113. Four-Minute Self-PR
The self-PR stage of Ahwangsil proceeded in order of debut.
Parte came out wearing a splendid outfit laden with jewels and put on an extremely flashy performance, so the self-PR stage hit its finale right from the start.
As they say, there's a reason people tell you to be a servant in a nobleman's house. For all its flashy exterior, it was crude—nothing more than the original choreography with the arrangement slightly tweaked.
The stages that followed were mostly unremarkable.
There wasn't a particularly eye-catching performance, so I simply watched, but cheers and applause poured from both sides.
I thought the Spark guys would at least give enthusiastic reactions to look good for the production crew, but that wasn't really the case.
On the contrary, those guys kept their mouths shut tighter than even me and watched the stages.
Well, from the standpoint of someone who had torn the song apart from the bass line up and completely rearranged the choreography, the other teams must have looked like they were on a picnic.
It wasn't as if we had committed the rude act of ignoring others' stages, so I didn't say anything in particular.
There was at least one team that stood out.
The team right before us—in other words, Berion, who had effectively been the youngest in Ahwangsil—was the main one.
Compared to the intense choreography, rough visuals, and dazzling acrobatic shows, Berion's stage evoked the image of fresh, lively boys blowing balloons.
When we monitored them beforehand, they seemed to have a similar vibe to the other groups. It looked like they had tried something they hadn't done before, perhaps because it was the first stage of a new program.
People who only keep doing what they've done are scary in their own way, but people full of a challenging spirit must be watched out for. Because it means they can awaken something dormant at any time.
In that sense, Berion's stage was good. It was physically different in color from the previous stages where only deep dark blue lighting had shone nonstop, so regardless of what Berion's goal was, they must have succeeded to some degree in standing out.
Smiling and sending applause toward Berion as they finished their stage and lined up, Gang Giyeon, who had been clapping enthusiastically just like me, tilted his head toward me and whispered softly.
"Berion sunbaenims are so cool."
"Right? Let's watch and learn a lot."
It seemed the guy had thought something similar to me.
"I really enjoyed Berion's stage. It was an impressive performance that reminded me of our Hellas' early debut days."
I said this while looking at Yure, who was hosting from the podium.
"Before that."
The palm of Yure's hand, holding her cue cards, turned toward us.
"Now it's the last turn. The youngest group of Idol Chronicles, Spark, please come out!"
"Let's wrap up our stage well too."
* * *
The lyrics of "Flowering" contain certain keywords.
Dreams, strength, wishes, driving force, cheers, and so on.
And depending on how you cook it, it can also become the coming-of-age story of a dream-filled idol.
Idols who still held onto the everyday life before debut—Spark—rested their heads on each other's shoulders, sat in a circle, and opened their eyes as if waking from sleep.
"There is a time when
a single dream is vivid"
Originally the intro was my part, but for this stage, Choe Jeho took it.
Because he was the member who suited the glasses—a fitting prop for the everyday life segment—better than anyone, and because he was the center who carried Spark's identity.
Choe Jeho perfectly acted like someone who had overslept and passed the part to the next in line.
"Through the long dawn,
making me
unable to sleep,
a strength that makes my heart pound"
Aside from changing the parts, we also modified the lyrics.
Words that evoked night were replaced with dawn or blue sky as needed. We removed every element that could look like a hardship narrative for an idol who was just about to take their first step up.
Thanks to that, the current Spark had become one with the image of pure passion idols running toward their dreams—wearing pure white T-shirts, refreshing jeans like the summer sky, and looks more transparent than the sea of Jeju Island.
When the camera caught them from afar, they probably looked like the unemployed guy next door who had wandered into a group of sparkling luxury-brand male idols.
But when the broadcast cameras close-up on their faces?
Then it's immediately a summer resort booking app commercial shoot. Don't underestimate visuals that have never once been criticized despite receiving every kind of insult.
Choe Jeho and Lee Cheonghyeon caused an illusion with their face attacks, as if a large fan was stirring up wind,
and Gang Giyeon, though he sometimes faltered, acted as a trainee moving forward with a bright smile,
and while Bak Juu and Jeong Seongbin solidly proved their live vocals with the changed lyrics, the second verse passed.
"Since it's not the main stage, there won't be many stage effects so it might feel empty, and if the outfits and makeup are plain too, I'm worried it'll look hollow."
Jeong Seongbin had voiced those concerns during the meeting.
Jeong Seongbin's point was reasonable. It was so accurate that I wondered if this guy had come from the future having already seen Ahwangsil.
As a countermeasure, what I had prepared was a flashy photo of Mr. Polo that had been sitting next to a handsome actor's photo.
Gang Giyeon and I walked out from either side of Choe Jeho and spread open a flight jacket adorned with various large and small patches onto the back of the guy who had just finished the dance break.
They were outer garments that had been stashed in a corner before the stage began.
How many rounds had I made around Dongdaemun Market looking for patches befitting the keywords that evoked each member?
