Idol Hides His Military Service

Do you know what place feels like crap when you go in, but when you come out you feel oddly refreshed with a mix of bittersweet relief?

The army training camp.

“Unni! Did you rest well?”

“Yeah··· did you rest well too?”

Seeing Yunkyung dragging a suitcase as big as her body and greeting me brightly made it really hit me that I was going back into the dorm.

‘Why do I hate going back in this much?’

There were only a few steps left until the dorm entrance, but I could feel every last cell in my body resisting the idea of setting foot inside.

No matter how you looked at it, the Idol Ground 100 dorm was just like an army training camp.

Something most people didn’t know was that even officers had to enter training camp.

In the name of basic military training, you had to go through a full five weeks of training, and during that period, your situation was exactly the same as the recruits.

‘No, it’s even harsher.’

Anyway, the dorm brought back memories of that time.

But I couldn’t stall forever, so I had no choice but to go into the dorm with Yunkyung.

“You’re here?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t like I’d dawdled, but there were already quite a lot of participants who’d arrived in the dorm, and among them I immediately spotted a familiar face.

Apparently they’d come in together—Nayeon and Seo Ryujin were talking to each other, then noticed me and greeted me.

“The reaction to our stage is insane!”

“Right? I heard the views already passed five hundred thousand?”

So that was what they were talking so excitedly about—seemed like they were talking about the Music Count stage we’d done live last time.

“At 1 minute 17 seconds! If you skip there, my face comes out right on the dot!”

Apparently interested, Yunkyung wedged herself between them and started bragging that in the clip of the stage video, her face was on screen for exactly one second.

And then,

“What’s this, is our big star so above discussing screentime that she’s just going to walk off?”

I’d been trying to quietly slip away while the three of them were talking, but I got caught by Ryujin.

“We should practice, right? Wow, I seriously feel like I’m going to go crazy if I don’t practice right now!”

“Don’t change the subject, our ending fairy.”

I was doomed.

The moment I saw the looks in the eyes of the three beasts staring at me with sly smiles, like I was some fun piece of prey, I knew there was no way I’d be able to get away intact.

Ending fairy.

That miserable title was the nickname I’d picked up over the weekend.

‘Wh··· what the hell is this! Why are so many people watching this!’

All my life I’d always been grateful ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) for the dazzling modern wonders of the twenty-first century, but this time was an exception.

The Music Count stage we’d done live last Friday had become the hottest topic of the weekend in more ways than one—

‘Did they really have all 100 participants doing one stage? That’s insane.’

‘Forget that, who’s that one, she’s really pretty.’

‘For real, it feels like MPlay straight-up went all-out recruiting trainees this time.’

Thanks to the shocking concept of putting all 100 participants on the same stage, even people who hadn’t been interested in idols were watching the stage video.

Of course, there’d also been quite a few criticisms close to outright bashing, saying it wasn’t Japan, so why were they doing some kind of idol exhibition.

But even that still counted as interest, so there was no denying that Idol Ground 100 had gathered enormous buzz.

‘Huh? Isn’t that the person who was on that show?’

The problem was··· it had gotten too big.

Wearing my usual fluffy pajama pants, hoodie, and slippers, I’d gone to the convenience store in front of my house and suffered the disaster of running into someone who recognized me.

And not just once—on my way to the dorm today, I’d run into people who recognized me literally dozens of times, no exaggeration, so I was embarrassed to death.

‘Wow! You look better in real life than on TV.’

‘Please sign this for me!’

‘We’ll be cheering for you!’

Strangers knowing who you are.

It was way more embarrassing than I’d thought.

Regret washed over me like, ‘Why did I spend the whole weekend rolling around without even washing my hair···’, and I resented the threadbare pajama pants I’d been wearing for three years now just because they were comfortable.

‘That’s right! Our daughter became an idol this time, you know?’

In the middle of that, my mom, totally hyped, was running around town going, “My daughter’s that person who came out on TV~,” acting like one of those big-mouthed servants from a historical drama and driving me even deeper into self-loathing.

‘I underestimated broadcasting way too much···’

To be honest, I wanted to beat my past self to within an inch of death for misjudging that nobody would be watching this grotesque idol survival program.

‘Hold it in··· you still got ten bitcoins out of this, didn’t you?’

I barely managed to calm myself down by thinking of the bitcoin I’d bought with the 2 million won allowance I’d just received.

I’d thought about leaving a little extra cash aside, but I knew better than anyone that if I had money lying around, I’d definitely waste it on something stupid, so I’d squeezed my eyes shut and bought bitcoin on the spot.

Humiliation is temporary, bitcoin is forever.

My motivation flared up again.

‘Still, it wasn’t bad.’

This was something I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, but I’d probably replayed the stage with me in it dozens, no, hundreds of times just like the excited trio.

Seeing myself on stage through the monitor was embarrassing no matter how many times I watched it.

But when I watched myself dancing and singing on stage, I felt like I was someone the stage needed.

And for some reason, that didn’t feel all that bad.

***

“Everyone, even if it was short, did you rest well?”

At MC Jang Junseok’s words, the participants’ “Yes!” rang out as one.

‘Ugh··· if it’s this cold, couldn’t we gather in the auditorium? Why are we lined up outside?’

Once all the participants had returned to the dorm, a broadcast announcement ordered us to gather on the field.

The field—no, no matter how you looked at it, it was closer to a drill ground than a playground; the participants were all standing in formation there.

It was still January, so the cold was at its peak, and gathering outdoors in this weather was the kind of atrocity that would get “letters from the heart” even in the army.

“You have now finished your first two weeks of life here and will be entering the full-fledged survival portion.”

