Chapter 118 : Devil’s Talent
Chapter 118: Devil’s Talent
SBC Broadcasting Station’s waiting room. It was originally a place prepared for cast members’ meetings.
I’d been here once or twice when I appeared on other variety shows,
but today, I was having a meeting in a far less pleasant situation.
It wasn’t related to Boy’s Dream—this was a meeting arranged because hyung contacted me personally.
Hyung sat with his legs crossed on a soft couch, letting out a deep sigh.
“Phew… So….”
From earlier, he had been pressing hard on his temples, and since I had a feeling rough words were about to come out, I spoke first.
“It’s fine, I already got completely roasted by Sehyun-hyung.”
“…I’m sorry.”
Cha Seongbin muttered with his head hanging low.
His soul looked like it had drifted off to the moon—yesterday, Jin Sehyun had been rather merciless.
‘You’ve got the nerve to eat that. I don’t think pizza should be going into your mouth right now.’
‘…I’ll skip it.’
Normally, Cha Seongbin would have replied back cheekily, but yesterday he didn’t even make a peep.
He couldn’t even touch a single slice of pizza, just glancing around nervously, so around dawn, Seo Ian had put a chicken skewer into the air fryer for him.
Well, it was understandable.
Sehyun-hyung wasn’t the type to scold people at random.
But causing a huge mess in collaboration with the incompetent Doubles was… a bit much.
From where I was sitting, today’s opponent didn’t look any less formidable either.
From earlier, Cha Seongbin had been gulping under hyung’s sharp, piercing gaze.
“Same team, Jin Sehyun?”
“Yeah.”
“If you ask me, I think you could get roasted one more time.”
Today, hyung’s eyes seemed even colder than usual.
Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed more on edge….
He ran a hand down his jawline and bit down on his lower lip.
Here it was—furious Do Seojun.
From here on, even I couldn’t handle it.
Seongbin-hyung, good luck.
“Cha Seongbin-ssi, how about we step outside for a bit and have a physical conversation?”
“…!”
Cha Seongbin’s complexion paled.
I leaned in close to his ear and whispered quietly.
“Be careful. Hyung learned kickboxing in college—if you get hit, it’s gonna hurt a lot.”
“…That might actually be better….”
“You’re right. Words hurt more.”
He was probably even more brutal than Jin Sehyun.
I knew because after I quit being a trainee and stayed holed up at home for about a month, I’d been hit with his words a few times.
It made you… how should I put it… live a very upright life.
I pulled myself together and studied for the college entrance exam right away.
Thanks to that, I got into a good university, so at the time, it was the best choice I could have made.
Anyway, the only saving grace here was that since they were practically strangers, he wouldn’t hit him that hard.
Not that I could guarantee his words would be kind….
Those unreadable eyes landed on me.
But then—
Contrary to Cha Seongbin’s worries, the words that came out of hyung’s mouth weren’t advice, criticism, or scolding.
“I’ll be straightforward.”
Hyung uncrossed his legs and spoke.
“Keep your promise and appear.”
“…Huh?”
“Appear on Boy’s Dream.”
Thud—
A thick proposal landed in front of me.
At a glance, it was a hefty stack of at least thirty pages.
Hyung, who had thrown it toward me, gestured for me to check it.
I asked in a bewildered voice.
“What is this?”
“The second evaluation of Boy’s Dream—honestly, it’s not an artist collaboration mission.”
“What?”
“You guys won’t be performing on stage. The format’s been completely changed from season 1.”
“All of a sudden?”
From the start, the original format of the second mission—‘collaboration’—was the biggest issue.
It was full of opportunities for criticism, and if we actually went on stage, it would only give people more ammunition.
But there was no way the second mission was never meant to be an artist collaboration in the first place.
It looked like hyung had hurriedly pulled some strings.
“Ah.”
His face twisted slightly.
With a voice that seemed to be holding back fury, he spoke quickly.
