression and then left the practice room, so there was this constant uneasy weight lodged in my chest.
“I’m going to step out for a bit.”
“Huh? Sion-chan, where are you going?”
“Well···.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to look for Sojin and Suyeon, right?”
Just as I was about to move, thinking I had to do something and go find them, Yuri read me like a ghost and asked.
“What you’re about to do is really presumptuous, Sion.”
“What?”
“Do you think Suyeon and Sojin just slacked off and didn’t practice properly?”
“Of course not!”
“Then they need time to be left alone too.”
Yuri, who had been giggling with Jaei just a moment ago, was now speaking to me with a serious expression I almost couldn’t believe belonged to the same person.
“She’s right. When I was younger and «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» I failed auditions, I needed time alone more than I needed my mom or friends comforting me.”
Backing up Yuri’s words, Jaei added that it was better to leave them alone for now.
‘They’ve got a point.’
Once I heard them, I had to admit they were right.
I’d been treating them too much like children.
They were here dreaming of becoming idols, just like me, and they each had their own burdens to carry. If I’d gone barging in to comfort them without even knowing why they’d chosen this path or what kind of resolve they’d brought with them, I would’ve just been making a scene.
—I’ll take responsibility.
—Huh? No, sir, the kids messed up and that’s how this happened. Why should you be the one who—
—Idiot, this is what I’m here for.
Major Lim Junho, our support department chief when I’d finished my time as a company commander and moved to work as a logistics and personnel officer.
Once, the logistics personnel and admin staff had made a big mistake while doing paperwork and deleted all the files on a computer that contained classified documents.
The entire unit had gone into an uproar. Reports had gone up to the higher command, inspectors had come in—it was a complete mess.
But the chief just took the blame on himself and kept the kids from getting disciplined.
Back then, I hadn’t understood why he did that, but later, over drinks, he told me the reason.
—It’s not like they did it on purpose. Why would I let kids who work their asses off every day get disciplined? Either way, I’m getting a reprimand—doesn’t matter whose fault it is.
Since the incident had happened in his department, he couldn’t avoid responsibility anyway. Whether the kids took the blame or he did, the punishment would be the same—a formal reprimand.
He’d just wanted to make things easier on their hearts.
When I heard that, I hadn’t fully understood.
If it had been me, I’d have felt wronged.
But after I became a company commander and one of our platoon leaders caused a huge incident by shredding classified documents, I finally got it.
There are certain kinds of responsibility that only I can bear.
By choosing to become a soldier, I’d also chosen the responsibility that came with that job—responsibility that no one else, not even the person who’d messed up, could carry in my place. I only realized that after I became a company commander.
“···Not bad.”
“Now you get it? Yuri has always been pretty awesome!”
It seemed I was still taking the idol world too lightly.
All I’d been thinking about was comforting Suyeon and Sojin, without knowing why they’d chosen to become idols or what kind of resolve they had. If I’d rushed in to console them, it would’ve been truly pathetic.
It would be much better to talk to Suyeon later, after she’d had time to settle down, when we could speak naturally back at the dorm with just the two of us.
‘One of my few flaws—shallow thinking—almost popped out again.’
As opposed to my thousands—no, to be modest, hundreds—of strengths, one of my few weaknesses was that I sometimes acted on instinct without thinking things through.
This time, just because I felt uncomfortable, I’d almost ended up putting extra weight on Suyeon and Sojin. The one who’d stopped me at the right moment, Kurosawa Yuri, deserved praise.
Tap.
“What are you doing, Sion-chan?”
“This is a special commendation. For the record, Yunkyung really likes this.”
“This?”
“Yep.”
When I lightly tickled Yuri’s chin with my fingers, her eyes went round.
Since she’d done something praiseworthy today, I also used my other hand to give her a good head pat.
“That conversation just now··· was so cool. If you talk like that, it makes me feel embarrassed for whining so much··· Oh, right! Then I’ll tell my story too!”
“Hm?”
“The reason I went from child actress to idol trainee!”
Watching us, Jaei seemed to have been struck by something in our conversation; her expression was a little excited.
It looked like something had come to mind and she wanted to share her story too.
Thud.
“Mm?!”
Before that story could come out, I quickly reached out and gently covered her mouth.
“Nope. We’ve had enough emotion for today. I’ll listen to your story next time.”
When you talked while you were in a sentimental mood like this, sometimes the conversation could just go on forever, so it was necessary to rein it in.
“What··· what is this! You steal my acting and won’t even listen to my story! How is that fair!”
Apparently, Jaei was more talkative than I’d thought.
Before, it had felt like she was almost flaunting her child actress background with a bit of a haughty attitude—maybe even a little arrogant.
But I really didn’t have time to listen anymore.
“Okay, let’s start practice.”
We’d won that stage at the cost of cutting half our team, so the least we could do for those who’d been dropped was to make the stage perfect.
***
“If we start working tonight and go into night shoot, I think we can film tomorrow without any issues.”
“What’s the weather like tomorrow?”
“You’ve already checked the forecast for no snow or rain for days now.”
“You actually trust the national weather service?”
“Jeez, just trust it a little!”
Watching Hyungseok answer like he was sick of hearing it, Hyungsoo both understood and found it annoying.
‘Sure, I’ve been asking a lot. But you know how much money is going into this shoot, not to mention the number of ads tied to it.’
As the PD in charge of the program, Hyungsoo couldn’t help being sensitive; even a small variable could ruin everything.
‘The contestants looked really deflated today. If we kick things up with an event tomorrow and give the ones who failed the stage a new mission, the timing will be perfect.’
Today’s schedule had been the team-based Concept Evaluation midpoint checks.
He’d expected the contestants who weren’t chosen for the stage to look down, but the situation seemed more serious than that.
At this rate, it wouldn’t be strange if they completely lost their motivation.
But Hyungsoo had already prepared not one but two surprise events in anticipation of that.
If they hit the mark, they’d definitely revive the sagging mood among the contestants—and for those who’d been cut from the stage, it would be a great chance to regain their motivation.
‘We’ve got medical staff ready just in case of emergencies, staff cleared all the hazards over the past few days, and··· as long as there are no issues with the cameras we’re setting up today, we’re good.’
All that was left was to pray to the heavens that tomorrow’s shoot would go off without a hitch.
‘I know God Sion will pull something off again. I believe.’
Hyungsoo firmly believed that the god of variety clinging to Lee Sion would once again do something for them.