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Chapter 7
It was a program prepared by AMP Music, a subsidiary of WJ ENM, and it had already been confirmed for the prime-time slot of 9 p.m. every Friday night.
‘A Stage for Stars Who Have Lost Their Light!’
It was dressed up with a fairly convincing slogan, but in reality, it was a bloody underground war between idols.
A brutal survival show that gathered together “flop idols”—idols who had debuted but still had barely any public recognition—and forced them to compete against one another.
A survival game that lured desperate idols in with the sweet bait of a chance to come back from elimination.
As the first step in the project to help Loomis escape their status as flop idols, Luha had chosen to appear on RE:VIVAL.
“Toybox, Spectrum, Chrome, and…”
Luha’s small lips uttered the final name.
“Starbolt.”
The air in the conference room froze.
A look of bewilderment flashed across several employees’ faces.
Toybox and Spectrum were understandable, but Chrome and Starbolt?
Considering the purpose of the program, the participating groups were supposed to be groups in need of a second chance. However, Starbolt and Chrome were still actively promoting, and they even occasionally appeared on the charts. They were far from being “flop idols.”
“…So they’re securing the ratings.”
At Han Sujin’s mutter, small sighs escaped from various parts of the conference room.
Broadcasters weren’t volunteer organizations.
A survival show filled only with flop idols? A chance to make a comeback?
Regardless of the program’s stated purpose, ratings came first.
Unless it was entertaining enough, viewers would obviously change the channel. That was why they had taken out an insurance policy by mixing in groups that already had a certain level of recognition.
“If the competing teams are this formidable… I’m not sure whether we’ll just end up embarrassing ourselves even more by going on the show.”
A&R team leader Seo Jiwon joined in with a skeptical voice.
“Well, I can understand why you’d think that.”
Luha calmly nodded.
“I’ll ask you one question. Why do you think Starbolt and Chrome are going out of their way to appear on a program like this?”
“……”
Silence fell.
The employees merely exchanged glances.
“Because it’ll become an issue…?”
Choi Eunbi cautiously raised her hand and answered.
“Exactly.”
“Oh~”
The employees exclaimed in admiration and gave Choi Eunbi thumbs-up.
‘Are you in class? Did you just give a presentation?’
Luha swallowed a sigh inwardly.
But he still had to explain.
He climbed down from the table and walked to the front of the conference room, standing before the whiteboard.
Because of his short height, he had to stand on a chair just to reach the proper height.
Although the employees looked at him with expressions that said, What is he doing?, they kept their mouths firmly shut and only rolled their eyes around at the sight of the charismatic five-year-old.
“The public constantly consumes ‘hot stories.’”
The marker danced across the board as he began writing.
SNS, real-time news, algorithms, communities.
“The idol market is no exception.”
Legendary stage mistakes, misleading teasers, live-performance controversies, airport fashion.
“These provocative headlines attract clicks…”
He drew an arrow with a long stroke.
“Those clicks create buzz…”
Another stroke.
“And that buzz creates stars.”
Finally, he drew a star and smacked the board with his palm.
“Is it because the company is small? Because the concept is unclear? Because the songs aren’t good? Because there isn’t enough promotion?”
The corners of Luha’s lips curled upward.
It was a cynical smile that was anything but childlike.
“They’re all excuses. Justifications people come up with after they fail.”
Loomis and Kleff were nowhere near the level of Jin Dohyeon’s standards, but objectively speaking, they were by no means lacking.
Yoon Taejin was a talented composer who could still occasionally get songs onto the charts, and since some of the employees had come from major entertainment agencies, the company had more than enough ability to meet the industry average.
“The idol market is already saturated. Countless idols debut every year. So why did Loomis fail to stand out?”
An issue.
He wrote the word in huge letters on the whiteboard.
“We didn’t have one, did we? Not an issue, but…”
He casually wiped the letters away with his hand.
“We simply passed by unnoticed.”
“Yeah, an issue would be good.”
Yoon Taejin still looked doubtful.
“But this program is ultimately a survival show, so viewer voting will probably be the most important factor. Wouldn’t Loomis, with our relatively small fandom, be at an absolute disadvantage? I feel like we’d be eliminated before we even made it halfway…”
Yoon Taejin added with a slightly bitter expression,
“Before we even have a chance to become an issue…”
He wasn’t wrong.
The core of a survival program was viewer voting.
In other words, it was a popularity contest.
Naturally, groups that already had solid fandoms had an advantage.
“That’s exactly why we have to go… You know?”
‘So frustrating. They’re so frustrating…’
Luha frowned.
“Okay. I’ll explain it simply.”
Luha looked around the conference room.
His eyes met Choi Eunbi’s blank expression as she stared at him.
“Do you like soccer?”
“Soccer?”
Choi Eunbi blinked.
“No, I don’t really know much about sports…”
“Then do you know how far our country made it in the last World Cup?”
“Ah!”
Choi Eunbi’s face brightened.
“Round of 16! I know at least that much~”
There was confidence in her voice.
“What about your favorite player?”
“I told you I don’t know much about soccer!”
Choi Eunbi tilted her head, then suddenly seemed to remember something and raised her hand high.
“Kang Taewoo! I know player Kang Taewoo!”
“How do you know him?”
“He collided with that foreign player back then!”
Choi Eunbi began explaining excitedly.
