"What do you think? Personally, I like it."
Catching his slightly ragged breath, Tae-oh asked the group members who were looking up at him. Their expressions mirrored the dumbfounded look Sol had shown Tae-oh earlier. As Tae-oh roughly pushed back the strands of hair falling over his face, the members finally snapped out of their daze and responded a beat late.
"Oh…! Wow. It feels completely different from the original version, hyung. This is amazing."
"Our Sol is a genius, isn’t he?"
Deuk-yong and Ji-ho, always the loudest reactors, were the first to speak up. Deuk-yong, almost blurting out a casual expletive-laced "That’s so cool," caught himself in time, glancing at the camera and quickly covering his mouth. Ji-ho acted as though he was about to hoist Sol onto his shoulders and run around in celebration. Their enthusiastic responses, following Tae-oh's, made Sol blush as he waved his hands to play down the compliments.
"No, it was all Tae-oh. I just added a little touch at the end."
Though he seemed embarrassed and was trying to remain humble, Tae-oh could see the subtle way Sol’s shoulders relaxed, reassured by the members’ reactions. Perhaps from years of dancing, Sol’s slightly lowered trapezius muscles stood out. The smooth curve from his fair nape to his sloped shoulders was as if drawn by an artist.
"Sol, you’re incredible. I love it too. I’ll finish arranging it by tonight!"
Ga-ram’s words put the finishing touch on Sol’s already fluttering emotions. Despite the dark circles under his eyes from staying up all night, Ga-ram smiled lazily, cradling his laptop like always. Seeing that relaxed smile, as if a burden had been lifted, made it impossible for Sol to remain shy any longer.
There’s a saying that even whales dance when complimented. The members’ heartfelt praise lifted Sol’s rock-bottom confidence back to solid ground.
***
“Hoo…”
Sol took a deep breath, his small chest swelling prominently forward. Like a sparrow standing in the frosty morning air, he puffed out his chest and glanced once more at Yeong-ho’s face, which bore a mix of worry and earnest determination. Sol was sure that most of the tension in Yeong-ho’s expression came from him.
Sweat had pooled in their clasped hands—not Sol’s, but Ga-ram’s. Feeling his palms grow damp, Ga-ram awkwardly laughed, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants. Seeing this, Sol thought, 'So we’re all feeling the same way.' With that, he scanned the faces of his fellow members, whose expressions were tinged with nervousness. But in the way they confidently lifted their chins and stared straight ahead, Sol could sense their resolve.
Ten whirlwind days had flown by, and now only 30 seconds remained until the real beginning. How did Sol know it was exactly 30 seconds? A staff member standing at the hallway they needed to pass through had just shouted, "Thirty seconds left!"
It was truly indescribably chaotic. Nights were spent entirely awake, repeatedly revising and editing. Due to the late and practically forced inclusion in the lineup, their preparation time was relatively limited compared to the other teams. Adding ambition to the mix left no solution but to cut back on sleep. Even Sol, who usually needed a lot of sleep, resorted to using energy recovery potions to wake up before Tae-oh could rouse him.
As they all held hands and moved toward the passage, a staff member, who had earlier shouted “30 seconds,” added a final explanation.
“Just walk straight out and stand on the white line on the floor.”
When Tae-oh calmly responded to the staff, they released their clasped hands one by one, like kindergarteners parting on their way to school. Even after letting go, the lingering warmth made it feel as if their hands were still connected. At the countdown of “20 seconds,” which ticked closer and closer to zero, Sol checked his school uniform jacket again to make sure all the buttons were properly fastened. He looked as prim and proper as a newly admitted student, with his top button tightly secured. It felt strange to wear a school uniform again after so many years.
The program’s confidentiality was strict—they weren’t even allowed to use the restroom while waiting in the holding room. Meetings during preparations were also conducted individually. Perhaps due to their late participation, they were assigned the very last slot for their appearance. While waiting for their turn, the members overheard the emcee’s voice bleeding through backstage, revealing who their competitors were. However, the groups that had already performed wouldn’t know that they were facing this team as their final competition.
The emcee’s announcements overlapped with the countdown staff member’s voice, making it hard to catch the exact details. It seemed like the emcee was delivering a brief introduction prepared by the company for their team. Bright lights seeped through the passage, and the emcee’s previously muffled voice suddenly boomed clearly.
“Team 7!”
At that moment, the staff member in front gave the members a light push on their shoulders and mouthed, “Go on now!” Although the words weren’t audible, their lips clearly shaped the message. Following Tae-oh’s lead, they stepped into the brightly lit passage and walked onto the stage.
For the first round, the face-off ceremony, and the second mission, they weren’t allowed to use a separate team name or individual stage names. If they wanted the public to remember their team’s name, they had to survive until the live broadcast stage—such was the rule. During a previous meeting, they had already been given a rough explanation and temporarily assigned the title “Team 7.” Sol had faintly recalled hearing there would be five teams, including YC, but now two more teams had been added. They weren’t given much explanation about the change—just a simple, “That’s how it is.”
