Debuting by Riding the Returnee’s Bus Chapter 8

It wasn’t a mistake. It really said <Slave> Class Auction.

 

Even now, I couldn’t forget everyone’s reaction when that mission had first been revealed. It was the mission the MC had confidently announced after all the participants’ performances were over.

 

I remembered everyone just staring blankly at the screen. Well, not everyone. The <Nobility> class, which Joo Wooyoung belonged to, and the <Commons> class had received their missions separately. They surely received something shocking as well, but probably nothing quite as devastating as the <Slave> class.

 

How could it not be shocking? It was called a Class Auction, but literally translated, it meant they were holding a slave auction.

 

‘They’ve lost their minds.’

 

No one screamed in surprise; no one cheered. The only thing visible on the trainees’ faces was bewilderment. It was only natural.

 

Everyone mostly felt it was absurd—how could a ‘slave auction’ even be a thing? Could this even be broadcast? What was the PD thinking? What kind of show even was this?

 

And those unfiltered, raw reactions…

 

‘Were all captured on camera. From the station’s perspective, they probably consider it a huge success.’

 

To make matters worse, the audience’s votes weren’t even part of this auction mission. Only 28 out of the 50 slaves would survive. If no one ‘bought’ you, you were going straight home. 

 

There were 7 in <Nobility> and 93 in <Commons>. I didn’t know how many would be cut from the Commons, but the Slave class alone would lose nearly half its members in one brutally cruel mission

 

Predictably, everyone was on edge.

 

“If I’d known this was the kind of program it was, I would’ve never applied in the first place… I’m just going to ruin my image for nothing.”

 

“So this is why the major agencies didn’t send any trainees. Sigh.”

 

“What do we do now?”

 

The Slaves, having fully grasped the reality, were muttering to themselves.

 

“I think… we’re screwed….”

 

Some regretted appearing and worried about their public image, but I wanted to tell them not to bother. The fact that they were ranked in the Slave class of this trashy program already meant their chances of debuting were slim. 

 

While a few were ranked low due to bad luck or being in poor condition during their performance, they were the minority. Most of the slaves gathered here were aspiring idols without agencies. Even if they had one, it was usually a tiny company no one had ever heard of.

 

‘At least in the other world’s slave auctions, there were talented demi-humans or fallen nobles mixed in.’

 

It was only natural that profanity started flying around from every direction. They all knew that if a bunch of leftovers gathered together, the stage would look like a leftover stage. There would be no miracles. No one was suddenly going to awaken and pull off a perfect performance. 

 

This was a place where only the effort you’d put in beforehand was rewarded.

 

‘And… the cameras are rolling.’

 

I didn’t know exactly when it started, but the trainees who had been busy keeping each other in check warily suddenly became kind. The cursing stopped. Without a single word of warning, filming had begun.

 

Actually, it wasn’t as if there were no guidelines at all. Text began to appear on the screen. It was, of course, an unexpected situation.

 

[Pre-Auction Team Audition]

[Genre and song choice are free. Gather members and prepare a stage before the auction.]

[05:00:00]

 

After a minute, the timer changed.

 

[04:59:00]

 

It was a notification that the auction would start in five hours, but the slaves left standing there looked like they didn’t even know where to start. 

 

Which made perfect sense. There was only text—no judges, no MC, nothing. Not even the single writer or the junior PD present gave them a hint. 

 

Even though ten minutes had passed since the cameras started, nothing happened. No one knew how to form groups, how to produce a stage, or how to pick a song.

 

‘Now I see why we’re the Slave class.’

 

I wondered if the PD of Idol Classism was also a returnee from another world… 

 

The atmosphere really felt like the backstage of a slave market. Because they couldn’t do anything proactively, they had faces that seemed to be begging for someone to give them a task. They just looked at each other’s faces, sharing their anxiety. The atmosphere felt exactly like people praying to be sold to a kind master.and hoping they wouldn’t be discarded.

 

‘It felt exactly like this back then, too….’

 

Before we all went down together, someone had to step up. I slowly stood up. 

 

I spoke to No. 123 in my Vitamin persona.

 

“We’re on the same team, right?”

 

“Huh? Oh! Of course! Is it okay for you to be on my team, Unha?”

 

Then, I shouted toward a decent-looking guy standing further away—loud enough for everyone to hear.

 

“Hey! We have to go on stage in a few hours, so we should form groups! It’ll be better to do it together than going solo, right?!”

