Little Pink Starfish

Chaeya sat at the judges’ panel set up on one side of the stage.

‘Not a bad atmosphere.’

The crowd’s response was hot.

To the citizens of Jeju Island, the third round of CYB’s male idol division carried major significance.

During the purification process following the Gate’s contamination, Jeju had become a politically noisy region.

Over time, due to its nature as an island, the local community became increasingly isolated.

Even a glance at the comment sections on articles Chaeya saw in the judge’s waiting room made that clear.

This particular third preliminary also served a purpose as a morale-boosting concert, so the audience was mostly composed of those who had suffered directly from the contamination.

Of course, considering the “male idol” theme, they prioritized age groups and genders that matched the demographic.

Even so, a few elderly people were seated here and there in the audience.

Watching them clap cheerfully, knowing nothing about idols, brought a small warmth to Chaeya’s chest.

‘Yeah…’

Chaeya thought.

‘This is why I wanted to become an idol, too…’

He’d never forgotten that feeling.

But to not forget it, he had to be able to turn his mind on and off like a switch.

“That kid dancing—he’s not bad, is he?”

Aiden, watching H.I.R perform, murmured with his chin in hand.

‘Are you nuts?’

Chaeya frowned slightly.

H.I.R was the most problematic team during training.

The name of the team, and the fact that they made Han Iro their leader, was basically a declaration that they were riding the coattails.

Chaeya had even seen signs of Han Iro being ostracized by the team.

Aiden had to know this, too.

That kid dancing?

That one flapping around like a plastic bag in the wind?

‘His name was Jung Jinseon, right…’

Chaeya had memorized all the participants’ names.

Jung Jinseon’s father was a fairly well-known politician.

Though he hadn’t made his family background public, the judges were all aware.

‘Does he have some kind of connection to Aiden?’

It was possible.

Especially since Aiden was in the process of starting his own agency…

“What do you think, Jaehyuk?”

Aiden turned to his right, speaking to Choi Jaehyuk, the dance trainer.

“Ah, I think he’s good.”

Choi Jaehyuk was Aiden’s junior by a wide margin.

He must have heard all the rumors and likely didn’t have the guts to speak honestly.

“What about you, Chaeya?”

‘So this is how he manipulates the room.’

Chaeya brushed his hair back and opened his mouth.

“I… think he’s okay too.”

Now that he’d said that, it’d be hard to give a low score without drawing attention.

Of course, Chaeya still planned to score based on his actual impressions.

As for the other judges?

Aiden bringing up participants and prompting the judges—this was a power play.

A way of saying, Follow my lead.

‘Honestly, that performance is just average…’

Chaeya felt a wave of frustration.

He felt complicit in something gross.

If Rowen had been here, this wouldn’t be happening.

But the very reason Chaeya liked Rowen was that he refused to sit on panels like this.

“General mentor? Sounds boring…”

Rowen would’ve surely waved it off like that.

‘I miss you, hyung… damn it.’

Chaeya sighed and turned his gaze back to the stage.

—

― Withering cherry scent Kept in my mouth as I waited for you My humming, no matter how much I shout, I can’t be remembered—

Han Iro burst forth in time with the blooming synth melody.

From his clenched hand, small rainbow-hued bubbles began to float upward.

Stage lights focused in on Han Iro.

—

― Thousands of paper butterflies fly through the sky If I caught one and opened it, maybe your name would be written inside What do you want to do tomorrow? I write unliftable words on paper A letter I can’t fold, kept close to my chest—

Han Iro clenched his fist.

The rainbow bubbles burst in unison.

—

― My heart Has become unreadable Butterfly Effect in our Life

The lights slowly faded to black.

Waaaah—!!

The crowd erupted in cheers.

‘That kid definitely has talent.’

Chaeya gave Han Iro a high score.

Though his vocals were slightly unstable due to a lack of formal training, his voice was so expressive it compensated for it.

His technique was raw, but he had raw talent in abundance.

His facial expressions were great, too. Given his background, it made sense.

His dancing was solid, and his child actor fame gave him natural potential as an attention magnet.

He also had an excellent attitude during practice.

‘Unless he suddenly ghosts again, we’ll see him in the finals.’

A faint smile touched Chaeya’s lips.

After H.I.R’s stage, Aiden stood up, gave a short comment, and introduced the next team.

A slew of weak and passable teams took the stage one after another.

Reactions weren’t bad.

Though the third round would be followed by political drama…

That could be ignored.

Chaeya yawned during bad performances and scored seriously during decent ones.

What bothered her was—

Like with Jung Jinseon in H.I.R, Aiden was clearly manipulating judge sentiment on purpose.

‘Is this guy…’

Chaeya glared subtly at Aiden’s fake smile.

‘Trying to make a big grab this time?’

Considering the international schedule, CYB would last at least a year.

By the time Aiden launched his agency, it’d be around then.

‘So he’s grooming the people he wants to snatch later?’

Most CYB contestants were trainees under agencies.

If the average 7-year contract was ending soon…

‘Why do I have to be thinking about crap like this?’

With a sigh, Chaeya turned back to the stage.

“Next up…”

Aiden, unaware of his inner thoughts, stood to introduce the next performance.

