Debuting by Riding the Returnee’s Bus Chapter 72

[299 Points]

 

Even looking at it again… it was an unbelievable score.

 

Since the evaluation had been so positive, I expected a high score, but I never imagined two out of the three judges would give us 100, and the remaining one a 99.

 

Probably no one here could have predicted this.

 

It was even more shocking when considering the uncomfortable truths behind these kinds of survival programs. In these types of competition shows, they usually control score inflation as a device to show the trainees’ hard work and growth over time. In other words, they were clearly inclined to score harshly in the early stages and become increasingly generous as the competition progressed.

 

And yet, for them to push out a score like this at this stage…

 

‘Isn’t this too generous? Didn’t they give away too much?’

 

My mind was racing. It wasn’t for any other reason than the timing of this peak score being far too early. We’d only just entered the middle stretch of the competition. By the laws of the world, once you reached the peak, there was nowhere to go but down.

 

I didn’t know how many performances were left, but I began to suspect that the judges might have overdone it just to save Kim Minhyuk’s face.

 

‘Even Joo Wooyoung’s team only got 292…’

 

The team that No. 98 belonged to had scored 285. The highest-scoring team besides ours was 293. Looking across all the other teams, the gap was obvious to the point that it almost made no sense.

 

Even our direct opponents, who put on a very good show, only received 291. Perhaps the judges were only allowed to give scores in the low 290s this time to prevent inflation. The broadcast people themselves probably never dreamed that a 299 would appear.

 

Sure enough, I could see members of the production crew looking quite flustered. Some were even clutching their heads at the sudden explosion of score inflation.

 

‘At least those guys are in a better spot.’

 

Our opposing team probably felt like they’d just stepped in dog crap out of nowhere.

 

‘No, they don’t just look like they stepped in it; they have the exact expression of someone chewing on poop.’

 

That would definitely be used in the broadcast. Even after the winners and losers had been decided and everyone was following the prearranged stage blocking, the expressions on their faces refused to relax.

 

In particular, the face of that Noble class guy looked utterly hollow, and it stuck in my mind. Had he expected to live in comfort within the upper classes forever? He looked like his mental state had completely collapsed from the first sense of deprivation he had ever felt.

 

“Con… Congratulations.”

 

‘At least he has manners.’

 

“Thank you. You worked hard, Hyung. Your stage was really cool too.”

 

“Ah… thank you. Oh, by any chance, can we follow each other on SNS?”

 

“Of course.”

 

The schedule after that was predictable. Given the limitations of the format, there was only so much they could do. Just like before, they declared the winners and losers of the competition. The winners received benefits, while the losers faced elimination.

 

Following the lead of the MC holding the microphone, we laughed, pretended to be surprised, and shed tears of empathy together. Before I knew it… the moment to wrap up the schedule arrived.

 

We bowed repeatedly to the staff, then the trainees scattered here and there to spend some time together. There were those laughing joyfully, still drunk on the afterglow of their performance, while others wiped away tears in empty corners of the stage, filled with disappointment and frustration over their previous showing.

 

Naturally, our group was the former. We received congratulations from other trainees and answered their questions one by one about how we prepared the performance and where we got our ideas. These trainees had good eyes too—they knew what looked cool and what didn’t.

 

Normally, I would have simply smiled and enjoyed an impromptu fan meeting for quite a while, but seeing the trainees started to leave one by one while looking wary, it seemed an unwelcome guest had arrived.

 

‘Yeah… I was wondering when you’d show up.’

 

Kim Minhyuk.

 

It seemed the performance truly had moved him, as he had come to praise us personally after the cameras were turned off. This was a rare occurrence.

 

“I really enjoyed the performance, guys.”

 

“Ah. Thank you, Judge-nim.”

 

“Hey, what ‘Judge-nim’… I’m only a judge when the cameras are on. In private, I’m just….”

 

“Sunbaenim?”

 

“Sunbae… ah, ‘hyung’ sounds better than ‘sunbae’…. No, that sounds too forward… just call me sunbaenim. That works too. Haha.”

 

“Ah. Yes….”

 

“I’m saying this just in case you misunderstand… you know my critique wasn’t just for the broadcast, right?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I didn’t say those things because of the show; I said them because I was truly impressed.”

 

“Ah… yes.”

 

“I’ve been stuck in a bit of a slump lately… but appearing here was a great decision. Like I said earlier, I’ve been under a lot of stress… well, actually, I said everything I wanted to say up there, so there’s no need to talk more. Anyway, congratulations.”

 

“Thank you, sunbaenim!”

 

We all bowed in unison. He put on the dignified expression of an experienced senior and began to praise each of us for our efforts. He gave us hugs and offered to take photos—from the perspective of a trainee with nothing to their name, this was the highest form of reward.

 

He seemed to give me various bits of advice and stories as well, but my mind was so frazzled that it didn’t really register. Well, I was sure it was all very helpful stuff.

 

“Make sure to contact me once you’re out… okay? This senior will buy you a meal.”

 

“Thank you, sunbaenim!!”

 

‘This guy is really obsessed with the senior thing.’

 

“Actually, instead of that, we should just set a date. Do you guys have time this week?”

