Chapter 53
‘It’s too quiet…’
Luha’s eyes narrowed.
Was this what they called the calm before the storm? The silence felt even more ominous.
Today was the day of the fifth performance.
Once today—the de facto semifinals—passed, only one stage would remain: the finals.
If the information he squeezed out of Han Jin-seo a few days ago was true, Beat12Y absolutely had to take first place.
That was the promise Lim Jae-hoon had made to Vista.
But no one was making any moves.
‘Lim Jae-hoon, Jung Jae-yoon, Kang Yoon-seok…’
Suspiciously quiet.
‘Don’t tell me… Han Jin-seo?’
No way.
Luha let out a small laugh and shook his head.
“Hyung! When is Jin Do-hyun gonna compliment me?”
“No text!”
“No message!”
“No call!”
“Why is he breaking his promise!”
“Jin Do-hyeoooon!”
Luha remembered it clearly.
The buzzing mosquito-like voice of that brat who endlessly tormented Yoon Tae-jin begging for compliments.
“What the hell are they planning…?”
Luha frowned.
Something was off.
Even though they were doing better than expected, Lumis was never a contender to win RE:VIVAL.
Even if they dropped Lumis like Jung Jae-yoon wanted, what about the remaining two—Chrome and Spectrum?
“So weird, too weird…”
Just then, Beat12Y members marched across the hallway in a big group.
Jung Jae-yoon, walking in front, looked unreasonably cheerful.
“Agh, my head hurts!”
Luha scratched his back with a back-scratcher as he entered the waiting room.
“Well, well?”
They were at it again.
“Do you think it’ll be okay? No, it has to be okay…”
Ha Jin-woo muttered as he paced circles around the waiting room.
He had been repeating the same words for days now, his face full of nerves.
This performance’s success depended completely on his arrangement. He had taken full responsibility for it.
Tae-jin and the A&R team had helped, sure—but honestly, it was barely enough to even call it help.
“Jin-woo! It’s fine! Your song is really good!”
Ryu Sian’s voice boomed with energy, but the fingertips tapping Jin-woo’s shoulder were faintly trembling.
When they first heard they had been cast for RE:VIVAL, none of them felt like this.
Just being able to go on stage was something to be grateful for. Being able to stand before the public was a gift.
But after surviving through the 4th round, a desire long dormant in their hearts began to stir awake.
‘More. I want more. I want to stand on this stage longer!’
The cheers of the audience, the heartfelt applause from the judges, and above all, the support of the ‘LUBYs’!
Breathing through music, speaking through dance, living on stage—growing through the public’s love.
A dream that once felt impossibly far now felt close enough to touch.
“Ah… my in-ear sounded weird. Wait, did I turn the volume up? And earlier, my blocking…”
Even the usually quiet Cha Eun-gyeol had started muttering to himself.
Rehearsal had ended long ago, yet he was still mentally stuck there.
The bigger the ambition grew, the greater the fear of failure became.
All five members were desperately trying to fight through the pressure in their own ways.
“Stage of stars that lost their light! Re~vival!”
The MC’s voice echoed from the monitor on the wall.
Biiiip—
THUMP!
Numbers flashed on the screen.
<Chrome – On-site Evaluation: 38 votes>
Chrome members nodded lazily as they looked at the number.
38 votes. Not impressive, but they didn’t look disappointed—they looked confident.
The reason was simple.
They trusted the online vote, which made up 50% of the score.
Their opponents were one rookie group and two failed idols.
Chrome—who frequently charted back up and even won music shows—was not going to lose a popularity vote to these babies.
With the relative scoring system, if they dominated the online vote, the weak on-site score didn’t matter.
“Another round of applause for Chrome’s wonderful performance!”
With the MC’s comment, Chrome bowed deeply and exited the stage.
The lights dimmed.
“Wow… Lumis is gonna have a tough time today.”
Seo-rin muttered as she skimmed the script.
Chrome—deserving of their status as finalists—was on another level.
Toybox’s remake performance of “Starlight” in round 3 had been good, but Chrome’s stage today was even more polished.
“Lumis is unlucky. Why did they have to get the same song as Chrome…”
The vocal trainer judge, who had begun rooting for Lumis, clicked his tongue with pity.
Soon after—
Tap—
A faint light spread across the stage.
The murmuring in the audience died down, and all eyes turned toward the dimly lit stage.
At the same time—
In the passageway leading to the stage, five silhouettes stood in a circle.
Under the faint light, their faces were a mix of tension and determination.
“Whew…”
Baek Do-ha exhaled deeply.
As leader and eldest, he tried to stay calm, but his heart was beating out of control.
You’d think it would feel familiar by now, but somehow, the trembling only got worse with each stage.
“You’re doing well. You’ll do well.”
The members all turned.
In manager Yoon Seo-jun’s arms, Luha—arms crossed—nodded and spoke.
“……?”
Where did that come from?
They stared, puzzled.
“Ahem… just saying.”
