The Blackman’s Victory and an Unexpected Offer

Even if he wished to feign ignorance and move past the topic, the MC would never simply let such a segment-worthy story slide.

“Sehan! Do you have a connection with HEX?”

Jung Sehan responded with a touch of shyness.

“We used to practice together. While I’m meeting Yohan for the first time, I’ve known Jihyuk since we were quite young.”

“How young are we talking?”

“Hmm, well… before graduating middle school, so that would make it about eight years ago.”

“You mentioned it’s been a long time. How long has it truly been since your last meeting?”

“Perhaps a year? Both Jihyuk and I were so consumed with debut preparations and our rookie schedules that we naturally drifted apart.”

The timeframe I had roughly estimated aligned perfectly. There was likely no falsehood in his words themselves.

“Jihyuk, how does it feel to reunite with a friend after all this time?”

“Ah… it’s good. He must have been incredibly busy, given the lack of contact until now.”

“Huh? But I called you yesterday. You just didn’t pick up, Jihyuk.”

“Did I ever give you the number I changed to when I debuted?”

Though they both smiled and spoke in gentle tones, presenting a facade of peace, my eyes—having observed Yoon Jihyuk for a considerable time—perceived this as a clear battle of wills.

‘I hope this doesn’t get edited into something strange again.’

Regardless, a subtle power struggle couldn’t be prolonged during an active shoot. After the brief segment of project promotions and lighthearted updates concluded, the rules of the game were explained. The cast members, attentive to the instructions, were then directed to the ‘Room of Choice’ to receive their individual roles.

And then, it was my turn.

[Your role today is ‘Black’.]

So it was.

There were two ‘Blacks’ in total, and my partner, sharing the same role, was Lee Sang-joo—a man I’d previously encountered on . It felt like a clear message from the production team: if I couldn’t carry my weight, I was to let the veteran guide me.

“What’s Yohan’s role?”

‘In that case, I’ll gratefully lean on him.’

“I’m Black.”

As I announced it clearly, ensuring everyone could hear, Yoon Jihyuk let out a soft chuckle. He narrowed his eyes, observing Jung Sehan as he emerged from the Room of Choice, and then whispered conspiratorially.

“No, you’re White.”

‘Oh. He seems to have a plan.’

****

To elaborate on the intricate rules of , the conditions for a cast member’s elimination during each turn were precisely as follows.

1. One White designated by a Black.

2. One person accused of being Black during the meeting.

3. If the mission was not fulfilled, one White randomly selected from those with poor scores.

Given variables such as defensive items, the number of eliminations per turn could range from zero to three.

The very reason I had brazenly declared myself ‘Black’ from the outset was rooted in this rule. My calculation was that Kwon Yohan, notoriously lacking in physical stamina, would undoubtedly struggle to score points in the missions. I reasoned that if suspicion was inevitable, I might as well be overtly suspicious, thereby creating an intriguing air of bewilderment.

Yet, to my surprise… I performed exceptionally well.

“Correct! Ghost Girl’s Candy Drop!”

This, of course, excluded any missions demanding significant physical prowess.

“Yohan, that’s correct.”

Consequently, a flurry of reactions erupted.

“He’s not Black! He’s not Black!”

“What? Our Yohan is an ace~”

“Seriously, how do you know songs from so far back?”

The element of surprise stemmed from a simple fact. Kwon Yohan was seven years my junior, meaning songs my peers listened to in their youth were released when he was barely walking. Furthermore, given my history of using all manner of obscure tracks for practice, my knowledge of domestically released songs was exceptionally broad.

“Right?”

Adding to this, Kwon Yohan possessed a youthful, handsome appearance. I had merely chuckled in embarrassment, yet the other cast members perceived it as adorable shyness after a good performance, showering me with an overwhelming amount of affection. Lee Sang-joo, in particular, would beam fondly every time our gazes met, a reaction that was steadily growing burdensome.

Meanwhile, Yoon Jihyuk, in his own way, was meticulously executing his objectives.

“I nominate Jung Sehan as Black.”

“Why?”

“He’s suspicious.”

Jung Sehan dramatically pulled a sorrowful face, scratching his cheek in mock despair.

“But I didn’t do anything?”

“It’s precisely your inaction that makes you suspicious. There’s no enthusiasm for the mission radiating from you.”

The first turn had passed, largely because suspicion had been directed more heavily at another cast member. However, Yoon Jihyuk’s relentless accusations were steadily drawing attention to Jung Sehan, meaning he was precariously close to elimination in the upcoming second turn.

This presented a considerable predicament for Jung Sehan. While promoting his drama was certainly a goal, it was only natural for him to harbor ambitions for variety show appearances, especially when considering a long-term career in entertainment. As an unknown, securing opportunities was already challenging for Jung Sehan, unless they were tied to specific projects like this.

‘He must be determined to shine this time, hoping to be remembered by the widest possible audience.’

It was precisely this intense zeal that led to an unfortunate mishap.

“Oof-phoo!”

As fate would have it, the subsequent mission was a water obstacle course. Consequently, the overly zealous Jung Sehan found himself repeatedly sputtering and choking on water, inadvertently generating a series of rather humiliating photographs.

