Little Pink Starfish

The main writer didn’t know, but in truth, Han Si-on was eating samgyeopsal with exactly that mindset.

He wasn’t the type to enjoy gourmet food when alone, so despite staying in Korea, he hadn’t eaten much Korean food.

During his time with GOTM, he avoided Koreatown for image management, so it had been ages since he’d had samgyeopsal.

“Not bad.”

But the main writer, unaware of all this, was impressed, thinking Han Si-on ate in an oddly elegant way.

Next, her eyes landed on Choi Jae-sung.

Being the only underage member (18 years old), Choi Jae-sung wasn’t just the maknae line—he was the definitive maknae.

He kept glancing around awkwardly as Goo Tae-hwan grilled the meat, only taking bites whenever Han Si-on did.

It didn’t seem like he was trying to act cute—it was just his nature.

Aside from that, On Sae-mi-ro and Lee I-on were eating steadily. Contrary to his delicate appearance, On Sae-mi-ro had quite the appetite.

He was eating so quietly it wasn’t obvious at first, but on closer inspection, he hadn’t stopped eating.

He’d probably already polished off enough for 3 to 4 people.

“This isn’t a mukbang. A big-eater concept isn’t ideal.”

While the writer was still contemplating what kind of personas to assign to each of the five members, the samgyeopsal ran out.

As they cooled down their mouths with the nurungji (crispy rice soup) dessert, an actual conversation finally began.

It started when one of the writers frantically waved a whiteboard that read “Title Talk.”

“Uh, I think I’m the oldest, right…?”

Lee I-on, the only one among the B Team members with prior debut content experience, spoke up.

Just as he said, Lee I-on was 21. Han Si-on, Goo Tae-hwan, and On Sae-mi-ro were all 20.

Choi Jae-sung was the youngest at 18.

Except for Choi Jae-sung, they were all on the older side for idol trainees.

But for audition program contestants, they were relatively young.

That was because of the abnormal planning intent behind Coming Up Next.

Contestants needed to be talented enough to compete directly with TakeScene right away.

Otherwise, the show would lack tension.

But they also needed to be young enough to potentially sign with Lion Entertainment after the show ended.

With a year or two of training, they could debut as TakeScene’s successor group.

Because of that, 7 out of the 10 who made it to B Team selection were 20.

Naturally, 20-year-olds made up the majority of the final five.

“I’ll start calling you hyung then.”

“Cool, I’ll speak casually too. On Sae-mi-ro, what do your friends usually call you? Sae-mi-ro? Or just Mi-ro?”

“Almost no one calls me Mi-ro. Usually it’s On Sae-mi-ro or just Sae-mi-ro.”

“Okay. Let’s go with Sae-mi-ro then.”

The name talk had the cozy vibe of a college group project, but the next topic was more serious.

It was time to finally name their team, which had just been referred to as B Team until now.

Lee I-on once again spoke first.

“How about Scene Stealer? Since we’ll be competing against TakeScene, I thought of it at home.”

“Ooh, that’s good!”

“I like it too. Scene Stealer… it sounds nice.”

Even Han Si-on nodded in agreement—when suddenly the main writer stopped filming and cut in.

“Everyone, hold on. In the show’s timeline, you don’t know the name TakeScene yet. You only know you’re competing against Lion Entertainment’s debut team, right?”

“Oh…”

“Also, Scene Stealer overlaps with a song name TakeScene is preparing. Let’s redo it. No need to act—just keep brainstorming names.”

Once the writer sat down, Lee I-on cleared his throat and started again.

“Got any name ideas? I thought of a few at home, but none really stuck.”

The other members gave him looks that said, You’ve done your part.

It wouldn’t show in the broadcast, but it was clear he’d come prepared.

As expected, the youngest spoke up first.

“How about Wild Flower? Since we’re not from traditional agencies.”

“Hmm, nice meaning, but might not suit a boy group vibe.”

“True. What about you, Sae-mi-ro hyung?”

“I was thinking Next Boys since we’re in Coming Up Next.”

“…Next Boy?”

“Next Boys.”

“…”

As everyone reeled from Sae-mi-ro’s lack of naming flair, Goo Tae-hwan turned to Han Si-on.

“Um, Si-on… I mean, Si-on ah?”

“Yeah?”

“Got any ideas?”

“Hmm… How about Three Months?”

“Three months? As in, three moons?”

“No, like our team only lasts three months.”

“Wow… that’s so unromantic.”

Realizing he’d just criticized Han Si-on, Goo Tae-hwan clamped his mouth shut, shocked at himself.

Han Si-on chuckled and joked:

“’Cause I’m a T.”

“T? What’s that?”

“MB… ah, never mind.”