“I stayed up until 4 a.m. yesterday, tearing it all apart from top to bottom and completely reworking the format. I made it myself, and this morning, I got it approved by my senior. I begged, pleaded—pulled every stunt I could to get it fixed. There’s no turning back now.”
No wonder his eyes looked so hollow.
“And since I need to be compensated for my hellish work—Cha Seongbin-ssi.”
“Yes?”
“You’re appearing no matter what.”
If he said no, it looked like hyung would tear him to pieces.
Hyung tilted his chin and spoke nonchalantly.
“Check it.”
If he was coming out this confident, there was no doubt he’d worked some trick into it.
What on earth had he changed about the format?
I picked up the proposal and began scanning it with my eyes.
The first thing that caught my attention was the text at the top.
“Blind Cover Song Mission?”
Even from the title, this was a format I’d never seen in Boy’s Dream season 1.
Reading through it with a serious expression, my jaw slowly dropped without me realizing it.
[Second Evaluation: Blind Cover Song Mission]
[Only brief artist information and the genre of the cover song will be revealed.
The higher-ranked trainees will choose first, and once a song has been revealed, it cannot be changed. ex) N-year boy group, genre: EDM, power.]
Blind?
Instead of giving the exact song information, they would only reveal a general concept like that, and then we’d choose the cover song.
Wait… wasn’t this basically a gacha game?
Was it even allowed to run a survival show like this?
“From first-year to fifth-year, I laid them all out—hyung likes arithmetic sequences.”
“…….”
So I’d be taking on the first-year boy group something-or-other here.
At least there’d be no criticism over seniority.
Since the choices were blind anyway, the production team would probably take the heat, but I was always one to pray for hyung’s long life.
“This will definitely make a splash.”
“Honestly, isn’t it kind of fun?”
“I should have known back when you blew 110,000 won on that weird gacha game.”
I really should have realized back then—that genius.
“You’re a genius, hyung.”
“You know I grew up hearing that a lot.”
Anyway. It showed he’d paid attention even to the smallest details.
And—
“What’s this now?”
[Artist appearance removed → Partial appearance by composer, choreographer]
“Cha Seongbin-ssi, I wanted to secure you a decent amount of screentime, but that’s not possible, so we’ll just show your face a few times.”
“This is insane.”
[First-year boy group, Stardust’s ‘Spacewalk’ booked: Composer Cha Seongbin, Choreographer Choi Myunghwan]
With this, no one could complain.
It was already a joint composition with Billy Vinger, so putting Cha Seongbin, who had a strong visual appeal, at the front wasn’t a big problem.
He had often been criticized for being an overhyped “composer idol,” but this could be a chance to prove his skills.
Hyung turned to Cha Seongbin with a question.
“Can you handle the arrangement?”
“Yes, yes. I’ve already worked on it.”
“Already worked on it?”
At those words, hyung’s eyebrows twitched slightly.
“All right, we’ll contact both of your companies for the booking. You’ve probably already been contacted by now….”
“Yes.”
“Cha Seongbin-ssi.”
Hyung straightened up and looked directly at him.
“Of course, that’s not really what I’m curious about. From what I’ve heard, you had a bit of a deal with your company before appearing on this program.”
Deal?
“I heard you said you’d prove yourself with skill—and you played them the rearranged song this time.”
I thought Doubles had just been their usual selves.
I didn’t know he’d made that kind of deal with the manager.
“What kind of song could possibly make that manager agree to this crazy decision?”
Hyung’s calm voice spoke.
“Play it. I’m curious.”
Do Seojun quietly watched Cha Seongbin pulling out his phone and connecting it to the speaker.
Even after helping his younger brother resolve the anonymous account incident, he’d occasionally heard updates about him.
The eldest-line member of Universe Dust, in charge of the group’s most dust-like mental endurance.
Seohan would sometimes say with a worried look—
‘We’ve got a genius in our team. Barely half a year since debut, and he’s capable of composing everything from our title tracks to our B-sides. He’s amazing, but… watching him makes me uneasy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I never know when he might leave.’
