Page 26 of Idol Prize
Andy’s route to the cafeteria took him past the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the fitness center, the heavy, metallic clanking from the weight machines echoing in the corridor. He preferred his own punishing, pre-dawn sessions of cardio andcore work when the room was quiet. A handful of guys were still inside, getting in a last-minute workout, performing for the wall of mirrors before they had to do the same for the cameras.
Andy almost missed him as he walked by, his pounding steps thumping a rapid rhythm on the treadmill in the far corner. Min Jae. Andy almost kept going. Two could play the ice king game, too. But ice wasn’t his style. He abruptly reversed course, marching into the fitness center on a mission, beating a direct path to the corner treadmill. He halted beside Min Jae, who ignored him as he ran, his perfect pace immediately triggering the signal song in Andy’s head. Of course.
“Hey,” Andy said, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard over Min Jae’s running. “We need to talk.” Min Jae gave no signs that he’d heard Andy, or even noticed he was there. “I said–” Andy continued, even louder.
“I heard you,” Min Jae replied without looking over. Even in the mirror, he only made eye contact with himself. “I’m a little busy right now.”
Andy snorted. “Yeah, running away, as usual. Too bad this treadmill doesn’t actually go anywhere.”
Min Jae huffed, still not slowing his pace. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“Are you sure?” Andy pointedly glanced in the mirror, mentally counting the others in the fitness center with them. It was a calculated risk, confronting Min Jae in front of others. But cornering him like that was the only way Andy could think of to force Min Jae to talk. “Because I feel like we need to talk about what happened. The way you’ve been acting–”
“I’ve been acting normally,” Min Jae snapped. “Just like you. Inserting yourself into situations where you don’t belong. Sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted.”
Andy’s eyebrows shot up. Not wanted? What the hell? “You say that now, but it sure felt like you wanted something from me then. Maybe not my nose, but–”
“You’re wrong,” Min Jae cut in, his jaw muscles tensing. “You saw something that wasn’t there. Like you said yesterday, nothing happened. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t. Now, if you don’t mind?” He tapped at the treadmill controls, bumping the speed up a couple notches.
Andy huffed. He’d been gaslit plenty of times. He’d even done it himself, assuring his random hookups that he’d definitely text them before blocking their numbers and ghosting. But something about Min Jae’s rewriting of their brief history felt different. Punitive. Especially considering that it was Min Jae who’d made his move. “Hey, ice king.” Andy grinned, pushing enough savage charm into it to outshine even the bright overhead gym lighting. “Fuck you.”
Andy turned and strolled toward the exit, shifting his savage charm to his next greatest asset as he slowly walked off. He never turned back, boldly daring Min Jae not to look.
Inwardly fuming, Andy continued to the cafeteria. It was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do, but he was trapped inside the ultimate panopticon. His friendly little chat with Min Jae was already on camera, even if neither of them were mic’d. But he doubted anyone would notice, as long as he didn’t do something extra dramatic like blowing up, ranting to any and everyone who'd listen about the unfairness of it all. So he let his anger roll off his back as much as he could, toned down his high-wattage grin to something less feral, and had some breakfast like all the other good little Dream Boys before getting on with his day.
As a special treat, the show had set up a viewing party in Sky Village’s cinema where they ran clips from the most recent episodes. Andy expected the room to be fancy and overdone like everything else in Sky Village. He wasn’t even close. A dozen rows of plush recliners faced a screen at least as big as the one in the auditorium. Andy, Leo, and Min Jun grabbed seats near the back and settled in for the show.
Seeing himself on screen wasn’t nearly as disturbing as Andy had expected. Which was fortunate, since, as the number one ranked contestant, he saw a lot of himself on screen. Mostly his keystone moments. His original ranking performance. The killing part in the signal song with Min Jae, which made him want to squirm. The Kings of Heart performing in the first mission. But there was some surprising behind-the-scenes footage, too. A few minutes of a chat he’d totally forgotten about with Tae Oh in their dorm room. The show’s maknae had been crying, missing his family and friends, so Andy did his best to talk him off the ledge. Then, another forgotten moment, during theKingmakerrehearsals, when Peak and Leo started arguing, and Andy shamed them into apologizing to each other.
Leo snorted when he saw that. “I’ve never had an older brother,” he whispered to Andy, “but that’s what I’d always imagined one to be like.”
Andy felt a hundred pounds lighter by the time the viewing party was done, and energized almost back to full. That was also fortunate since, after lunch, it was time for the next mission announcement.
