Debuting by Riding the Returnee’s Bus – Chapter 96

Author: LyraDhani

‘I’m probably making the same face.’

Kim Taeyeol and Han Yohan were both making the exact same expression. It was a phenomenon born from the fact that we had absolutely no idea how the broadcast would turn out or how we would be portrayed.

‘Honestly, I don’t know either.’

Of course, it wasn’t as though I had a wealth of broadcasting experience. I had just appeared on Idol Classism. But even if that weren’t the case, I still wouldn’t have been able to predict how this episode would turn out. Even if I had Benok’s level of experience, I probably still wouldn’t have been able to guess.

It wasn’t because we’d spent the past week frantically preparing the performance. Nor was it because I couldn’t remember how the Candy Star stage recording had begun or ended. On the contrary, I remembered it vividly.

It had clearly been a mission where the trainees who had survived this far competed against one another using the debut song Kang Hyuk had brought.

The name of the mission was…

The mission name had remained unchanged since the first round of voting, but perhaps because it involved a performance, it was given the subtitle <Campaign-1>.

‘Actually… it doesn’t really matter what the mission is called.’

Right now, what mattered was that the rankings from this mission would determine how many bonus votes each team received… and as I said before, I just couldn’t grasp how this broadcast would turn out or how our performance would be perceived.

Normally, once a performance had been filmed, you could at least get a rough sense of how it had gone. For example, you might feel like it was going to be a massive hit, like the Dark Mage or Citizen Revolution stages, or that it was going to be a disaster, like some of the Slave class stages. You could call it the vibe on set.

‘No. It’s a bit different from the set vibe… because the atmosphere on set wasn’t actually that bad.’

The judges were diligent in their evaluation, and the trainees fought with their lives on the line. The production crew seemed to film more passionately than usual, too… but it somehow didn’t feel like their reactions were genuine.

‘Is it because it’s been a while since we filmed a performance?’

“…….”

‘That could be it.’

The Citizen Revolution stage, where I first showcased the Siren’s Voice in Episode 9, was quite a while ago. Episode 10 was the first official voting result broadcast that made many viewers and trainees cry. Episode 11 was a low-effort filler broadcast showing trainees campaigning in their daily lives—it was such a free ride for the producers that I didn’t even monitor it properly. The 2nd voting broadcast in Episode 12 was just a ranking announcement, and that was it.

And the Episode 13 I was watching now… was the return to a performance filming and broadcast after a long hiatus.

As soon as Episode 13 began, even the MC, who was trying to build excitement, seemed a little out of practice hosting a competition again.

[MC: Now, then! The long-awaited Semi-Final! We will now begin <Campaign-1> of the <Election campaign>!!!]

‘Still, they did put together quite a flashy opening.’

As fireworks purchased with what must have been an enormous production budget exploded relentlessly overhead, the MC continued speaking into the microphone.

[MC: As mentioned before, the team that takes 1st place in this Semi-Final will receive a benefit of 15,000 votes for each team member! Now, then… which trainees will be able to win over the voters with [Candy Star], one of our double title tracks? Who will be the ones to sit on the seven thrones!!!]

[MC: Which trainees will occupy those seven empty thrones!!]

It was obvious they were doing everything they could to raise the excitement. It was just a typical, stereotypical broadcast format. They showed the current rankings of the trainees with pictograms and graphs, displayed how many votes each trainee was receiving, and mentioned the vote difference between them. They were struggling to fill the screen time by saying things they would surely repeat during the upcoming 3rd voting results.

After dragging things out for quite a while, the broadcast naturally moved on.

[MC: Of course, before that, we must introduce the special producer of <Idol Classism>!]

[Caption: What is the identity of the producer for <Idol Classism>?]

As expected, Kang Hyuk appeared alongside the predictable caption and delivered a few words.

[Kang Hyuk: The song [Candy Star] I prepared for <Idol Classism> this time…]

[Kang Hyuk: So… I hope everyone gets to see the trainees’ wonderful performances….]

[Kang Hyuk: I’ll be rooting for you. Fighting, <Idol Classism>!]

They were building up the expectations as much as possible. All the broadcast’s direction was focused on making people look forward to [Candy Star], which would be used as the title track for the group debuting from Idol Classism. Performance episodes always had a similar feel to them, but…

‘They’re really laying it on thick today.’

I couldn’t help but feel that way.

‘But then again… it’s not particularly strange.’

It felt like they were pushing the group that would debut from Idol Classism, so there was nothing bad about it. Regardless, they announced that Kang Hyuk wrote, composed, and produced it, and it was an act of declaring that this group would grow under the protection of a major agency like [Crown], so the fans were probably screaming with joy.

