It was a question I fully expected.
It’s the kind of question that’s easy to throw at an idol.
This is where it begins.
I need to answer it well.
Because this first answer will set the tone for every answer I give from here on out.
“Are we talking about this life?”
“Of course. Do you have a past life too?”
“Maybe I did in a previous life.”
“If you’re trying to wriggle out of it like that, I’m gonna be disappointed.”
“We’re talking strictly about this life, then.”
Jo Taehoon’s comment was picked up by Chae Myungho.
It probably wasn’t even in the script, but they flowed perfectly together.
Not that I was trying to be evasive.
“I had one in kindergarten.”
“Kindergarten?”
“Yes.”
“You really didn’t have a girlfriend after that?”
“I didn’t.”
In this life.
Looking back now, I owe a bit to my past self.
Back then, I had a full-blown case of eighth-grader syndrome—constantly questioning, “What’s the point of love?”
I was the indie-obsessed teen who despised love songs, claiming they were all the same. Attended all-boys middle and high school. Figures.
Naturally, the detector registered “Truth.”
“Alright, now I get why you came on so confidently. But forget the past—what about the future?”
“I’ve had at least one girl I imagined dating!”
I shook my head at the two MCs.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Not even one?”
“Not even one.”
“What if a top actress like Choi Seung-ah or Suhye confessed to you?”
“Sorry, but I’d turn them down.”
“Whoa, why is that coming up truthful?”
“Are you… impotent?”
“I’m healthy.”
As expected, every answer came up as truthful.
When idols date, album sales drop.
That’s the same even in the U.S.
There was a time I dated a super famous Hollywood actress, thinking it would boost my image.
Then I saw my album sales plummet and was stunned.
“Why do you hate women so much?”
“I don’t hate women. I just like music more.”
“Are you… gay?”
“No. I’m heterosexual.”
As I breezed through the questions, the production team actually started looking pleased.
The early questions are thrown in mostly for laughs, anyway.
“Good, good. Now we’re getting fired up. Let’s get a little heavier, shall we?”
“I value money more than my fans’ love.”
“Not at all.”
“‘Not at all’? That kind of absolute phrasing is risky.”
“It’s absolutely untrue.”
Money means nothing.
It’s nothing compared to the one and only thing that can save me from a nonlinear timeline.
Of course the detector read “Truth.”
“Wow, seriously? You’re like the ultimate idol.”
“Or maybe he brainwashed himself into thinking ‘I need fans’ love to make money’?”
“Oh, could be.”
I saw the writers nodding at Chae Myungho’s comment.
Some people do use that kind of self-justification to fool the detector, apparently.
Jo Taehoon tweaked the question.
“Fans’ love worth 1 billion won, versus 10 billion won straight to your account—which one’s more important?”
How many albums would you have to sell to earn 1 billion?
I’d rather sell 100 more albums than make 10 billion won.
No comparison.
“Fans’ love is much more important.”
Again, the machine said “Truth,” and Jo Taehoon looked exasperated.
“Wow, this is intense from round one.”
“Now I see why you came in so confidently.”
They continued throwing idol-related questions at me.
Light stuff.
Even if I gave a “bad” answer, it’d just be a little awkward—nothing major.
Round one is always like that.
The truly sensitive stuff gets saved for round three.
So this is still round one for me.
That said, I might be the first guest to dodge every single question in round one.
“Wow, nothing’s caught him?”
“Detective Shin, is this thing broken?”
The MCs played it up, but it’ll probably get edited down.
It wasn’t exactly thrilling to watch.
Eventually, they got petty and started asking me completely pointless stuff.
In the meantime, Detective Shin asked me to lie a few times.
“It’s working fine.”
“I thought we’d trip him up with something…”
“Forget it. Let’s move on to round two.”
As the MCs started flipping through their scripts, I finally began to feel tense.
From what I saw while monitoring the show, round one focuses on ethics.
Questions about behaviors the public wants to see, even if they’re not strictly enforceable—like idols dating, or pro athletes showing professionalism.
Round two’s different.
Round two dives into gossip about personal relationships.
Especially if the guest has had beef with other celebrities—it gets brutal.
Sure enough, Jo Taehoon opened with a relationship-based question.
“There was someone on Coming Up Next you found unpleasant.”
Hmm, there was—but saying no here would be more entertaining, right?
“No.”
For the first time today, the detector flashed: Lie.
“Whoa, this is the first time I’ve ever been happy to see a lie on this show.”
“Of course there was! No way there wasn’t!”
“Again—there was someone on Coming Up Next you didn’t like.”
“…Honestly, yes. There was.”
The MCs jumped in like they’d been waiting for this.
“It’s Sedalbaekil!”
“No.”
“TakeScene?”
“No.”
“……?”
“CEO Chae Taeho.”
“……”
“……”
The entire studio fell silent.
