I Accidentally Became A Superstar

Ninety-six.

Zeno had complimented ninety-six people. He was beginning to wonder if the quest system had a grudge against him or if it was just trying to see how far it could push him before he gave up and started insulting people.

Tomorrow was the performance of the musical, and his team still hadn’t practiced much together.

Well… they had practiced. Just not together-together.

They occupied the same room in the same block of time, but everyone was working on their own little corner of the performance as though the final show would be stitched together in post-production. Zeno supposed that was technically “together.”

They had done one run-through, and after it, Zeno had more criticism than compliments, which was saying something considering his ongoing side quest. But his teammates didn’t seem interested.

Everyone except Oska. Oska looked like he had lost all hope, and Zeno couldn’t tell if he preferred this version over his cocky one.

They were still bickering about a harmony part when the door opened.

“They want us all out,” Hero said with bright eyes before pointing toward the hallway.

They were guided to a different studio where a list was shown, entitled “JANIE’S PREDICTION.”

It was a prediction of who was most likely to win, and most likely to lose or go home procured by none other than Janie J.

Unsurprisingly, the team most likely to win was Shin’s.

And still unsurprisingly, the team most likely to lose was Zeno’s.

Zeno sighed and turned to his teammates, who only muttered to themselves.

Meanwhile, in another room, Janie J. was seated with Gene PD and Bacon PD, also showing her prediction to them.

“Really?” Gene PD asked, leaning forward.

Bacon PD frowned, looking over the ranking sheet. “This team,” he pointed to Zeno, “has most of our best bets.”

“Yes,” Gene PD muttered. “With their appearance here, I think the ratings will shoot up high, too.”

Jani frowned. “Well, I don’t know. The result will speak for itself. Let’s see on the day of their performance if they deserve to stay here.”

Gene PD steepled his fingers. “Maybe they need pressure.”

“They’ve got pressure,” Janie replied. “What they need is a reason.”

***

Before they went back to their practice rooms, Zeno pulled Oska to the side.

“Talk to me for a second,” Zeno said.

Oska looked up from his phone, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

Zeno crossed his arms. “Are you going to do anything?”

Oska tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Did you see the result? We’re going to go home if this keeps up.”

Oska shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “What do I need to do?”

Zeno stared at him. “Are you serious?”

He was the leader of the group, so he might as well unite them for once.

“I mean, I’ll do my best,” Oska said with the kind of tone that suggested “best” was a concept open to interpretation. “But if we go home, they might finally stop saying that I got in because of my dad.”

So, that was it?

The whispers about Oska Baek being a nepotism baby weren’t new. Zeno had heard them the same way everyone else had. Oska also knew about them, so why was he so affected now?

Zeno’s mouth flattened into a line. “So that’s it?”

Oska gave a humorless chuckle. “I guess it’s easier to let them be right. Then I don’t have to prove anything.”

For a second, Zeno wondered if Oska realized how pathetic that sounded. Probably not. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care anymore.

“Is that all?” Oska asked.

Zeno exhaled slowly through his nose. “That’s all.”

Oska nodded once and walked in the direction of their practice room. “If you’re done, let’s have one more dry run before calling it a day.”

With that, he went on his way and left Zeno all alone.

Zeno pursed his lips and let out a deep breath. Alright, he was sick of this.

He had four more people to compliment, so he had decided this morning that those last four would be his own teammates. He at least wanted to show some solidarity before the performance.

However, that plan had died quickly at that moment. He entered the practice room and observed the rest of them.

Phoenix leaned against the mirror, scrolling through his phone like nothing here was worth his eyes. Daniel sat on the floor, casually stretching, appearing more concerned about keeping his body camera-ready than the actual performance. Billy was spinning a pen in his hand, a smirk formed on his face. Oska still looked the same, appearing like he was already halfway gone.

“Hurry up,” Daniel said, glancing at him. “Let’s get this over with so we can finish soon.”

Phoenix clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he gazed at Zeno. “Truly unprofessional.”

Zeno didn’t move. He just stood there in the doorway, watching them.

After a while, they finally noticed.

“What’s his problem?” Billy muttered.

“Are you gonna stand there all day?” Daniel asked, not bothering to lower his voice.

The crew standing around the edges of the room was quiet, but they all anticipated what was going to happen. There wasn’t a lot of drama these days, and this might just be the one they need!

Zeno closed his eyes.

To them, it probably looked like some weird meditative quirk.

However, in his head, the decision was already made. Compliments? Forget it. They didn’t deserve them. And besides, their musical’s theme was hate. The story was about brothers at each other’s throats, clawing over their father’s property. The only way they’d deliver something real onstage was if they actually felt something real offstage.

Fine. He’d give it to them.

When he opened his eyes, his voice was calm.

“Billy.”

Billy turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Me?”

“You,” Zeno said, walking toward him. “You’re immature. You hide behind charm and easy jokes because you think that makes you likable enough to get by. And maybe it has up until now. However, you just can’t be liked. You also need to be good. You refuse to learn new things because you think what you know is already enough. But all it’s done is make you lazy. You skate by. You lean on old tricks. You waste everyone’s time pretending you’re putting in effort when really, you’re just making noise. That’s not going to save you tomorrow. The audience isn’t going to laugh with you. They’re going to see through you.”

His smirk vanished.

Zeno didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, he turned to Daniel.

“Daniel. You’re full of yourself.”

That one line made him gasp, but Zeno continued on.

“You walk into every room like you’re the main event. You talk like you’ve already earned the title. But when the curtain rises, you disappear. You rely on this aura you think you have, this ‘presence’ you keep bragging about. But you’ve never proven you can carry a scene when it matters. You want to be the guy who commands the room without opening his mouth? Earn it through your acting skills, which are clearly being overshadowed. You only get to stay here because the two teammates we had during the preliminary mission were inexperienced.”

Danie’s jaw hung open. He had never been spoken to that way! Not even by his own mother!

Then, came Oska.

Zeno stopped in front of him, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Oska. You’re proving every single person right when they say you’re here because of your dad. You know what they call you. You’ve heard how they say you don’t deserve to be here. However, instead of shoving it back in their faces and making them eat their words, you’re agreeing with them. Do you think holding back and letting yourself lose will make it stop? It won’t. It’ll just make it true forever. You could show them something undeniable. You could silence every last one of them. But you won’t. You’d rather be their pity story than their rival. That’s not tragic. That’s pathetic.”

Oska leaned back because he couldn’t take the heat. What was up with Zeno today?

Finally, Zeno turned to Phoenix.

Phoenix was already frowning. “Don’t lecture me. You’re not my dad.”

Zeno didn’t even acknowledge the line. “You don’t want to listen to anyone because you’ve convinced yourself that being wrong means being weak. You cling to this idea that your way is always the right way, and if it’s not, you’d rather let everything crash than admit you might need help. That’s not strength. That’s ego. You talk about professionalism, but you’re the first one to check out when things don’t go exactly your way. If tomorrow we fail, it won’t be because the performance wasn’t good enough. It’ll be because you refused to let it be anything other than your version.”

Phoenix felt his heart thump, suddenly remembering a distant memory.

The crew around them all covered their mouths, unprepared for such roasting to happen in front of them.

Zeno stepped back, looking at all of them now—not as teammates, but as rivals.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “let’s see who wins among us.”

The silence that followed was heavy. No one moved. The crew didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

For the first time in days, they were all looking at him with something other than disinterest.

And it wasn’t friendship.

It was competition.

But it was exactly what Zeno wanted.