Chapter 102

Even now, I still didn’t know what the system really was, nor why I had regressed in the first place.

‘There must be some existence behind the system. But… there’s no way to know.’

The cards in my hand and the clues I had gathered were limited. In that sense, maybe realizing the system’s goal was already fortunate.

Because it also made its limits clear.

‘This will probably be the last quest the system gives me.’

There was likely no more “stolen fate” left for me to reclaim.

Debuting under the backing of the country’s largest K-pop channel was entirely different from debuting under a small company with no support.

Your opportunities, your trajectory—everything changes. Under those circumstances, there would no longer be overlapping or “stolen” destinies.

Meaning after DearDoll, the system would no longer intervene on my behalf. That was effectively the same as the quest ending outright.

It should’ve been a welcome conclusion.

“…….”

…but the bitter taste in my mouth was unavoidable.

I had avoided becoming a tool used by my agency, and yet in the end, by following the system’s intention, I had merely become its tool instead.

‘…And the fact that I changed my mind at all means that even that, too, was inside the “fate” the system had already accounted for.’

But with no clear target to hate or retaliate against, I let out a quiet sigh and shook off the useless thoughts.

Wondering who was behind it all had no meaning anymore. After today, being moved around by some unknown existence would finally come to an end.

“Good work, everyone!”

“Great job~!”

Even so, that lingering unpleasantness stayed with me, and I could only finish our final pre-live practice in a slightly sour mood.

Back in the waiting room with my teammates—just minutes before the live show—I noticed that I had received a text on the phone I had set aside earlier.

Sender: Baek Ihyeon
Have you finally gotten desperate enough?
I watched your ‘Look’ stage. You did well.
I’ll be waiting for your 1st place speech.

…A message from the one guy who could flip my insides upside down with a single line.

“Ha……”

Suppressing the urge to throw my phone, I tightened my grip.

‘Breaking it would only hurt me…….’

The real person I needed to beat was somewhere else. No point taking it out on the wrong target.

I set the phone down beside the chair and exhaled slowly. The reason Baek Ihyeon had texted right before the live broadcast was obvious.

‘He wants me to remember.’

That the votes I would get today would include a sizable portion earned through him.

Some viewers had cheered for me since the very first episode. Others had come to support me after the incidents and controversies. But many people had discovered me through Baek Ihyeon and decided to vote because of him.

We had been framed as tragic brothers who overcame an unhappy past together. And from that, both of us gained something.

Baek Ihyeon gained a way to overturn the eerie, too-clean impression people had of his relationships—gained a new “human charm” through the appearance of family—and secured justification for his transfer to KRM afterward.

Meanwhile, through Baek Ihyeon’s fanbase and name value, I also expanded my recognition. And now, right on the verge of debut, I would continue benefiting from being associated with him. He would even appear on screen today as my family.

‘And I won’t be able to avoid mentioning him entirely.’

I swallowed my irritation with a sigh. Whether I took first place or not, the very situation of having to say his name with my own mouth was deeply unpleasant.

Knowing my votes wouldn’t be earned by my own power alone only made it more bitter.

The moment I acknowledged that again, one thought crossed my mind:

‘…If Baek Ihyeon didn’t exist.’

Setting aside my personal dislike—could I really have gathered this much buzz without him?

Would I have felt this confident about earning a high rank tonight without his influence?
The creeping sense of defeat wrapped around that thought.

I was drowning in those complicated feelings when—

“Yuha, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“…Ah, yes. I’m fine.”

I wasn’t sure what expression I had been making, but Joo Danwoo—sitting right next to me—asked quietly. I tore my eyes away from the phone and looked at him instead.

Wearing the stage outfit and elaborate makeup matching our concept, Joo Danwoo exuded an intensity completely at odds with his normally gentle demeanor. His already striking visuals seemed even more radiant today—perfectly prepared for the final stage.

And not only that—

“I’m glad. Let’s do our best today.”

As he spoke with a soft smile, I suddenly realized something.

He was far more stable today than he had ever been throughout the entire competition.

‘During the first round, he couldn’t let go of his lyric sheet even until the last minute.’

Even though he had everything memorized, his nerves wouldn’t let him put the paper down—he kept whispering the lyrics under his breath.

But today, Danwoo wasn’t holding anything. No signs of anxiousness. No tension.

It made me wonder.

“Hyung… you’re not nervous today?”

The moment the question left my mouth, I regretted it. I felt like I’d just planted unnecessary doubt in someone who was finally calm.

“Yeah. I think I’m fine today.”

But Danwoo responded without a hint of disturbance. After glancing around the room, he added quietly:

“I’m not sure how to word it, but…”

“……?”

“I feel reassured. Because of you, Yuha.”

“…What?”

I blinked, unable to parse his meaning right away. Danwoo lowered his gaze and continued gently.

“It’s not just you. Jihyuk-hyung, Serim, the others too. We practiced so hard as a team.”

“…That’s true.”

“And it’s not like we’ve ever slacked off in previous rounds, but… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this certain before going on stage.”

“Certain…?”

I stared at him in silence. His expression was calm, serene.

And in that expression, I understood—he wasn’t saying it lightly.

Not only that—

“Yeah. I feel certain that we’ll show our best performance ever with this lineup.”

