The practice room was a whirl of activity. One person belted out high notes beside someone rapping at breakneck speed. Beats that didn't line up overlapped all around the room.
My finger slid across the tablet screen.
‘So this is how hard it is to keep a surprise.’
Suddenly, I understood why idols about to make a comeback were always so eager to give spoilers.
Keeping your secret weapon hidden was no easy task. Especially whenever I caught Kang I-yul glancing over at me with that inscrutable look. Each time, I wanted to put the earphones on him and let him listen right away.
The work progressed faster than I'd expected.
‘I used to make a living at this.’
The beat and melody I'd churned out with a basic app played in my ears.
“Done.”
A clean chord progression and a pleasing melody. The catchy hook was already rolling off my tongue.
I pressed play once more.
The intro, development, build-up, highlight, and chorus. The structure couldn't have been cleaner.
I nodded slowly.
“It's good.”
Perhaps because I wasn't using the program I'd worked with before, the rough sound actually suited where I was now.
Showing professional-level skill from the outset would be strange.
Even if I presented producing as my strength, I couldn't lose the story of my growth in that area either.
But one question came to mind.
‘Whose song is this? No, who is this song for?’
My hand stopped. So that was the source of the unease I'd been feeling all along.
This wasn't a song for ‘me.’
A commercially appealing chord progression, an inoffensive development, a safe structure. It was the approach I'd used countless times.
I took out my earphones.
“……Hah.”
A short breath escaped me.
There was a spotlight, but no main character.
‘What if I went onstage with this song?’
The response was obvious.
-The song's good, isn't it?
-He can produce music?
-Oh, he's good.
But that would be all.
“……Ah.”
Then I remembered the words I'd seen on the screen.
[Who Are You?]
Right.
This mission's stage was meant to answer the question, ‘Who are you?’
It was the one solo performance in the survival show where I could decide everything for myself. That made it a chance to show people who I was.
What I needed, in the end, wasn't technique. It was proof.
Yet I'd spent my whole life writing other people's stories for them, and I couldn't write a single line of my own.
“……This is driving me crazy.”
I had to start over from the beginning.
I tore the entire densely filled page out of my notebook.
Then I opened to a fresh page.
After a long time rolling the tip of my pen around, I wrote just one word.
[Me]
I'd written so many songs. Some people had debuted with my songs. Others had reached number one or won awards.
But I had never once sung a song of my own.
“……Huh.”
A quiet, hollow laugh escaped me. I'd never had a client like this before.
First, I needed to get to know my client a little better. I drew a circle around ‘me,’ then wrote down whatever words came to mind, branching out from it.
[Music]
[Producer]
I paused.
And then.
[Kang I-yul]
“……I should erase that.”
I started to draw a line through Kang I-yul's name, but carefully erased it instead.
‘It doesn't feel right to cross out his name.’
I used that absurd superstition as an excuse.
“This is driving me crazy.”
It had been a long time since I'd felt so lost while working on a song. But it was a satisfying kind of frustration.
The practice room was still noisy.
And in the middle of that noise, I began writing about ‘me’ for the first time.
* * *
The interim evaluation came two days before the Round 1 performances.
The air in the practice room was heavy even before it began. The judges took their seats one by one, and when MC Kang Se-jun arrived last, all the trainees bent forward in a bow at once.
“Hello, sir!”
“Well, you have all practiced a lot, right?”
“Yes!”
Everyone answered CEO Song In-hyeok at the top of their lungs, but the tension showed in their voices. The competition was about to begin in earnest.
A brief camera check ended, and filming began.
“Then we'll begin the Round 1 interim evaluation.”
This time, Kang Se-jun, the MC, sat alongside the judges to watch the performances. With a senior as distinguished as him there too, the trainees couldn't help being even more nervous.
One by one, they came forward in the order they were called and performed.
“You really thought dancing was your strength when you prepared this?”
“If that's the best you can do with vocals, how much of a mess are your other skills?”
“You're an idol, and your strength is wordplay?”
“This is seriously bad, guys. What are you going to do?”
The judges' scathing assessments continued. The harsh comments during the signal song mission were nothing compared with this.
‘Wow, what they aired was barely a speck of blood on a bird's foot.’
Hearing it in person was on another level. The pressure at the scene felt as though the air itself were pressing down on us.
Most of the trainees had the same problem. Instead of expressing themselves, they imitated someone else. Their performances were mere copies, and naturally, they didn't surpass the originals.
A prime example was right in front of me.
“A lot of trainees chose your group's songs, Se-jun. What do you think?”
At that question, Kang Se-jun, who had been smiling all along, let his smile fade.
“Do our songs…… seem easy to you?”
‘Wow, so this was that scene.’
A suffocating silence.
“N-no, sir!”
‘It's genuinely scary hearing it in person…….’
The scene had been a huge talking point on the broadcast before my regression. It was also one of the moments that drew attention to the show early on. Even overseas fans had turned it into a meme.
“Y-you're such an incredible senior, and I respect you so much, so I chose your song…….”
The unfortunate trainee hurriedly waved his hands.
“I truly appreciate that, but it isn't an answer to the question of who you are.”
At those words, the trainee's expression crumbled. The evaluation wasn't even halfway over, and the trainees still waiting all swallowed hard.
