“Say it! What the hell did that bitch before me do better than I did!!”
Go Jeongeun’s shouting continued to echo through the hall.
‘No one’s stopping him.’
A few staff members near the stage were keeping an eye on the situation, but none looked inclined to intervene.
‘This is what they want, right? Good TV?’
So obvious. From the production team’s perspective, this was a goldmine of drama.
Someone willingly stepping into the villain role everyone else tries to avoid? Why would they stop him?
“Say something already!!!!”
Go Jeongeun hurled the microphone in his hand to the floor.
BZZZZT—
A loud screeching feedback echoed throughout the hall as the mic hit the ground.
“Ugh…”
Other waiting contestants were caught on camera visibly wincing or frowning in discomfort.
…Isn’t this a bit too intense, Jeongeun? I knew your personality was a mess, but this is exceeding expectations.
You’re probably gonna have a hard time using public transportation for a while. Better save up—get ready to taxi everywhere.
‘Right. he never sent me his bank details, did he?’
The situation wasn’t exactly captivating enough to hold my full attention, so my mind briefly drifted to that random thought.
Sweet little Jimin gets stressed out by scenes like this. Ugh, poor thing.
“Participant Go Jeongeun, you seem quite agitated right now. Please try to calm down—”
One of the two judges, an older man, tried to intervene.
“Like hell I will! You calm down, asshole!!”
But Jeongeun, with his eyes practically bulging out in rage, was beyond reason.
Dear Judge, in his worldview, Confucian ethics don’t apply.
He stood there fuming onstage for a moment.
Then, the younger judge—who had remained silent the whole time—finally opened his mouth.
“Ms. Go Jeongeun.”
Jeongeun turned his seething gaze toward him.
Once he confirmed he had his attention, he continued.
“You believe your performance was better than the previous contestant’s, correct?”
Was he thinking Finally! Someone gets it!?
The moment the peer-aged judge addressed his, Jeongeun leapt at the opportunity and started ranting.
“Exactly! I’m telling you, if the order had been different—yeah, that’s right—if they’d just flipped the order, I would’ve come out on top!!”
The audition format involved choosing a random song from a fixed setlist and performing freely to it.
‘What a load of crap…’
Absolute nonsense.
With your current stats, outperforming anyone isn’t easy.
“Nonsense.”
Before I could even finish that thought, someone else said it out loud.
It was the judge, the one locking eyes with Go Jeongeun.
“You’re saying strange things, Participant Go Jeongeun.”
Jeongeun, briefly stunned, had his expression twist instantly into rage.
“What did you just—”
“I have,” the judge cut his off, “seen many people like you, Participant Go Jeongeun.”
His voice was like a drifting cloud—lofty, slow, detached from everything below.
“There were many reasons. If I listed them all… well, we’d be here forever.”
His gaze drifted off into the distance.
Wait… he’s still talking to Jeongeun, right?
It was like his consciousness was floating somewhere far away.
“Among them, two types appear most frequently—those without talent, and those who don’t try. If I had to add a third… character, maybe?”
His gaze, which had been fixed on some invisible speck of dust in the air, slowly lowered back to Jeongeun.
The look he gave him was no different from the one he’d given that dust.
“And from what I can see, you lack both talent and effort.”
And character, too, though he didn’t say it out loud.
He propped up his chin with one hand, as if suddenly weary.
At this point, he was getting pretty far from what you’d expect of a “judge’s posture.”
“To be blunt, your condition is quite poor. Probably the worst in this entire room.”
He let out a sigh through his nose, still resting his chin on his hand.
“Well… even I sometimes feel a little irritated when I see people who are born with both talent and work ethic.”
Flinch.
Now his gaze turned directly to me.
What? What?! Why’s he suddenly locking eyes like that?
And his eyes were slightly curved…
Was that a friendly look?
Because if so—extremely uncomfortable, thank you very much.
“That said, you still take the prize for being the biggest handful so far. It’ll be hard for you right now, so maybe aim for the Wild Card round and focus a bit more on trying—Oh. Was I not supposed to say that?
Oops, sorry.”
He finally noticed the production crew down by the stage urgently motioning for him to stop.
They’d been signaling for a while now.
The staff hesitated for a moment, awkward.
Thud!
