Little Pink Starfish

After the group song performance, I ripped off my outfit and rushed straight to the bathroom.

I couldn’t even remember how I managed to finish the performance.

It was the first time I’d ever sung in front of such a massive crowd. Maybe that’s why my brain felt completely shut down.

I’d been focusing all my attention on the solo performance, so for the group stage, my goal had simply been not to mess up.

‘At least I didn’t make any mistakes…’

It even seemed like I stood out more than the second-place contestant who had taken the main vocal role.

Given that my high tone naturally stood out more than his lower register… it made sense.

— Wait, why isn’t Eunyul the main vocal??
ㄴ fr, he carried. The main vocal spot should’ve gone to him. Song quality felt lower than the other team’s too, and they robbed him of the high notes.
ㄴ Chill with the rage lol. You’re just salty your fave didn’t get main vocal.
— The song wasn’t terrible, but it felt kind of generic…
ㄴ 22, the first team’s song was a banger, this one feels too formulaic.

The public response was going exactly as I expected.

I knew the group stage wouldn’t be received well. For now, it was enough that I managed to stand out more than second place.

‘Now all that’s left is the solo performance…’

I braced myself against the sink and looked into the mirror.

‘…I’m smiling?’

I thought I’d have a nervous expression, but I was smiling.

“Haha…”

Even if I was nervous, I guess I was still enjoying myself.

<Creature.>

The Star’s voice chimed in.

<It’s fine to enjoy yourself, but you should look closely at the mirror.>

‘Look closely?’

I tilted my head and stared harder at the reflection.

‘…Huh?’

I spotted Han Iro and Min Heejae peeking in from the edge of the mirror.

“You two… what are you doing?”

It looked like their disembodied heads were just floating behind me.

“You looked like you were admiring yourself in the mirror,”

Han Iro sighed.

“…So we were happily watching.”

Min Heejae added, clearly enjoying himself.

“I wasn’t admiring myself!”

I glared at them.

“Huu…”

Then I laughed.

“By the way, your performance was incredible. I was seriously impressed.”

“Well, obviously. Do you know how hard I worked to get the team on the same page?”

Han Iro scratched his forehead with an exhausted look.

“That aside, Instrument.”

Min Heejae said with a cold smile.

“Why weren’t you the main vocal for the group song? I rushed to the monitor after our set just to watch you sing, you know.”

“Ah, well, that’s… complicated to explain…”

As we walked down the hallway, I filled them in on what happened during the group song prep.

“Yeah, makes sense. It’s the last performance, so everyone probably wanted a good position. Compared to your team, ours ran pretty smoothly.”

Han Iro said nonchalantly.

“So, in the end, you gave up the main vocal spot for some talentless guy?”

Min Heejae didn’t even try to hide his irritation.

“No, I backed down first…”

“Shh. Your fans probably feel the same way I do. Disagreeing with me is like disagreeing with them.”

“That makes me sound like I let my fans down…”

“Well… maybe not all of them, but my expectations? Yeah, you disappointed me.”

Min Heejae smiled playfully and patted my head.

“I need to go get ready for my solo. Hope you like it.”

“Ah…”

I stared blankly at Heejae.

He looked… a little sad.

And it made sense.

For Min Heejae, today’s performance was to fulfill the childhood dream of the Ten Kings of the Underworld.

And at the same time, it was a farewell—to send them back to the afterlife.

As I recorded chorus vocals for his solo song, I felt just how much this meant to him.

I wanted to say something heartfelt—but all I could manage was:

“Please use my voice well.”

“Of course. It’s your voice.”

Heejae smirked and walked away.

“You lent your voice to Heejae?”

Han Iro nudged me.

“We made a little trade.”

I replied casually.

“Trade?”

His brow raised.

“Let me guess, you gave him chorus vocals and got his arrangement skills in return?”

Why is he so sharp…?

“Well, anyway, Eunyul.”

Clap! Han Iro clapped his hands with a grin.

“We’ve got some time until our turn, so how about we monitor the other solo performances?”

The solo performance order was determined by lottery.

By now, the 9th-place contestant should be on stage.

After that, it would be Madojin’s solo.

“Sounds good.”

I accepted the offer.

Analyzing the show while chatting with Iro would help settle my nerves.

And more than anything…

‘…Madojin.’

I really wanted to watch his performance.

---

Han Iro and I sat in front of the monitor in the waiting room.

“Next up is the only unaffiliated contestant in this season’s male idol division.”

“Yep, quite rare. Maybe that’s why he’s got such a strong cult following.”

The two MCs were giving their intro for Madojin.

