Little Pink Starfish

Ten contestants stepped onto an empty stage.

The audience that once screamed and cheered was long gone, but it still felt like their heat lingered in the air.

Coming Up Next had ended, yet it felt like they’d be asked to huddle together again and prepare for the next mission.

While the contestants wore mixed expressions, CEO Choi Tae-ho spoke up.

“You’ve all worked incredibly hard. It’s been a long journey. But before we announce the results…”

He gave the contestants a deep bow.

“In nearly 20 years as a producer, I’ve never learned so much from artists as I have this time. Thank you all—you were amazing.”

The ten contestants bowed in return.

With the mood warmed, Blue, Trainer Yoo Sun-hwa, and Composer Lee Chang-jun also shared kind words.

Finally, the scores were revealed:

Take Scene – 9,552 points.
Sedalbaekil – 9,490 points.

A 62-point difference. Take Scene wins.

Fireworks exploded, and the four judges applauded.

Take Scene stood frozen for a moment, then burst into hugs, celebrating their victory.

Their joy was genuine.

Of course, they’d known from the start how this would end.

But the journey had been rough.

A wildcard monster like Han Si-on had appeared, and each Sedalbaekil member had their breakout moment—first Koo Tae-hwan, then On Sae-mi-ro, and now Lee I-on.

So despite the result being predetermined, it still felt like a major win.

Yes, there had been biased judgments, but their own performance was strong, so the victory still felt earned.

Han Si-on might have scoffed if he knew what they were thinking—but aside from Fade, the Take Scene members didn’t dislike Si-on.

When CEO Choi announced Si-on would join them, they were surprised.

But once it was clear, they began to look forward to it.

They’d seen how Si-on had drawn out the potential of the Sedalbaekil members again and again.

And his composition skills were undeniable.

So Take Scene was declared the winner of Coming Up Next, and the contestants began to share their final thoughts.

Take Scene spoke first.

Then, it was Sedalbaekil’s turn.

“Han Si-on?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?”

“It hasn’t really hit me that it’s all over. I wonder if I could’ve done more… but I’m satisfied because I gave it my all. I want to say thank you to the Sedalbaekil members who worked hard with me, and congratulations to Take Scene for winning with such an amazing performance.”

Si-on gave a small bow.

His tone was flat, but the answer was textbook.

In the actual broadcast, editing magic would probably turn it into a scene of “restrained emotion.”

Then CEO Choi Tae-ho spoke again.

“Actually, the Sedalbaekil members—excluding Han Si-on—approached the production team recently.”

Si-on lifted his head in surprise and looked at the others.

But they looked completely unfazed.

They just shrugged their shoulders.

Watching them, CEO Choi continued.

“It might be better if we show this through a VCR.”

The VCR began.

It started with the Sedalbaekil members, minus Si-on, removing an 8mm camera from the practice room.

[“Does this thing work?”]
[“Yeah, it’s blinking.”]

A close-up of Lee I-on’s face looking into the lens, then a cut.

With the distinctive feel of a self-cam, the Sedalbaekil members approached PD Kang Seok-woo.

[“PD Kang, we have something to tell you.”]
[“Huh? What is it?”]
[“It’s a bit private. Could we maybe talk to the judges?”]

The footage cut again to a wide shot of eight people—four judges and the four Sedalbaekil members—around a table. CEO Choi began:

[“I heard you have something to say.”]
[“Yes. We know it’s a bit forward, but there’s something we need to ask.”]
[“I don’t know what it is, but go ahead.”]

Lee I-on, calm and composed, began to speak—and what he said left CEO Choi stunned.

If Sedalbaekil lost, could Han Si-on debut alone?

[“Before I respond, I have to ask: why are you suggesting this?”]
[“Because he’s too good.”]
[“That’s all?”]
[“It feels unfair. What kind of results would Han Si-on have had if he performed solo? But… we already saw the answer. In ‘Under the Streetlight,’ ‘Falling Blossoms,’ and ‘End of Dawn.’”]
[“…”]
[“At the core, this is a competition between Take Scene and Sedalbaekil, but an audition show is supposed to discover stars, right?”]
[“Can’t argue with that.”]
[“So, if Si-on could debut solo, we’d genuinely be happy. Of course, we haven’t lost yet.”]

Then Blue, seated beside CEO Choi, asked:

[“Assuming you do lose, have you imagined becoming trainees together again, all aiming to debut?”]
[“We have. But that process could take who knows how long. And who knows what might happen in between.”]

A pause.

