An Insincere Idol’s Blank Slate

Chapter 3

“Eden, wake up! How can you be sleeping in on the day of our debut?!”

At the sound of the familiar voice, I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. The old wallpapered ceiling and Jaehee’s face came into view. I was back to the day of the group’s debut.

F*ck my life.

I mentally swore and immediately recoiled from the pain now embedded in my subconscious. Fortunately, silent curses didn’t seem to impact the Sincerity Level.

“Jaehee, could you define sincerity for me?” I muttered.

The youngest group member waved his hand in front of my eyes as he narrowed his own. “Well, from where I stand, I’d say it’s the hunger and resolve I had when I was still a trainee. But why are you thinking about that on our debut day?”

I don’t know, but I’m apparently supposed to get it back by going through infinite regressions.

Thanks to my good looks and talent, I easily secured a spot in the idol group at all of my agencies, so I never really had that hunger. Reflecting on my trainee days didn't offer much help.

A deep sigh escaped me as I stood up. Denying reality and giving up would only lead me to a painful regression that I hoped to avoid. I had to gather myself and make sure my Sincerity Level didn’t reach zero.

“Status window,” I muttered as soon as Jaehee left the room, and it reappeared.

[A Project to Rekindle the Sincerity of the Idol who Lost his Edge]

[Target: Yoon Eden]

[Information

Age: 20

Position: group leader, rapper

Skills: rap, lyrics, composition, producing]

[Sincerity Level: 100]

[*Sincerity Level will increase/decrease based on the idol’s speech and behavior]

[*If Sincerity Level reaches zero, the project will restart]

[*To successfully complete the project, you must satisfy all prerequisites]

[Prerequisite: You have disappointed 30,000 fans. Now make 30 million fans happy! (0/30,000,000)]

I had learned that letting my Sincerity Level reach zero meant returning to this point in time. So to complete the project, I had to find a way to make 30 million fans happy. That meant that I had to gain more than 30 million fans first.

To reach that level of fandom, one had to be a global K-pop idol who transcended the domestic music industry and made a mark on the Billboard charts. Our group’s music and album concepts flashed in my mind.

Shall we go to the moon, babe?

Stars are bursting at your beauty,

just like shooting stars.

“Ugh, I can’t stand it! How did our concept evolve to include battles in space? At this rate, I’ll end up with a lightsaber!”

My eyes were starting to well up. I felt an overwhelming urge to scream because my life had suddenly become a living hell.

How am I ever going to become a top-tier idol with this material?

Even with the financial backing of a major corporation, the task seemed impossible. Even newcomers from major record labels, who often made their names on a controversial reality TV show, would struggle with our songs and ideas. The one silver lining I could come up with was that I had been writing lyrics, composing, and producing music before the regression, and I had an established history of creating hit songs.

Nevertheless, our issues had stemmed from the troublesome agency I was under contract with, which had suffered from unexplained financial deficits. They were the reason I sold my songs to other groups. Of course, I had wanted my own band to do well, but the stubborn reps at my company had been unwilling to work with me.

I rubbed my forehead, where a throbbing headache was developing, and saw the last sentence on the status screen flash momentarily.

[Check out the Weekly Quest]

“Weekly Quest”?

I stared at a sentence I hadn’t seen before, despite my two prior regressions. It had never crossed my mind to open any additional windows, apart from the status window, during the previous two regressions.

“Eden, why don’t we head back to the dorm and review our dance routine one last time?” Kim Dobin suggested.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. I was worried about making it to the practice room in time! Let’s do that, Eden. Our formations keep getting messed up during the section where the lyrics go ‘the dazzling Milky Way cascades down~’” Jaehee rambled.

“I’m busy right now. You guys can go practice on your own,” I grumbled.

“Why are you saying you’re busy when you're just staring off into space? Hajoon! Yehyun! Come quickly!” Jaehee shouted.

“Wow. Is our youngest member talking smack to a senior member?” I asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

[Slang detected]

[Sincerity Level -2]

Just as I was planning to review the weekly quest that had flashed onscreen, Dobin grabbed one of my arms while Jaehee took the other and pulled me away, putting an end to that plan.

On top of that, my Sincerity Level had been reduced. Apparently, I had to say “talking back” instead of “talking smack.” Surely a statement of fact wouldn’t be deemed slang.

The rest of our morning was occupied with arriving at the broadcasting station, getting dressed in our performance outfits, styling our hair, applying makeup, and greeting our senior colleagues, which left me unable to review the quest until it was our turn to perform. I had no choice but to wait until after our debut performance to review the weekly quest.

While we were standing backstage, I let out a sigh while examining the outfits that I just couldn’t get used to. The agency in charge of our debut album’s space theme required us to don pristine white jumpsuits that they dubbed “spacesuits.” In reality, they bore a stronger resemblance to straitjackets associated with psychiatric hospitals, just without the straps.

At that point, I should have recognized that our agency was utterly clueless and immediately spoken up. But I had just appreciated the agency’s acceptance, having recently left another management company just before debuting. My habit of agreeing to everything ended up being detrimental to the band.

“We’re launching our idol careers together, just as you promised,” said Hajoon, tapping my earpieces while I inspected them.

Hajoon and I were the same age. We had been long-time colleagues and close friends since we were trainees at our previous agency. With a face worthy of a big screen, Hajoon had effortlessly made the switch to an acting career, and was later hailed by the industry as an actor-idol.

I had chosen to leave my previous, more well-established agency when they decided to remove Hajoon from the group just before his debut, as a way to stand by him. We joined the new agency together.

