Trapped in the Idol Universe

It was only after Gwakhyeol regained his composure that Roy could clear up the misunderstanding.

F1 and F2, as an apology, ceded the lower bunk of the loft bed to Roy.

Normally six people shared a room, but with 202 participants, Room 44 had only four—unfortunate that all four roommates were Fs, but at least the space was roomier than other rooms.

Gwakhyeol chose the upper bunk.

“You shouldn’t have done that when you’re unwell...”

“Ha-hat. The air is always better up high. I always prefer higher spots.”

He even applied that to this tiny cell. Roy surveyed the cramped room—smaller than his dorm’s bathroom—with a troubled expression. Seeing the training suits hanging in the closet and cameras mounted everywhere gave him flashbacks.

‘To be dumped in a crappy place like this twice...’

As Roy silently lamented his fate, an announcement crackled over the speakers.

[Participants, please change into your issued training suits and gather in the auditorium.]

It looked like the first survival challenge was about to begin. Here’s hoping I catch the right bus.

✧

In the auditorium, three guild masters welcomed the participants.

Min Guk of Daehan. Baek Eunseong of Earth. Bella of Pluton—the pillars upholding Korea.

The four Fs, by virtue of sharing a room, found themselves standing together.

“Jesus. Like seeing gods.”

“If I get eliminated today, I’ll have no regrets.”

“The legendary S-ranks...! A glowing halo, ahem, ahem.”

Other excited voices broke out around them. Sure—it was remarkable for three of Korea’s five S-ranks to gather in one place. But the halo bit was overkill.

‘None of you ever gave me that treatment.’

Actually, there were four S-ranks gathered. Roy shot the Fs a withering look. Right under his nose, he’d failed to spot a guild master—tisk. He clicked his tongue and scanned the crowd again. But he paid no mind to the guild masters. His only concern was Hangyeol.

‘If the guild leaders are here, Hangyeol should be too. Or isn’t he?’

Seeing his face seemed impossible. Roy gave up searching and sagged his shoulders, staring ahead as Min Guk took the mic.

“Greetings, Star Hero participants. We will now begin formal training.”

Where was the MC? Why was a guild master running the show? No matter the explanation, Roy watched with a bored expression.

“Training will be tailored by grade. A and B train with Daehan’s master, C with Pluton’s, and D and F with Earth’s guild master.”

Each guild’s ethos would shape its training—thank goodness they weren’t just thrown into a survival free-for-all.

But that relief was short-lived. Roy followed the group to the hill behind the auditorium and heard something unbelievable.

“We will now ascend that mountain.”

Eunseong, angelic-faced, pointed to a massive peak blanketed in snow despite midsummer sun. What nonsense was this? Did Paju even have such a mountain? Worried, Roy asked F3.

“Excuse me. What’s the name of that mountain?”

“That’s Wildland Mountain. It’s called ‘wildland,’ but it’s hardly small.”

Damn Wildland. It toyed with him again. He prayed it was a joke, but the staff were too composed.

‘We’re screwed. We really have to climb it.’

Baek Eunseong—angel of white robes, but maybe a devil in disguise? That looming massif wasn’t just a mountain. It was hell itself unfolding.

“You may have to climb it daily.”

“...Daily?”

Roy whispered, entranced.

“Yes. Daily.”

He was so moved by the firm reply he almost cried.

“Just trust me and follow.”

No way. If Hangyeol was here in Korea, I should withdraw now and storm my agency. Good thing I kept that business card. Whatever happens, survival first. Besides, I’ve still got two allies—Taeeon and Yeonwoo.

‘Who knows? I might even win.’

As Roy schemed, Eunseong sought volunteers to be leader. The leader would coordinate the team and ensure nobody fell behind—no reward, only duty and sacrifice. No one volunteered. Then Roy shot his hand up, ready to announce his withdrawal.

“Participant Lee Roi!”

Eunseong cheered, and Roy was floored. Gwakhyeol, F1, and F2 stared in surprise.

‘Why do I look like the one who wants to quit?’

Embarrassed, he rubbed his nose. Eunseong’s voice rang out.

“Any other volunteers? Then we’ll appoint Lee Roi as leader.”

“Um...?”

“Let’s give him a round of applause.”

Clap, clap, clap! Still not grasping the situation, Roy looked around bewildered. Gwakhyeol made seal-clap applause, sincerely congratulating him.

“Truly remarkable! Selflessness to step up when everyone else declined!”

“Who?”

“Roy!”

“Me?”

For what? Roy dumbly stared at Eunseong, who secretly gave a thumbs-up with a delighted smile.

“Excellent. Let’s begin training at once.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Move out, everyone.”

At Eunseong’s command, staff and participants surged forward.

“Wait, listen to me—!”

Swept along by the crowd, Roy was jostled to the group’s rear. His timing had been terrible. He’d been lost in thought and missed Eunseong’s call. Left alone, he watched the retreating group—then saw something glint near the ridge. An inexplicable pull tugged at him. The mountain was calling him.

“Sigh...”

This lousy Wildland Mountain—truly forcing us to climb.

✧

Wildland Mountain soared to 3,500 meters—on par with Japan’s Mount Fuji. Eunseong wanted them to plant a flag at its summit as training. But here was the problem.

First, 3,500 meters is a grueling two-day climb even for experienced mountaineers. Above 3,000 meters, altitude sickness looms.

And it was a doctor—no less, a physician—shoving them toward it? Meanwhile, patients lay ill back at the dorm.

Cough, cough, gag!

Gwakhyeol was coughing up blood again.

“Does this make sense...?”

“It’ll be tough, ahem, but not impossible. Right? Are you unwell?”

He must be talking about himself. Who’s worrying about who? Roy glanced between Gwakhyeol and Eunseong in confusion. The man coughed up blood and the doctor barely reacted.

‘So this doesn’t even count as “sick”?’

Second, they couldn’t retrieve the flag alone. It required all thirty-two participants present. If even one fell behind, the day’s efforts would be wasted.

“If you pass the training, you’ll have free time until the first survival.”

“And if we fail?”

“You’ll climb the mountain every day until you bring back the flag. Simple, right?”

Though he spoke casually, it was no easy task. Trials are hard by definition. Three peaks. Three flags. Bring back even one, and you succeed. But Roy had no intention of reaching the summit.

‘Can a leader do this? It’s my call. If they don’t like it, they can lead.’

If he was going to fail anyway, conserving energy might be wiser. The others looked grim—none seemed keen to climb. So he planned to focus on discovering the source of that glint rather than the training.

Then—

“My father lies bedridden with his dying wish to summit Wildland Mountain before he passes, ahem.”

Gwakhyeol launched into a K-drama monologue.

“And I was always bullied. I want to prove to those who scorned me that I’m no longer weak.”

F1 unexpectedly confessed his hardship. Fine for Gwakhyeol, but F1’s story was tragic—how did it relate to conquering Wildland Mountain? Had Roy spoken his thoughts aloud? F2, quietly wiping tears, explained the mountain’s symbolism.

“Reaching Wildland’s summit symbolizes strength.”

“Why?”

“Legend says powerful energy lies buried there.”

Legend, huh. He held back a headache. But Gwakhyeol, F1, and F2 stared at him expectantly.

...So what? What do you want from me?

When Roy continued to stare, Gwakhyeol blushed and said shyly,

“Roy-nim, you are our leader. Please guide the team.”

The leader of the Reincarnated Idol Survival Show. In this life, he’d become an F-rank leader.