Danwoo was more stable than anyone here.

“And that’s why I’m not nervous. I trust what we’ve all practiced.”

He was also more confident than anyone.

While I was still absorbing his words—

Ping!

“…!”

A window suddenly appeared over Danwoo’s head, and I couldn’t hide my shock.

『Joo Danwoo』

Detailed Traits

Skill (Vocal, Rap): A
 Skill (Dance): B-
 Charm (Appearance): A
 Charm (Presence): A+
 Talent (Expression): B
 Talent (Focus): B-
 Stamina (Physical): S-
 Stamina (Mental): C → temporarily raised to A+

『Buff: As You Believe (Activated)』
 “Power that manifests in proportion to belief”
When he believes in himself and is believed in by others:

• Skill +150
  
   
• Teammate Performance +50
  
   

It was because the buff—locked until now, never once seen in Joo Danwoo’s status—had finally been unlocked.

And its power was no joke. Not only did his personal skill stats nearly double, but the buff’s effects stacked onto all teammates performing together with him.

More importantly, the fact that this buff had activated meant one thing:

Danwoo truly had firm confidence—both in the situation and in his teammates.

***

“I don’t know if I’ll debut or not, but… I think I can do this performance without any regrets. I’ve never had a stage with zero regrets before…”

“…….”

“Even if we don’t debut together… I think today’s performance will be something I’ll never forget. So it’s okay.”

Watching Danwoo add I’m actually excited, I let out an empty laugh.

Suddenly, I realized I had been thinking pointless thoughts before going on stage.

More precisely: I had been twisting things in an unnecessary way.

‘My current abilities are mine, no matter what.’

Even if the system had stolen them and returned them to me for its own reasons, they were achievements I had built. And no matter where my votes come from, I’m the one who held out until now.

Whether someone first looked my way because of my past or because of Baek Ihyeon—none of that matters.

“…You’re right. Doing it without regret is all that matters.”

What mattered was not losing sight of that.

“Thanks, hyung.”

“…Hm?”

“No, it’s just… I was thinking something stupid earlier…”

And something else resurfaced in me—something I’d forgotten for a while:

Confidence.

“Thanks to you, I feel like I can brush those thoughts away.”

Confidence that I wouldn’t disappoint anyone anymore.

“Let’s do our best today, hyung. And let’s debut together.”

And certainty that—even if someone else had set this moment up—
 I could turn it into an opportunity for my own sake.

* * *

The Idol Makers, waiting for the finale of Design Your Idol, flooded the chat with excitement as they tuned in.

— Ahh it’s finally starting
— I’m gonna cry this is the last episode ㅠㅠ
— I should’ve gone to the live audience…

As comments about excitement and regrets over losing the audience lottery piled up, the broadcast guidelines screen appeared—and the hype hit its peak.

— YUHA LET’S DEBUT@@@@@@@@
— Genius idol Aiden must debut
— Chanhui, this time for real, debut plz
— Millennium idol Cheon Serim debut or riot
— ♥My main vocal Kang Ji-won debut♥
— Apple boy Zixuan debut I beg
— Danwoo I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!
— Final center is obviously Kang Hyunjin lol

The chat was overflowing with support messages for each fan’s chosen trainee. Then the black screen faded, and—

“Why did you decide to participate in Design Your Idol?”

A line clearly designed to tug at viewers’ emotions appeared. Immediately, everyone focused on the broadcast.

[…Hello, I’m Kang Hyunjin, a third-year trainee from Dream Actors.]

The first face to appear was a single trainee.

Wearing a thick coat, sitting stiffly as if unsure of his surroundings—this was Hyunjin before joining DearDoll, the broadcast’s initial center who had the largest recognition from the start.

Then more trainees appeared on screen. The twenty boys who survived to the finals, each in different casual clothes. Their faces were younger, awkward, uncertain.

Among them was Won Yuha.

His thick knit sweater and layered coat marked a season completely opposite from the present—visually showing the passage of time. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

[…Because this was the only path left for me.]

Then came the others’ words:

[I want to be on stage. But debut opportunities are so far away… so I thought I had to do everything I could.]

[I’m happiest when I dance. But to dance, I need opportunities… and I thought I had to create them somehow.]

[I didn’t want to disappear. I felt like I’d never really shown anyone who I was. So Design Your Idol was my last chance—to show myself.]

[I felt desperate. Like… am I really not going to make it? Will I never debut? I love dancing and singing and rapping so much. There’s nothing else for me. So why isn’t the opportunity coming?]

[I’ll do anything. If I can just stand on stage—anything.]

[I want to find confidence again. Confidence that I can become an idol.]

These were the interviews filmed during meetings before joining the show—grainy winter footage that now felt like a lifetime ago. Then came a montage of the trainees’ journey: from the very first level evaluations.

[I want to do well. No matter what, I will do well.]

[Woooo!!]

“Good job everyone! Let’s debut together!”

Practice, competitions, tears, and laughter—video after video stacked onto those first interviews.

[I won’t give up. I’ll do my best. And I’ll definitely… achieve my dream of debuting.]

The last clip showed Hyunjin in practice clothes, speaking earnestly to the camera in the training room.

Then—

“Design your ideal idol! Hello, everyone, your personal MC is here!”

Finally, the final performance had begun.