Stanning a Flop Idol for 10 Years vs. Dying.

If you were given those two choices, what would you do?

Most people would probably take a long, hard look at their lives. What sin did I commit to deserve this? Was I a traitor in my past life without even knowing it? Am I the reincarnation of Lee Wan-yong or something? Is this one of those regression-possession-reincarnation situations? Naturally, such deep contemplation would come as a bonus.

Anyone who values their life would choose the former. Anyone carrying painful trauma from stanning a flop idol would choose the latter, saying they’d rather die than spend ten whole years doing that shit.

And then there would be the people who chose the third option: “vs.”

Which was basically the same as forfeiting. The same as choosing nothing at all.

To such a person, the god of fate would say this:

“How honest of you—not choosing either one. As a reward, I’ll give you both the golden axe and the silver axe.”

…So anyway, the point is this.

This is the story of someone who picked nothing in Stanning a Flop Idol for 10 Years vs. Dying—

In other words…

the story of someone who stanned a flop idol for ten years and then died.

******

—The fierce competition of stars rewriting destiny, <Rewrite Stars>! At long last, we’re approaching the announcement of the final rankings….

The MC’s voice boomed through the spacious filming hall over the microphone.

—Stars that once nearly vanished into the darkness. But now, those stars are waiting for their chance to shine again. Your choices will decide their fate!

The area around the stage was packed with all kinds of equipment. Lights and reflectors installed so densely it was as if no shadowed blind spots would be tolerated, red LED lamps signaling that the cameras were rolling, and glimpses of truss framework in between.

A stage, and the fact that filming was in progress, could make people shrink on instinct. But anyone scared by something so trivial had no right to stand here in the first place. Every contestant stared straight ahead, eyes wide, as if refusing to lose to the blazing lights.

Pop!

On the giant screen behind the stage, a four-way split suddenly appeared without warning.

The faces of four contestants filled the four panels in close-up. A time-honored directing choice designed to drain the blood from viewers’ faces. Among survival show audiences, this setup was commonly known as the so-called mental-breakdown zone.

“Huh?”

“Aaah!”

“Ha….”

The audience packed into the seats erupted into commotion. Shock, groans, irritation, and rage all mixed together—it was utter pandemonium.

“Just announce it already!”

“Ah, they’re pulling this shit again.”

“Fuck!”

There were probably curses and protests mixed in there too, but whatever. The control room would handle it so none of that made it to air.

The contestants themselves were just as flustered. But they couldn’t even properly show it. They knew every tiny movement they made was being broadcast live in full detail. All they could do was move their stiff lips into something resembling a smile.

Then one of the four did something unexpected.

He turned his head halfway and looked back at the screen behind him.

Since the camera was filming him from the front, the version of him shown on the screen naturally displayed only a slanted side profile.

One of the staff members waiting behind the camera hurriedly gestured at him. It was a signal telling him to look straight at the camera.

But he completely ignored the staff member’s frantic signaling. It was the kind of shamelessness that made you wonder if he even realized they were in the middle of filming.

On top of that, as he stared at his own fully styled side profile—hair and makeup all done up for broadcast—this was what crossed his mind:

This is… me…?

…Yeah, right.

Objectively speaking, his little outburst amounted to nothing more than pointless nonsense. But the audience—especially his fans—seemed to interpret it differently.

“Oh no. Yoon Jaeha! Jaeha!”

“Don’t cry, don’t cry!”

The contestant who turned his head away the instant the split screen appeared. To his fans, maybe it looked like he was holding back tears….

There were no restrictions on slogan signs for the live audience at <Rewrite Stars>. Colorful banners waved all over the venue.

[Don’t You Dare Say a Word About Our Jaeha’s Toe]

[Yoon Jaeha, You’re My Disaster ♡]

[♥ Yoon Jaeha the Arch-Heretic ♥]

…The content on them was a little—no, a lot—strange, but let’s skip over that for now.

I’m not Yoon Jaeha.

Whether he thought so or not, the cries flying in from the audience kept stabbing into his ears.

“Jaehaaaaaaah!”

“…Fuck.”

The thing that was Yoon Jaeha, yet not Yoon Jaeha, squeezed its eyes shut against the overwhelming wave of fucking misery. The staff’s gestures became even more desperate, and the audience’s shouting only grew louder, but he didn’t give a damn.

I was living my life stanning an idol, then I got stabbed to death…. How the hell did I end up here?

That’s right. The guy who died after stanning a flop idol for ten years. That outrageously unlucky bastard was right here.

Possessing the body of some ridiculously young punk—

and not just any punk, but an active idol.

Chapter 0

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