The screen, which had briefly been showing the contestants’ faces, flickered and then displayed the match order.
- Main Dancer – Choi Jaeseong vs. iLevel
- Sub Vocal – Han Sion vs. Reddy
- Lead Vocal – Koo Taehwan vs. Fade
- Lead Vocal – Lee Ieon vs. SeeU
- Main Vocal – On Saemiro vs. Joo Yeon
Even to Choi Sehee, the competition order seemed reasonable.
The main dancers (assuming dance is the focus) would face off first for visual spectacle, followed by sub vocal, lead vocal, and then main vocal battles.
For idol groups that had been around for a few years, skill was no longer strictly determined by position.
One group, often called a “variety idol” group, had a lead vocalist who once filmed YouTube content going around asking, “Aren’t I better at singing than our main vocal?”
That lead vocalist even managed to secure the main vocal part for the group’s next song.
This showed that, over time, many idol groups naturally reached a high overall standard.
But rookie groups were different.
Since they had yet to prove themselves, public taste or showmanship didn’t factor into evaluations.
Only the experts’ cold, clinical assessments would decide their fate.
However—
“Sub vocal? Really?”
Han Sion, as Sehee remembered, seemed musically gifted.
Sehee wasn’t sure if Sion was a great singer, but his voice was definitely very pleasant to listen to.
And apart from Joo Yeon and On Saemiro, he probably ranked among the top tier in singing skill.
“Was that song he sang before his ‘killer move’?”
Sometimes, that happened — trainees polishing just one or two songs to perfection.
While Sehee was thinking that, the competition kicked off right after a brief announcement by Blue.
“No wait time between stages — nice.”
The first battle between the main dancers began, and as expected, dance was the highlight.
First up was Choi Jaeseong, the youngest member of “Three Moon Hundred Days.”
[Main Dancer – Choi Jaeseong vs. iLevel]
Choi Jaeseong covered a song from , a boy group that peaked about four years ago, known for their acrobatic, high-difficulty choreography.
Covering a stage famous for complex group moves solo wasn’t easy.
But Jaeseong pulled it off quite convincingly.
He sang steadily while dancing, and his original solo choreography during the group dance sections was impressive.
Even when the backup dancers joined, he blended well with them.
“Not bad! Plus, he’s cute.”
“Should we add a point to the ‘pork belly dor’?”
*”Not *that* good — barely hanging in there.”*
iLevel’s stage followed and looked a bit more polished.
Though Sehee couldn’t quite recall the song title, it was a well-known R&B track by a foreign artist often heard on the streets — and the performance was pretty good.
However, despite having backup dancers from the start, the stage felt a little empty.
“Who you voting for?”
“Tough call. Don’t you think both are kinda meh?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
Jaeseong had moments of brilliance but showed some inexperience overall. iLevel was smooth but lacked standout moments.
Like typical survival show audience members, Sehee and her friend fell deep into critic mode before voting for different contestants — Sehee for Jaeseong, her friend for iLevel.
After a short break to reset the stage, Reddy appeared.
[Sub Vocal – Han Sion vs. Reddy]
Since it was a sub-vocal match, they expected singing. But surprisingly, Reddy went for 100% rap.
And it worked.
“Woooooo!”
The crowd erupted.
He performed , Black Star’s biggest hip-hop hit, and it felt more like a concert than a competition.
His rapping was on point, and his gestures and performance were top-tier.
“Feels like Show Me What You Got!”
Just like the popular rap competition show.
“If he gets a little bigger, he could totally release a solo album.”
“Right? He’s seriously good.”
The reactions around Sehee were similar.
After Reddy’s explosive stage, the lights went out to cool things down.
During the darkness, Sehee’s friend whispered,
“Han Sion’s the guy who talked to you, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Didn’t look like it earlier. I thought he’d totally ghost someone if they tried to talk to him.”
“That’s the gap appeal, I’m telling you.”
“But gap appeal’s not easy to pull off.”
“Shut up with the gap appeal nonsense.”
Sehee glared, but her friend pointed around.
A lot of people were on their phones — not because they were bored or getting texts — they were looking up Reddy.
His stage was that good.
While Sehee, who had been rooting for Han Sion deep down, clicked her tongue in worry—
Pop.
The lights came up on stage.
And the worst stage setup began to appear before her eyes.
“Holy crap, is this a 70s-80s live café?”
Spotlights, round chairs, a guitar, a keyboard.