Choe Jeho slid his arms into the jacket's sleeves and took off his glasses. Then he leisurely swept his bangs up.
Along with the accompaniment that Lee Cheonghyeon had painstakingly arranged, the atmosphere changed from a gentle breeze to a summer wind mixed with heat.
"My heart boils over
until it overflows!"
Along with the sound of waves recorded at Busan beach with Lee Cheonghyeon, the six blue jackets fluttered and then settled as the final move ended.
The venue was silent. Until someone broke the silence, sending out a small clap along with a "Wow...."
Putting the perfunctory applause behind me, I looked past the camera at the production crew.
Faces unable to tear their eyes away from Spark. Camera angles still pointed at Spark.
This was enough. It was extremely satisfying.
* * *
After everyone's stages ended, individual stage evaluations followed.
For over ten minutes, only warm words were exchanged among the cast. There wasn't the slightest movement of expressing regret about someone's stage or keeping a check on a team that did well.
In a way, it was only natural. No entertainer wanted to receive malicious comments or criticism.
"How was Spark?"
While we had been listening to the sunbaenims with bright smiles, Yure singled us out with a question.
All sorts of praise and great cheering had already come out earlier. They had even said it was an honor to see such stages up close, so everyone must have expected the youngest members to diligently praise the seniors and exchange social pleasantries.
Praise barter. Nice.
Nice, but.
"What do you think is the most important thing in voting?"
The Spark guys had given various answers to my question during the meeting.
My opinion was this.
"I think voting that loses fairness is meaningless. A survival program that loses credibility is the same. If word gets out that they're colluding among themselves, the competition is over at that point."
If someone performed overwhelmingly well, the evaluation should be clean and fair too.
But I couldn't drag the guys into the possibility of being maliciously edited because of my insistence.
So in this situation, I grab the mic unconditionally.
"Berion sunbaenims' stage was really great. We'll also try not to lose in terms of youth!"
And I only say what needs to be said.
If there's nothing to praise about the other groups? Then I can't do it, that's all.
Parte, who had received soul-filled praise from every group until now—and particularly Song Minil and a few others—had expressions quite worth seeing.
In the subsequent stage evaluations too, I drew a ton of aggro.
In the vague evaluation system where you give +5 points to teams that did better than your own and -5 points to teams that did worse, I handed every group except Berion a 5-point deduction.
So much so that even Berion, despite receiving bonus points, watched our reaction.
I wonder how my appearance—pushing through firmly among the worried members, saying, "No, let's do it this way"—will come out on broadcast. I'm already looking forward to it.
Spark, which received deductions only from Parte, tied for first place with Parte, which likewise received deductions only from Spark.
Yure was delighted, saying it was fierce right from the first result.
"There's no need to worry. The self-PR stage scores aren't reflected in the final results, after all."
Relieved sounds could be heard here and there at Yure's explanation.
"But if there's no use for them, there would be no reason to score them, right?"
Along with Yure's remark, the names of the six groups appeared on the electronic display in the order of their self-PR stage rankings.
"In the first round stage, you will each be matched with a rival group, and perform a stage with your rival group's song."
"Gasp!"
"The team with more votes will be awarded additional votes as a prize. Starting from first place in the self-PR stage, please designate your rival groups in order!"
It was a topic that sparked competition from the very beginning. The cast is soft tofu, but the production crew seems to be mala-flavored.
"However, since a tie for first place occurred, we will need a brief discussion on how to handle this."
With that, Yure called Spark and Parte forward.
"First, I'll ask if the two teams have a desired rival group. If the groups you want to swap songs with don't overlap, then you'll compete with your desired groups."
Spark didn't mind facing any group, so at the moment we were about to choose another team besides the one Parte had taken to prevent the filming from dragging on unnecessarily,
"If Spark is alright with it, we'd like to designate Spark as our rival group!"
Parte made the first move.
I could roughly see what kind of picture they were expecting when they picked us.
They probably wanted to properly take on some slightly insolent juniors, show the gap between them and us, and then appeal their senior magnanimity by embracing the juniors nonetheless.
"Not that it's possible unless there's actually a gap to begin with...."
Seeing them think arrogant thoughts before even properly understanding themselves, I imagine the MYTH staff have a hard time managing them too.
I asked for understanding from Yure and Parte, then asked the members what they wanted to do.
And these guys cleanly okayed it. Though they had said let's beat them all with skill, it was clear they were fearless in a different sense than Parte.
Once Spark and Parte's clash was decided, someone offered me a handshake.
It was Song Minil.
"Let's do our best."
"Yes, please take care of us, sunbaenim!"
How can you like someone who says let's do well with a face that clearly doesn't want you to do well?
Feeling Song Minil grip my hand tightly, I stopped myself from imagining what kind of exhilarating future was being drawn in this guy's head.
The greater the dream, the more it reveals a person's true nature when it shatters.
I decided to do my best so I could see Song Minil's true heart.
But as always, it was my side that shattered.