The staff member lowered her camera a beat late, looking flustered.
I shut the door instinctively. I didn't want Kang I-yul, of all people, to see me like this.
"……Are you okay?"
Instead of answering, I roughly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I didn't need a mirror to know.
'They're probably all puffy.'
An awkward silence settled over the hallway.
"Seong-woo."
The staff member spoke carefully.
"Why were you crying?"
My mind raced.
I couldn't tell her the truth.
'Kang I-yul died because of me.'
Who would believe that?
"Did something happen?"
She took a step closer.
I drew a short breath.
"……It's nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Practice…… isn't going well."
Her eyes widened slightly.
My face burned the moment I said it.
"I want to do well, but—"
I paused to choose my words, then forced them out.
"My body…… just won't do what I want."
At that, her expression changed.
She glanced into the practice room, then looked back at me.
"Is that why you stayed to practice after everyone else went home?"
I nodded cautiously. I had practiced, after all, so I could ignore the small sting of my conscience.
"……I wanted to keep watching someone who's good at it."
That much, at least, was completely sincere.
"You're an unusual one."
She smiled faintly.
"These days, you don't see many kids who want it so badly they cry when practice doesn't go well."
Then she added,
"You really wanted to be an idol, didn't you?"
...I broke into a cold sweat inside.
'No. The truth is, I want to save him.'
But I couldn't bring myself to say it.
[SP 1 (+1)]
'What's that?'
A new entry, different from Risk Level, had appeared in the status window.
The number remained even when I blinked.
"Well, practice isn't easy."
As I stared blankly into space, she gave my shoulder a light pat.
"But you'll do well."
Her voice was full of certainty.
"Kids as desperate as you always survive in the end."
I didn't know it then.
That single number would become the yardstick for everything I did from then on.
***
The next morning.
The moment I opened the practice room door, every gaze turned toward me.
"Hey, that's him."
"Who?"
"The one who cried."
I started stretching as if nothing was wrong, but my ears, honed during my years as a producer, were annoyingly sharp.
"They say he cried because practice wasn't going well."
"Whoa—"
"He's intense, seriously."
"What, are you secretly crying somewhere too?"
"BullXhit."
I felt their eyes follow me whenever I moved.
'Ha…… This is so embarrassing.'
I hadn't expected yesterday's incident to spread this far.
I'd only cried once, but an image of me had already taken hold.
The kid who cried while practicing. The kid who'd keep going until he got it right.
……And the kid who was crazy to become an idol.
"I really didn't expect that."
"Me neither."
I took a sip of water and avoided their eyes.
'This is…… too soon.'
It was the image I'd planned to build: "a trainee with little time to prepare, but more serious about becoming an idol than anyone."
Scouted on the street, with barely any training—on paper, hardly the makings of a skilled trainee. I'd intended to defy those expectations by showing fierce determination and become a "growth character" who improved with every round.
It was the only weapon someone as stiff and clumsy as me had.
But the stage had already been set before the survival show even began.
The rumor spread quickly among staff as well as trainees.
"They say he's the last one to leave the practice room every day."
"Wow, another kid like I-yul."
"I don't think even I-yul cried during practice, though—"
Each time, the mysterious number rose a little.
[SP 15 (+1)]
[SP 17 (+2)]
Whenever people whispered about me.
[SP 29 (+4)]
"If only he'd joined a little earlier."
"Yeah. The survival show is almost here."
"What a shame."
Whenever their eyes lingered on me.
[SP 30 (+1)]
At some point, I couldn't help realizing that something accumulated whenever people took an interest in me.
Whether the attention was good or bad, the number went up whenever someone showed "interest" in me.
I stood in front of the mirror.
Braces that made themselves known whenever I smiled widely. Naturally black hair that had never been dyed. A face gone pale from practicing without enough sleep, contrasted with dark circles that had grown a little deeper.
I looked exactly like an "untouched trainee."
'Good.'
The corners of my mouth slowly rose.
Embarrassment was one thing. If I could use this, I would.
I set down my water bottle. Then I deliberately moved as if I were working even harder, making sure I looked more diligent.
[SP 31 (+1)]
'Attention.'
That was my weapon.
***
"Jae-seong, convenience store right after practice?"
"Didn't you say you were on a diet?"
Their noisy voices reached me from outside the door. I didn't need to look to know.
'Go Jae-seong and his lackeys.'
I kept stretching. Nothing good would come of getting tangled up with them.
But—
"You're Seong-woo, right?"
I couldn't avoid them after all.
'Damn it—'
I quickly composed my face and greeted him.
"Yes. I just joined."
"You can talk casually. We're the same age, aren't we?"
"Oh…… Yeah."
A friendly voice and eyes that curved gently when he smiled. I'd felt it before returning to the past, too: on the surface, there really didn't seem to be anything wrong with this bastard.
He'd been like that throughout the survival show. Cheerful and easy to get along with.
'That's why what happened after debut was so much more shocking.'
Fans of Mr. Go had even advanced the astonishing argument that "it was all the fault of the wicked agency and the other members."
"You're really something."
The remark came out of nowhere, and I gave him a puzzled look.
