Debuting by Riding the Returnee’s Bus – Chapter 70

Author: LyraDhani

‘Is everyone not nervous?’

It was a strange sight.

‘Wow… is everyone seriously not nervous?’

I wasn’t seeing things. At least to my eyes, none of my teammates looked anxious. We had practiced until we were sick of it, and then practiced some more. True, there were moments I just wanted this time to be over, but…

Still, the fact that there wasn’t a trace of nerves was surprising.

I could understand Kim Haejun being calm. He had plenty of stage experience and survival show history. His personality was naturally composed, and he rarely let his emotions show.

But the Elder Duo—especially trainee No. 66, Jeon Hocheol—being completely unfazed was very unexpected.

It wasn’t a bad thing.

‘If anything, it’s good.’

I was just curious. Truly, there was no trainee on this stage more desperate than Jeon Hocheol. This was his chance to redeem himself after the humiliation of the interim evaluation, his final opportunity at an age where he was reaching his limit. I had even thought that encouraging him was the biggest challenge for this stage.

Yet, he didn’t show even a hair’s breadth of nervousness.

If anything, he looked refreshed. I wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but he looked liberated. He was completely different from the rehearsal, where he had been a little anxious.

‘Truly… strange. How can someone change overnight… no,’

“…….”

“Maybe he changed little by little.”

I didn’t know what had happened to him, but as long as it benefited the team, it was fine. Jung Taehee seemed just the right amount of nervous, and Na Younghun looked to be in a similar state.

Disliking the silence as we prepared and the stage was being set, I muttered to no one in particular:

“These past days have been fun.”

Voices chimed in from all around.

“Yeah. It was fun for me too… and thanks for everything, Unha.”

“Huh?”

“I hope we get a chance to stand on a stage like this together again later.”

Jeon Hocheol’s voice rang out the loudest.

Immediately after.

The intro music began to play. As always, the lights flared up, and I could see the judges looking down at us.

As the center, I whispered quietly.

—Shh, it’s dangerous.—

At that sound, the choreography began. After a brief routine, I swapped positions with Kim Haejun.

Moving to the beat, Kim Haejun suddenly spat out Verse 1.

—Moving forward is a habit for you and me. It’s a broken engine that can’t be stopped.

Even while everyone sleeps, we arm ourselves. We keep going because we stand at the moment of decision.

Always stepping toward the invisible. I see you and take another step.

‘Good start. Perfect.’

I expected him to do well. No other description was necessary. No extra praise was needed.

‘The bastard is just damn good at rapping.’

Even to my ears, which usually struggled to catch fast rap, every lyric hit home. The real test was what came next.

Immediately after Verse 1, we hit the pre-chorus. This was the part shared by the Elder Duo and me. The pre-chorus was already short to begin with, and splitting it three ways had caused no shortage of problems during line distribution, but it was the most rational choice for the team.

Matching the shoulder line as I moved bit by bit, I saw the Elder Duo starting up. One of them let out the lyrics:

—Burn the danger with the flame blooming in your heart.

I layered my vocals over them at intervals.

—Dangerously, burn the danger.

With an expression of desperation and resolve, I stared straight at the cameras and the judges.

—Burn the shadows with the heat inside.

Again, with perfect timing, I harmonized.

—Dangerously, burn the shadows.

I didn’t use the Succubus Eye. Now wasn’t the time for Lee Unha to stand out; it was the time for the Elder Duo to shine.

However, feeling an underlying anxiety that this section needed to sound universally good…

<Siren’s Voice: F-Rank>

I activated the ability.

This was a supernatural power separate from the Succubus Eye and Conversation with the Dead. Despite being F-rank, it consumed so much mana that I’d briefly worried if I’d have enough. But remembering how my mana circuits were cleansed during the Unchiora incident, I nodded.

Producing a voice for such a short part shouldn’t be a problem.

—Take a step, and we go together.

Something welled up from my throat. It was only for a moment, but a different kind of voice than the usual Lee Unha rang out. I felt the gaze of my teammates for a split second.

And….

I felt the judges look at me in surprise. It was fleeting. It was just one line, but everyone focused their gaze on me.

‘Success… I succeeded.’

Of course, there was no time to bask in that joy. The stage continued.

—Take a step.

—Together.

‘Th-the combination is better than I thought?’

“…….”

‘The three of us are actually quite good?’

The vibe was better than the rehearsal. I didn’t know how the judges felt, but compared to all our practices, this was the most satisfying yet. Aside from the effect of the Siren’s Voice, I really liked this call-and-response section.

Jeon Hocheol and Na Younghun—especially Hocheol—were acting as if they would die if they made a mistake or looked poor on this stage. It didn’t have the same explosive impact as when No. 98 had suddenly gone berserk before, but they stood out in a different way.

Jeon Hocheol was an excellent supporter. Even if he couldn’t shine himself, he seemed to have a knack for making others shine.

‘What’s up with him? This hyung… what’s gotten into him all of a sudden?’

I could feel him thoroughly calculating and being considerate of his own movements and the members’ movements in his head. It was a style I hadn’t seen in Idol Classism before.

