The goal is the Ending Fairy

Chapter 4

- Chatter and murmur

The practice room buzzed with the constant hum of trainee voices.

HON Entertainment's smallest practice room was packed with a considerable number of trainees today.

"......"

I, too, was among them, crouched in a corner.

Watching them gather in small groups, whispering to one another, I confirmed what I had only suspected until now.

'They're avoiding sitting next to me.'

The gap that surrounded me, no one daring to sit nearby... was all too obvious.

I thought this character had been a trainee for at least half a year, so I figured there might be a few close friends among the trainees.

In reality, whenever I greeted them, most replied with half-hearted mumbles like, "Uh... hi" or "Yeah...".

Sometimes, not even that. Somehow, it felt like they just weren't interested in me.

'I can’t say I blame them.'

The reason was clear enough.

Just look at my charm and likability stats.

At this level, I might as well be invisible, not just as an idol, but as a human being in general.

Maybe that’s why, whenever someone caught me looking their way, they’d silently turn their head.

Still, isn’t this invisible person treatment a bit much?

Feeling awkward, I crossed my arms over my knees and rested my chin on them, letting out a soft sigh...

-Thud

Suddenly, someone plopped down next to me.

"Dan-ah! You’re participating this time too, right?"

"Huh?"

"I’m so glad! I really wanted to be on the show with you."

Who are you?

I barely swallowed the question that almost slipped out. Instead, I glanced at the person now sitting beside me.

"...Huh?"

But as soon as our eyes met, I quickly looked away from the trainee smiling warmly at me.

She sat so close now that our shoulders touched, continuing to make conversation.

"The first filming is coming up soon. Aren't you nervous? I heard they’re revealing the first mission today..."

"Uh... y-yeah."

"But I’m really happy to be doing this with you."

She smiled again, her eyes crinkling.

Looking at that clear, radiant smile, I almost had the illusion that the room had brightened around us.

Yet, something about her face tugged at my memory. It felt oddly familiar, and that had been bothering me for a while.

‘Have I met her somewhere before?’

I brushed the thought aside quickly.

'...Nah, no way.'

A face like that? I would’ve remembered if I had ever seen it in reality.

Still, I tried to recall if I had seen her among celebrities or even in passing acquaintances, but nothing clicked. I was certain this was my first time meeting her.

So why?

Why did this girl, who was clearly a stranger, feel so familiar to me?

"Oh? Hi, Hee-jo unnie."

"Hi."

Even her name, which I overheard by chance, rang a bell.

Hee-jo? That name... I’ve definitely heard it before.

While she seemed to be friendly with other trainees unlike me, I internally searched through all my memories.

Hee-jo... Hee-jo...

'Ah!'

I remembered, 'Yoon Hee-jo'.

It didn’t take much thought to connect the dots.

A trainee I met in the game. A name that felt oddly familiar. What did it mean?

It meant she was a character I’d seen in my previous playthrough.

And I remembered exactly who she was.

An idol who had been a rival to our group. Specifically, a member of the group led by the player who had been my in-game rival.

Amidst the tension, I remained calm, my gaze shifting to the central seat.

Park Jae-geon, the CEO of HON Entertainment.

Thanks to some quick research online yesterday, I recognized him instantly.

For a moment, he flipped through the list of participants, setting the mood, before finally speaking.

"Hello, kids."

At his direct greeting, the trainees bowed again in unison.

"Do you know why you're gathered here?"

‘Of course we do.’

‘After giving us such a big hint, now he’s using these obvious broadcast-ready lines...’

I chuckled inwardly, especially since I had only been selected the day before filming.

After a brief pause, one of the trainees cautiously raised their hand.

"We heard you're forming a new group."

“That’s right. The company is going to launch a new girl group this time, but we haven’t exactly decided on the group name or the number of members yet.”

‘So they're just going to figure it out as they go along?’

I had heard rumors that launching this new group was urgent, but it was clear the process was hastily thrown together. It felt a lot like how things played out in the game.

Oddly enough, I couldn’t recall the group’s name. I remembered some of the members, like Yoon Hee-jo, but the name itself escaped me.

‘The group that competed so fiercely with the idols I raised... and yet I can’t recall the name I must’ve seen a hundred times?’

It seemed contradictory, even to me, but it was an undeniable blank spot in my memory, and frustrating at that.

Still, the group name wasn’t all that important. As long as it wasn’t something too bizarre, it didn’t matter.

'No, I'll have to debut even if the group name is terrible...'

Realizing my situation, I tuned back into the CEO’s explanation.

"“However, the keyword for this new group is ‘light.’ So, the program’s title has become ."

Hmm. The title wasn’t bad. It conveyed the program’s purpose well enough.

Probably something like ‘We’ll find the trainee who shines the brightest.’ That kind of nuance.

"It's obvious, but the people with the best results will debut, right? The important thing is, there’s also an elimination system."

"!!"

The trainees stirred at the mention of eliminations.

As for me, I had already expected this after hearing it from the manager yesterday.

The word ‘survival’ alone implied the need to mentally prepare for eliminations.

I mean, show me a survival show without eliminations, especially in a debut program.

Though, to be fair, outright mid-program eliminations might be less common in an in-house debut show like this.

Usually, they'd split the participants into two teams or form a top team from the start, offering them benefits. But with so many of us here, that wasn't really an option.

It made sense. The elimination system was likely set up to weed out those who clearly didn’t fit without giving them further chances.

Besides, ‘eliminations’ also ramp up the tension, making everyone more desperate to succeed. It adds to the drama, like overcoming the sadness of a teammate’s elimination to move forward.

Perfect for a TV narrative.

"Elimination?"

"Gasp, they said there's elimination..."

"So if we don’t do well, we can't move on to the next mission?"

"Looks like there's no room for mistakes..."

The murmurs of anxiety spread quickly among the trainees.

In reality, we had all been briefed about this beforehand, but we were instructed by the staff to act surprised, as if hearing it for the first time.

"I'm warning you," the CEO continued, "this first mission will be the only one without eliminations. But don’t be too nervous!"

I widened my eyes appropriately, playing along with the others.

‘Don’t be nervous?’ After saying something as nerve-wracking as that? Ridiculous. But the CEO continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension he was stirring up.

"...so, the first stage you need to show in this survival is..."

‘They’re going to drag this out on the broadcast, aren’t they?’

"It's individual capability. Just show about one verse each of your vocals and dance. Rapper friends, you can replace vocals with rap if you prefer."

The mission was clear: demonstrate your individual talent.

They wanted to see what we could each bring to the table; our skills, our presence in front of the camera.

It was the perfect way to introduce us to the viewers while giving them a taste of our abilities.

A well-planned mission for a debut show.

But that wasn’t the end.

"And additionally," the CEO's voice cut through the room again, "we’re going to film a 'self-PR video.'”