Chapter 43
Raised Idol
CLEF Entertainment meeting room.
“GENRE BREAKER — this is the theme for the fourth competition.”
Tap, tap, tap!
Wood, fire, earth, metal, water.
The RE:VIVAL production staff laid five cards down on the table, one by one.
“This… is the theme?”
At Baek Doha’s cautious question, the other members turned their eyes toward the staff as well.
They’d been expecting a theme announcement — not a game of cards.
“It’s a genre-breaking mission based on the Five Elements.”
The staff began explaining slowly.
“Each group will draw one card. The genre written on the back of that card will be the genre you must perform in for your next stage.”
The members’ eyes rolled around in confusion. None of them seemed to understand what was happening.
“Genre…?”
“Yes. Five cards, five genres.”
“Oh! It’s a random mission!”
Kang Ian shouted, raising his hand excitedly. His round eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“……”
Cha Eun-gyeol, sitting next to him, tugged lightly on Ian’s sleeve.
“Ah! Sorry!”
Ian bowed quickly and straightened up again.
But the camera had already zoomed in on his excited face — a pure, unfiltered reaction that made him look even more endearing.
The staff smiled faintly and continued their explanation.
“You can choose any song you like, but you must stay within the assigned genre.”
“So… we have to stage our performance in that genre, no matter what?”
“That’s right.”
The staff nodded and offered a concrete example.
“If you draw hip-hop, even if you choose a ballad, you must turn it into a hip-hop performance — add a beat, write a rap section, or invite a B-boy crew for a performance.”
“…Is that even possible?”
Ian whispered to Eun-gyeol, who only shrugged.
“We believe your group can pull it off. Are you ready to shine like stars!?”
The producer shouted the show’s signature catchphrase with great enthusiasm.
“Ah… yes!”
After half a second of silence, the members reluctantly raised their fists.
No matter what trial or suffering awaited them, they had to act like passionate idols in front of the cameras.
“Um…”
After a long silence, Cha Eun-gyeol quietly raised his hand.
“Yes, Eun-gyeol?”
“Will there… be duplicates?”
“Unfortunately, no. Each team gets a unique genre.”
“Ah…”
Baek Doha sighed.
LUMIS had placed fourth in the third competition, RE:DEFINE.
That meant three other teams had already drawn their cards.
So that left…
“Only two cards?” Ryu Sian muttered, counting on his fingers again.
“But why are there still five cards on the table?”
If three were already drawn…
‘Why not just show us the two remaining ones?’
The staff gave a knowing smile.
“If we handed you just two cards, it wouldn’t look very fun, would it?”
“Ah…”
Pretending it was for their sake — but everyone knew it was just to make better footage for the show.
The cameras zoomed in eagerly, capturing every flicker of nervousness on the members’ faces.
“Then, please pick your card.”
The staff’s words silenced the room. The members exchanged glances.
“……”
Who wasn’t cursed with bad luck again?
Their gazes crossed midair, each hoping someone else would volunteer.
It was a small decision, but one that could determine their fate in the next stage.
“W-wait a second!”
Ryu Sian raised his hand. “Let’s play rock-paper-scissors. Fair and square!”
“Y-yeah!”
And so, the fateful game began.
The five men stood in a circle, faces solemn — as if this were a battle of life and death.
The producers couldn’t help but smile.
Other groups hadn’t been this lively — but LUMIS was pure entertainment gold.
They already had several good clips for the highlight reel.
“Rock, paper, scissors!”
Five hands froze midair.
“Hyuuuung!”
“Jinwoo-yaaa!”
Kang Ian and Ha Jinwoo hugged each other, jumping up and down in excitement.
“……”
The three remaining members stared at them enviously, then tightened their fists again.
“Rock, paper, scissors!”
“Yes!”
“Got it!”
“…Damn.”
Once again, fortune divided them. All eyes turned toward one person.
“…Eun-gyeol, sir? We also need you over at Spectrum’s set soon.”
When Eun-gyeol hesitated too long, the staff urged him on.
“…All right. I’ll pick.”
After taking a deep breath, Cha Eun-gyeol reached out and chose the card marked with the symbol for metal.
The reason was simple —
He hoped LUMIS would shine just like gold.
“Well then! What could it be!?”
“Drumroll, please~!”
Ryu Sian and Kang Ian made sound effects with their mouths.
The card was flipped.
“Ta-da…! Oh! EDM!?”
The word EDM appeared — and everyone’s faces brightened instantly.
Whatever the other genres were, EDM felt like a lucky draw.
“Nice!”
“Great job, Eun-gyeol hyung!”
“Wait a minute!”
A sharp voice cut through the excitement.
The staff pointed to something on the card.
“Look closely.”