“Do you know what kind of concept Dojin’s going with?”

I asked Han Iro.

“No idea. He’s always been quiet, but during the group practice he barely spoke at all.”

“…I see.”

As we chatted, the MCs turned to the camera.

“Let’s begin Madojin’s performance.”

“Yes, it’s an original song written by Madojin himself.”

An original song?

I blinked.

I didn’t expect Madojin to have written and composed it himself.

While I was still processing that, the MCs announced the title.

[Chasing Butterflies]

“‘Butterfly’…”

Han Iro murmured with a neutral expression.

“Maybe Holley’s death really impacted him?”

“Maybe.”

I folded my arms and focused on the monitor.

The stage went dark.

Amidst the roar of the crowd—

Please make it disappear…

Suddenly, Madojin’s voice came through.

A raspy cello followed.

So I can forget every pattern drawn
on these flipped wings…
Please let it all fade away…

A horror concept?

That was my first thought.

His murmured singing was pierced by the sharp sounds of the cello.

Blue lighting began to softly illuminate the stage.

There, curled up on a chair, sat Madojin.

He was alone.

No instrumentalists. No backup dancers. Just him.

‘That’s… very Madojin.’

But something felt off.

I don’t mind sinking into the muddy water,
even if I end up dirty and flipped inside out…

Madojin rose from the chair.

Then extended a hand toward the audience.

Would you dance with me,
holding onto my wings?

The string instruments swelled.

The stage lit up fully.

Madojin smiled and began to dance.

Ballet?

I thought for a second—but the moves were too altered. It was more like contemporary dance.

He looked hollow, dancing alone on a bare stage.

But his fierce, almost violent motions gave him an overwhelming presence.

Even if you rip apart
my paper-thin wings…
That’s fine. Pretty patterns are boring, right?
You can doodle all over
my colorless wings…

“…This chord progression is really complex.”

Han Iro said, resting his chin in his hand.

I nodded.

Major and minor chords were all jumbled together.

The string accompaniment sounded eerie—because of that mix.

And that was precisely what made it compelling.

The audience, initially thrown off, now looked completely captivated.

I write what I want to say to you on colored paper,
and carefully reach for the scissors…

The frantic strings calmed down.

Madojin stopped dancing and sang slowly.

The intense music shifted suddenly to a ballad.

The words I cut into pieces
flutter like dead butterflies…
So sorrowful…
I lift my head
to look at the sky…
But there are no stars…

Behind him, tiny lights began to shimmer.

‘That’s…’

I narrowed my eyes.

…Only falling butterflies.

As the chorus ended, Madojin turned around.

The strings resumed.

‘…Butterflies.’

Butterflies, swirling with light, began to flutter around him like they were dancing.

“Is that Dojin’s constellation’s power…?”

Han Iro asked, confused.

“…I’m not sure.”

Madojin had never used a constellation ability on stage before.

That restraint was part of why he had such a dedicated fanbase.

If that is Madojin’s constellation’s power…

Why reveal it now?

Was he saving it as a trump card?

That seemed far too shallow a reason.

Han Iro and I stopped talking, eyes fixed on the monitor.

Everything about this was unexpected.

I never imagined Madojin would choose a song like this—or write lyrics like these.

It wasn’t about skill—it was about tone.

His lyrics were filled with a broken, desolate feeling. Overflowing with emotion.

Verse two played out much like verse one, but with butterflies fluttering around him, the vibe changed.

The soft flutters contrasted starkly with the grim lyrics.

The words I cut into pieces
flutter like dead butterflies…
So sorrowful…

As the repeated chorus played, the butterflies began to fly toward the stage lights.

Whirr—

And then they all dissolved into light, falling above Madojin’s head.

I lift my head
to look at the sky…

Madojin sang, gazing at the drifting lights.

There are no stars…
Only falling butterflies…

“I didn’t expect Dojin to write something like this…”

Han Iro said, still watching the monitor.

“…It’s incredible.”

I added.

No other contestant went for this kind of tone or concept.

It was too far from mainstream appeal to win first place—but with this level of quality, he might break into the top five.

‘But still…’

The real issue lay elsewhere.

“Eunyul, you noticed too, right?”

Han Iro asked, still staring at the screen.

“…Yeah.”

I nodded.

I focused on Madojin’s eyes on the monitor.

He looked confused.

Even though he was facing the camera, he seemed unsure of where to direct his gaze.

‘So I was right that time…’

I scratched the back of my neck.

It wasn’t just bad eye contact.

Something was clearly wrong.

I was sure of it now.

Madojin…

‘…He can barely see anything.’