The team was doing so well.
He himself was enjoying the promotions and doing great, yet Seohan always worried excessively about this one guy.
‘It’s the kind of talent you can’t not use—but I don’t think he realizes it.’
Not that the one saying it seemed to realize either.
Do Seojun swallowed those words instead of saying them out loud.
If someone talented was calling him a genius, then he had to be at least somewhat capable.
He wasn’t a music expert—just an ordinary PD—but everyone’s ears worked the same.
He intended to listen and judge for himself.
Do Seojun slowly closed his eyes and focused on the music.
Instead of the Spacewalk intro he knew, a calm beat signaled the start of the song.
And then—
“Hm?”
Ah—ahhh—
Ahhh—ahhhahh
Do Seojun’s eyes shot open without him realizing it.
It was an intro reinterpreted entirely differently to suit the survival stage, not a music broadcast performance.
Ah—ahhh—
Ahhh—ahhhahh
The dreamy a cappella tickled his ears and struck his heart.
“I asked someone I know to help put that in.”
Harmonies layered carefully over the stacked vocals.
To the once-quiet intro, a familiar beat was added.
The rhythmic beat grew more majestic and faster, flipping the song’s mood.
It felt like the grand, heart-pounding intro of an anime OST.
A new, refreshing quality—different from the original—captured the ears.
This is my universe
I swim through the universe—
Across more than 500 light years of distance
Only light and me can reach you
I’ll fold the universe in half
And catch up to the time that’s passed
The deep house rhythm blended smoothly, creating an even more dreamlike atmosphere.
Close your eyes, and it felt like you were spacewalking in that pitch-black void.
It’s been a long time
In that long time, so many things have changed
I’ll turn back time, set it right, and catch you
Can you catch my time?
Even the way the rap was woven in felt slightly different from the original, yet carried a sense of mastery.
If I remembered right, Cha Seongbin had written the original rap beat.
I’d listened to Spacewalk several times before, but I couldn’t help thinking he’d grown a lot in such a short time.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one thinking that—Seohan’s face had gone blank.
“This… is this really our song?”
It was, indeed, Spacewalk.
Missing that planet, I draw you again
Soaring, I fly to touch your sky
Once I touched that utopia
That planet is piercingly blue
Arranged like this, of course people would tell him to give it a try.
At least in terms of skill, no one would be able to criticize him.
And on top of that….
“Did you plan out the stage direction for this?”
“Yes… originally… I was planning to be on stage too.”
Even to Do Seojun, who didn’t know much, the A4 sheets packed full of stage direction notes showed how meticulously he’d prepared.
The set ideas were solid, the atmosphere of the song was well expressed.
The overall picture was so clean, it could go straight to the stage as-is.
“Ha.”
This was the devil’s talent, truly.
You can’t beat a genius running wild.
Do Seojun sat in thought for a while, picturing a certain face.
He’d already been a genius, but somehow it felt like he’d poured his entire being into preparing this song.
There was no need to even ask why Cha Seongbin had gone to such lengths—he already knew the reason.
Jang Juwon.
That bastard must have been the trigger that awakened Cha Seongbin.
Well, that trash at least accomplished one thing.
He’d made a contribution to the development of K-pop.
Do Seojun looked straight at Cha Seongbin and asked,
“You wanted to play this for him, didn’t you?”
He must have wanted to show something to Jang Juwon, who had persistently tormented him.
To say, I’m this good, so don’t mess with me. I’ll rise even higher from now on, so watch.
To overcome his own trauma, he must have impulsively accepted the offer to appear.
Even though he was an impressive guy who had survived that brutal, cutthroat audition, he was still only twenty-one.
Far too young to draw such a big picture.
Far too reckless to throw himself like a moth into such a huge gamble on nothing but ambition and talent.
At least he was quick to acknowledge his own recklessness.
So naturally, Do Seojun thought, he would nod in agreement with his guess.
But—
“That’s not it.”
Cha Seongbin shook his head with a faint smile.