Debuting by Riding the Returnee’s Bus Chapter 102

It was moving in its own way, but it was all scripted.

 

Yes, it was staged.

 

Unlike the usual Idol Classism, almost the entire episode was built on setups. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if calling it ‘staged’ was the right expression. Most TV shows were probably made this way—following a clear vision and procedure laid out by the production team, receiving scripts written by writers in advance, reading lines off a teleprompter, and filling in the gaps with reshoots.

 

Of course, it wasn’t as if Idol Classism hadn’t used such procedures before, but this particular shoot was especially blatant. Some of the trainees had even read the script shown on the teleprompter word for word, so what more was there to say?

 

I had no way of knowing whether the three judges’ interviews or the staff interviews had been conducted the same way, but there was no denying that many parts felt artificial.

 

The scene of the trainees laughing and chatting together.

 

‘For starters, this…’

 

The scene of them walking the streets without hats or masks, looking lost in thought.

 

‘If they walked like that these days, people would swarm them and cause a riot. It’s Joo Wooyoung, for god’s sake. Does it make sense that no one recognized them?’

 

The scene of them practicing the Hey HEY Hey performance, a song that had already crossed the point of no return.

 

‘I don’t even understand why they’re practicing something that’s already over…’

 

The close-ups on the trainees’ faces looking sad when the performance was in danger of being canceled.

 

‘They filmed this after everyone already knew what was happening.’

 

The scene where they vowed to repay the love received from viewers and fans.

 

‘That one’s at least somewhat believable.’

 

Every scene was manufactured through filming that took place after the actual interviews. From the perspective of the trainees, the whole process felt incredibly forced. But regardless of how artificial it was…

 

‘Wai, isn’t this incredibly well made?’

 

The thought stuck in my mind. Of course, this was the opinion of a viewer rather than an expert, but it was enough to make me realize the sheer capability of the Idol Classism staff. It was a moment where I could feel how quickly and effectively a broadcast made through a standard process—rather than an unconventional one like Idol Classism’s usual style—could be assembled.

 

Right up until the official filming began, I had my doubts—Is this okay? Is it really fine to do it this way?—but those doubts vanished once the episode aired. Watching them gather scenes from all over the place and piece them together like a puzzle into a finished product was genuinely impressive.

 

Apparently Kim Taeyeol had been thinking the same thing all along, though he hadn’t shown it until now.

 

“So it actually works?”

 

Kim Taeyeol was reflected in my eyes, muttering those words.

 

“It really feels like a documentary.”

 

“They said they were making it in that style, so they weren’t lying. It’s a format I’ve seen a lot elsewhere. But the ending felt like a public service announcement. I was so flustered when they suddenly asked, ‘What is Idol Classism to you?'”

 

“Ah, me too. But wasn’t it interesting? It was good to see what everyone was thinking.”

 

“…….”

 

“…….”

 

“Well, that’s true. Ah, by the way, I’m curious about something. Deokoh hyung, why did you call Idol Classism a ‘worry’?”

 

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Trainee No. 141, Park Deokoh, opened his mouth.

 

“Just because. It’s a bit hard to explain here, so I’ll tell you later.”

 

“You’re not overthinking something pointless again, are you?”

 

“I am not. I know focusing on the performance in front of us is the most important thing right now. But Taeyeol, why did you say ‘passion’?”

 

“Me? Just because it sounded cool.”

 

It hadn’t been intentional, but the trainees had naturally shifted the conversation to everyone’s answers from the final interview. ‘Unha’s Clique’, meeting for the first time in a while, was busy chatting away.

 

“You want to know why I said ‘proof’? I can’t tell you yet. Though I kind of wish I’d said something cooler instead. Like… ‘revenge against a certain man’ or something.”

 

‘Good thing you didn’t. They would’ve edited that out.’

 

“I still think it’s a chance to debut. Sure, I’ve fallen pretty far from the debut rankings, but you never know what might happen. This time everyone only gets one vote, and after the performance there’ll be on-site voting too, so something’s bound to change. Oh, that reminds me, Younghoon, when you said ‘last chance’…”

 

“I said that on purpose because I wanted to look a bit pitiful, hyung. I don’t actually think it’s my last chance. Even after Idol Classism ends… I’m going to keep doing this. Actually… I’m only telling you guys this, but I think things are progressing positively with my agency.”

 

“Oh? Really?! Congratulations, hyung!”

 

“Congrats, hyung. Maybe you’ll be the first to debut?”

 

“No, I don’t know how it’ll turn out yet. And this is confidential, so don’t you dare go blabbing about it anywhere, okay?”

 

“Ah, of course I know that. But hyung.”