Just like her horrified friend said, all the things you shouldn’t do in an idol survival show.
It’s not that fans dislike idols playing instruments.
Showing versatility in self-produced content or variety shows is great.
But this was a survival show — a battlefield where idols had to prove their sincerity and drive.
Strumming a guitar under a spotlight while singing a sentimental song?
Maybe okay for a group performance, where strong vocal lines were a selling point.
But for a solo stage?
Especially the first stage in a head-to-head battle?
This setup was screaming “no dancing” — not even simple movements.
“Is it Han Sion’s fault or the PD’s fault?”
Unless he pulled off a voice so stunning it left the entire audience breathless, there was no way this would land well.
Sehee knew she might be overthinking.
The general public watching Coming Up Next might not care.
Might even like it.
But in the idol fandom world, this was suicide.
And to make matters worse — the song choice.
Oh. My. God.
That song was famous only for its shouty chorus.
An ancient karaoke staple you always heard from drunk guys.
Boring first verse, shouting chorus, another boring verse, another chorus.
The choice alone was a disaster.
And this was a remix?
Sehee could already see the post-broadcast comments:
lololololololol
lolol why not just go all in and say he wants to be a ballad singer
Maybe he broke his leg from over-practicing and had to sit and sing lol
I just saw the future — SNS meltdown about ‘real music,’ lawsuit, solo debut lol
And then emotional reunion shows with ex-group members later?
Are you guys all Doctor Strange or what?
Dormammu! I’ve come to bargain!
lololol
And these were the mild comments.
Sehee didn’t even want to imagine the deep dark stuff.
While she was thinking this, she realized she was genuinely rooting for Han Sion.
Her real favorite was still Drop Out, but she wanted Sion to do well too.
Just then, someone — probably a session musician — picked up a guitar, and Han Sion sat down at the keyboard.
The recorded drum beat began softly.
Before making a deal with the devil.
Back in my first life, before my parents’ car accident, I was just an ordinary aspiring singer.
I did have some talent — enough to say I was a little better than Choi Jaeseong, but a little worse than On Saemiro.
But that’s not the point.
Back then, I hated anything predictable.
Call it indie syndrome, Hongdae disease, hipster fever — whatever.
I had that vibe, full-on, at nineteen.
So when I made the deal with the devil and had to sell 200 million records, I was lost.
Before the deal, I only wanted to be special — to chase the unfamiliar.
But to sell 200 million, I couldn’t do that.
I had to make what people liked — and I didn’t know what that was.
I spent several lives without a real standard.
Sure, my skills improved steadily, and I kept producing hits using future knowledge.
But that didn’t mean I had a clear sense of what made a good song.
Until one day, I realized something simple:
There is no “correct” answer in music.
Hard rock once ruled the world; then alternative rock kicked hard rock out of the way.
Same in Korea.
Even if I didn’t know Korean music history that well, I knew this:
Soon, hyperpop would sweep K-pop, only to be quickly replaced by Jersey club.
Completely different genres, one after the other.
So, there’s no “correct” style.
But because of that, I realized the true standard.
The one and only thing that matters in music:
It has to sound good.
Alternative rose because Kurt Cobain’s songs simply sounded better at that moment.
Nothing more.
The hard rock bands that survived the alternative wave?
They made better-sounding music than most alternative bands.
So you have to make songs that people enjoy listening to — songs they want to keep hearing.
That’s the only unchanging truth.
And I…
I am the best in the world at doing just that.
Or rather, I’ve become the best.
So now, I was ready to show them.
As the guitar layered over the calm drums, Han Sion jumped straight into the song without any intro.
“Somewhere at the end of a grey alley—”
“Under an orange streetlight—”
The original had a long instrumental intro.
Han Sion boldly skipped all of it, starting the vocals after just one short guitar phrase.
At that first note, Koo Taehwan, who had been waiting anxiously for his turn, widened his eyes.
Han Sion had always claimed he could make an impression from the very first beat.
That with his special sense of rhythm, he could make even a familiar song feel better.
But Koo Taehwan hadn’t really understood what that meant.
Maybe some kind of R&B layback style? That’s all he could imagine.
Now he got it.
It was this.
That rush, that pull you feel the moment the first word drops.
Han Sion, now on the main stage, was giving a level of immersion that blew his rehearsal out of the water.
And it wasn’t just Koo Taehwan feeling it.
All 500 audience members were feeling it too.
Little Pink Starfish 
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