Well, assuming they were convinced [Candy Star] was a good song.

One by one, each team stepped out and began their performance.

As always, it was mandatory to include segments where they shared and looked back on the hardships and difficulties they had gone through while preparing for the stage. This time, however, a different kind of commentary was mixed in as well—praise for the song and compliments about the choreography. They didn’t highlight the doubts or anxieties the trainees actually felt during practice.

Right on cue, I heard Kim Taeyeol, who had the biggest grievance against Candy Star, muttering.

“Not a single criticism. Isn’t this media control? Our atmosphere wasn’t like that at all. They’re talking like we received some legendary masterpiece.”

“I guess they think the results are all that matter. Besides, there’s nothing to gain from airing all the complaints. It’d just be spitting in their own faces.”

“The results? I don’t know… From where I’m standing, the outcome seems pretty obvious.”

“W-well, we have to wait and see.”

To be honest, I didn’t think Kim Taeyeol had particularly good judgment, but…

[Trainee No. 112 Lee Unha: Candy Star! Candy Star! Candy Star!]

[Trainee No. 45 Han Yohan: Because your teeth will rot!]

[Trainee No. 12 Jegal Hwi: I am your candy, I’ll give you love, an unstoppable attraction.]

[Trainee No. 112 Lee Unha: Candy Star! Candy Star! Candy Star!]

The moment Schrödinger’s cat—no, Schrödinger’s [Candy Star]—popped out of the box…

‘I wasn’t… imagining it, was I?’

I could only stare at the screen, completely speechless. I barely managed to swallow the curse that was about to escape my lips. Kim Taeyeol, unable to restrain himself, spat out a thick curse I hadn’t heard from him in a while.

“Candy Star my foot… What the hell is this? F***, seriously.”

“…….”

“Is this for real?”

“…….”

‘No… I think it’s a mistake.’

I couldn’t even describe the current situation with typical words like ‘the lyrics are childish’. It was just a total mess. The choreography was passable, but the melody itself made absolutely no sense.

‘Something’s definitely wrong with this.’

This phenomenon wasn’t a problem occurring only in our group. If anything, our team had it better. Strictly speaking, it seemed to suit Lee Unha reasonably well. Especially during the part where I shout ‘Candy Star! Candy Star!’, adding the Succubus Eye effect made it feel somewhat convincing. The choreography seemed designed to highlight my strengths, and honestly…

‘Don’t I stand out a bit?’

It wasn’t just because I was the center. I simply stood out more than everyone else. The best way to describe it was that I somehow stuck to that bizarre, nonsensical melody in a strangely natural way. I’d thought Kang Hyuk had completely lost his touch, but maybe that wasn’t the case after all. He mentioned something about a muse, and I started to wonder if he really wrote the song with me in mind. Otherwise, there was no way I’d stand out this much.

But I could guarantee one thing….

Objectively, it was not a good song.

It might generate some buzz for a while because it felt like a concept tailor-made for Lee Unha, earning a few GIFs and challenge videos along the way, but there was no way it was the kind of song that would climb the music charts. It was so bad that even Trainee No. 106, who was far from the debut range, had a rotten expression.

And the biggest problem was….

[Trainee No. 111 Joo Wooyoung: Candy Star! Candy Star! Candy Star!]

The concept didn’t stick to Joo Wooyoung at all.

‘If it doesn’t even work on Joo Wooyoung, that’s a serious problem.’

“…….”

‘No, I honestly thought he’d be able to pull it off. So why doesn’t it fit him at all?’

“…….”

‘Is it because the song was inspired by me—or rather, by the Succubus’ Eye? Is that why it doesn’t fit Joo Wooyoung?’

The instability I had vaguely felt while preparing and actually performing continued to manifest. Most of the other groups looked like they had been completely annihilated. Even in our group….

‘It feels like only Han Yohan and I survived…’

Just as the broadcast of Episode 13, which was full of worries, ended, Jegal Hwi, who hadn’t said a word throughout the episode, got up and headed somewhere.

His voice reached my ears as he brushed past me.

“Garbage.”

“Huh? I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

“Damn it, you seriously didn’t hear me?”

“What? Why are you getting mad at me?”

“If we debut with a song like this, we’ll definitely be a laughingstock. I can guarantee it.”

His expression had lost the composure that usually defined him.

‘Right… It really is… awful, isn’t it?’

He looked so certain that…

‘We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?’

I had no choice but to realize that we were well and truly screwed.