Idol Hides His Military Service

Nayeon was a trainee at Zero One Entertainment.

It wasn’t one of the big three, but Zero One Entertainment, where Nayeon belonged, was a fairly recognized agency in the industry—among its seniors was even a first-tier boy idol group—so it was a decent agency.

And Nayeon was the problem trainee of that Zero One Entertainment.

She hadn’t been a problem from the start.

When Nayeon first joined as a trainee, she was a trainee the company paid attention to.

With outstanding dance and singing—and even looks—Nayeon was evaluated as a shoo-in for the debut lineup, to the point people were saying “the future of Zero One.”

However,

— You do fine in practice; why do you start trembling the moment it’s evaluation?

Nayeon had one big flaw: what she did well in practice, she would strangely mess up at monthly evaluations because she got nervous.

At first, the company thought, “It’s nerves; it’ll get better,” but seeing that Nayeon wasn’t improving, they soon reached the point where they had no choice but to give up.

‘I have to change...’

Nayeon considered appearing on this Idol Ground 100 as her last chance to change herself.

Even the very fact that Nayeon, who trembled on the company’s own evaluation stages, was participating in this kind of survival program—at the company, they called it a miracle.

But reality didn’t change so easily.

— Contestant number 70, Kim Nayeon. We can’t evaluate your stage. On an actual stage, if you crack a note once, are you going to just freeze there?

Nayeon, who had practiced only the Entrance Ceremony stage for a month, cracked a note right as she began, before she could show anything, and then froze on the spot.

Because of that, there was nothing to see; she received F grade, and after being dropped into F class, she even thought about just quitting the program.

‘Maybe idols aren’t my path...’

But thinking that if she gave up like this, her dream might really end, Nayeon couldn’t easily give up; unable to sleep, she headed to the practice room at dawn.

In this situation, all Nayeon could do was practice.

And Nayeon, who tried to forget everything and endlessly sang and danced the practice song “Spotlight,” only returned to the dorm right before morning.

And Nayeon didn’t notice.

“I see you.”

“Huh?”

That someone had been secretly watching her.

“I’m Lee Sion.”

“Yeah... I know. I’m Kim Nayeon.”

When Nayeon saw Lee Sion, who came to her during a break in practice, she was flustered.

It was weird enough that she suddenly appeared in front of her and out of nowhere said, I see you,

‘Why is she glaring at me like that...’

Sion’s gaze, looking at her as if she were prey, was so fierce it was scary.

“Why are you not trying to stand center?”

“What?”

“You’re good. So why are you not stepping forward and just staying in the back.”

At Sion’s question, which hit the mark, Nayeon unconsciously glanced around.

Because she was afraid of stepping out in front of others, she’d stayed tucked behind until now; Sion singled her out and asked why she was hiding, so she couldn’t help thinking someone had been watching her.

“I saw you practicing in the practice room at dawn yesterday.”

“You saw that?”

“I was going to practice yesterday too.”

Realizing someone had seen her secret practice, Nayeon’s face flushed red, like it would explode.

‘See... she’s laughing at me now, too. Does she think I was putting on airs?’

What’s more, Sion looking at her wore a sardonic smile, as if she’d seen a ridiculous sight, and Nayeon felt even more suffocated.

“Commander! I’ve returned from reconnaissance.”

“Report.”

“Currently, all F-class contestants say they have no objection to replacing the leader, as long as the skill is confirmed.”

“Excellent reconnaissance, Yunkyung.”

“Then can I stop talking in this weird way now?”

“It’s not a weird way—these are all necessary things, I’m telling you.”

Sion alone was burdensome enough, and then Yunkyung suddenly appeared and spoke with Sion in a military-like tone.

At a glance, it looked like a comedy skit; only then did Nayeon seem to relax a little.

But—

“Nayeon, we’re the same age, so can I speak casually with you?”

“Huh? Okay.”

Nayeon thought, Weren’t we already speaking casually? but didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.

“Do you agree with the opinion that if our F class keeps going like this, we’re doomed?”

“That’s...”

Nayeon’s mouth stuck again at Sion’s question.

Truthfully, Nayeon also thought that if they kept going like this, they wouldn’t escape F class at the next evaluation either, but—

‘Even so, how could I tell Gahyeon unni to step down from the leader spot.’

No matter the lack of results, Nayeon had no confidence to say something harsh to Lee Gahyeon, who had taken the leader role from day one and was leading F class.

“I think you’re the one who should be our F class’s leader.”

“No, I’m not... worthy...”

“Even if I end up eliminated, I think it’s right for our F class to at least leave after doing a stage that’s worthy of being called a stage.”

“...”

Startled, Nayeon waved her hands when Sion said the person who should be leader was Nayeon, but at the words that followed, she couldn’t help nodding.

Nayeon too had entered thinking this was her last chance; her desire to properly show her skill was burning.

“You just nod. I’ll do the rest.”

And Sion, who held out a hand saying she trusted her unconditionally, Nayeon couldn’t bring herself to push it away.

***

“Unnis, you know what Nayeon unni—”

Yunkyung’s figure stood out, scampering up to contestants at every break to chat.

‘That’s innate.’

One thing I’ve felt living as a woman is that, unexpectedly, women’s groups are very exclusive.

In a new place, meeting new people, they open up—but only briefly. As time passes and groups set, it’s extremely hard to wedge yourself into those cracks.

But right now, Yunkyung was joining in and chattering as if she’d belonged to that group from the start.

This was a technique close to the miraculous.

Weren’t famous spies of the past exactly like that?