The auditorium had been reset back to normal after their games day, with the stage and carpeted risers back in place. A hush fell over the assembled contestants, who’d been expecting another appearance from Si Woo, as Director Choi walked on stage. Dressed in a multi-colored, oversized designer sweater and pearl gray trousers with an impossible drape over his light brown Italian loafers, Choi moved with an energetic bounce in his step. Andy hadn’t seen him since the Palate dinner. Most of the contestants hadn’t seen him since the ranking performances. Andy pushed his shoulders a little straighter. If Choi was announcing the next mission, it had to be something big.
“What defines K-pop?” Choi asked, his voice booming sermon-style. He let the question hang long enough that Andy almost raised his hand to guess the answer. “Is it perfectlysynched choreography?” Choi continued. “Is it stable vocals? Is it flashy outfits and top-tier production quality? Many would say yes. But, I say no. K-pop is so much more than the sum of its parts. It’s a conversation taking place between an artist’s soul and the audience’s heart!”
Andy cheered along with the contestants surrounding him. Whatever this mission was, it had to be good.
“Before all of this,” Director Choi continued, gesturing around him, “before all of you, there were the pioneers. Artists who blazed the very trail you walk on today. Artists who put Korean culture on the map, elevating our industry until it dominated on a global stage.” Andy vigorously nodded. Choi spoke on that from his experience as one of those trailblazers. “For our next mission, you will honor those pioneers. Your first official unit mission is the Updated Retro-Classics challenge!”
More cheers and applause from the assembled contestants. Choi smiled, letting the noise naturally die down before continuing.
“But honor is not imitation,” Choi declared with passionate candor. “Any trainee can copy a performance. I’m not looking for trainees. I’m looking for idols. For artists. You must take these legendary songs,” he said, clutching a fist to his heart, “and inject your own blood, sweat, and sincerity into them! You must show me who you are.”
Choi turned, slowly pacing the stage. “We’ll give you all the tools you’ll need. Stylists, wardrobes, sound engineers, and the advice of your mentors. But the vision? The heart? That comes from you. The creative direction rests entirely on your shoulders.”
Choi’s smile faded, his expression turning sharp and serious. “This won’t just be a performance. This will be a test of your identity. And your reward? The top five teams will earn a powerful advantage in the next global vote. The top individual performer will earn an even greater one. But, remember, theDream Makers won’t vote for mere copies. They’ll only vote for what’s real.”
Choi’s smile returned, even grander than it had been before. The teams, he explained, would be divided by rank. The first five ranks would be Team One. The next five, Team Two. And so on. “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Choi added. “Team One has our best Dream Boys. How can we possibly beat them?” He chuckled. “Well, my first response to that is, welcome to the music industry. There will always be a better, more popular group. With a larger, more dedicated fanbase.” He cut across the room with his gaze, fixing Andy in place. “But, the thing about those dream teams, if you will, is that they’re subject to much higher expectations. The higher you rise, the farther you could fall.” He looked away, leaving Andy so chilled he could almost see his own breath. Not a threat, exactly. But always a possibility. Welcome to the industry.
“Besides,” Choi continued, “it’s true that Team One has our highest ranked Dream Boys. But our best ones? That’s for the rest of you to decide. Any one of you could be sitting in the top five chairs at the end of this mission. That’s entirely up to you.”
Andy took a slow, deep breath to calm his surging anxiety. He’d already seen one of the cameras in the right corner swing his way, capturing his reaction to Director Choi’s personal message. He had no idea what he looked like. Hopefully, better than he felt. Being on the dream team meant teaming up with the one person in the room Andy was currently furious with. Divine retribution, probably, for telling him to fuck off. Maybe the showrunners had been watching his friendly chat with Min Jae after all. So, only divine in the sense that he was being offered for sacrifice to the K-pop gods. Hopefully, they’d take the ice king instead.
After being dismissed and handed their new packets, Andy, Min Jae, Min Jun, Tae Woo, and Woo Jin–the dream team–made their way to Practice Room One in the Dragon Wing. The othercontestants practically burned holes in the back of Andy's head the whole way there. He didn't blame them. He was just as upset about Director Choi's naked ploy to fix a giant target to his back. Punitive. Maybe Choi and Min Jae were more alike than Andy had first thought.
Practice Room One was the biggest in the Dragon Wing. A small perk for being at the top of the food chain. Andy followed the others inside, the door shutting behind him, sealing the five of them in an awkward, pressurized silence. Andy, Min Jae, Min Jun, Tae Woo, and Woo Jin. A dream team on paper, no doubt. But Andy couldn’t begin to think of a worse collection of personalities to work together. Min Jae, his current nemesis, and Woo Jin, who’d been following him around Sky Village like a puppy. Tae Woo, who’d dropped a spot in the previous ranking, replaced by Min Jun, who stood right beside him. At least Min Jun would ally with Andy, if it came down to it. Hopefully.