 

“Pardon? No… sunbaenim, but… we….”

 

“What, aren’t you trainees leaving the dorms starting this week?”

 

“Ye… yes?”

 

‘Leaving the dorms…?’

 

A brief silence followed.

 

And then, I heard Kim Minhyuk muttering quietly.

 

“Ah. You haven’t heard yet? Ah… damn… I messed up.”

 

“…….”

 

“Please pretend you didn’t hear that, hubaenims. W-well, I’ll be going now.”

 

The trainees stared blankly at the irresponsible retreating figure of the senior idol. Because the news was so sudden, they couldn’t decide whether to be happy or not. To be precise, ‘bewildered’ was the most accurate description.

 

Even I felt the same.

 

‘This set… shouldn’t they be using it more?’

 

Anyone could see that this set was built with a massive production budget. To think its use ended here… it was only natural not to understand.

 

‘What are they thinking? Is Kim Minhyuk mistaken? How are they going to manage the trainees? They’re just going to release these kids who are now semi-celebrities into the wild?’

 

Of course, from a narrative standpoint, it made sense. Setting aside all the behind-the-scenes adult considerations, there was some logic to it. It could serve as a device to show that the Citizen Revolution was successful, signifying that all trainees would now stand on equal footing at the same starting line.

 

At the same time, they might be trying to save on production costs. Supervising, feeding, and housing all the trainees in a dormitory cost a lot of money. Since the budget for this specific mission and performance was so high, they might be trying to cut costs elsewhere.

 

There were likely other adult reasons we weren’t privy to… but those reasons didn’t seem very important to the trainees in front of me right now. The fact that they were going home immediately seemed to be the greatest joy.

 

In particular, the corners of the mouth of the Elder Duo—specifically, Trainee No. 66 Jeon Hocheol—were turned up so high they looked like they might tear. He was happy to go home and see his family.

 

“Is what Kim Minhyuk sunbaenim said true?”

 

“Probably, right?”

 

“And if not?”

 

“Then it’s not.”

 

Meanwhile, Jung Taehee seemed quite reluctant to leave the dormitory….

 

‘Now that I think about it… was he from the countryside?’

 

Facing a sudden two-to-three-hour commute was bound to be a bleak prospect for him.

 

“Why… why are they suddenly sending us home?”

 

Sure enough, he was expressing his dissatisfaction alone.

 

“This makes no sense….”

 

Kim Haejun, on the other hand, seemed to be in a fairly good mood.

 

“If we really are going home… let’s meet up outside too, Unha.”

 

“Ah, yes, hyung. Of course. Come to think of it… where did you say you live?”

 

“Ah. I live alone in Hongdae.”

 

“You’re living away from your parents?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Where do you live, Unha?”

 

“I live in Sangam.”

 

“Oh? That’s close.”

 

“Yes. We’ll be able to see each other often.”

 

“Lee Unha, you live in Sangam?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Even while exchanging bits of small talk, I still couldn’t shake my doubts. To be honest, I wasn’t all that happy about the situation.

 

‘That means I’ll be separated from Joo Wooyoung too.’

 

I hadn’t even checked where Joo Wooyoung lived yet. Furthermore….

 

<< Linked Quest >>

[You, with a 1% contribution to the Demon King’s defeat. Assist the Hero Joo Wooyoung, who had a 99% contribution, and form the optimal members to debut together.]

<<Penalty for Quest Refusal or Failure: Return to the Other World>>

 

‘What am I supposed to do about this?’

 

There was going to be a major obstacle in continuing the linked quest. After Kim Haejun, I still needed to find the remaining future teammates, but if everyone scattered like this, there was no telling whether I’d even be able to complete the quest properly.

 

‘Do I have to meet them separately? How? Is it even possible to keep track of everyone once they’re scattered all over the place?’

 

Then again, maybe there was an upside…

 

Once everyone returned to the outside world, there would probably be at least a few people who’d end up causing trouble, so this return home might serve as a natural filter.

 

Kim Haejun, whom I’d already marked as a prospective teammate, wasn’t the type to cause scandals—he was simply misunderstood a lot. Taehee, No. 123, who now had a high chance of debuting after this performance, also seemed far removed from that kind of drama.

 

They’d all have to sign contracts, of course, but I was willing to bet at least a quarter of them would end up creating controversies on their own.

 

‘Of course, this is only assuming Kim Minhyuk’s words are true….’

 

He could have been mistaken. Most likely.

 

“…….”

“…….”

 

However, as if mocking my expectations… the return of the trainees was proceeding quickly, swiftly, and mercilessly. We were pushed out with almost no preparation whatsoever, leaving me completely dumbfounded.

 

‘Is this… really happening?’

 

“That… look over there….”

 

‘They’re really throwing us back into society this suddenly, without any preparation?’

 

“Isn’t that… Lee Unha?”

 

‘Wait, really?’

 

“I think it is Lee Unha.”

 

“Uh… eh?”

 

“No way. Why would Lee Unha be here?”

 

I, too, found it hard to adjust. Probably everyone was feeling the same way I was.

 

“…….”

 

Daily life had completely changed.