“Next…… Code 6 trainee. Please introduce your keyword.”
Go Jae-seong raised his hand confidently and stepped forward. The trainees' eyes followed him, full of faith that he could somehow change this icy atmosphere.
The judges straightened up from their slouched positions too. After all, they were the ones most exhausted by the substandard performances.
“Hello. I'm the Code 6 trainee.”
Go Jae-seong greeted them calmly.
“My keyword is ‘producing.’”
“Oh—so the Code 6 trainee can produce music?”
“I haven't been learning for very long.”
Go Jae-seong gave Kang Se-jun an awkward smile.
“But the more I do it, the more fun it is. I want to show you that I'm someone who isn't afraid of a challenge!”
The judges nodded at the satisfying answer.
Go Jae-seong had rearranged ‘Fantasy,’ a hit song by the famous idol group ‘Chase.’ Where the original had been focused on performance, he'd added a hip-hop sound and presented a rap he'd written himself.
[Close your eyes
Show me your fantasy
Time won't wait]
‘……He is good.’
He was steady even while rapping and dancing at the same time. It felt different from watching him on the broadcast.
‘I thought he was much worse back then.’
The thought struck me suddenly.
Wow, I really fXcking hated this basXard!
Throughout the survival show, I hadn't once thought he was good.
I'd binge-watched the show later, and I'd absolutely refused to believe Go Jae-seong was one of its skilled members. I'd even decided it was all an illusion created through editing.
‘Back then, I really thought he was complete trash.’
Yet here I was, objectively judging my enemy's skills without prejudice.
……Am I an angel? Or a bodhisattva?
Of course, the disappointing performances before his had also made his stand out more.
“Wow, I should've learned some producing too.”
“You think that'd make you as good as Jae-seong?”
“Fair point.”
With the trainees' envious voices behind him, the evaluation proceeded in a warm, friendly atmosphere for the first time since it began.
“How long did you say you'd been learning to produce?”
“A year.”
“To be this good after only a year—”
“He definitely has talent.”
Jack P, a producer at Nix Entertainment, continued the assessment.
“Self-producing idols are popular these days. In that sense, the Code 6 trainee could become an essential member of the team.”
At those words, the expressions of the trainees around him changed.
Envy, admiration, and the certainty that ‘Ah, he's going to debut.’
Go Jae-seong tried to smile modestly, but he couldn't hide the upward curl of his lips.
As soon as he returned to his place looking triumphant, the trainees crowded around him.
“That was insane. You killed it.”
“God Jae-seong—”
“You're definitely going to debut.”
Go Jae-seong waved their praise away.
“No, I just worked hard to prepare.”
‘What a fuss.’
The interim evaluation was proceeding in reverse Code Number order. Choi Un-jo was next.
Choi Un-jo performed a rap he'd written over a famous hip-hop beat.
‘Oh…….’
I'd seen this performance on the broadcast several times already, but hearing it in person was different.
“His tone is insane.”
“Maybe his overseas background is why even his pronunciation sounds different—”
“Code 5 really doesn't get nervous.”
Naturally, the assessments remained positive.
“Next, Code 4. Get ready.”
‘Here it comes.’
Murmurs rose all around as soon as I stood up.
“Whoa—right after Jae-seong and Un-jo?”
“Why would he do a rap right after Choi Un-jo of all people—”
There was unmistakable mockery in their voices.
‘Of course.’
Go Jae-seong had evidently spread the word. I hadn't even told Kang I-yul I was doing rap. I'd expected this, so I wasn't surprised.
I calmly picked up my guitar and walked forward.
“Is he going to rap while playing guitar?”
“He's going to get torn apart.”
“Rap doesn't suit him at all.”
It was ridiculous how they believed anything Go Jae-seong said.
Come on. Who brings a guitar to perform a rap?
“Are you feeling a bit better?”
Kang Se-jun smiled as he asked me first.
“Yes. I'm perfectly fine! Thank you for your concern.”
Kang Se-jun nodded.
“I like your spirit. Please introduce the performance you've prepared today and your keyword.”
“Yes. The keyword for the performance I've prepared today is ‘original song.’”
SNAP.
As if someone had pressed pause on a video, every sound stopped.
The trainees who'd been murmuring, the writer taking notes, even Kang Se-jun turning over a cue card.
Every face I could see beyond the mirror had frozen.
Kang I-yul's eyes had gone round, Han Sang-yun looked aghast, and Go Jae-seong's easy confidence had vanished from his face.
Even the judges looked startled.
“Wait.”
Jack P spoke first.
“You really prepared…… an original song?”
“Yes.”
“A song you made yourself?”
“Yes.”
“You haven't forgotten the mission theme, have you?”
Their doubt was understandable. A survival-show contestant whose name hadn't even been revealed yet—a trainee brought in at the last minute just to fill out the numbers—had suddenly brought an original song.
Murmurs broke out again behind me.
“Is he joking?”
“What? He never said anything about that.”
“He's really trying to grab attention.”
I'd expected every reaction. I raised my head and met each judge's eyes.
Then I answered confidently.
“Yes.”
The corners of my mouth slowly rose.
“Because this is what I do best.”