Despite that level of loyalty, Hajoon chose to cut me out of his life when I, his longtime friend, decided to pursue a different path.

Nine years of friendship had amounted to nothing.

Seeing my expression turn sour, Hajoon asked, “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what we’ve always wanted?”

“It’s not that. I’m reflecting on the idea of someone getting upset and distancing themselves from me later in our career. This overwhelming feeling of excitement that I have now would become meaningless,” I explained.

“No way. That’ll never happen.” He shrugged at my loaded comment and gave me a reassuring pat on the back.

Hajoon, it did happen. You did that to me.

Sensing the tense atmosphere among the group members, I channeled the poise of a leader who had already graced the debut stage on three separate occasions.

“Anyone who makes a mistake has to pay 100,000 won to each member of the group, okay?”

I grinned as I was met with jeers from my fellow group members.

You rascals. I’ll be magnanimous and forgive your future grudges and refusal to talk to me.

As we stepped onto the stage and got into formation, the intro of our debut song, “Come to My Universe,” started playing. Even after multiple listens, the song still sounded so bad that I wondered if the composer had written it using only his feet or his butt as a joke.

While appreciating the smooth tones of lead vocalist Jaehee, I made up my mind. His voice was too good to be wasted on such a bad song. Starting with the next album, I would suggest my own songs. If the agency rejected the idea, like they had in the past, I was ready to fight back, even if it resulted in a fierce struggle.

***

After finishing our first performance perfectly, we had a brief exchange with the producers and then headed back to our dorm. I glanced around at the three figures huddled around Hajoon’s laptop and couldn't help but chuckle sadly.

Fellas, it’ll take a whole week for our performance video to finally reach 1,000 views.

I even remembered the comments on that video clearly.

Kyungmin k • 17 hours ago

What the hell is that? Is their album focused on men in psychiatric wards? What a ridiculous concept.

11 Likes

Hyena who searches for Unicorn K-pop idols • 10 hours ago

What an incompetent agency. tsk, tsk It would’ve been better to tie them up and gone with a straitjacket concept

7 Likes

We lived through that era. And now I find myself back in it, haha.

“Wait, is that number of views for real? Maybe they’re not all being counted because of a sudden surge in numbers?” Jaehee asked.

“If that were the case, the number of views on our music video wouldn’t have changed,” I reminded him.

“Then what about our album, our album sales...?”

Our youngest member was clinging to a sense of hope while struggling to come to terms with our failure. I logged into the music app and scrolled down the TOP 100 chart. As anticipated, we had not made a miraculous jump into the TOP 100 chart even after a few regressions.

Well, hoping for a change without putting in the work is the attitude of a thief.

After a quick glance at the music charts, Jaehee’s face fell. He grabbed Dobin and Hajoon’s arms and shook them.

“Come on! Hurry up and stream our song! My mom said I would have to start studying for the civil service exam if the album fails!”

Dobin immediately pulled up the largest online platform for civil service exam prep, playfully mocking Jaehee as he pointed at the screen. “Yeah, I think you better sign up for the next study group.”

“Dobin, it’s way more likely for us to become famous than for me to pass the civil service exam. I just don’t have the brainpower. It would take several years of studying to pass the exam,” Jaehee protested.

“Hey, I’m pleasantly surprised at how well you know your limits,” Dobin teased.

Jaehee tossed a throw pillow towards his bandmate as he laughed out loud. Of course, Dobin dodged it nimbly, as one would expect from our best dancer.

That’s right. You spent three years studying, but you still couldn’t pass the exam.

According to my memory, Jaehee had really dived into studying for the civil service exam after our second album failed. In the third year of his test prep, Reve’s popularity had skyrocketed after a video of Yehyun shook the internet. Jaehee had stopped studying without a trace of regret.

Yehyun came out of the bathroom covered in some kind of face mask. He bent down, scanned the number of views on the laptop screen, and let out a few tuts. “I mean, how can there be so few views when I’m in the video?”

“Yehyun, it’s a little premature to be surprised at this point. Unless things go our way, you could be unknown for another three years.”

[Words that incite discord among the members were detected]

[Sincerity Level -1]

My apathy earned me a sharp zap, and I looked up in surprise at the notification that popped up in front of me.

Yehyun let out a sigh, said that stress damaged his skin, and headed to his room. He had been selected purely for his attractiveness and had been preoccupied with maintaining his looks since his trainee days. He lacked the singing, rapping, and dancing abilities of an idol. Throughout our trainee days, when the rest of us found it challenging to adhere to a strict diet, occasionally indulging in some secret late-night chicken and pizza, Yehyun remained dedicated to protein bars and endured any pangs of hunger.

But what did I say that could “incite discord among the members”? I simply stated facts?

As I gazed at the room that Yehyun had walked into, Hajoon shut his laptop and gently asked, “Eden, are you okay?”

Of course I was totally fine. The first time around, I hadn’t anticipated our band being such a dismal failure, so I hadn’t been able to eat for a few days. But by the third time, I was completely indifferent.

Is this the essence of enlightenment?

“What did you expect? Our agency is small-time. Our song is dreadful. Our hair and makeup are awful, and our music video is clearly low-budget. Our making it big would be like winning the lottery, don’t you think?”

Hajoon, Dobin, and Jaehee all turned their heads towards me at the same time.

[Words that incite discord among members detected]

[Sincerity Level -1]

Huh. Again?

The sharp pain in my head made me scratch in an awkward manner as I whispered, “Did I say something wrong?”