With a still babyish face and even a mild, gentle personality, maybe she gave off no sense of caution at all.

“But... can I really do it?”

And Nayeon, who was watching Yunkyung bustle among the contestants at my side, still seemed uneasy.

A moment ago she’d agreed in the mood I’d created, but maybe the timid attitude was unavoidable.

“All right, Nayeon. Let’s imagine something.”

“Wh-what?”

“From now on, there’s a bomb necklace around your neck.”

“Huh?”

There’s something a famous Legend of Valley pro-team coach said—the “bomb necklace theory.”

“If you make a mistake on the stage you’re about to show in front of the F-class contestants, the bomb hanging around your neck explodes.”

“T-that’s too cruel. No—if there’s a bomb necklace around my neck to begin with, I’ll just get more nervous...”

“Then in the end, you’re someone who couldn’t withstand that pressure.”

“...What?”

At my last line, Nayeon’s expression froze, as if shocked.

‘I actually like that face better.’

Until now, Nayeon’s face—who could fairly be called dragged along by my plan—was always cowed.

Say anything and she’d stammer, or hang her head low—that was the usual look.

I wondered if she’d always been like that and asked,

‘At first I wasn’t this bad, but after I made one big mistake at a monthly evaluation, I keep remembering people’s eyes back then, and I get timid without realizing it...’

She said she’d once made a big mistake onstage, and the looks in the eyes of the company people who judged her then were so cold it shocked her, and she grew more and more timid.

“I’ve experienced trauma too.”

“...Really?”

At my words, Nayeon asked back like she couldn’t believe it.

Of course, looking at me now, it’d be hard to believe I had trauma, but in reality, I had.

From birth, at that.

Bang!

From the moment I was born again as a woman, whenever I heard gunshots from somewhere, my heart pounded and my breath choked.

Even if it wasn’t an actual gunshot—if it was a gunshot heard in a movie, drama, or game.

In that moment, my strength would leave me and I’d collapse; breathing was hard.

Only later did I learn that symptom was a type of panic disorder, but at the time it was pure hell.

It was bad enough I died to a subordinate’s bullet in my past life—yet the aftereffects reached into this life, too; no matter how I thought about it, it was too unfair.

So at the time,

‘Fine, then I’ll track down and thrash the bastard who’s the root of all future evil!’

I even had that thought—but in the end, I overcame it.

Ratatadang!!!

The solution was extremely brute-force and simple.

I installed the FPS game that was popular then and played with the volume at max.

My only goal: one kill.

With my breath getting ragged and my vision going dark, until I killed one person, I wouldn’t let go of the mouse even if I died—that was my mindset.

Of course, at first I fainted with the mouse still in my hand, so my parents banned me from the computer, but I turned it on again and played.

After about two days of repeating fainting and waking—

Bang!

I finally succeeded in shooting and killing one person in the game.

After that, there was nothing special.

Now I can watch not only gun games but even war movies just fine.

“You said you came thinking this was your last chance anyway, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“Then whether you crack a note or your dance gets tangled, push through to the end.”

Trauma must vary from person to person.

Some people can solve it in a crude way like me, and some certainly can’t.

But the important thing is: you can only resolve trauma by facing it someday.

Right now, Nayeon said with her own mouth she’d joined this program thinking it was her last chance, but she still showed a posture like there was a retreat.

No way out.

In that case, eliminating the retreat entirely is the way for Nayeon.

“Commander! I have returned from the mission!”

“Excellent, Lieutenant Im.”

“Uh, Lieutenant is higher than Second Lieutenant, right, unni!”

“That’s right. After all, a Second Lieutenant has to serve a whole year to become a First Lieutenant.”

Just then, as I was talking with Nayeon,

Before I knew it, Yunkyung—having completed the mission I gave—slipped right between us.

‘Hamster?’

Yunkyung, who popped up between us, must still be short because she’s growing; she gave off a hamster-like impression.

If Suyeon, my roommate, was squirrel-like, then Yunkyung felt hamster-like.

“But Yunkyung, what did Sion make you do? Sion wouldn’t tell me.”

Seeing Yunkyung deliver her mission-complete report to me, Nayeon looked very curious about what mission I had given.

“Can I tell her, unni?”

“I think it’s fine now.”

Until now, I had repeatedly insisted Yunkyung never tell Nayeon, so her mouth must have been itching.

At last, with my permission, Yunkyung’s lips opened, like she’d been waiting.

“Sion unni told me to go around to the other contestants and spread a rumor!”

“What rumor?”

“That Zero One Entertainment’s Kim Nayeon actually has tremendous skill, but came to F class because her condition was bad at the Entrance Ceremony.”

“What?!”

At Yunkyung’s words, Nayeon’s face turned pale in an instant.

Nayeon froze, like on the Entrance Ceremony stage, with a freaked-out expression.

But that wasn’t the end of what Yunkyung said.

“So we’ve been saying that she’s been holding back all this time, but because the current F-class situation is too frustrating, she said she’ll show her skill now!”

“Uh... ugh...”

Nayeon couldn’t even speak ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) properly now; she only stammered with her mouth open.

‘If only I’d had a fan... it would have been perfect.’

Looking at Nayeon’s face, completely caught by my no-way-out strategy, I was very satisfied.

With the retreat blocked to this extent, Nayeon now had only one of two options left.

Either overcome her trauma and show her true skill, or be branded a liar and a braggart. One of the two.

‘Don’t worry. If we die, I’ll die with you.’

Of course, as the executor of this operation, if it went wrong I was prepared to go down together.

And as a bonus, Yunkyung too.