Chapter 39: Pollen of Hope

“Welcome, dear participants of (Casting with My Own Hands!) I’m your MC, Seol-ha, here to light up your day!”

His voice rang out, bright and melodic, as he flashed a radiant smile.  

Today, Seol-ha’s wavy hair was swept into a high, bouncy ponytail, swaying with his every move.

His infectious grin should have sparked a roar of cheers, wild and unrestrained, as it always did.

But today, the response was a mere ripple, a muted wave of half-hearted applause.

Seol-ha’s perfectly arched brows dipped, just a fraction, betraying a flicker of concern.  

“Oh, my, I can feel the nerves in the air! It’s the first ranking evaluation, after all, and I’m right there with you—heart pounding, palms sweaty!” He paused, his eyes twinkling with encouragement.

“How about we shake off the jitters with one big, bold shout? Let’s do this—together!”  

The room erupted, finally, in a surge of sound that rolled through the studio like a tide.

Seol-ha’s face lit up, his smile now brimming with satisfaction.  

‘They’ll probably overdub this cheer in editing,’ I thought, forcing my mind to latch onto something—anything—to quell the anxiety clawing at my chest.  

“Today, right here, right now, the rankings chosen by our esteemed PDs will be revealed!”

Seol-ha’s voice carried a weight that hadn’t been there before.

“You’ve all poured your hearts into the team evaluations, but only forty-two of you will remain. Today, fifteen of you… will have to say goodbye.”  

His words slowed, each one landing heavier than the last, dousing the room in a cold, heavy silence.

The air grew thick, oppressive, far more stifling than any previous team ranking reveal.

If I hadn’t popped that Calming Pill earlier, I might’ve already fled the set, my heart hammering out of control.  

Then, a hand seized mine, firm and sudden.  

“Huh?”  

“Relax,” Hang-yeol murmured.

His hand, cold and slick with sweat, betrayed his own nerves.  

“You first,” I shot back, covering his hand with my other one, rubbing it gently to ease the tension.  

“Phew…”  

I got it.

This moment—it was pure agony.  

“And now,” Seol-ha’s voice softened, steady and solemn, “we begin the first ranking announcement of (Casting with My Own Hands!)”  

A massive screen flickered to life, casting its glow across the room.  

“The final tally combines on-site and online votes. The 57th place for (Casting with My Own Hands!) is…”  

A heartbeat passed, fragile and fleeting, as every soul in the room prayed their name would stay unspoken.  

“Participant An Se-hyeong.”  

A sharp cry of despair pierced the air. The rest of us exhaled, a collective sigh of relief we couldn’t hold back.

An Se-hyeong climbed the stage, tears spilling freely, his voice quivering as he managed, “Thank you… to the PDs who voted for me.”

His words broke into sobs, raw and unrestrained, until a manager—or someone from his agency—guided him gently offstage.  

‘So the agency reps are here after all,’ I noted, the weight of the moment pressing harder on my already uneasy heart.  

“44th place: Participant Joo-hak.”  

The announcements barreled on, relentless, barely giving us time to breathe.

The call for 57th had felt almost tender by comparison.  

‘They’re rushing for the edit, aren’t they?”  

Survive to 42nd, and you’re safe—for now.

As the numbers crept closer to that threshold, the despair that had choked the room began to loosen, giving way to a fragile thread of hope.

If my name stayed off the list at 43rd, I’d make it through.

The possibility of survival sparked, faint but growing, among us.  

“Now, for 43rd place,” Seol-ha said, his tone grave.

“As you know, those up to 43rd will face elimination. The vote gap between 43rd and 42nd was a mere 52 votes.”  

Groans rippled through the crowd.

Some crumbled under the pressure, their quiet sobs breaking the silence.  

I wasn’t much better.

My grip on Hang-yeol’s hand tightened, knuckles white, as if I could anchor myself to reality through his touch.  

[ “Calming Pill” has temporarily lifted your debuff. Time remaining: 3 minutes 32 seconds.]  

The pill’s effect was fading fast.

Was that why my heartbeat seemed to thunder louder, drowning out the world?

The murmurs around me sounded distant, like whispers from another room.  

“Brother?” Hang-yeol’s voice cut through the haze.  

It was all in my head—fear twisting my senses.

My heart was fine, steadied by the pill.

I knew that, yet every nerve felt like it was unraveling.  

‘Get it together.’  

I bit the inside of my cheek, the sharp sting of blood grounding me as pain jolted me back to clarity.

I loosened my grip on Hang-yeol’s hand and forced a smile.  

“Sorry. Got a bit carried away there.”  

His eyes crinkled with a soft, understanding warmth, and he clasped my hand again.  

“I’m freaking out too, you know,” he said, dragging out the words with a playful groan.  

“…Yeah. It’s intense.”  

My body had been rigid, every muscle coiled, but something in his voice unraveled me, letting the tension slip away.  

Telling Hang-yeol and the others about my struggles had been impulsive, a moment of reckless honesty.

Regret crept in hours later—not because I doubted their care, but because I feared their pity.

I didn’t want to be coddled, didn’t want every move met with sympathetic glances.  

It wasn’t that their concern was wrong—it came from love.

But I wasn’t sure I could bear it if it became a constant weight.  

Yet Hang-yeol surprised me.

He didn’t smother me with worry.

Sure, he’d check in, like just now, but I’d braced for something else—maybe a comment like, ‘ “It must be worse for you, Brother. I’m overreacting.” ‘  

Instead, he just… stayed.  

