From Thug to Idol: Transmigrating to a Survival Show

“I still don’t know how I’ll do that, though,” June groaned with the thought of making a simple song.

For him, it was definitely harder to make a simple song sound good because of the bareness of the elements. It would take a whole lot more artistry to be able to pull it off. Minjun chuckled, patting his older brother’s back. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You always figure things out!”

“That just makes me feel more pressured,” June deadpanned. “Hey, at least I already gave you an idea,” Minjun said. “I’m sure you came here because your teammates are saying useless shit again.” June looked at him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re cursing now, too?” Minjun clicked his tongue. “Everybody around my age is already cursing, Grandpa.” June clicked his tongue since he couldn’t refute Minjun’s statement. Minjun sighed, trying to come up with more ways to help June. “This might seem like a generic advice, but I think you should try looking for sounds in nature,” Minjun said. “I assume you’ve done that before?” “Yeah,” June nodded. “In Oasis’ bridge, I incorporated the sounds of the waves from our filming site.” “You can try doing that again,” Minjun suggested. “It doesn’t have to be as obvious as it was before. However, you can try listening to the sounds of nature, and maybe then, you’ll come up with a tune.” “That sounds really complicated,” June whined. Minjun shook his head in amusement. “You seem to be the one going into puberty. Just do whatever feels right.” “Whatever feels right,” June repeated. “You’re right. I think I shouldn’t overthink this too much.” “Hmm,” Minjun hummed. “Sometimes, the most beautiful things come when you least expect them to.” June smiled, turning to the once-little kid and ruffling his hair. Minjun groaned in annoyance and took a step back. “Stop it. You’re going to ruin my style,” Minjun complained. June shook his head as Minjun continued fixing his hair. “They really do grow up so fast,” he whispered. Just then, he felt his phone vibrate continuously. June frowned as he retrieved the phone from his pocket, pursing his lips when he saw Jay’s frantic messages. Jay: June, get back here right now. Jay: Get your ass back here right now. Jay: Sorry, was the last text message a bit too harsh? I was just concerned. Jay: Please come back. I want to keep my job. ᴛʜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛʀ s ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛ ʙʏ ovl_Fir.et

Jay: I have a future family to feed. Jay: Please, June.

June sighed once again before typing out a reply. June: K.

“I’m assuming you have to go back?” Minjun asked, peering over June’s shoulder. June nodded as he placed his phone back in his pocket. “Yeah. I want to stay a bit longer, but duty calls.” “Do you want to see Grandma for a bit?” Minjun asked. June hesitated to answer but eventually shook his head. “It’s all good. I think it’s much better if she rests.” “Yeah,” Minjun nodded. “I’ll tell her you visited, though.” “You do that. I’ll head out now, then,” June said, waving goodbye to Minjun before leaving their apartment. Even as he walked to the train station, he continued thinking about Minjun’s words. “A simple song that’s inspired by nature?” June asked under his breath. Just then, he bumped into a frail person, causing his eyes to go wide. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice the person before him. He pulled his cap down and his mask up before he helped the sickly woman get up. “Sorry about that,” he said, making his voice deeper than usual to disguise his identity further. “I wasn’t really paying attention.” The sickly woman, who was also wearing a mask like him, had her bangs stuck on her forehead. She shakily held onto June’s arms, almost gripping it. However, June stepped back as soon as her posture was stable.

“Are you alright?” June asked, looking at her shaking figure. “Y–yeah,” she stammered. “S—sorry too.” “It’s fine,” June said. “Have a safe way back home!” With that, he went on his way, leaving the girl all alone. However, as he continued walking, he felt a weird, painful sensation on his sideburn. He paused for a while before rubbing the sore part.

“Strange,” he muttered.

***

The dimly lit room appeared like the embodiment of decay and abandonment, its walls cloaked in shadows. The air smelled like the musty scent of damp fabric and stagnant air, mingled with the sickly sweet aroma from the solitary candle that flickered in the corner. In the center of the room sat a figure hunched over a makeshift worktable littered with scraps of cloth and tangled threads. Her silhouette was shrouded in darkness, the only discernible features being the erratic movements of her hands as she stabbed at a doll with a needle. Each puncture of the needle echoed through the room like a real stab wound, accompanied by the soft whimpering of the doll’s fabric form. “Shh, shh. Don’t cry,” she muttered continuously under her breath. The woman rocked back and forth in the rhythm of her sewing. Her hair, greasy and unkempt, hung on her face, obscuring her features in a veil of darkness. Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the air as the woman pricked her finger on the needle, a single drop of blood welling up from the wound. However, instead of recoiling in pain, she threw her head back and laughed. Some of the blood got onto the doll’s hand, causing her to laugh even louder. “It’s like we’re connected,” she whispered, her gnarly breath wafting over the doll. If the doll was sentient, then it’d definitely recoil back from the scent. Then, with trembling hands, she lifted the doll up to the flickering light of the candle, revealing her masterpiece. The face, cleanly stitched on the fabric doll, seemed…human. And atop its head, strands of shining blonde hair gleamed in the candlelight, a sharp contrast to the darkness that surrounded it.

“So pretty,” the woman muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper as she caressed the doll’s disfigured face. “My lovely June.”