#94

Everything leading up to the release of the digital single went smoothly.

L.I.T's fandom had grown significantly larger, and the fanbase had become much more solid.

Their influence had also grown exponentially compared to before.

L.I.T's position in the industry had changed dramatically as well.

From late last year to early this year, they swept almost every rookie award, and their active promotions continued to raise their profile.

Now, no one dared to call L.I.T a "nobody rookie."

As if to prove this, love calls from idol-related variety shows poured in even before their comeback.

Interview requests from magazines also flooded in.

Naturally, lucrative event schedules were packed without a single gap.

Eternal Legend was begging for just one more appearance.

And so, two days before the comeback, we were invited to appear as panelists on KBC's special program The Rise of K-Pop.

[The K-POP market has grown tremendously in recent years. So KBC is producing a documentary as a special program. And they specifically requested you to appear.]

When I asked if appearing here would bring some benefits, I was told that it wouldn’t hurt to stay on their good side.

That meant, unless under special circumstances, you couldn’t dare refuse a broadcast station’s invitation.

Special circumstances here refer to situations like when we refused MBS's invitation due to the lighting accident. But it’s much better not to create such special circumstances.

Even though there was no apology, rumors were circulating that MBS was displeased with us, a rookie group, for refusing their invitation.

In front of the absolute power of broadcast stations, rookie idols aren’t even considered "乙" (second-tier); they’re more like "丙" (third-tier).

[But we’ve moved up to "丙," haven’t we? We’re no longer rookies.]

Then, he subtly provoked me again.

[Only when you reach ARCHE's level can you stand above the broadcast stations. Let’s work hard to become like ARCHE sunbaenims, okay?]

ARCHE, ARCHE.

What an annoying name.

[Hurry up and break into the Japanese market. I want to surpass that bastard Yoo Noah too.]

After accepting the invitation, I arrived at KBC with Gyuhyung.

It was an individual appearance, not a team one, and it wasn’t at the usual public hall, so it felt a bit awkward.

In that unfamiliar place, a familiar face called out to me.

“Ichan-ssi!”

It was Kim Jeongsoo.

He was walking across the lobby with the manager I had seen in Idol Olympics.

It had been two months since we last met at the Golden Disc Awards. We occasionally exchanged messages, but we weren’t particularly close. Yet, he ran over as if we were friends who met every day.

The way he ran over reminded me of a large, fluffy dog leaping into its owner’s arms. I could almost feel the big tail wagging behind him.

“How have you been?”

I missed the chance to answer because he hugged me so tightly.

“Hey. It’s been a while; at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

I would’ve greeted him if he hadn’t hugged me like that. Who told you to hug me?

“You pounced before I could even say hello.”

I pushed Kim Jeongsoo away, slightly furrowing my brows as I straightened my clothes. Jeongsoo scratched his head and smiled sheepishly.

“I was just so happy.”

Then, as usual, he started chattering nonstop.

“Hey, I heard you’re appearing on Writer Jeong Haeseong’s new variety show?”

He started talking about that, then went on about how I had been ignoring his messages, asking if I had been in Hawaii or something, and kept rambling about how hurt he was.

He didn’t mention Writer Jeong Haeseong’s new variety show because of a gag order. And just this morning, Hotel Ohana, Writer Jeong Haeseong’s new show, had been announced in the news.

I stopped walking and stared at Kim Jeongsoo.

“Hyung.”

“Huh?”

Jeongsoo, who had stopped talking, looked at me blankly.

“You said you weren’t close with Kim Hyunsoo hyung.”

Looking at him now, there were some similarities between the brothers.

Kim Hyunsoo had the perfect actor look, while Kim Jeongsoo had the handsome athlete look.

Both had sharp features, clearly showing their family’s genetic traits.

“You really aren’t close, huh?”

But their personalities were complete opposites.

Kim Hyunsoo was calculating, shrewd, and clever. On the other hand, Kim Jeongsoo was straightforward, loyal, and simple.

Of course, they had similarities too. Both were incredibly simple-minded. And both had a meddlesome streak as wide as the Pacific Ocean.

“I kept quiet because of the production team’s gag order, but don’t brothers share secrets like that?”

Jeongsoo waved his hand dismissively.

“That guy. He kept his mouth shut until the news broke this morning, then called me right after.”

Jeongsoo snorted in disbelief and continued.

“You know what he said? He said you’re closer to him than I am, and since you’re his precious dongsaeng, I should treat you well.”

Wow, that’s a bit much.

As expected, Kim Hyunsoo is a trash human being.