At the time, Ji-ho had squinted his eyes with a grin and enthusiastically exclaimed, “Lucky number 7!” Caught up in Ji-ho’s big reaction, Sol had clapped his hands and cheered along, like an innocent child. But standing on the stage now, the number took on a new meaning—it meant there were six other competing teams. And not just any teams; they’d heard earlier that one team even had ten members.
As the members stepped onto the stage under the bright spotlight, the gazes of all six teams locked onto them at once.
The glaring lights coming straight at him hurt Sol’s eyes, but the countless pairs of eyes watching him felt even sharper. Not just the six teams but also the panel of judges—experts in their respective fields—and the staff standing below the stage for filming and production made it feel like at least a hundred pairs of eyes were fixated on them.
As they had practiced earlier in the waiting room, the members stopped right at the white line, as instructed by the staff, and maintained their formation. Feeling the weight of the eyes trailing him, Sol took a deep breath. Despite taking a Stability Potion and reducing penalties, the pressure was still overwhelming. If it hadn’t been for those two things aiding him, Sol doubted he would have been able to step onto the stage at all. Without them, he imagined collapsing midway through the corridor, overwhelmed by the stacking penalty effects. Thankfully, seeing no system notifications popping up in his vision, Sol resolved to stockpile as many Stability Potions as possible for the future.
Once everyone had taken their places, the MC, a familiar face from TV, called out the name “YC Entertainment” in a loud, powerful voice. In that moment, a burst of light erupted from the massive screen installed at the back of the stage. Sol instinctively turned to look, though he shouldn’t have.
The screen displayed photos of the members taken a few days ago after their OnMusicNet meeting, with the company name prominently displayed at the top. The screen was so enormous that Sol had to lift his head slightly to look at the pictures of the members. Among them, his own photo stood out—Sol with silver hair, painstakingly bleached the night before, now enlarged and prominently displayed on the screen.
Meeting his own gaze on the screen, Sol was struck by the sudden realization that he was in the middle of a live broadcast. In a panic, he quickly whipped his head back around. The movement was so abrupt that he lost his balance slightly, his body tilting sideways. Without intervention, he might have stumbled a few steps forward.
'I messed up!' That thought flooded Sol’s mind in an instant. But before he could even process the mistake, a strong arm wrapped around his waist. The hand on the other side of his torso was so large that it felt as if it was encircling his ribs entirely. Thanks to the firm support, Sol straightened up and, as if nothing had happened, raised his chin slightly and faced forward. Between the glaring lights, a black camera moved back and forth like the many eyes tracking his every move.
Until the end of the introduction and as they left the stage, the arm around Sol’s waist remained there. When the lights finally dimmed, Sol could see the faces of the judges seated in the front row and the other teams seated behind them more clearly.
“You’re doing great. Let’s stay focused.”
A low, murmuring voice brushed against his ear, accompanied by warm breath grazing the back of his neck. Turning to his side, Sol’s eyes finally landed on Tae-oh, the one who had wrapped his arm around his waist.
'It was Tae-oh.'
Half out of his mind, he hadn't realized who had helped him, nor had he thought to check. Though he had followed Eun-gyeom to a music broadcast stage before, the feeling this time was entirely different, to the point where his head was spinning. When Sol looked up at Tae-oh, Tae-oh finally released the arm that had been wrapped around his waist.
"Yeah. Thanks."
Thanks to Tae-oh, Sol managed to regain his composure. After expressing his gratitude for Tae-oh's help and thoughtfulness, Sol scanned the six teams waiting for their turn to take their seats. They were all strikingly different. The only commonality was that they were all young men of a similar age. Above the seating area for each team, there were large monitors displaying their "group" and "company name."
Since it was the final turn, they sat in the only available spot, and the previously dark monitor lit up with "Group 7 – YC Entertainment." Sitting down after coming off the stage, everything seemed fascinating. For Sol, who had only encountered other trainees or the members of D-Block at the company cafeteria, this was his first time seeing people with a distinct "idol" vibe. He had also never watched—let alone participated in—a survival program like this. To him, it was as if an entirely different world was unfolding before his eyes.
Though he himself had an eye-catching silver hairstyle, the dazzlingly vibrant hair colors around him looked like autumn leaves in full bloom. Everyone seemed to have pulled out all the stops, as their outfits gleamed and sparkled. Sol glanced down at his school uniform-like outfit, inspecting it as though he were reevaluating his choice. Compared to the golden glow of the "card," it felt too plain, and he couldn't help but feel a little intimidated.
'Should I have chosen something else?'
Maybe he should have gone with a vinyl outfit or a suit that looked like it had a field of flowers printed on it. Sol let out a small sigh. Recalling those options in his mind, he shook his head as if recoiling from the thought. Even after a second consideration, it didn't seem right. As Sol shook his head, a warm hand rested on his knee.
