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When I first heard "Into the I-LAND," it felt pure. Clean instrumentation, youthful vocals... it immediately brought to mind that lush green forest and the towering complex. I haven't kept up with the group formed through the show for a while, but I-LAND remains my favorite survival show, and its title track is still the best survival show song in my book.

1.

“Pushed by the crowd, I arrived here / Standing before the door to the dream I searched for so long.”

Having watched survival shows for years, I've always felt their purpose is building a utopia for the contestants. I-LAND displayed this metaphor literally, turning that utopia into a white "egg" where viewers watched these boys struggle and reborn. It reminded me of The Hunger Games: a massive arena with enclosed stage, with people watching outside. As Hermann Hesse wrote in Demian: "The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world." The egg is both a haven and a cage.

The trainee era itself is a powerful lure. It draws young people in with the promise of a debut. I loved the second half of the survival show I-LAND, where trainees fought together for that shared goal. The Fake Love performance stands out: when one trainee couldn't hit the high notes, the others gathered around and helped him. At that moment, I believed in the utopia. Even knowing evil editing exists, that the camera shapes the moments, it still touches me.

What does "I-LAND" mean? What is the I-LAND in our dreams? The lyrics say, "Right now, I & I & I & I is I-LAND / You and I were one from the start." Philosophically, dissolving individual boundaries to share a single vitality is an almost ultimate utopian ideal. Yet in the show, before the boys could embrace across the bridge connecting their small lines, the rules built high walls between them.

The I-LAND belonged to the elite, those with popularity and talent. They got spotlight, soft beds, and endless praise. Here, "I" stood for Ideal and Imaginary.

Down on the Ground, the dropouts and marginal players were left with no screen time, no chance to take the stage, and not even the luxury of wearing their own performance outfits. Here, the "I" lost its name. The idea that "you and I were one" became a joke with irony.

2.

“The door to the future opens.”

But what happens afterwards?

In The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, Le Guin depicts a perfect city of joy without class or suffering. The cost? All the joy depends entirely on one child staying in a dark basement. Some citizens choose to look away, while others turn and leave.

Do those who leave Omelas actually find a better place? Le Guin writes, "They seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelas." In reality, outside of utopia lies no guaranteed paradise. Utopia feels perfect precisely because its foundation rests on a suffering child. In the K-pop world, who is that child?

It’s the victims of evil editing, the trainees whose futures were stolen by controlled votes, and the all-rounders who poured their blood, sweat, and tears only to end up working in coffee shops. K-pop looks bright on the surface, but behind the scenes lie corruption and relentless pressure, idols were even forced into political games.

Us, as fans, look a lot like the citizens bathing in the Omelas sunshine, fully aware of the misery in the basement, yet still staying silent.

3.

“Run for your heart, run for your life.”

I once asked a friend, "If you had the chance, would you debut?"

They said no. The cost after debut is too heavy: forced plastic surgery and intense schedules that strip away personal thinking. How much of oneself must be lost for a dream? Does it cost you you?

Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World foresaw a society divided by genetics and pacified by shallow pleasures. Today’s K-pop industry mirrors that discipline. Idols are increasingly commodified into standardized, polished products, losing their desire for self-expression.

I constantly look for idols who have uncommercialized passion. Yet, I often wonder if the "authenticity" I admire is just another carefully crafted mask. Then again, if the energy they project feels real in the moment, maybe that’s enough.

As a high school student studying literature and reading some philosophy, I realized how precious independent thought really is. Living without reflection might make someone "naive and happy," but that's really not a life I want.

I wonder if idols who survive the harsh industry would ever miss their trainee days. People say idols rarely have time to improve after debuting. It feels a lot like us entering the real world. I sometimes miss middle school, a time when I didn't have to engage in complicated relationships and could just focus on a single, clear goal.

Part of me loves the concept of utopia, but part of me says it doesn't exist. The places that look closest to it usually contains the deepest corruption.

4.

“Run for your dreams.”

That's how "Into the I-LAND" ends.

I wonder why we stay hooked on an industry so heavily commercialized, and why 16 and 17 year olds keep throwing themselves into it with such passion.

Maybe it's because the background is so brutal. It's an obvious trap, an arena designed to consume people. Yet within this cold system, some people genuinely love the stage and dare to break out of their shell. I don't know how they will be shaped or where they will end up, but watching them pull off their syncing choreography while singing live over the backing track still gets to me. That human vitality is something that can't be taken away.

Whether at the peak or at the bottom, I hope we stay pure, and keep running for our dreams.