* * *

When we were suddenly told to gather in the CEO’s office, we figured it must be for a major announcement.

We thought a new song might be out, and we excitedly speculated with each other whether it would be an intense song or a fresh, bright one as we headed there.

“It looks like we’re really debuting this time.”

Eunhan’s eyes were full of expectation, but Woohyung’s eyes showed no spark, and Jemin, standing next to him, had gone pale.

James seemed to be enjoying himself, lightly moving to the beat that was playing.

“What a letdown…”

We waited eagerly, imagining various concepts, but bizarre sounds kept playing, and then suddenly, it all stopped without even reaching the climax. Yoonbin muttered in shock before covering his mouth.

“The songs are… unique.”

As the leader, Yoonbin tried to hide his disappointment and calmly shared his thoughts on the song with the CEO.

“Songs? It’s just one song.”

At the CEO’s words, even Yoonbin, the leader, lost his composure, his eyes shaking. How could the elements of one song be so disjointed? It felt like listening to music from forty years in the future.

“Wasn’t that a highlight medley?”

“No, that was the entire song. What are you all talking about?”

“Ah… Then can we hear the title track now?”

Right, sometimes you get weird songs when you’re desperate to fill an album.

Even though the CEO said we would hear the title track today, surely that wasn’t it.

Trying to stay optimistic, Yoonbin asked the CEO about the title track.

“That was the title track.”

We’re totally screwed. With that song as our debut, there’s no telling what concept we’re supposed to go with. And no matter how good we look, people will mock us for our lack of musicality.

We might as well forget about ever hearing our song on the radio.

“Uh… um…”

“We’re going to record it quickly, so listen to the guide recording and practice hard. Are you kids excited about debuting? You’re speechless.”

This wasn’t part of the plan. I had only thought about how we wouldn’t get as much attention as big agencies when we debuted, but I hadn’t considered that small agencies might also give us terrible songs. But this was too much.

“Did you compose the title track?”

“What?”

“You said you’re a composer.”

As soon as they left the recording studio, Jemin, in desperation, grabbed Woohyung and started talking to him, almost as if he was ready to grab him by the collar.

Woohyung frowned at Jemin, who was suddenly speaking informally.

‘Why’s he dropping formal speech all of a sudden? Does being older mean he gets to do that?’

Even though they shared the same dorm, Woohyung and Jemin had never had a private conversation outside of necessary communication.

“My song is going on the album as a B-side.”

Woohyung, clearly irritated, kept his words short.

He was already annoyed that his song got pushed aside for that trash, and now this guy was picking a fight, so it was no surprise he wasn’t in the mood for kind words.

From the start, he had avoided using the term “hyung” and only referred to Jemin indirectly.

Now that he wasn’t even using formal speech, it seemed like he was trying to start a power struggle, and Yoonbin watched Woohyung and Jemin nervously.

“So did the CEO write and compose that song?”

Luckily, Jemin seemed too worried about the song to notice that Woohyung was being confrontational.

“Otherwise… There’s no way someone in their right mind would’ve bought that song.”

Jemin thought he’d have to check carefully later to see who wrote and composed it.

Eunhan, meanwhile, was just happy to debut, smiling despite the awful song.

James even seemed to like it. Only three of them seemed to have normal hearing.

“You said you’re a composer, right? And you produce too. But you’re just going to sit back and let that crap be our title track?”

Jemin clung to Woohyung, practically begging. He knew nothing would change, but he needed someone to blame.

‘’You must not know how many times our debut has been delayed. Do you think we’re putting up with this because we like the song? We just want to debut already.”

Woohyung’s head throbbed as he recalled the arguments he’d had with the CEO over the title track in recent days.

He really didn’t want to give in, but he had no choice. Already, his pride was deeply wounded, so he snapped back at Jemin.

“Did you just join the debut group or something?”

The implication that Jemin, at twenty-four, had failed to even become a trainee hit him hard, and his eyebrow twitched.

This was the second blow after realizing that Woohyung didn’t include him in his earlier mention of “us.”

“Didn’t you leave your previous agency because they wouldn’t use your song?”

Woohyung’s expression visibly hardened at Jemin’s words.

The other members, who had been heading back to the dorm, turned around as the argument got louder.

Yoonbin quickly stepped in between Woohyung and Jemin to break it up.

“You’re both heated right now. No one’s at fault, so why are you saying those things?”

“How could you just let that low-quality song slide after making such a fuss about pride? Why did you even leave? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”

The teamwork at this small agency was impressive. If they got caught fighting in front of the recording studio, things would blow up.

Yoonbin was sweating bullets trying to defuse the situation.

“Right, I actually thought the title track could be kind of catchy the more I listened to it…”

Eunhan’s attempt to calm things down didn’t help at all. He was clueless. James, who had a good ear for music, nodded in agreement. He was clueless too.

“Are you debuting as an idol just to build your producing career?”

“Jemin-hyung!”

Jemin knew there wasn’t anyone like that, but faced with a bleak reality, he wanted to vent his frustrations at anyone.