Well, you guys asked.
“…We can’t use that. Moving on.”
While Han Si-on left the Ruin Detector MCs speechless, the remaining members of Sedalbaekil were at a concert venue.
Their faces were tense.
They had five performances to do today—without Han Si-on.
So they had to do even better than usual.
“I’m the eldest, so I have to lead.”
“I’m the quick-witted one—I need to read the room.”
“We all grew up with few hardships.”
“I’m the most professional.”
Each was immersed in their own role as the show began.
As always, Sedalbaekil was an unnamed “special guest.”
Just yesterday, Koo Taehwan had said that what Sedalbaekil did hadn’t really gone viral.
And he was right.
Their actions hadn’t made the news, or gone viral enough to spread and get rehashed by the general public.
But that only meant it hadn’t hit the mainstream.
Within the tight-knit indie scene, it had spread plenty—by word of mouth.
If Sedalbaekil had put their name on the posters, indie fans probably would’ve hated it.
Their fandom might flood the venue, ruin the vibe, even steal the spotlight.
But Sedalbaekil kept their appearances strictly secret.
So secret that even the other performers often didn’t know who the special guest was.
Because of that, indie fans saw Sedalbaekil as “a lucky surprise.”
Imagine going to see your favorite indie band—then Sedalbaekil suddenly shows up?
Sings the same songs you’ve only seen on TV?
They were willing to scream for that.
As long as there wasn’t some shady idol-backstory like the one with the band Icy Americano.
Sure, some indie fans still hated idols—but many had changed their minds after seeing Sedalbaekil live.
Because they were good.
So overall, Sedalbaekil was getting a warm reception from the indie scene.
But…
“Why?! Why won’t they tell us where the concerts are!?”
The mood in the fandom was very different.
They wanted to see Sedalbaekil too.
If only they knew where—anywhere—they’d go.
But there was no info, no leads.
Some fans even contacted Coming Up Next to ask.
But no one replied.
At first, they thought it was a secret mission from the show.
But the timing didn’t add up.
Fan accounts had already been posted after the final taping, confirming that Coming Up Next had wrapped.
Then someone spotted TakeScene doing a photoshoot, fueling rumors that they’d won.
Plus, sightings of Sedalbaekil in the indie scene said there were no broadcast cameras around.
They’d show up, perform, and vanish.
So this wasn’t part of Coming Up Next anymore.
Veterans of the idol fan world started getting suspicious.
- “Did they quit because TakeScene won?”
- “You can’t really call it ‘quitting’ though. Contest rules said eliminated teams were free to go.”
- “Come on, Lion obviously wanted to sign all of Sedalbaekil.”
- “Yeah, but I bet Si-on blew up when TakeScene won.”
- “Considering Hypsi-on’s rebel streak, I buy it.”
- “Sedalbaekil’s too good—some other agency will scoop them up.”
- “Are they just making memories before signing with a new label?”
- “If so, that’s real friendship—still performing together post-show.”
- “Fck fck f*ck, why won’t they just tell us where they’re going!?”
- “Usually these shows ban SNS activity till the final airs.”
- “Still, would Lion let them go? Chae Taeho would go berserk.”
- “Maybe they signed a contract during filming? Something’s off.”
That’s what people were saying in neutral communities.
But over in the Sedalbaekil fan boards, the focus was more immediate.
Yes, they were curious about the group’s future.
But more than that—they wanted to know where they were now.
So posts like this started getting shared:
[June 16, 2017 – Indie concerts with “Special Guests” scheduled]
- 16:00 Hapjeong Brown Basic
- 16:00 Hongdae Magnet
- 17:00 Sangsu Yo (a cocktail DJ party—less likely)
- 17:00 Hongdae…
Only going to the ones with at-the-door tickets.
Leaving it up to fate!
- “Don’t special guests usually come on at the end?”
- “Yeah, right before the finale.”
- “But sometimes they open the show too.”
- “Whatever. It’s been a while—I’ll just enjoy the indie concert. If they show up, great.”
- “Right. Only go if you can enjoy the show even if they don’t show. Don’t ruin the fandom image.”
- “Look at TakeScene snooping around the indie scene after winning. Bet no one’s calling them.”
- “Ignore that trash.”
- “I just hope no stalker fans cause problems.”
And thanks to all this…
“Why are there so many walk-up sales today?”
“I dunno. Is something going on?”
A ton of indie concerts got rare attention—a drought-breaking rainstorm of interest.
“This band’s actually really good.”
“Right? Evening Promise? Gotta follow them.”
Talented acts got a chance to shine.
And finally…
“Choi Jaesung! It’s Choi Jaesung!!”
“Holy—!!”
Some lucky fans even saw Sedalbaekil with their own eyes.
At a small concert venue in Hongdae.
Little Pink Starfish 
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