Debuting by Riding the Returnee’s Bus Chapter 93

‘Is this for real?’

 

“…….”

 

‘Seriously, is this actually happening? Am I the only one who feels it’s strange?’

 

“…….”

 

‘Doesn’t it feel weird?’

 

I never imagined that, at this point of all times, I’d end up worrying about what would happen after debuting.

 

It was shocking. A debut song so baffling that I couldn’t make sense of it. To make matters worse, it wasn’t just one song, but two.

 

No matter how many times I listened, I couldn’t picture the trainees of Idol Classism debuting with these tracks. My hands and feet were literally trembling while listening—what more needed to be said? I wondered what kind of mental state the producers were in to push this as a debut song.

 

And that wasn’t the only thing I couldn’t understand.

 

The reaction of the trainees immediately upon returning to the practice room was even more baffling than the mysterious double title tracks. I thought the angry trainees would start a riot to give the staff a taste of revolution… I thought they might cry and wail and attempt an escape… but to my bewilderment, the atmosphere in the room was incredibly peaceful.

 

“The song is pretty good, isn’t it?”

 

“Really? Aren’t they kind of questionable?”

 

“That’s just because we’re hearing the guide version. Once the official recording is done, it’ll probably sound way better… It’s Kang Hyuk from Crown. He’ll figure something out.”

 

“The more I listen to it, the more addictive it gets. Candy Star! Candy! Candy Star!”

 

“Candy Star is definitely decent. Hey HEY Hey is good too, in a similar way… it’s catchy… and look at this part of the choreography, isn’t it cool?”

 

“Ah, I liked that part too. When they go, ‘Hey! Hey!’”

 

There were even trainees reacting positively. Actually, the majority seemed positive. I wondered if they were just saying that because they weren’t the ones debuting with it… but honestly, it didn’t seem that way. Some trainees had genuinely become fired up again after hearing the title tracks. Was it expectation for the star composer? Or just….

 

Am I the one who’s lost my touch?

 

Suddenly, I remembered a story I’d heard a long time ago. A story about a member of an unknown idol group who went as far as deserting the group because they hated a certain concept and song, clashing with the company. It was a behind-the-scenes story revealed much later, but it was something anyone interested in the industry would have heard at least once.

 

To some fans, it was just a funny anecdote, but the lesson for a trainee or an idol was different: Never believe your own instincts are superior to the company’s.

 

After all, the very song that idol had tried to boycott ended up becoming a nationwide smash hit. It even propelled the group to the top in one fell swoop… essentially proving that the discernment of a company and its staff, who had survived in this market for a long time, carried more weight than an individual’s eye.

 

Of course, that story didn’t apply to every case, but one thing was certain: this industry didn’t move carelessly.

 

Yes, this market didn’t move on a whim. Imagine the cost of producing one idol group, the loss if it failed, and the opportunity cost. It was an industry where people from top universities and numerous experts who had survived the field held meeting after meeting to decide every major and minor detail.

 

The same applied to Idol Classism. I didn’t know how the investors, producers, and agencies were intertwined, but the probability was high that they had poured their heart and soul into this. It was hard to imagine how many debates and clashes occurred before Star Composer Kang Hyuk, the double title debut, Candy Star, and Hey HEY Hey were decided.

 

It wasn’t just the trainees who wanted to succeed through Idol Classism. The countless people involved wanted this group’s success more than anyone. There was no way they would throw this group into the gutter.

 

‘Right… I’ll trust them.’

 

Let’s trust the people with the high-spec brains.

 

‘For now, it’s the only thing I can do.’

 

Let’s trust the experience and intuition that has written numerous legends in this industry.

 

“…….”

 

“…….”

 

After steadying my breath, I put on my sponsored wireless earphones and listened to the guide track once more. The voice murmuring ‘Candy Star, Candy Star’ hit my ears.

 

‘It’s kind of okay, isn’t it?’

 

I tried to squeeze out some positivity.

 

Both songs certainly had unique structures and melodies; they felt like music I’d never heard before. If I had to describe them, it was ‘fresh’. No, it was definitely fresh. It was a melody unlike anything I’d ever encountered. I didn’t have a broad musical background, but I could tell these two title tracks weren’t similar to any existing songs.

 

It was definitely a composition that would deliver a massive shock to those who thought nothing new could come out because all possible melodies had already been exhausted.

 

‘It’s a n-new flavor. Like Hawaiian pizza. And… the concept is….’

 

I had no idea how the concept would turn out.

 

‘Is it a 90s vibe? Boyish? Refreshing?’

 

As for Hey HEY Hey….

 

I had no idea what vibe this was. I didn’t know how to interpret it.

 

‘Is… is this another kind of refreshing concept?’

 

“…….”

 

‘What on earth… is this?’

 

I had no idea. With my meager knowledge, I didn’t have the confidence to interpret these songs.