It wasn’t like his mouth had a brake. Woohyung didn’t seem like someone who would just stand there and take it like a punching bag, but Jemin was too wound up to care.

The state of their title track was that disastrous.

“It could seem that way.”

As Jemin landed his verbal jab and followed it up with another hit, Yoonbin glanced at Woohyung. Woohyung, however, didn’t seem too affected—no change in his expression at all.

“Not that I’m particularly sorry, but yeah, I’m sorry.”

Woohyung sneered at Jemin.

“You’re not even worth being in my portfolio.”

Jemin stood there, stunned as if he’d been sucker-punched.

That was the moment when their passive-aggressive tension escalated into an all-out war.

---

“Will we debut under our real names?”

“Most people drop their last name and just use their first name.”

“It’s better to debut with a stage name if it overlaps with existing seniors.”

Luckily, our names weren’t that common, so I felt we’d probably debut with them as they were.

But I wasn’t entirely sure. The biggest variable was the CEO.

“I’m scared the CEO might have come up with some weird names for us.”

Why do bad premonitions always come true? No sooner had Eunhan spoken than the CEO called us in.

The five of us stood in front of him. Smiling widely, the CEO said,

“I just remembered these killer stage names for you all.”

“Oh, our stage names?”

The members responded with the same blank stares you’d see from idols at a fan signing event who’d heard “Really?” one too many times.

The CEO didn’t care about our cold reactions.

He shuffled some papers where he seemed to have already written down our stage names and started to read.

“Let’s start with Yoonbin.”

“I think Yoonbin’s name is already pretty enough…”

Yoonbin timidly expressed his opinion, but it was ignored.

“Since ‘Bin’ sounds like ‘Bean.'”

No way. It can’t be that, right?

But no way always seems to get you.

“Yoonkong! How’s that?”

“It’s cute, but it sounds more like a Twitch streamer or a macaron mukbang YouTuber than a male idol.”

“Yoonbin, is a cute name, so it’s perfect.”

Come on. Yoonbin was 180 cm tall with bulked-up muscles.

The only time he heard the word “cute” was when he visited his grandmother’s house.

“Let’s go with Jeezers, similar to James.”

Yoonbin’s stage name was nothing compared to this. Jemin was stunned by the CEO’s audacity to use a religious name as a stage name.

James shook his head in disbelief at his second name.

“Oh, my god.”

“See, it fits your stage name perfectly.”

The CEO wasn’t interested in dialogue, just in delivering his decisions.

The atmosphere grew even heavier, as if we were being sentenced, not just notified.

“Next is Eunhan.”

“I’ve got it! SilverOne, right? Because it’s ‘Eun’ and ‘Han!’”

SilverOne was already a terrible name, but even that turned out to be wishful thinking.

“Why would you use a number?”

“It’s not a number. It’s your stage name. Il.”

Because “Han” sounded like the number “one,” the CEO named him “Il,” which he insisted be written as the Arabic numeral 1.

Searching for it online would be nearly impossible. Even Eunhan, who usually accepted everything, looked disgusted.

“Jemin is…”

Please let my name be normal. Just not me. I prayed and prayed.

“Since Jemin’s last name is Yoo and he debuted late, it’ll be U-DO.”

Come on. Are you telling me to quit?

Jemin shuddered at the hopeless situation. U-DO? Seriously?

“Uh, CEO…”

“And Woohyung is…”

Jemin, almost in tears, tried to intervene but was once again brushed off. Fine. If we’re all going down, I’ll watch Woohyung go down too.

Please, let his stage name be worse than mine. If I’m U-DO, then let him be something ridiculous.

“WH.”

What? Why does he get a normal name?

Is Woohyung secretly the CEO’s son? Jemin alternated between looking at the CEO and Woohyung, feeling betrayed.

“I’m not too fond of it.”

This guy, after hearing all those terrible stage names, still had the audacity to be dissatisfied with his own.

As Woohyung calmly asserted himself while the rest of us stayed silent with our awful names, Jemin was on the brink of losing it.

“It’s only two characters when written, but it’s too long when pronounced. And it doesn’t shorten well.”

It was true; you couldn’t shorten WH naturally.

He had a point. But the fact that he could voice it while the rest of us couldn’t say anything about being called SilverOne or U-DO made Jemin envious of his power.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we all just debuted with our real names?”

Seeing the CEO sulk as we didn’t like the supposedly cool stage names he’d come up with, Jemin thought they might get out of this.

“Fine, do whatever you want. Go on, live your lives like that. Ignore the advice of the greatest cultural critic and CEO.”

“Thank you for allowing it.”

“We’ll do our best!”

“Get out.”

Thanks to Woohyung, the U-DO disaster was averted. We all bowed and left. We sighed in relief, genuinely grateful.

Jemin sneaked a glance at Woohyung.

‘If he’d only changed his name and left us with ours, it would have been so annoying. But at least he has some loyalty.’

Jemin almost felt grateful toward Woohyung. He was even about to awkwardly thank him.

“U-DO? More like U-can’t.”

If only Woohyung hadn’t muttered that as he passed by.

* * *