“Huh? What’s up?” he asked, catching my stare, his eyes bright and curious.  

I shook my head and turned back to Seol-ha.  

“The 43rd place of (Casting with My Own Hands!) first ranking announcement is…”  

The air tightened again, a suffocating pause that held us all captive.  

“Participant Yoo Kyung-hoon.”  

A sob broke free somewhere in the crowd.

Most of us, myself included, stood frozen, caught between relief and a strange, gnawing guilt.

The joy of surviving was fleeting, overshadowed by the weight of someone else’s loss.  

[“Calming Pill” effect has ended.]  

I blinked at the message, closing my eyes for a moment before opening them again.

The timing couldn’t have been better.  

‘They love dragging out the suspense for the last safe rank, don’t they? Zooming in on the candidates for maximum drama.’  

That must come later.

These early announcements were chopped up heavily in editing—my obsessive watching of (Casting with My Own Hands!) couldn’t even pin down the details.  

‘All that extra stress for nothing.’  

I wasn’t out yet.

But relief was premature.

The real hurdle still loomed.  

’20th place. Please, just let me hit 20th.’  

Because that… that’s the only way I stay alive.  

***

In a boundless void, where neither floor nor ceiling existed, the god known as “Butterfly’s Wingbeat” hovered before a colossal screen, solitary and radiant.

Without a surface beneath, they seemed to drift in a sea of darkness, stitched with the glimmer of countless stars.  

The screen held the image of their chosen human, Kim Jae-ha.

Clad in the program’s official uniform—a sleek blend of schoolboy charm and tailored elegance—Jae-ha was striking, even to a god still new to this cosmic game.

His sharp features could’ve veered toward arrogance or age, but instead, they carried the soft edges of youth, like a boy not yet fully bloomed.  

But that wasn’t the point right now.  

“Ugh…” The god spun lazily in the air, a sigh escaping their lips.  

“I’m so nervous I might actually lose it.”  

Thanks to the privileges of a sponsoring deity, they were tuned into a live feed of the unfolding drama.

Every moment since Jae-ha stepped onto the audition stage had been a thrill, but this—this was something else entirely.  

“Come on, make it into the top 20!”  

The main quest for a revived soul like Jae-ha was set by “Row,” the system crafted by the Revival Project’s organizers.

No god, no matter how mighty, could meddle with it.

Like their divine peers, Butterfly’s Wingbeat could only watch, a spectator to their human’s struggle.

This wasn’t some archived memory or a clip on IdeaTV—there was no fast-forward, no skipping ahead.  

‘And that’s what makes it so damn fun!’  

That world was real, pulsing with life in the present.

Even the three goddesses of fate couldn’t toy with its threads, bound as it was by the archetype of order, a fragment of destiny’s grand design.  

‘But nothing’s ever absolute when variables are in play.’  

Birth and death, opposites entwined in a single existence.

Order and chaos, two sides of a coin, each chasing the other in an eternal dance.  

That’s why Butterfly’s Wingbeat adored the unpredictable.

Even they couldn’t guess their own whims, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.  

A god is all-powerful, but never all-knowing.

And this god cherished that truth above all.  

The screen now flashed with the announcement of 30th place.

Jae-ha’s name stayed unspoken, safe for another round.

But his face, growing paler by the second, drew heavy sighs from the god.  

“Oh, what am I gonna do? The Calming Pill’s worn off.”  

Jae-ha, cursed with clumsy hands, could only boost his dexterity by hitting system-set milestones.

It wasn’t vital enough to become a skill, so the exact targets remained a mystery.  

‘Maybe I’ll toss him a high-grade Calming Pill as a special mission reward later.’  

The god drifted into a brief daydream, scheming what kind of fiendish challenge to pair with it, until the voice calling 21st place snapped them back.  

“21st place is Participant Park Eun-hoo!”  

***  

The instant I realized Seol-ha’s voice hadn’t called my name, a searing heat bloomed behind my eyes.

I clamped them shut, pressing both hands to my face, swiping at the tears that had dared to escape.

To anyone watching, I hoped I looked merely tense, not unraveling.  

When the flood of emotion finally ebbed, I opened my eyes slowly.

My vision, still hazy, was filled with…  

A delicate cascade of pollen, its pattern subtly shifted.  

[Main Quest 2: Successfully Completed!]  

[Selecting Rewards…]  

‘Was the ??? reward random all along?’

The thought rankled, but in this moment, it barely registered.  

‘Even if they handed me nothing, I’d probably laugh it off.’  

Not that I actually wanted that, mind you.  

With the Calming Pill’s effect long faded, I’d bitten the inside of my mouth raw to keep my wits about me.

It worked.

I hadn’t fled the set in a panic and made it through the 21st place announcement.

I even managed to smile and clap as Park Eun-hoo ascended the stage, basking in his moment.  

“To the PDs who picked me, thank you so much!” Eun-hoo’s voice cracked with gratitude.

“And to our Four Colors, Four Souls team leader, Jae-ha Brother! Thank you for guiding us, even with all our flaws. Without you, we… sob sob sob!”  

Hold on—why was my name in there?  

The screen didn’t stop at Eun-hoo.

It panned to the other two from our trio, their faces streaked with tears.

And then, inevitably, it found me.  

Did they really need to zoom in on me?

I wondered, but I stretched my smile wider, clapping with exaggerated zeal, hands raised high.  

‘What did I even do? They earned this themselves.’  

Truth be told, I was a little embarrassed.

The praise felt unearned, like a spotlight I hadn’t asked for.