 

“Uh….”

 

“Hey. Want to join my group?”

 

“Y-Yes! Let’s do it.”

 

“Hyung! Want to be on the same team?!”

 

“Huh? Ah! Lee Unha! It’s Lee Unha… Sure, let’s be in the same group.”

 

“Would you like to join us?”

 

“Can this friend of mine join too?”

 

“……”

 

“Is it… not okay?”

 

“No. Let’s do it together!”

 

‘They’re all the same anyway. As long as they aren’t beasts, it’s fine.’

 

Filling up the numbers moderately would be enough.

 

“I’ll only take exactly eight members. I think that’s the perfect number! Everyone agrees, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yes.”

 

That was the signal. I began to see other trainees finally starting to move. Groups began forming here and there; even though nothing had officially been decided, they seemed to realize that forming teams came first.

 

Naturally, I took the eight people who looked the most capable and moved to one side of the room. If we hesitated…

 

“Um… excuse me, can I join you too?”

 

Guys like this were bound to pester us.

 

My gut wanted to refuse immediately, but with the cameras rolling and the mics live, it wasn’t easy to say no. It was then that No. 123, sensing my hesitation, squeezed his eyes shut and spoke up.

 

“I’m sorry. We… we think exactly eight people would be best.”

 

‘Good job, No. 123.’

 

When I turned my head, I saw him looking at me as though asking to be praised. Did he realize what he just did? That cold rejection was definitely caught on camera…. If people considered it insignificant, then it would pass unnoticed, but depending on how things were edited, there was definitely a chance he’d receive backlash.

 

I didn’t know if he just hadn’t realized this was a broadcast yet, or if he was truly just trying to look good to me, but thanks to him, we were starting with an appropriate number of people.

 

‘It won’t look too empty, and it won’t look too crowded.’

 

Four hours and forty minutes left. Since there was no time to waste, I immediately addressed my teammates.

 

“Since I gathered everyone, I’ll be the leader! That’s okay, right?”

 

“Oh… ah. Sure!”

 

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

 

“To be honest, I don’t know much either, but our next mission is the <Slave> Class Auction! It looks like the auction starts as soon as that timer runs out! I think we just need to prepare a stage to show before the auction begins.”

 

“I think so too.”

 

‘You’re doing great, No. 123. Keep up the support.’

 

I felt like I had gained a reliable ally. I nodded at No. 123, whose favorability had gone up in my eyes, when another trainee next to me spoke. It was a comment with a typical Slave mindset, but….

 

“But it’s only five hours. Will… will that be enough? There are no teachers, no one to ask… just us….”

 

It was a perfectly reasonable concern. If we had someone who could arrange music, someone who could choreograph, and someone who could sing perfectly, we could make a proper stage. But here, everyone was a leftover. 

 

The dark intentions of the broadcasting station were laid bare.

 

‘They’re openly telling us to fail.’

 

Maybe they wanted us to create a rotten stage that would go viral on the internet. No, they definitely wanted that. I wanted to say out loud that the station was trying to kill us, but there was no way I could say that.

 

“We just have to do our best.”

 

Just by saying that, they probably realized what I was thinking.

 

“Um… but how should we choose the song?”

 

“I think the important thing is picking something we can actually pull off.”

 

“What about the arrangement?”

 

“There’s no time. I don’t think anyone here knows how to arrange music. Does anyone?”

 

“……”

 

“……”

 

‘Of course not.’

 

Even if they did, they couldn’t do it in five hours. However, I saw some people looking anxious about whether this was really okay.

 

‘Seriously. Full of ambition, aren’t they?’

 

Did they not want to go out with just a cover of a senior idol’s song and dance? Maybe because they had seen so many shows like this, they had developed a greed to show something special. 

 

In the end, I had no choice but to sigh and speak quietly.

 

“We can at least decide on a concept. If we move quickly, I think we can even put together choreography. Well… not exactly create it from scratch—more like simplify an existing one.”

 

“A concept?”

 

“Yes.”

 

No. 123’s question flew in right on time.

 

“Unha, is there something you want to do?”

 

Before I knew it, I nodded.

 

“……”

 

“Resistance.”

 

I hadn’t put a lot of thought into the word. I just remembered how, back then… when I was summoned to the other world… I had stood in the back of the slave auction house and lacked the courage to do anything.

 

“Resistance.”