Then CEO Choi spoke again:

[“I understand why you’re saying this. And I appreciate how warmhearted it is. But… I’m afraid that’s not possible.”]
[“…”]
[“Coming Up Next is a competition between Take Scene and Sedalbaekil. Only one group can debut. That’s the promise we made to the viewers.”]

And with that, the VCR ended—abruptly.

But the show wasn’t over.

CEO Choi continued speaking, picking up from where his VCR self left off.

“But then I thought… what if Han Si-on debuted with Take Scene?”

---

CEO Choi kept talking, but I barely heard him.

My mind was still stuck on the VCR.

When did they record that?

Did they go to the production team after I told them I’d be debuting with Take Scene?

Was it to give a reason that would reduce the backlash against me?

Or did the production team ask them to do it?

Because if Han Si-on debuting with Take Scene was framed as Sedalbaekil’s wish, it’d look poetic.

Yeah, that makes sense.

In the final edit, they’ll probably rearrange the timeline to make it look like that VCR was shot after the final stage.

It fits better that way.

Besides, if the VCR was recorded before the final round, it could look suspicious.

Sedalbaekil already knew Take Scene was the chosen group, but the audience can’t suspect that.

Then I remembered something the members said:

“We were sure the producers were pushing Take Scene… but that’s not how we figured it out.”

“You were acting a little off. Like you were normal, but there was this stiffness. Not hostility—more like a turtle hiding in its shell.”

“That’s when Tae-hwan figured it out.”

“You’re the only one debuting from Sedalbaekil, right?”

And then Sae-mi-ro said something.

“Don’t worry too much. We won’t, and neither will the viewers.”

“The viewers?”

“They won’t blame you.”

“No way. People who rooted for Sedalbaekil will hate me.”

“We don’t think so.”

At the time, I didn’t think much of it—but it was a strange word choice.

Sae-mi-ro, likely shaped by a rough life, tends to use defensive language.

“Maybe it’s just me, but…” “Not sure about others, but in my case…”

But this time, he said: “We don’t think so.”

Which meant he was speaking for the group—not guessing, but knowing.

So the VCR must’ve been filmed much earlier.

Even before we fully started preparing for the final stage.

Which meant their intentions were…

Pure.

They truly believed that I would’ve done even better alone, and they felt sorry for holding me back.

And—

“Si-on, did you come on this show so your parents could hear you sing from the hospital?”

“Something like that. That’s also why I want to debut quickly.”

That’s why they asked if I could debut even if they lost.

I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I once thought the reason I felt at ease with Sedalbaekil—the reason I cherished the memories—was because I bore no responsibility.

Because I didn’t choose them.

But they had taken responsibility for me.

And they wanted me to succeed.

Yes, many people have shown me kindness in my long life.

Sometimes inexplicable kindness.

But rarely did it come without a tie to their own situation.

Sedalbaekil wasn’t like that.

They cared about my debut, even if it meant nothing for them.

They visited my parents in the hospital the day before the final performance.

And I felt ashamed.

I thought Lee I-on’s tone was trash, that Choi Jae-sung had a bland voice.

I dismissed On Sae-mi-ro as overly sensitive, and I believed Koo Tae-hwan would’ve been eliminated without my guidance.

Those thoughts softened over time—but they existed.

Then, CEO Choi offered me a choice.

He said he’d asked the Take Scene members, and they were okay with it.

So now, it was up to me.

“Will you accept Sedalbaekil’s elimination? Or will you join Take Scene, honoring the members’ wishes?”

Sedalbaekil’s elimination.

Choosing that felt like erasing everything we’d achieved together.

Joining Take Scene.

Choosing that felt like using Sedalbaekil’s success for a shortcut.

CEO Choi chose his words carefully.

To make it palatable for viewers, to shield the producers, to protect Take Scene’s debut.

It was politics, wrapped in a fake choice.

But what weighed more than those choices… was the hand now resting on my shoulder.

I didn’t need to look to know.

Lee I-on was on my right. Koo Tae-hwan on my left, patting my back.

Telling me not to hesitate.

Telling me to go forward.

But…

I’m someone who can’t move forward.

Stuck in non-linear time, walking in place forever.

So—

“Just go for it. The public may seem indifferent, but they’re not.”

“There are plenty of people who’ll recognize the essence in your music. People like me.”

Just this once—it’s okay.

“I will accept the elimination.”

I didn’t choose one of the options CEO Choi offered.

I chose a new one.

No matter what comes next, I’ll debut with Sedalbaekil—together.