I Accidentally Became A Superstar

Fortunately, they had a day of rest before the next mission.

Unfortunately, that day was not enough for Zeno’s puffy eyes to recover.

He stood in front of the mirror of his private room, staring at the damage twenty-four hours of cursed Instant Tears had done. His eyelids were still ballooned like mini marshmallows. He looked like he had lost a very emotional custody battle and then got hit by a pollen storm immediately after. His soul felt twenty years older. His tear ducts felt retired permanently.

And so, to mask this look, he put on clear-lensed glasses that Moby delivered yesterday when Zeno texted him.

With that, he went straight to the auditorium for their new mission.

As Zeno stepped out and walked through the hallway, chaos followed him.

“He looks so intelligent,” whispered a female staff member, clutching her clipboard like a romance novel.

“Wait, did he always have glasses?” another murmured. “This is unfair. Why does he look so good with it?”

“He looks like he’s about to give a TED talk and steal your heart,” a third commented while sneakily snapping a picture and immediately making it his lock screen.

Zeno, oblivious to the rising simp population, kept walking.

He pushed open the double doors to the auditorium and immediately regretted it.

Ian instantly gasped. “DUDE. You look like a sexy professor. Holy crap.”

Risa, who was sipping juice in the corner, choked, and she had to thump her chest. She remembered everything about yesterday. Her ears turned red just looking at him.

Zeno raised a brow at her, and she looked away with a guilty blush.

Shin appeared behind Ian, nodding approvingly. “You suit them very well.”

Misha pursed her lips, arms crossed. “They’re… alright. I guess.” But she couldn’t stop herself from glancing. Twice. Maybe three times. Okay, five.

“MASTER!” Hero slid in from nowhere.”Your transformation arc is beautiful! May I polish your lenses for you?”

“No,” Zeno said flatly, pushing past him and heading toward the seats.

He ignored the chaos and the weird flutter of hearts around him.

It wasn’t like he wanted this attention.

He just wanted to survive this competition with his sanity.

Fortunately, the room finally settled when Gene PD appeared on stage with a flashy jacket, followed by Mr. Kim in a much more sensible sweater vest. The crowd of contestants perked up.

“It’s our turn again,” Gene PD announced brightly. “Did you miss us?”

The response was scattered claps.

Mr. Kim adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “There are currently twenty-five of you left. Which is impressive. The last performance saw a strong emotional impact—unexpected from some contestants.”

Gene PD smirked. “But now that you’ve shown this side, let’s shake things up,” he chimed, grinning wider.

“You’ve all experienced sudden, spontaneous challenges,” Mr. Kim added. “Some of you have struggled with time. Others, with adaptation.”

“So this time,” Gene continued, “you’ll get the exact opposite!”

Gene spread his arms wide. “For this next challenge—you’re getting a FULL live production!”

The contestants turned to each other with confusion. Wasn’t that what they had been doing thus far?

Gene beamed. “That’s right. A full-blown production with time to rehearse, a script to learn, and even choreography.”

Zeno narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Choreography?” he murmured.

Mr. Kim adjusted his mic. “And to be more specific…”

He paused, just to let the dramatic tension build.

Gene dramatically announced the mission. “It’s a musical!”

“A musical?” Ian exclaimed, not believing his ears.

“A musical,” Mr. Kim repeated plainly. “Singing. Dancing. Acting. Full story. Group performance.”

Zeno’s mouth parted slightly.

Gene clapped his hands like a giddy child. “You’ll be split into groups, of course, and we’ll provide coaches, but this is where you’ll be judged not just on acting—but presence, energy, and harmony.”

Zeno slumped back in his chair, pressing his temples.

A musical.

Seriously?

A fucking musical?

He looked toward the heavens.

Just how many forms of suffering were there in this godforsaken show?

Zeno straightened up in his seat, letting out a deep breath.

This show was slowly becoming a multi-disciplinary triathlon of suffering. First, they made them write original scripts. Then they had to act it out. Now? Now they were expected to sing and dance while acting?

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one shocked about the type of mission they received.

“This is getting ridiculous,” someone hissed behind him.