Luha cleared his throat unnecessarily, his small cheeks faintly red.
“The choreography was good.”
Baek Do-ha’s eyes widened.
“The stage concept was good.”
Ryu Sian stared blankly at him.
“The ad-libs you added were good, and the rap verse was well written.”
Cha Eun-gyeol and Kang Ian exchanged looks.
“And…”
Luha’s gaze landed on the maknae, Ha Jin-woo.
“Don’t worry about it. The arrangement turned out well.”
Silence fell.
The members simply stared at him.
The kid who always spewed sarcasm and snark… saying this?
“A-ah, j-just saying!”
Flustered under their suspicious looks, Luha glanced around awkwardly.
“Like… who even are you?”
Kang Ian teased.
Luha’s expression instantly cooled.
“……You try to say something nice and this is what I get.”
His small lips jutted out in a pout.
“Well, anyway!”
He raised his voice again.
“Do your best! The rest, I’ll—no, PD Jin will take care of. So don’t worry no matter what happens.”
Uh… okay…
The members exchanged bewildered looks.
“Lumis! Stand by!”
A staff member called out.
Baek Do-ha took a breath and looked around at the members.
“Everyone… ready?”
Instead of answering, they nodded solemnly.
Five hands gathered in the center.
Their shared warmth steadied their trembling.
“One, two, three! Become the light!”
“Lumis, Lumis! Fighting!”
They shouted the cheer loudly.
Creeeeak—
As the rusty iron doors opened, the stage slowly brightened.
At center stage stood a giant withered tree, its bare branches stretched out in all directions.
A layer of fog rolled across the floor, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.
Then someone appeared from the side of the stage, straw hat pulled low.
“Hm…”
It was Baek Do-ha.
Arms crossed, he gazed at something beneath the tree, then slowly brought his hands together.
“Hoo!”
He blew out air.
At that moment, the lighting dimmed again.
Dling, dling—
A clear glockenspiel melody, like something out of a magic academy, filled the air.
On the massive LED screen behind them, a video appeared.
“Wow!”
“So pretty!”
The audience let out soft exclamations.
When Do-ha blew out his breath, a spark rose from the ashes beneath the tree.
Whish, whish!
Soon, more sparks gathered from various places.
After a moment, the video faded out—
♪♫ ―
A soft ambient synth filled the space.
Tap—
A pin spotlight lit up the tree.
Do-ha leaned against it, flung off his straw hat, and began the first verse.
— The days I walked in darkness
Fragments of dreams that had dimmed
An endless night,
I thought I was alone
‘Pop? Synth pop?’
Han Jin-seo checked the script.
Arrangement: Ha Jin-woo
“Hm…”
His brow furrowed.
The arrangement was excellent.
A beautiful reinterpretation that didn’t damage the identity of the original—if anything, it enhanced its emotional arc.
He removed the house beat and rebuilt the song as a dreamy synth pop track—an undeniably stylish choice.
But—
‘Too tame.’
It was too subdued for a survival show stage. Too… “artistic.”
This wasn’t “Singing the Legends,” where artists reinterpret classics for senior or fellow musicians, nor “The Singer,” where vocal technique was everything.
This was an idol survival show—where they had to survive right now, this moment, by impressing judges and the general public.
Artistry mattered less than impact.
Completeness mattered less than attention-grabbing.
That’s why Toybox and Chrome had blown up the stage earlier using band sounds and EDM, abandoning the identity of the original song.
‘Well… guess it couldn’t be helped.’
The truth behind Jung Jae-yoon’s departure, Lim Jae-hoon’s betrayal, RE:VIVAL’s manipulation…
Tae-jin hyung and Jin Do-hyun must have had too much going on…
Han Jin-seo clicked his tongue and looked back at the stage.
♪♫ ―
In the B-part, a hi-hat and snare gently joined.
Under blue lighting on the opposite side of the stage, Cha Eun-gyeol appeared.
— Even when I couldn’t breathe, I believed
In that distant shining star
Small but so clear, it was my hope
His voice, drenched in reverb, blended with the pad sounds, creating an immense sense of space.
It felt like singing alone in the middle of empty outer space.
‘Still… the song itself is well done.’
Soon the other members emerged.
— The sun low in the sky (beneath)
Old promises I passed by (remembering)
Once again (again)
I walked toward that light (toward it)
Kang Ian murmured a melodic line instead of rapping, and Ha Jin-woo layered gentle harmonies.
But the stage still felt empty.
No intense choreography, no flashy formations.
Just quiet steps, like taking a walk through a park at dawn.
Judge Baek Seo-yoon narrowed her eyes.
‘Is this as far as they go…?’
Disappointing.
She’d hoped Lumis would show something unexpected.
Just as she clicked her tongue in regret—
VROOOOM—!
The stage vibrated.
“There we go.”
Baek Seo-yoon’s lips curved upward.
Lumis’ “Starlight.”
Now the real thing was about to appear.