 

“Ah, yeah, yeah, Unha, you’re right. About not giving up. I think so too. Plan A is to debut here, obviously. But I also need to have a Plan B. Honestly, since I’m in the middle-to-lower ranks now, finishing on a good note here is the best look… Actually, I agree with Taehee’s interview to some extent. I’ve learned a lot coming here, but knowing you, Unha, feels like the biggest gain.”

 

‘What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?’

 

He was even presumptuous enough to try patting my head. Meanwhile…

 

‘Why is Jegal Hwi… here?’

 

I spotted him leaning against one of the walls, watching us. Somehow… somehow the atmosphere had become a little too sentimental. Since I wasn’t a fan of this kind of vibe, I purposely changed the subject.

 

“Anyway, I’m just grateful. I didn’t expect the judges, the writer noonas, and the PDs to care about us this much…”

 

Of course, it could all just be something they said for the broadcast. Sure enough, Kim Taeyeol fell right into the trap and immediately responded.

 

“It’s all for the broadcast.”

 

‘Exactly.’

 

“I’m sure they care about the trainees to some extent… but this decision wasn’t made because of ‘beautiful endings’ or ‘passion’ like they said in this episode.”

 

‘That’s right.’

 

“Broadcasts aren’t made so carelessly, Unha.”

 

‘Yep, yep.’

 

“They do it because it makes money, right? Idol Classism gets amazing ratings. They have tons of investors, and just look at all the PPL in this episode. I don’t know the exact details, but the production team and the station must have come to an agreement. Ah, and the agency the debut group is going to must have had an influence too…”

 

‘Yes. That’s the real answer.’

 

I couldn’t exactly agree with Kim Taeyeol so openly, but I had no choice but to think he was at least half right. My thoughts were the same. This episode was packed with emotional keywords like ‘Choice for everyone’, ‘Passion’, and ‘Friendship’, but the reality behind the scenes was likely very different.

 

I could believe what the PD had said about them being lucky. But how could I possibly believe the interview claiming that all these decisions had been made for the trainees and for the sake of giving the show a proper ending? The probability that this all proceeded simply for such emotional reasons was zero.

 

“…….”

 

Surely… there was a reason things were decided this way. Whether it was a political decision or something involving investors… there was definitely a reason another chance was given to Idol Classism.

 

Of course, it wasn’t something Lee Unha needed to know—or had any reason to know—but I couldn’t help becoming curious about what had happened behind the scenes. Where did this agency called ‘The World’ pop out from?

 

“…….”

 

Why did Crown and Kang Hyuk let go of Idol Classism so easily?

 

“…….”

 

It might be a case of coincidences piling up and interests aligning, but why was everything replaced so quickly and decisively?

 

“Still, no matter what, I’m grateful. It worked out well for us in the end… and we finally got rid of that goddam— no, I won’t swear. Stop looking at me like that, Lee Unha.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Well… it’s fine at times like this, isn’t it? We’re not wearing microphones, we’re just chatting among ourselves… Honestly, none of you liked that song, right?”

 

“…….”

 

“Anyway, I’m just glad we could say goodbye to that garbage Candy Star and get more face-time for the viewers and fans. I looked around the communities while watching the episode, and everyone’s thinking the same as me. The reaction is all ‘What a relief’. There are so many comments trashing Hey HEY Hey too. Look at this. ‘Honestly, Candy Star was so ass it was hard to defend it, I’m glad I don’t have to do that anymore.’ Bwahahaha. Hey, should I give this comment a like?”

 

“Just try it.”

 

“I’m joking, obviously.”

 

“And hyung, don’t be too hard on it just because it wasn’t to your taste. Yohan hyung liked it… You never know when you’ll have to pull off a concept that’s the polar opposite of your style after you debut. Are you going to act like this then, too?”

 

“Ah… no, well, that’s different… so, Unha, what about you?”

 

‘I can’t say that out loud either.’

 

“Anyway, what’s important isn’t that we’re glad the song changed or that public opinion of Idol Classism improved. What’s important is us. If we mess up the performance, we’ll obviously be mocked. If you don’t want to hear people saying Hey HEY Hey was better or we delayed the schedule just to prepare a performance this mediocre, then you’d better practice until you spit blood.”

 

“Well, that’s true.”

 

“So, Taeyeol hyung, do you like the current song?”

 

“Yeah. At least I like it more than the previous one. The choreography is decent… I don’t know how the concept will turn out, but even if we really debut with this, I don’t think I’ll have complaints. Sure, it’s still a little vague. But before worrying about little details like that…”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I think we should just start practicing. Since the broadcast is over.”

 

At those words, Jegal Hwi—the person I still had no idea why he was even standing there—finally moved.

 

“Let’s get up, Lee Unha.”

 

Surprisingly, the on-site voting was already just around the corner.

 

In other words, a lot of time had already passed since the new debut song for Idol Classism had been released.