The five members crowded around.
Underneath EDM, in tiny print, something was written.
“…‘Beat12Y’?”
“W-what is this!?”
Ryu Sian shouted.
“Oh, we just asked each team to write their name under the genre they drew — looks like Beat12Y has a sense of humor. Haha…”
It was obvious. The other group had scribbled their name just to mess with them.
“Phew…”
“It’s okay, Eun-gyeol! You’ve got this!”
“Let’s go, Cha Eun-gyeol!”
Encouraged, Eun-gyeol reached for another card — this time, the one marked with mountain.
“I can’t watch!”
“Me neither!”
“Should I check for you?” the producer grinned.
The smile felt ominous…
“Yes! Please!”
“Please be good!”
“Help us out!”
The producer flipped the card carefully — looking at it alone first.
“Oh!”
His face brightened.
“This one doesn’t belong to any team yet.”
“R-really?”
“Let’s reveal it!”
The camera zoomed in on the table.
With dramatic flair, the producer slapped the card down like he’d just drawn a winning hand in Go-Stop.
[TROT]
“……”
“……?”
While the staff beamed, the members’ faces darkened.
“W-what is this!?”
Breaking character, Eun-gyeol flipped over all the remaining cards in frustration.
“This! This is what we should’ve gotten!”
Kang Ian picked up the fire card — the back clearly read HIP-HOP. He collapsed onto the floor.
That meant Spectrum would get hip-hop automatically.
Would they ever know that it was all thanks to LUMIS’s sacrifice?
Eun-gyeol sat there dazed, still turning over cards.
The producer chuckled. “Why? You think we rigged it?”
“N-no, but…”
Eun-gyeol leaned back in his chair, defeated.
“It’s… fine. Ding ding ding ding…”
Ian tried to cheer him up weakly with an imitation trot rhythm.
“Well then, we’ll look forward to your next stage!”
With that teasing encouragement, the staff left.
Later, in the practice room.
“Trot… seriously?”
The members sat in a circle, their faces grim.
“Talk about bad luck.”
A mocking child’s voice echoed from the corner.
All heads turned toward Luha, who was swinging his short legs from a chair.
“What? You think you can laugh?”
Ryu Sian stood up abruptly.
“Hey—!”
He stomped toward Luha — time for the “class delinquent” to “discipline” his tiny producer.
“Argh! Put me down, you brute—!”
Luha’s small limbs flailed in midair as Sian lifted him up.
“…Sorry,” Eun-gyeol muttered, head bowed.
He felt crushed by guilt — his bad luck had doomed them to trot.
Trot, huh…
Even hanging in the air, Luha’s mind was racing.
Trot wasn’t a bad genre. Easy rhythm, catchy melodies.
The problem wasn’t the music — it was the audience.
RE:VIVAL’s main viewers were teens and young adults, people who loved trendy visuals, high-energy performances, and fast, stimulating beats.
Trot, on the other hand, used simple 2/4 or 4/4 rhythms — “koong-jjak koong-jjak” — with basic drum patterns and retro instruments like organs, accordions, and electric keyboards.
Which meant there was only one solution—
“Just rearrange it! Remix it!”
Luha shouted, smacking Sian on the head. “Now put me down!”
“Ow— Luha hit me!”
Sian scratched his head and gently set him down.
“Do you know where trot came from?”
The members tilted their heads.
“Waltz and jazz. Foreign genres that evolved when they came to Korea.
The idea that ‘trot = old-fashioned’ only started in the ’80s and ’90s, when middle-aged semi-trot became popular.”
Luha waved his pointer stick — or rather, his toy back scratcher — through the air like a teacher at a chalkboard.
“And now?”
He jabbed the air.
“European dance rhythms.”
Another jab.
“EDM sounds.”
Another.
“Rock influences. And finally…”
Whack!
“808 drums and autotune!”
Thud! His pointer hit the floor.
“Trot has evolved with the times!”
“Ah!” the members nodded in understanding.
“You’ve seen The Trot Era, right?”
They nodded again — it was the hottest show lately.
“Middle schoolers cry while singing, opera singers trained in Italy dominate the stage, and musical actors captivate audiences with emotional performances.”
Luha paced around the room, his short legs moving briskly but his tone serious.
“Just look at the top ten on the music charts — half of them are trot songs now.”
The members exchanged looks. He was right.
Trot had quietly made a comeback, even among listeners in their teens and thirties.
“In other words—” Luha declared, slamming his pointer down.
“Trot is no longer just for middle-aged people!”
Bam!
His little voice rang confidently across the practice room.
“This fourth competition — GENRE BREAKER — can be won with the right strategy!”
A five-year-old’s voice, filled with conviction, echoed through the room.
