Chapter 3: The Curse of the Ten Symbols

After hours of dance practice, everyone’s stamina finally gave out.

The members collapsed onto the studio floor one by one.

Yoonbin glanced at his phone, got up, and walked to the practice room door to receive a delivery.

“Pizza?”

Without even looking, James recognized it from the smell alone and shot to his feet.

The rest of the exhausted members slowly dragged themselves upright as well.

Yoonbin opened the pizza boxes on the floor.

“You all know this is the last pizza we’re eating before debut, right? We’ve got to manage our weight.”

“Okay~”

Barely listening, Eunhan enthusiastically circled two generous rounds of hot sauce over his slice.

James instantly exploded—in two languages.

“f*cking so spicy, bal-saekki!”

“What the— I’ve never seen James-hyung angry before.”

“Sorry, hyung! Then I’ll eat all the toppings!”

“Eunhan… that just means James is left with the crust.”

Despite bickering, everyone grabbed a slice and began eating.

Once their empty stomachs were finally satisfied, reality slowly crept back in.

Jaemin stopped halfway through dipping his pizza into garlic sauce and spoke gloomily.

“…Do you think we’ll flop if we debut with that song?”

The moment he said it, the song they’d spent all day practicing seemed to echo in everyone’s ears.

Its title alone was “The Ten Symbols of Longevity.”

“I’m honestly scared this debut might also be our last…”

“But Korea’s top idol group, PPP, has terrible songs too, and they’re still insanely popular!”

Eunhan tried to lift the mood.

“PPP is… PPP.”

They were known for outdated hook songs and drowning weak vocals in Auto-Tune.

They had countless fans…

…and just as many antis.

Still, despite all the criticism, they remained the nation’s top idol group.

Because they belonged to a major agency.

That thought naturally led Jaemin to picture Q2P’s tiny office.

“When famous people take a dump, everyone applauds.”

“When nobodies do it, it’s just public indecency.”

Woohyung’s blunt comparison made Jaemin nod without realizing it.

If PPP had actually been given great songs, they might’ve dominated not just the idol industry, but the entire music scene.

Popularity had no upper limit.

Maybe mediocre songs were the only thing holding them back.

Of course…

That kind of problem only mattered to groups that already had a foothold.

“We don’t really have a choice.”

“We just have to work harder and pray the next album has a normal title track.”

“If you’re not debuting under a major company, rookie groups usually have to do something outrageous just to get people’s attention anyway.”

Listening to Eunhan, Jaemin suddenly wondered…

Was that why the CEO made such insane decisions?

Thinking back to last week’s music show, plenty of rookie groups had been desperately trying bizarre concepts just to stand out.

Watching them, Jaemin had confidently thought,

I’ll never have a debut that pathetic.

Now…

He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Even if the song’s bad, maybe good choreography or a strong concept can save it?”

That was true.

They could always market themselves as a performance-focused group.

Unfortunately…

No one had considered the worst possible scenario.

What if the choreography…

…and the concept…

…were just as terrible as the song?

“Finding it difficult? Let’s go through it one more time.”

At this point, Jaemin wasn’t even sure this had anything to do with being from a small agency.

Maybe their CEO simply had horrifying taste.

Everyone had been excited when they heard the choreography was finished.

Instead…

They were greeted with movements that somehow felt decades ahead of their time…

…or decades behind.

No one could even tell whether this was supposed to be idol choreography anymore.

It looked like something between a shaman performing an exorcism…

…and a cult ritual.

“They… actually paid money for this choreography, right?”

Eunhan whispered into Jaemin’s ear.

Jaemin stared blankly as the choreographer demonstrated the routine.

Seriously.

Maybe someone had gotten paid just to unload choreography nobody else wanted.

If it already looked this awkward when the choreographer danced it…

How much worse would it look when they performed it?

“…Sigh.”

The closer debut got, the more anxious Jaemin became.

He’d thought he’d be getting more excited.

Instead, all he gained were worries.

His family had already told every relative that he’d made the final debut lineup.

His grandmother had apparently celebrated so enthusiastically that the entire village knew her grandson was finally becoming an idol.

Thinking about disappointing everyone with this song…

…and this choreography…

Jaemin slowly closed his eyes.

“Yu Jaemin.”

“Are you paying attention?”

“Ah… yes. Sorry.”

Still…

He had to debut.

If not here, then where?

It wasn’t as if he was going solo or becoming a ballad singer.

Objectively speaking…

Jaemin knew he wasn’t blessed with the kind of once-in-a-generation vocals that could carry an entire career.

“This is so embarrassing…”

Embarrassing his family wasn’t even the worst part.

He could always shamelessly tell them,

“Songs these days are all like this.”

His grandparents would probably be happy enough just seeing him on TV.

The real problem…

…was his old classmates.

No matter how many years had passed, the moment his face appeared on television, someone would inevitably say,

“Hey! Isn’t that Yu Jaemin?”

Comments like,

“So he finally debuted after talking about becoming an idol for years.”

…he could tolerate.