Han Si-on knew from DMs that Korean fans loved asking about MBTI, but wasn’t sure which year it became trendy—though it clearly wasn’t 2017.

“Anyway, I just mean I hope we accomplish something after three months.”

As Han Si-on added that explanation, the members fell into thought.

The name Three Months was kind of ambiguous, but it made them realize a team name didn’t need to be flashy.

“How about Hundred Days then? Including pre-selection, we’ll be filming for about that long.”

“Better than Three Months.”

Their tension easing, they started evaluating each other’s suggestions and chatting more freely.

And the team name was decided:

Some staff thought it was a weird name, but others found it fitting.

After all, people would watch this show to see what happens to them in those three months—or hundred days.

“Alright, now shall we do introductions?”

“Introductions? Now?”

“You’re all aspiring singers, right? Then your introduction should be a song.”

Next stop: a karaoke room.

---

The mood in the karaoke room was better than expected.

Chatting over the team name had melted the awkwardness a bit.

Or maybe it was just that there were no broadcast crew around.

In the spacious room—big enough for 20—only mounted cameras had been set up.

Everyone sang pretty cheerfully in their own way, though amusingly, they took turns in order.

Oldest to youngest: Lee I-on, then me, On Sae-mi-ro, Goo Tae-hwan, and lastly, Choi Jae-sung.

That’s not to say only one person sang at a time—if the song allowed, the others jumped in.

The interesting part was that in just a few days, Goo Tae-hwan and Choi Jae-sung had improved noticeably.

They probably didn’t realize it themselves, but they seemed to have had a breakthrough during the last Coming Up Next shoot.

A surprising number of singers are “field learners.”

Once they reach a certain level, they don’t gain much from more practice—they only improve through real-world experience.

Those two seemed to be that type.

Especially Goo Tae-hwan—his growth was striking.

He sang Justin Bieber’s Love Yourself, saying it was one of his favorites, and I was stunned from the very first line.

The rhythm he applied in the intro was so unique.

His vocal ability still needed a lot of work, especially on training high notes, but that rhythm—that was innate.

The moment he climbed into the higher range, though, he focused so much on breath control that all his rhythm vanished.

Still, Goo Tae-hwan was someone to watch closely.

Not in this lifetime maybe, but someday I’d need to form a K-pop group with top-tier members like GOTM.

And if his vocal skills kept improving, and he developed a wider expressive range?

He could very well be part of that group.

He’d have to be way better than now, of course.

As I was thinking that, the main writer suddenly opened the karaoke room door and called us out.

She handed us a sheet of paper with five song titles.

“These are the songs you’ll each be singing from now on. Pick one each.”

“There’s a song I don’t recognize, though?”

“They were selected based on your pre-show interviews. One of you will know each song.”

Now that she mentioned it, I remembered listing my top karaoke songs during the interview.

Sure enough, one of the songs I’d listed was there.

But why that one?

Pretty sure I ranked it pretty low.

“Alright, pick your songs.”

There was some overlap between Lee I-on and Choi Jae-sung’s favorites, but the rest of us knew which song was ours.

Mine was At the End of Dawn by With.

Early-90s Korean city pop.

I always thought songs from that era had really solid structure.

Still had no idea why this one was picked though.

I’d purposely avoided pop songs and recent trends to avoid looking like a hipster.

Maybe it was the writer’s taste?

“We’ll use a ladder app to decide the order.”

A staff member held out a phone already set up for a ladder draw.

“Han Si-on.”

The writer pointed at me. I pressed the button, and the order was set.

Goo Tae-hwan, On Sae-mi-ro, Lee I-on, me, and then Choi Jae-sung.

“We just sing in this order?”

“That’s right.”

“This is a mission, isn’t it? Do we get a reward if we score high?”

“Something like that. You’ll know more soon. But first, some ground rules.”

1. The staff will handle the karaoke machine. Focus and sing as soon as your song starts.
2. Don’t change the rhythm, don’t ad-lib, and don’t switch the song. Sing it exactly like the original.
3. Once you’re done, leave the room quietly and go down to the first floor.

Maybe I was imagining it, but she seemed to be staring right at me when she said rule 2.

I have never sung a song as-is before, to be fair.

“Alright then, back in the room. Keep your eyes on the screen.”

Back in the room, Goo Tae-hwan picked up the mic as the first to go.

But surprisingly, his song didn’t start for a while.

“What’s going on? Si-on, got any guesses?”

“Maybe someone’s watching us sing from outside.”

“Like, random passersby?”

“Could be an invited audience from the network.”

Actually, there was one more likely possibility.

I didn’t say it out loud so they wouldn’t get nervous, but…

It might be TakeScene watching.

It was about time to meet.

Just then, the karaoke monitor lit up with the title of Goo Tae-hwan’s song.