The way he talks to his own brother is just shameless.

“It hurt my feelings, but whatever. I know what he’s like.”

Jeongsoo quickly regained his smile and started chattering again.

“By the way, Ichan-ssi. L.I.T is really doing well, huh? Getting invited to something like this?”

“Hyung, you got invited too. That means Möbius is doing well, right?”

The KBC special program The Rise of K-POP featured twelve idols in total.

Three idols from each year since debut—1st year, 2nd year, and 3rd year—were invited. The remaining three were idol trainees.

So, L.I.T was here representing the 1st-year idols who debuted last year. Another team was the girl group we won the rookie award with.

I wondered who the third one would be, and it turned out to be Möbius.

And of course, the competition to be selected must have been fierce.

“We’re different from you. We begged and pleaded to get here.”

Last year alone, over a hundred idol groups were formed. Less than 50% of them actually debuted, and only a handful survived.

Even though they barely survived in the jungle-like idol world, the treatment they received varied greatly depending on their popularity.

So, people were saying that Möbius benefited the most from MuteSeven’s downfall. They said this seat originally belonged to MuteSeven.

“But surviving is an achievement in itself.”

Jeongsoo smiled bitterly and patted my shoulder.

“Just wait. Möbius will catch up to L.I.T soon.”

I tilted my lips and smiled at Jeongsoo’s words.

“Alright. I can’t wait, but I’ll cheer you on.”

It could have sounded rude, but Jeongsoo, who by now knew my style, just laughed brightly.

We entered the filming studio together.

The seating arrangement in the studio was oddly set up.

The main panelists leading the discussion were seated in a circle in the center of the studio, while the twelve idol seats were placed at the four corners.

Behind them, the audience was lined up.

“This looks intense.”

Jeongsoo scanned the studio with uneasy eyes.

Then an assistant director approached.

“Welcome. Kang Ichan, Kim Jeongsoo?”

“Hello.”

We bowed in the idol-style greeting and took the cue sheets handed to us.

“It’s not difficult. The idol panelists won’t participate in the discussion; you’ll just vote on each topic after the discussion ends.”

After a brief explanation, we moved to the 1st-year idol seats.

As we crossed the studio, I stopped when I saw the name tags on the seats.

I had spotted a familiar name.

<Jung Yoobin>

Jeongsoo must have seen it too, as his expression visibly darkened.

“Jung Yoobin? That guy from MuteSeven?”

Of course it was him.

I turned my gaze and calmly organized my thoughts as I approached my seat.

At the end of last year, HS announced the disbandment of MuteSeven.

They also announced the dismissal of Kim Chanyeong, the director in charge of rookie idols, citing a lack of ethical awareness.

If they were going to fire someone over ethics, they should’ve started with HS’s CEO, Jang Myungwoo.

It was just a scapegoat move.

The disbanded MuteSeven members all returned to being trainees.

I heard some had terminated their contracts and left.

I hadn’t heard anything about Jung Yoobin, but seeing his name tag labeled as a trainee, it seemed he was still stuck in that filthy den.

Of course, that bastard wouldn’t leave. He’d just scheme another plan.

I sat down and tossed the cue sheet onto the table, staring intently at the seat where Jung Yoobin would sit.

The thought of seeing that face again made me nauseous, but at the same time, I felt like I wanted to have a conversation with him. My mind was a mess.

But Jeongsoo, oblivious to my thoughts, said something unexpected.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you get something like a Brave Citizen Award? Thanks to Jung Yoobin’s whistleblowing, you got your copyright back.”

This was the biggest problem.

That bastard was being hailed as a hero in the idol industry.

If you took the revealed facts at face value, it was hard not to see him that way.

To an outsider, Jung Yoobin seemed like my savior.

Jeongsoo was no different.

“Should I set up a meeting between you and Jung Yoobin for a meal?”

“Hyung.”

Please, just stop. Jeongsoo.

“It’s fine.”

I answered coldly and picked up the cue sheet again.

“I’ll treat you instead.(If anyone’s buying, it should be me.)”

I really hoped he wouldn’t meddle and try to connect me with Jung Yoobin.

The only reason I’ve been tolerating Jung Yoobin and HS this long is because of Kim Wooyoung. I don’t want to cause any harm to an innocent guy.

Just then, the studio door opened, and the white weasel—Jung Yoobin—walked in.

He entered with a bright smile, greeting the staff in the studio with a loud voice and deep bows.

Then, our eyes met.

I thought he might avoid me, but instead, he walked over with a wide grin.

“Ichan-ah. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”