But hearing,

“He debuted… for that?”

That was something he never wanted to experience.

“Quit complaining and start thinking about how to make it work.”

Woohyung walked past him while Jaemin practiced with the expression of someone chewing on dirt.

Like I don’t already know that.

Jaemin found Woohyung’s constant lecturing incredibly irritating.

He’d already hinted several times that he disliked being spoken to informally.

Yet Woohyung kept doing it.

Ironically, he spoke respectfully to James, the foreign member.

Doing it only to Jaemin was obviously deliberate.

Especially since Jaemin had never once given him permission to drop honorifics.

“At this rate, we’ll disband because of internal conflict before we even make it to a second album.”

Muttering to himself, Jaemin began practicing the octopus-like choreography again.

Q2P didn’t even have a dedicated dance instructor.

Woohyung learned the choreography first and then taught the rest of the members himself.

Once he started teaching…

He rarely stopped.

“Again.”

Meeting Woohyung’s eyes through the mirror felt like staring into the face of someone ready to kill.

“…Again?”

Eunhan panted as he gulped down water.

“Someone’s still getting it wrong.”

Since practice kept dragging on because of his mistakes, Jaemin couldn’t help feeling guilty.

Of course…

Woohyung had intentionally phrased it that way so Jaemin would feel guilty.

It’s not even cool.

Why the hell is it this hard?

Jaemin never considered himself a bad dancer.

But maybe because the choreography was so bizarre, none of it stuck in his head.

Everyone else had already memorized the routine.

Only Jaemin kept falling behind.

Then why was he the last member added?

From Woohyung’s perspective, the choreography wasn’t particularly difficult.

Watching Jaemin repeatedly mess up something so simple irritated him.

He’d expected someone impressive when Jaemin had been added directly to the debut lineup without even going through monthly evaluations.

Instead…

Nothing about him felt like a hidden ace.

If anything, Jaemin seemed like he’d only been recruited to round the group out to five members.

Yoonbin sensed the growing tension and quickly stepped in.

“Look at Eunhan.”

“If we keep going, he’s seriously going to collapse.”

“Let’s stop here for today.”

“Yes, please.”

“Woohyung, if you keep this up, our five-member group’s going to become a trio.”

“Eunhan and I’ll be dead.”

With every member asking to stop, Woohyung shut his eyes in irritation.

“…Fine.”

“I honestly expected something like this.”

They’d come to shoot their music video…

…and their concept photos.

Considering the bizarre song and choreography, Jaemin had already assumed the concept wouldn’t be anything ordinary.

He thought he’d mentally prepared himself.

Apparently…

There were limits to human imagination.

Their CEO had a remarkable talent for exceeding those limits.

His questionable taste.

His absolute confidence.

And the handful of employees who never stopped him.

That was Q2P.

“So… am I supposed to be a deer?”

Jaemin asked in a trembling voice as staff members attached tree branches to his head.

“Obviously.”

“Then why is an idol wearing antlers…?”

“You’d rather wear a turtle shell like Yoonbin?”

Woohyung sneered.

Jaemin glared at him.

Nobody had even been talking to him.

Did he really have to butt into every conversation?

That bastard gets all the cool stuff again.

Jaemin looked over at Woohyung.

He was dressed in elegant Eastern-style silk robes with feathers decorating the sleeves.

Maybe he was supposed to be a crane.

Or a peacock.

Meanwhile…

One member was a turtle.

Another was a deer.

Eunhan’s makeup artist had painted his entire face green to the point he’d almost cried earlier.

No one could even figure out what James was supposed to be.

“Wait…”

“…Is our concept…?”

Yoonbin adjusted the turtle shell strapped to his back and muttered with a grave expression.

“Hyung… do you know what this is?”

“I could ignore one or two things…”

“But turtles… cranes… deer… bamboo…”

“The Ten Symbols of Longevity.”

Woohyung answered flatly.

Jaemin nearly lunged at him.

For a split second, he thought Woohyung had just sworn at their leader.

“I mean our concept.”

“It’s the Ten Symbols of Longevity.”

The words hit Jaemin like a hammer to the back of the head.

The Ten Symbols of Longevity?

As in…

…the folding screens at his grandmother’s house?

“How is a rookie idol group’s debut concept the Ten Symbols of Longevity?”

“And we’re not even a ten-member group.”

“I thought maybe they’d just named the song that.”

“Who would’ve guessed they’d make the entire concept about it?”

“Are they insane?”

“Maybe the CEO just wants to live a long life.”

“He doesn’t need this.”

“At the rate we complain about him behind his back, he’ll probably live forever anyway.”

The members grabbed their heads in disbelief.

To make things even stranger…

There were only five of them.

The Ten Symbols of Longevity had ten different symbols.

Meaning they’d almost certainly have another costume change later.

And nobody wanted to imagine what they’d be assigned next.

…Can we really debut like this?

The song.

The choreography.

The concept.

There wasn’t a single part worth looking forward to.

For the first time…

Jaemin genuinely wondered whether anyone would become their fan at all.

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