Jeongeun suddenly stomped his foot hard, the whole stage echoing from the impact.
Seriously… is he five or something?
With his head down, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall.
‘…This might actually be a problem.’
Even I couldn’t help but feel a little concerned.
The Wild Card round—that’s basically a kind of second chance match, right?
‘…Is that psycho gonna come back?’
If he does, he’s just gonna wreck the mood again. Please don’t. Just let it end here, quietly—
“Hm?”
Right next to me, So-ram was staring up at me with the look one gives to genuinely bad people.
…What? What did I do?
*****
Go Jeongeun marched away with long strides, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the filming set.
That was the only kind of tantrum he could throw at the moment.
Stomping hard, walking with exaggerated steps—just to show how angry he was.
Once he thought he’d walked far enough, he lifted his head and looked ahead.
In the middle of the street, not a single passerby paid his any attention.
“Shiiit…”
In just one day—just a single day—he’d been told by two different people that he had no talent and didn’t try hard enough.
But he already knew that. He wasn’t exactly the “gifted” type. He was just unusually tall—if he’d been short on top of everything else, he figured it would’ve been game over for him long ago.
I’m not someone who shines.
Tears began to fall.
“Why’s everyone gotta come for meee…?”
Why. Why. Why. Why was the world—
Only ever pissed at him?
It was only when the lanky girl burst into loud sobs in the middle of the street that people finally started glancing his way.
I need to move. I can’t keep standing here like this.
I’m already weak. If I stay here, I’ll just get weaker.
I have to leave. I have to go somewhere.
But where?
…Only one place came to mind.
“Hu… hu… huff… huuuaaaa…”
The fact that that was the only place he could think of—made him feel even more pitiful.
Tears streamed from his eyes, nose, and mouth all at once.
I must look totally pathetic right now.
Leave. Go somewhere else.
Go Jeongeun turned and began walking toward the dorm.
*****
The judge who had effectively banished Go Jeongeun to America(?)—Choi Hansol—went on to conduct the rest of the evaluations without incident.
“Uh… you’re good. You pass.”
“Uh… you’re not so good. You fail.”
“Uh… kind of in-between… I’m gonna say… fifty-fifty.”
………………?
Wait, no. Something’s off here.
Was it really Choi Hansol who was “uneventful”…? Or was it just that all the participants after Go Jeongeun seemed calm in comparison?
Jeongeun had clearly lowered the bar for what counted as “normal.”
They must’ve all thought: unless you plan to go that nuts, better to just stay quiet.
Yeah. That tracks.
As for the participants, that made sense. But the real surprise was how utterly detached Choi Hansol remained the entire time.
I knew he seemed a bit out of it… but this much?
Aside from glancing at a few contestants here and there, he stayed completely indifferent throughout.
Among those few he did pay attention to was Choi Woojin.
“Visuals… even if nothing else, the face has potential. I’ll say pass.”
The only problem was, this happened before Woojin even got to perform.…Well. He passed, so maybe it’s fine?
“What a mess…”
As the line in front of me slowly grew shorter, I could feel the crease between my brows growing deeper.
Watching Go Jeongeun get eliminated earlier made it painfully clear:
“If you try to compete fair and square with just singing or dancing… you’re screwed.”
My current dance and vocal stats were literally a downgraded version of his. Not a metaphor—literally worse.
The only glimmer of hope came when Choi Woojin passed purely thanks to his looks.
Alright. Time to bring out everything I’ve got. Kim Haram still has one final, desperate move left to play.
Participant Kim Haram, please wait below the stage.”
Finally. My turn was just around the corner.
Don’t panic, Seo Jimin. You’re a Possessor. And Possessors can do anything.
“Participant Kim Haram, please come on stage.”
As I stepped up onto the stage, the surroundings fell silent for a moment.
I could hear whispers from the crowd.
“Let’s see how good they really are.”
“Honestly, if the judge is Choi Hansol, it’s already over, isn’t it?”
You all think so too, huh?
I really hope you’re right.
The moment I stood in front of the judges’ table, I didn’t hesitate—I pulled out my secret weapon.
“…Hello, Hansol hyung. It’s been a while.”
“It really has, Haram.”
If skill won’t cut it, pull the connections card.
“Is this the first time we’ve met since Clover’s activities ended?”