Despite the cold, Jang Junseok continued hosting with a relaxed expression that showed he really was a celebrity, like he was standing in a warm room.

“If the last dorm stay was practice for the ‘Music Count’ live broadcast stage, then from now on, it’s time for you to compete with each other on stage.”

Competition.

At that word from Jang Junseok, the participants’ bodies, which had been shivering from the cold,

Stopped shaking as if someone had pressed a pause button.

‘The only reason we’d managed without any particular problems up to now was because we were all doing it together···’

I also felt my heart grow unsettled at the word competition.

In my past life, sure, but in this life I’d lived a life more disconnected from competition than anyone, so the idea of having to compete against kids much younger than me didn’t sit well.

“For the next two weeks, you’ll be divided into teams of five. In those teams, you’ll put on stages in front of audience members who came to the recording through advance application.”

Teams of five?

At Jang Junseok’s words, my electronic brain started running at high speed.

There were 100 participants, so if they were divided into teams of five, that made 20 teams in total···.

That was by no means a small number.

‘Can they even show everyone?’

Even if each stage took three minutes, just showing twenty teams would take an hour.

From what I’d heard from my aunt, Idol Ground 100’s broadcast time for each episode was 100 minutes per airing.

I had an inevitable hunch that there was no way they’d spend an entire episode just on stages.

“Then, from here on, I’ll introduce this week’s mission task! On the board next to me, there are ten hit songs written down—songs from idol groups that defined an era.”

Of course.

A board with stickers like the kind you saw on ranking variety shows was brought up onto the platform where Jang Junseok was standing.

“There are 20 teams and 10 songs. Do you know what that means?”

Participants who normally were quick to answer Jang Junseok’s questions kept their mouths shut at this one.

Twenty teams and ten songs.

Anyone could tell it meant two teams would be pitted against each other with the same song.

***

“Shoo! Shoo-shoosh!”

“Hey, I told you to warm up your body, so why are you throwing punches?”

“Tsk tsk. Soon, the cameras will catch you rolling around on the field after getting hit by my dazzling fists.”

Ignoring Ryujin’s scolding, I continued loosening up with shadow boxing.

“This isn’t just a fight, it’s a chicken fight, you know?”

“A chicken fight is still a fight.”

I stopped shadow boxing and looked gently at Ryujin.

“W··· what, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Ryujin, you’ve treated me way too roughly up to now.”

They say life is like sae-ong-ji-ma.

If there’s a dark night, a bright morning will come; just like that, the time of revenge had come for me, who had been tormented with dance and singing all this time.

- Among the ten songs, I’m sure there are songs you each want. But for each song, only up to ten people can choose it! So order becomes extremely important, right?

Sure enough, among the ten songs, each participant was bound to have favorites, and the way they were divided was a very important issue.

- So you’ll be playing a game to pick the twenty team leaders who will choose the songs!

When he first said this, the participants’ faces flared with fighting spirit.

Since there were no clear criteria yet for selecting team leaders, deciding it with a game was, in a way, fair, and even to me it seemed decent.

- And the game you’ll be playing for the team leader positions is··· chicken fight!

Chicken fight.

You fold one leg up into a sort of half-lotus, grab it, and with the remaining leg you hop across the ground and try to knock the opponent over—one of Korea’s traditional games.

If you were Korean, you’d probably played it at least once back in your school days.

‘Kim Miyoung! I knew I could count on you!!!’

When the words chicken fight came out of Jang Junseok’s mouth, I barely held myself back from shouting for joy.

‘Company commander, you’re really good at chicken fight!’

Back in the army, every major holiday, the battalion commander would offer reward leave and hold all-battalion combined games by company.

Soccer, tug-of-war, foot volleyball—various events were included, and among them was chicken fight.

And during my time as a soldier, I was the Saker of the chicken fight world, never once missing a single chicken fight victory.

“First I’ll knock out Ryujin, then Nayeon? No, lately Yunkyung’s been getting too full of herself, so I should put her in her place first···.”

The period when I was tormented by the forces of evil, led by Ryujin, for not being able to dance or sing—

All of that had been for this very moment.

As I warmed up, I began scanning my prey one by one.

‘Cute little things.’

The winner was going to be me anyway, but I watched them diligently warming up.

Chicken fight wasn’t something you did with just brute strength.

You used your sense of balance to redirect the opponent’s force and broke their center with your attacks—a profound battle of wits.

Rookies who were still lacking in experience couldn’t be my opponents.

***

“What the, it’s just Lee Sion the scrub.”

“Seriously. Unni, what were you thinking charging straight into the center?”

“For real, Sion’s screentime greed is insane. You totally got yourself eliminated first on purpose as soon as it started, right?”

“Please··· just leave me alone.”

Right now, I was more embarrassed than when I’d been wandering around outside looking like a bum and ran into someone who’d seen the broadcast.

- The 100-person chicken fight begins now!

At Jang Junseok’s shout to start, I confidently moved to the center.

‘If I stay near the edge, I’ll just get pushed out of the ring easily. If I seize the center, other people won’t be able to recklessly charge in.’

It was definitely a tactically perfect decision, and I carried it out perfectly.

The only thing I hadn’t predicted—

‘Oh! There’s Lee Sion! Get her!’

‘You picked the wrong day to show up, see how you like this!’

‘Unni, I’m sorry!’

Was that there would be more moths throwing themselves at me with the sole determination to knock me down than I’d expected.

Right side ribs.

Left thigh.

Front abdomen.

Back tailbone.

Kneed in four places at once like that, I

‘Aaaaargh!’

Let out a loud scream and had no choice but to collapse onto the cold field.

And that was when I realized.

There is no justice in this world.