 

In the midst of my confusion, the only silver lining was that I wasn’t the only one lost. After the two title tracks had been revealed and the random team draw was finished, the trainees who gathered together all wore expressions that clearly showed they had no idea how they were supposed to perform these songs.

 

I looked over each of the teammates I’d been assigned this time. Fortunately, there were members from ‘Unha’s Circle’ here too.

 

First was No. 45 Han Yohan. He was the easygoing type who got along with practically every trainee, but now I could see him listening to the song with an unusually serious expression.

 

And then, No. 98 Kim Taeyeol. He seemed to realize the vibe of the song didn’t suit him, as I saw him grimacing slightly. I had ended up with the duo from the Hopeless Trio once again.

 

Somehow, I’d ended up in the same team as the duo from the Hopeless Trio again, but unlike before, I wasn’t worried. Kim Taeyeol had shown remarkable growth, so that went without saying, and Han Yohan had created a niche for himself as well.

 

The problem was actually over there.

 

Trainee No. 106.

 

I didn’t remember his name. But I remembered his face clearly. He was the guy who blurted out the line ‘Cliques are f*cking disgusting’, so there was no way I could forget him.

 

‘His expression doesn’t look great, does it? No matter how I look at it, it doesn’t seem like it’s because of the songs. It’s because of us, isn’t it?’

 

It wasn’t exactly a relief, but I liked that his hostility wasn’t directed at Lee Unha. Following No. 106’s gaze, I saw someone listening to the guide version with a blank face.

 

The trainee No. 106 was sending daggers at.

 

“…….”

“…….”

 

Trainee No. 4.

 

Jegal Hwi.

 

‘I honestly never imagined we’d end up on the same team here….’

 

Of course, it wasn’t a bad thing.

 

‘In fact, it’s great.’

 

The 3rd ranked trainee in Idol Classism. Even in the cutthroat Nobility class, he was the trainee who had beaten Joo Wooyoung and never let go of 1st place. His skill was beyond question. Since he started in the Nobility class, his skills were clearly top-tier. Furthermore, he had landed 3rd in both the first and second official votes. He was a guy who had already built his own fandom and had even managed to land his own two clique members into the debut group.

 

‘Smart, quick-witted.’

 

Great at dancing and singing.

 

‘He also seems to have a deep understanding of how <Idol Classism> works….’

 

There wasn’t a single weakness to point out. The only thing weighing on me was how he would view Lee Unha, but even if he viewed me negatively, it wouldn’t interfere with the mission. He didn’t look foolish enough to bring personal feelings into a mission like this.

 

‘He wouldn’t have made it this far if he were that stupid.’

 

I could tell just by how he ignored No. 106.

 

‘He doesn’t even care what the other members are like or what they’re doing.’

 

A personality like that was actually easier to deal with. There were only two performances left anyway, and there was no need to waste time pretending to be close friends.

 

“…….”

 

“…….”

 

‘And the other two are….’

 

Just middle-to-lower ranked trainees I wasn’t acquainted with, the type who would get their names out there and eventually debut from some mid-sized agency. It felt as though they’d realized it was already too late to chase bigger ambitions and had decided instead to simply finish on a high note.

 

The fact that they hadn’t become completely complacent was enough to make me realize this team draw hadn’t been bad at all. Clenching my fists, I looked up.

 

Other than Han Yohan and Kim Taeyeol talking quietly between themselves, the room was almost silent. At the very least, this wasn’t what anyone would call a lively atmosphere.

 

Was it because of No. 106 and Jegal Hwi? Or was it because Han Yohan, who usually played the mood-maker, was now harboring a sharp edge? Either way, the room felt much quieter than usual.

 

I was in a state of turmoil too, so there was no way a proper meeting could take place. I felt someone had to break this rigid silence, so I cautiously cleared my throat to start things off.

 

“Um.”

 

Naturally, all eyes focused on me.

 

“Ahem… I think we should probably discuss how we’re going to divide the parts and interpret the songs.”

 

And immediately, Jegal Hwi responded. His voice sounded somewhat cold, just as it had before.

 

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“The production team will handle the part distribution for these two songs… and won’t they also provide the interpretation and concept?”

 

“Ah. Is that how it works? Was there an announcement?”

 

“I haven’t received an announcement… but even without one, it’s easy enough to predict.”

 

With those words, the practice room door swung open with a bang.

 

At that moment, staff members we’d never seen before entered the room.

 

“Team 1, gather up for a second.”

 

Furthermore, the producer and composer Kang Hyuk, whom I had just seen on the screen, was approaching me from the back of the room, dragging his heavy body.

 

A plump hand pressed against my shoulder.

 

“Ah. Mr. Unha.”

 

The image of a pot-bellied middle-aged noble I’d occasionally seen in the other world naturally came to mind. Somehow… Somehow, I was starting to feel very uncomfortable.