“I remember how he kept running around even though he was bleeding! Ah, I was so upset when I saw that… Oh, and he scored the equalizer, too! That was such a satisfying moment!”
She looked quite proud of her memory.
“Viewer voting is an opportunity.”
Luha turned back toward the whiteboard.
“Why?”
He drew a large question mark.
“Because that’s when the war begins.”
“The… war?”
Yoon Taejin tilted his head.
“The existence of viewer voting means that all kinds of communities, social media, and comment sections will become active.”
Luha drew four large circles on the board.
“A competition program isn’t a war limited to the idols on stage. Online, competition between the fans naturally breaks out.”
He began drawing arrows haphazardly between the four circles, with each one pointing toward another.
“‘Our kids are better!’ ‘No, they’re more talented!’ ‘But what about their personalities?’ ‘Their attitude is kind of…?’”
Luha changed his voice as he imitated various internet reactions.
“Pfft!”
“They’re so cute.”
The employees chuckled.
His imitation was far too realistic.
It was exactly the sort of thing that happened online every day.
“You’ve heard the saying, ‘Watching people fight is the most entertaining thing,’ right?”
The employees tilted their heads.
They looked like they had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
“At first, they’ll only become interested because it’s a ‘fun fight.’ ‘What on earth happened?’ ‘Who are those guys, anyway?’”
Luha began drawing countless small circles around the large circles he had drawn earlier.
They represented ordinary viewers.
“They naturally learn about the existence of the participating groups and become curious. Then eventually, they’ll think, ‘Are they really that good?’ ‘Oh, they’re actually pretty good.’ They watch the performances, start looking up information…”
One by one, he began drawing arrows from the newly added small circles toward the large ones.
“Before they even realize it, they’ll start cheering for them like Eunbi noona, getting happy, getting sad…”
“C-Could it be…?”
Yoon Taejin finally understood what Luha was getting at.
He slapped the desk and jumped to his feet.
Luha smiled smugly at him, then began coloring in one of the many circles he had drawn earlier.
“They become… fans.”
“……!”
Only then did realization spread across the employees’ faces.
“The goal of appearing on this program is clear. Create an issue for Loomis, and expand our fandom.”
Bang!
The sound of Luha roughly putting down the marker echoed through the conference room.
“Ah…”
Every Kleff Entertainment employee sat there with their mouths hanging open.
It wasn’t simply the obvious reason of appearing on yet another competition program that came around every year just to make people remember their name and faces.
It was a strategic approach that had precisely identified what Loomis needed right now.
‘Ha.’
Yoon Taejin swallowed a hollow laugh.
Even with a smaller body, Jin Dohyeon was still Jin Dohyeon.
It felt as though an aura was radiating from that tiny body.
‘Maybe things really could be different this time…’
An indescribable hope began swelling in Yoon Taejin’s chest.
But soon, his expression hardened.
“W-Wait a second! If the poster already has the cast members on it…”
RE:VIVAL was a competition program, not an audition program.
In other words, the groups had to be recruited and invited to participate.
“They’ve probably already finished recruiting the cast…”
A gloomy voice came from the corner.
The employees’ faces, which had brightened for a moment, darkened again.
“Hmm…”
Luha glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and muttered,
“They should be coming any minute now…”
That was when it happened.
Rrrrr-
As if on cue, the phone of management team leader Lee Jeongmin began vibrating.
No way…? At this timing, it must be!?
Everyone’s eyes turned toward Lee Jeongmin.
“What are you doing? Answer it!”
Yoon Taejin shouted urgently.
“Yes, yes!”
With trembling hands, Lee Jeongmin brought the phone to his ear.
“Yes, this is Kleff Enter… Ah, yes! Hello? Oh~ The RE:VIVAL production team?”
The moment those words left his mouth, the conference room began buzzing.
“Thank you. Then we’ll check our schedule and…”
“We don’t have a schedule! Tell them we’ll do it right away—!”
Luha, who had been listening to the conversation beside him, waved his hand frantically and shouted.
Lee Jeongmin flinched and hurriedly corrected himself.
“Ah, yes, yes! We can do it. Absolutely no problem! Yes, yes… Yes, thank you!”
After repeatedly bowing his head, Lee Jeongmin ended the call and looked up with a thoroughly nervous expression.
“R-Really?”
Yoon Taejin asked.
Half of his upper body was already leaning over the table.
“Yes! It was an invitation call!”
“Wooooah!”
Cheers erupted.
“Wait a minute!”
Public Relations team leader Han Sujin suddenly raised her hand.
Her sharp voice poured cold water over the heated atmosphere.
“Luha, how do you know all of this?”
The employees, who had been excited, gradually came to their senses.
It had all happened so quickly, almost as though they had been under a spell, but now that they thought about it, something was strange.
A five-year-old child could analyze the industry, develop strategies, and even captivate an audience with his speech?
‘Damn it…’
Luha gritted his teeth inwardly.
He had been so excited that he had forgotten.
Right now, he wasn’t the genius producer Jin Dohyeon.
He was a five-year-old armed with nothing but cuteness.
At that moment, only one thought came to mind.
‘……’
He absolutely did not want to say it out loud, but there was no other way.
“Ah… I-I heard it from my dad…”
“Oh~”
The employees all nodded at once.
“His DNA really is something else.”
“It’s genetic! Definitely genetic!”
“I told you, you can’t fool blood relations~”
“……?”
Luha’s pupils shook violently.
‘Why are you all actually buying that?’