"Everyone's already looking forward to seeing you. They say you've got incredible star quality."
Laughter broke out around us.
"What star quality? Just because he cried?"
"Maybe I'll squeeze out some tears too."
Go Jae-seong laughed and waved a hand.
"Hey, come on. Crying in front of other people isn't easy, you know?"
"Isn't it?"
He gave my shoulder a light tap.
"Sorry. You know how boys like to joke around."
He smoothed it over with a laugh, then naturally steered the mood of the room.
"Let's get along from now on. You guys treat Seong-woo well, too."
The smile never left his face.
'Of course.'
This was Go Jae-seong.
He was the one who brought it up, yet he was also the one who wrapped it up as though he were the nice guy.
Anyone who reacted would look like the strange one.
But I didn't give a fuXk.
'I don't want to debut with you either, you basXard.'
There was only one goal anyway: knock Go Jae-seong out of the survival show.
I had no time to worry about the other small fry.
Just then, I heard dress shoes in the hallway.
Click, click.
Measured footsteps.
As they drew closer, some people hurriedly stood up while others fixed their hair.
A moment later, the practice room door opened.
A face I'd never seen before.
'Who is that?'
But I didn't need to ask.
"Everyone, focus."
'Holy shit.'
I knew who he was from those two words alone.
His voice was so low it might have come from a cave. He was the "Tiger Chief" whom the Impacter members had feared so much. He'd appeared often, from the survival show to Impacter's own online videos, and even the fans knew him well.
'So that's what he looks like.'
Of course, his face had always been blurred out.
"There will be no class this afternoon."
He continued, tablet in hand.
"Instead, every one of you will get a makeover."
"A make…… over?"
The practice room began to stir.
"Whoa, we can finally get our hair cut?"
"Can we get a perm too?"
"I'm bleaching mine first, no question."
They were all much the same. The day had finally come when they could escape the frustration of growing their hair out, unable to touch it because they didn't know what style they'd be given.
"But—"
The chief looked over the trainees. Every time his gaze passed someone, their back straightened.
"You will decide for yourselves how you change."
Several pairs of eyes lit up.
"Today, you'll decide what kind of idol you want people to see."
My grip on my water bottle tightened slightly.
'A makeover……'
The first impression I'd make on the survival show. The face the camera would capture.
The moment I changed from "Trainee A" into an "idol."
"You'll move in two groups."
As soon as the door closed, the practice room grew noisy again.
I took a moment to steady my breathing and think.
'This is where it really begins.'
The camera filmed faces, but what viewers remembered was a character.
I pictured the version of myself the camera would capture.
***
After we arrived at the salon, I quietly looked around among the excited trainees.
Some already looked as if they'd made up their minds. Eye-catching colors, striking styles—their desire to be the first one the camera noticed was plain to see.
Just then—
"What are you going to do?"
I couldn't even remember his name. He must have been eliminated early on.
"Keep my hair black."
"It's already black."
"Yes. I'm leaving it that way."
His group snickered.
"Ho-jun, why even ask him?"
"He's such a hick."
"Ugh, at this rate he'll go on camera with his braces on too."
"Well, he'd have to know something about style to dress up."
"Fine. We start with one guy already out of the way—"
I didn't bother answering. Instead, I fixed my hair in the mirror.
'Right. Someone's getting pushed aside.'
They'd soon find out who.
When I sat down, the stylist asked,
"What would you like?"
"Just trim my bangs a little, enough to keep them out of my face when I dance."
She tilted her head.
"No color?"
"No. But I'd like the best hair treatment you can give me. I want the texture of my hair to show up well on camera."
She smiled and said quietly,
"You've got a good eye."
Of course, someone beside us immediately scoffed.
"He's going to compete on the strength of his hair texture?"
He was just another nameless nobody to me.
"Maybe he's aiming for a shampoo commercial instead of a debut."
"What an idiot."
Nameless Nobodies One, Two, and Three snickered away among themselves.
'Who's the idiot here?'
The public didn't want someone who looked "perfectly styled" from the very start. That was especially true of survival shows with male contestants.
-What's with the blond hair and piercings;;
-Whoa, fucking greasy
-Does he think he's a boy-group idol with ten years under his belt?
-Seriously overdone;;
Looking too obviously styled could turn viewers against you.
As a fan, I'd seen reactions like those too many times.
What a survival show called for was natural appeal, not manufactured glamour.
"You finished first. Are you sure you don't want anything else?"
I looked almost unchanged in the mirror.
Neat bangs and glossy black hair.
"It's perfect. Thank you!"
And I liked the way I looked very much.
Just then—
"Ha……."
I heard a familiar voice.
Kang I-yul had arrived with the second group and was looking in a mirror.
He didn't look happy.
'What's wrong?'
I couldn't help worrying.
"Should I…… dye it?"
'What did he just say?'
A fluorescent Maltese sprinted through my mind.
"No!"
The salon went quiet in an instant.
Everyone turned to look at me.
Kang I-yul stared at me in surprise too.
"……What?"
I was screwed.
I'd shouted much louder than I'd meant to.
I hurried to explain.
"You absolutely can't."
"……Why not?"
His baffled expression said it all.
Who are you to tell me?