“Do they expect us to learn opera next week?” another groaned.

“I didn’t sign up to be in the South Korean Reboot of Glee,” Misha mumbled from the row in front of him.

Gene PD, unfazed by the grumbling and light mutiny, clapped his hands again, his smile so wide it was suspicious.

“Don’t worry! You’ll have an entire week to prepare this time,” he said, as though that fixed everything. “Everything will be provided—music, stage, sets, lighting, even the costumes. You just need to perform it.”

“Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if you can’t even do that? Everything is being handed to you on a silver platter,” he chimed.

There was a moment of confused silence. Then Misha, scratching the back of her neck, raised her hand and asked, “But… what if we can’t sing?”

Mr. Kim stepped forward and raised a calming hand. “Then focus on emotion,” he said with a small smirk. “You’ll be graded on overall presence.”

“Along with that, it would be better for the show if your voice cracked. It’s great television,” Gene PD chuckled, appearing even more excited than before.

Zeno pursed his lips. Gene PD was truly a fiend for good, trendy television. No wonder his variety shows always had good ratings.

“You need to do well for this mission,” Gene PD continued. “Because the team with the lowest score among all of you will be automatically eliminated. No more added rounds.”

That statement made the atmosphere more serious, the contestants realizing there was a lot at stake.

Zeno, on the other hand, let out a deep sigh.

He didn’t like musicals. People bursting into song in the middle of a conflict was his personal brand of nightmare. Why sing your feelings when you could just talk like a normal person? A lot of good movies were ruined by the fact that they were musicals.

Gene raised a finger. “Now. As for the groups, there are 25 of you. So you’ll be divided into five teams.”

“BUT,” Gene added, “this time… instead of letting everyone pick freely—”

“—the leaders will be chosen by luck.”

Twenty-five golden name balls were wheeled out in a spinning machine.

“Rigged,” someone muttered. “Calling it now.”

Gene spun the handle, the balls rattling around dramatically.

Finally, one popped out.

The name read—

Oska.

There was a second of silence.

“…Oh, come on,” someone said in the back.

“He’s Bacon PD’s son. This is blatant nepotism. Of course, he’d be the one to pick,” someone else added.

Oska, whose expression had been unreadable until now, gave a sharp, forced smile. His eyebrows twitched as he heard the accusations behind him.

Of course, he had expected such treatment, but it was still very annoying. He was practicing his zen for the last couple of weeks, but this might just be the reason why he snapped.

Still, he calmly made his way to the stage. Zeno observed as he stood at the very center.

“Alright, Oska,” Gene said. “Time to pick your team.”

The air buzzed with anticipation. Despite trash-talking him behind his back, most of them wanted to go with Oska.

It was known that Oska had a decent singing voice because he had participated in a musical movie once.

Oska lifted his hand and pointed to a person at the front.

“Phoenix.”

A chorus of “figured” echoed around the room. The two were from the same company, and Phoenix was also a decent singer.

“Billy.”

Another obvious choice. They were also from the same company, and Billy was an idol.

“Daniel.”

That one got mixed reactions. However, once one person revealed that Daniel was an idol trainee for a year before he ventured out into acting, it all made sense.

Zeno looked at the lineup and shook his head.

Good.

These were the people he didn’t want to work with the most.

Oska didn’t like him, so there was no way he’d pick—

“Zeno.”

He looked up slowly, wondering if he had heard it right.

“Zeno Han,” Gene repeated cheerfully, like it was an announcement at an awards show.

Zeno stood up stiffly, half-expecting to be corrected. That this was all some kind of elaborate prank. But no. Oska looked straight at him with a serious face.

Zeno walked to the stage and stood beside Daniel, who was already humming musical warm-ups to himself. Zeno did not hum. Zeno was in mourning.

“Interesting,” Mr. Kim muttered, looking at the roster.

Now that the team was complete, Gene waved his hand, and the screen behind them lit up.

Choose your topic:

Five words appeared.

– Love

– Betrayal

– Hope

– Hate

– Desire

Oska didn’t hesitate.

“Hate,” he said.

Zeno slowly turned his head toward him.

Oh, he hated this, alright.