And each time Jung Sehan appeared on the cusp of surrender, Yoon Jihyuk would subtly provoke him anew.

“Ah… it seems you truly have no intention of completing the mission, do you?”

And just like that, Jung Sehan would writhe and struggle once more, determined to complete it by any means necessary.

Had he been afforded proper time to deliberate, Jung Sehan undoubtedly would not have behaved in such a manner. It had been evident, even in the early stages of filming, that he was meticulously cultivating an image as a kind-hearted and amiable man. His current acting role, too, was said to embody precisely that persona.

Regrettably, however, the image he would ultimately project through this broadcast was… at best, merely ‘ardent’?

Nevertheless, his diligent efforts did yield some reward. He managed to survive until the final turn.

Lee Sang-joo had been nominated and eliminated around the midpoint of the game, now seated among the ousted. The remaining contestants included a female entertainer whose expression clearly questioned her own survival, Jung Sehan, Yoon Jihyuk, and myself.

Yoon Jihyuk, with unwavering resolve, nominated Jung Sehan once more.

“Ha… fine… it’s over. Just kill me. Kill me.”

Grimy and utterly defeated, Jung Sehan mumbled, his spirit seemingly broken. Yoon Jihyuk merely smirked, casting a glance at the remaining contestants.

“He says to kill him.”

And so, Jung Sehan was eliminated in the final turn.

“The Black was not discovered by the final turn. Black is victorious!”

I had inadvertently reaped the benefits.

“Lee Sang-joo, Yohan, congratulations!”

After we received a foot spa as a prize, Lee Sang-joo looked as though he might lift me into the air in sheer exhilaration.

“Wow, whoa…”

My rather forced attempts to feign heartfelt joy, pouring my entire soul into the act, didn’t seem to make much of an impression.

As the closing remarks were exchanged, Jung Sehan stood utterly dejected, his face a picture of despair. His slumped, relaxed posture seemed perfectly poised to induce a ‘turtle neck.’ Observing his state, the host playfully ribbed Yoon Jihyuk.

“Oh dear. Jihyuk, why were you so harsh on Sehan? The man looks utterly shredded. You didn’t, by any chance, know Yohan was Black from the beginning and conspire to win the prize, did you?”

“Haha, no, of course not. I genuinely believed he was Black. I was quite surprised to learn he wasn’t.”

‘He’s joking. That charlatan.’

Despite knowing the full truth, I chose not to expose him. Perhaps it was due to our brief shared time in the same group, but I even found myself thinking that if humiliating a disliked rival improved Yoon Jihyuk’s mood, then it was a worthwhile outcome.

****

“Yohan!”

As filming concluded, I was preparing to depart when a voice called out, halting my steps.

“Do you need to leave immediately? Are you both pressed for time?”

My interlocutor was Lee Sang-joo.

With the concert just over ten days away, I certainly needed to head to the practice room afterward. However, it wasn’t so dire that I couldn’t spare a few moments for conversation. From a slight distance, Yoon Jihyuk, who had been watching the scene unfold, subtly nodded, indicating I should go.

“No. It’s fine.”

“In that case, let’s have a brief chat before you go.”

I nodded my assent, then dutifully followed him.

Arriving in an empty waiting room, Lee Sang-joo retrieved two chairs and positioned them to face each other. After settling into one, he nudged the opposite chair with his foot, a clear invitation for me to sit.

“I heard you went through some trouble because of that last broadcast.”

Faced with such an abruptly weighty topic, I could only manage an awkward, nervous laugh. It was, perhaps, the most suitable reaction a newly debuted young artist could offer.

“He said he took too big a risk, driven by the desire to make it entertaining. He should have cut what needed cutting immediately. He asked me to convey his deepest apologies. Oh, I suppose your company has already passed on his apology?”

‘…I don’t recall ever hearing such a thing.’

“Anyway, the reason I called you, Yohan, is not about that. I have a new show starting in the second half of the year where I’ll be the main MC. I’d like you to be a regular on it. What do you think?”

“…Me?”

“Yes. Having seen you on the last two broadcasts, I think your character is excellent.”

Kwon Yohan had appeared on broadcasts with him three more times, if I recalled correctly. Yet, Lee Sang-joo specifically pointed out the ones *I* had participated in. Was it merely a coincidence?

“There’s no guarantee of immediate success, of course. We’ll start with ten episodes, and if the response is good, it could become a long-term gig. It’s a terrestrial broadcast, so the audience demographic will be diverse.”

It was an offer no rookie could resist.

But was it truly feasible?

Even now, with virtually no individual schedule, I felt as though I was barely managing to keep things together. To add anything more, frankly, would be an impossibility.

Was compromising practice time even an option?

“…Thank you so much for the offer. However, I can’t make decisions arbitrarily, so may I discuss it with my agency and then get back to you?”

“Ah, of course, that’s perfectly fine.”

‘I’ll await a positive response,’ Lee Sang-joo said, patting my shoulder before exiting the waiting room.

Left alone, I slumped onto the rough metal chair, a strange feeling washing over me.