If you say so, then sure.
Not that I remember any of it.
“Yes. It really has been a while.”
“Well, you never came out much.”
“Haha… Our CEO at the time was very strict about that…”
Though honestly, it was probably less about Haram wanting that and more like CEO Jo keeping him locked up.
“Things were good, huh? Back when we were promoting together~”
The more we talked, the more color returned to Choi Hansol’s face.
“You’re still the same—still sparkling. Really, who but you could be an idol?”
As the conversation continued, the murmurs from below the stage grew louder and louder until they became full-on grumbling.
“What the hell. This is so biased.”
“Why even bother judging? Just invite your buddies and hand them a debut.”
“Look at him helping out someone he used to promote with… Honestly, I’m jealous.”
That’s right. The inescapable connection between Kim Haram and Choi Hansol.
Debuting together through Idol Incubator, sharing the memories of the peak of their fame!
If you’re bitter about it, go debut and come back too! Hahaha.
Alright, this could actually work.
Sorry, my friends. But I have a reason I absolutely cannot be eliminated.
“What’s with all that… I’m still nowhere near your level, hyung.”
“Oho, flattering me now? Looks like you’ve picked up some tricks over the years.”
Friendly laughter flowed between us.
Perfect. This is going perfectly.
At that moment—
“Well then, shall we get started?”
“…Huh?”
The faint smile that had hovered on Choi Hansol’s face began to deepen.
“Let’s hurry up and get the performance going.”
The previously flat expression gradually soaked with amusement, layer by layer.
“I really do love watching you dance, Haram.”
The spreading smile soon turned into a full beam of pure sunshine radiating from Choi Hansol’s face.
“Come on, let’s get to it. If you disappoint me after all this time, you know what’ll happen, right?”
Ah… so he can make that kind of expression too.
Wait, hold on—disappoint? Disappointment is…
“If I don’t like even a little bit of it, you’re out. Immediately.”
Hang on a sec. Looking more closely… his eyes are smiling, but his mouth—his mouth definitely isn’t.
I know the arts world has its fair share of lunatics, but this is just—
“You got that?”
Whoosh—!
The smile that had washed over Choi Hansol’s face left not even a trace of warmth behind.
At some point, the other contestants below the stage had gone completely silent too.
So… you all felt it too, huh? That I’m totally screwed?
Powerless, I was handed the buzzer. I pressed the button, and the roulette on the screen began to spin.
And just like that, the song that would choke the life out of me was chosen.
[4 Leaf – Clover]
“Wow, lucky you. Our debut song shows up just in time. I guess some people really are destined for this, huh?”
And some people… just aren’t. Haha.
Yes, that’s me.
Kim Haram’s handsome face meant nothing to Choi Hansol, who already knew it well. And that precious connection I’d relied on had been blown away by Hansol’s blinding madness.
I’m sorry, Hyunjae, Woojin, Jiwon. Looks like this is the end of the line for me…
Defeated, I took the handheld mic and walked to the center of the stage.
Toward what would soon become the site of my public humiliation.
‘Should I just die…’
As I stepped forward, praying that Go Jeongeun had paved the road to hell nicely—
The world froze.
[<Trait – Born to Be Idol> has activated!]
…Huh?
[In celebration of your monumental first step as an idol! All your past efforts now dwell within you!]
[<Adjusted Proficiency Estimations>
/ Dance Training: 4 hours
/ Vocal Training: 2 hours
/ Awards: 0
/ Broadcast Appearances: 0
Wait a sec.
[<Trait – Even Otakus Get Their Break> activated!]
Huh?
[Your life of obsessive immersion, etched into your causality, is affecting <Born to Be Idol>!]
[New correction metrics have been added!]
Ah.
Right.
So this is how it’s used.
Time began to move again.
“Contestant Kim Haram?”
The middle-aged judge sitting next to Choi Hansol called out to me.
“Ah, yes.”
“Shall we begin?”
Sure, anytime.
I gave a small nod.
The intro to <4 Leaf> began to play.
I didn’t have any confidence.
[Correction Estimation]
/ <4 Leaf> MV viewed: 3,321 times
/ Dance training: 4 hours
/ Vocal training: 2 hours
……
I wasn’t confident that I couldn’t do it.