Naturally, the biggest beneficiary was No. 123 Jung Taehee, who was waiting for his turn right behind us. Stepping onto the red carpet the three of us had laid out, Taehee grabbed the mic and breathed life into it.

—We’re Dangerously burning together.

Your resolve breaks the invisible threat, our will is strong and stronger still.

Wading through the danger, Dangerously together.

‘He too….’

It sounded good. It was as if he was desperate to prove there was a reason he pushed one of the Elder Duo out of the main vocal spot. Not only was it pleasant to hear, but his unique vocal color hammered against the eardrums.

He didn’t even look tired. It was strange. Jung Taehee, like Lee Unha, had never solved his chronic stamina problem. Yet, even as the part that required heavy breathing approached, he kept singing.

‘Did the Elder Duo’s advice actually work? Wait, why did he keep pretending not to listen all this time, only to pull this off during the actual performance?’

“…….”

‘From the pre-chorus onward, was the key simply telling him to regulate his breathing and reduce unnecessary choreography?’

In a four-minute stage, the solution of setting timings to conserve energy, catch breath, and reduce dance moves and hammering that into Taehee’s head had truly worked. Furthermore, during those conservation periods, the Elder Duo desperately blocked Taehee from view or drew the attention elsewhere, making it hard to notice he wasn’t dancing his hardest.

Naturally, the judges all looked surprised. They probably expected Taehee to handle the part, but they likely never imagined he would make it his own so perfectly. In fact, their faces suggested they didn’t expect this team to pull off the stage this well.

To borrow No. 98’s expression….

‘I think we’re absolutely killing it.’

It felt like we were tearing up the stage. It wasn’t just about handling the parts, the choreography, and following the set path naturally; the concept and energy our team possessed were tearing through the atmosphere.

—Dangerously, burn the danger.

Revolution.

—Burn the shadows with the heat inside.

And Death.

Yes, the images I was painting in my head were Revolution and Death. I probably wasn’t the only one. Everyone would be picturing their own version of revolution and death. Desperation, dread, terror—Also the things that had to be accepted despite all of that.

The same went for Kim Haejun, who was just starting Verse 2. I suspect Kim Haejun was… accepting JH’s death. Accepting his own heart which he hadn’t acknowledged before, accepting the fact that he died, and accepting that he was growing because of it.

The Elder Duo looked like they were doing more than just accepting. They looked like they were fighting and wanting to prove themselves. Against the public perception, the limits of their talent, and the negative voices from everywhere… they seemed to be compromise, accept, and confront as they hauled this stage forward.

Literally,

Team Dangerously was currently fighting an invisible enemy.

The slightly modified lyrics,

Kim Haejun’s arrangement,

The team’s choreography,

Every bit of it was predicated on fighting an invisible foe.

Everyone was performing this stage with their own thoughts. Perhaps the only one here who didn’t project himself into these lyrics and this stage was Lee Unha.

I neither accepted or fought against my problems. Lee Unha wasn’t sentimental enough for that. I was not emotional enough to feel, agonize, or realize anything from a performance like this.

However….

‘I’m the same as you guys. I want to take home results that match the effort put into this stage.’

“…….”

Lee Unha visualized the revolutionary officer, Graham.

I remembered the voice he used when he spoke and I spat out the lyrics.

I recalled the gestures he used to inspire the slaves in the lab and I moved my limbs.

I imagined the actions he took to lead others and I encouraged my teammates.

I thought of the attitude with which he viewed and contemplated his own life, and I housed Graham within Lee Unha.

I paid homage to the man who had fought on the front lines for ideals, beliefs, and justice.

And,

His death, too.

—Boom!!!

A heavy drum bass crashed down, followed immediately by an orchestra. Of course, it was a fake instrument track made on a computer, but it was enough to signal that the atmosphere had changed.

Immediately after, back-dancers carrying flags took their places. It was an instruction from the PD Hyung I’d talked with. It might seem like a typical or even cringeworthy development, but it wouldn’t look that way at the end.

While spitting out repeated lyrics, the members executed the fixed choreography. A flag handed over by one of the dancers landed in my hand.

As if a battle between the revolutionary army and the noble army had occurred here, I waved the flag, continued the dance, let out the lyrics, moved my steps….

And finally….

I slammed the flag into the ground.

—Boom!!!

Immediately after falling to my knees….

My eyes lost their light.

Having burned everything until nothing remained, my pupils went blank as if they had turned white. My teammates behind me were likely closing their eyes and collapsing. I never expected acting ability from them in the first place. Being the background at the end was enough.

And….

Death.

My body went limp like a doll with its strings cut. No trace remained in the body that was overflowing with vitality just a moment ago.

I didn’t explicitly express whether the battle was won or lost. I hadn’t witnessed the revolutionary army’s battle myself, but….

It was the end of the revolutionary army that I had imagined and held in my mind.

—Boom!!!

After the blackout, the lights brightened again.

Immediately after.

I could see the judges staring at us blankly. Kim Minhyuk, having snapped out of it, suddenly stood up and was applauding.

‘What’s up with him now?’

There were even tears welling up in his eyes.

‘Wait, Mr. Minhyuk. It wasn’t emotional enough to make you cry, was it?’