“Give a warm welcome—Team Gravity!”

They were set to perform “Love from the Holy Sky” by Holy.

‘…They really pulled the short straw.’

Still, Chaeya remembered Holy’s skills weren’t bad.

The group hadn’t taken off due to genre issues, but each member had strong individual talent.

Kind of like how a CCM veteran might wow people on a TV show, but their albums sell poorly.

‘They were just unlucky.’

Even though Holy disbanded, its members continued to work diligently behind the scenes.

Chaeya respected them as seniors.

The stage dimmed.

Team Gravity appeared in techwear-inspired suits, bathed in dim red light.

An acoustic guitar intro rang softly.

‘Nice arrangement.’

The original had an overly flashy a cappella intro, and replacing it with acoustic sound was a clever move.

It toned down the awkward clash between the churchy sound and forced pop additions.

—

― Close eye When I close my eyes, I’m home Here, I cried the most Here, I learned to walk If I don’t close my eyes, I can’t see it My home, now Even if I lift the umbrella stand, I can’t find the key The markings on the wall Measured my childhood height Now my oversized body might be sliced by their sharpness—

Ryu Eunyul and Lee Hamin opened the intro, singing alternate lines while exchanging emotional glances.

‘They really revised the lyrics.’

Chaeya observed.

The original began with “Lord,” not “home.”

Did they replace every mention of “Lord,” “Savior,” “God”?

‘If so… pretty clever.’

—

― So boring, when will I wake up My dream Boldly holding onto the past, how fantastical I walk with the tiniest will to live Walking, walking, walking… Sorry, nothing survived The you in my dream Lacks boldness, and thus can’t be fantastical—

With a blank face, Madojin began his rap.

‘This part’s been completely redone.’

Rap is a genre sensitive to trends.

Holy’s rap section had been a major hole—not because it didn’t match the concept, but because it was old.

Now it had been reworked into a melodic sing-rap style, matching current trends—and it fit Madojin’s stoic expression perfectly.

—

― Close your eyes and think now Where should we start fixing things? My Home, A Little Happiness—

Ryu Eunyul followed, back-to-back with Madojin.

—

― So arrogant, morning never comes Your eyes No one can meet them anymore—

Madojin filled in the spaces between Eunyul’s choruses with rap, as if muttering.

—

― Open your eyes and start moving forward Where should we start keeping things safe? My Memory, A Small Tragedy—

Eunyul and Madojin walked toward the audience.

Around them, the other members danced with acrobatic choreography.

—

― I’m coming home I’m coming home (Walking, Walking, Walking…) Take me home now (So beautiful, the living you) Even if that place no longer exists in this world (Take on me) I’d even make a deal with the devil (From then on, we share one boat) I’d make a deal with the devil… (Where do you want to go?) To the home where only you remain (Shall We Dance?)

The music shifted from acoustic to a synth-led sound as the pitch rose.

The dance part, led by Jeong Noeul, began.

‘This part keeps the original choreography.’

Chaeya nodded.

The original dance was too difficult for rookies.

‘They must’ve sweated buckets practicing this.’

Chaeya glanced at Choi Jaehyuk, the dance trainer.

‘He’s… really into it.’

Seeing his emotional face, he chuckled.

‘Both training and coaching must’ve been hard.’

As the song progressed, the team’s intent became clear.

Ryu Eunyul’s vocals represented a longing to return to a lost home.

Madojin’s rap represented the one who used to live in that home—now gone.

Their intense choreography heightened the song’s emotional impact.

‘But the best part is…’

Given Jeju Island’s history, the lyrics could easily be read with political and emotional subtext.

The brilliance was how subtly they wove that in.

‘They really nailed it…’

They had restructured a difficult song with excellence.

Chaeya gave Team Gravity a high score.

—

― I’m coming home I’m coming home (Walking Walking Walking…) Now I’ll let you inside my home (Farewell, the living you) If I no longer remain in that place (Take on me) I’d make a deal with the devil (If only we could meet again) I’d make a deal with the devil… (Where do you want to go?) To the home where only you remain (Close Your Eyes)

At the end of the song, the members gathered around Ryu Eunyul, bowing like in mourning.

Eunyul reached into the air—

A flash of light.

Whoosh—

He pulled something from thin air: the Violin of Tainted Blood.

‘Is that Eunyul’s Constellation’s Authority…?’

Chaeya wondered.

Summoning a violin…

Who was his Constellation?

As she puzzled over it, Eunyul turned his back to the audience and began to play.

Screee— screek—

‘What the…?!’

Chaeya’s eyes widened.

A melody that didn’t feel of this world.

Both judges and audience alike were entranced.

It lasted only a moment—barely a single phrase.

But Chaeya nearly shot to his feet.

So did the other judges.

In the silence, Ryu Eunyul stopped playing and gasped for air.

“Haah, haah….”

Catching his breath, he looked forward.

And thought—

‘What is this…?’

WOOOOO—

What spread before him was not a glowing stage.

Everything was burning.

And far off, high in the sky…

Something he’d only seen in textbooks.

‘That’s a Gate…?’

A crimson-black Gate had appeared above.