An Insincere Idol’s Blank Slate

Chapter 2

I blinked at the absurd words coming out of Jaehee’s mouth. As my blurry eyes came into focus, I began to see Jaehee’s face more clearly.

“Jaehee, have you aged backwards?” I asked, staring blankly at his youthful face.

Jaehee shook his head. “What the heck are you saying? You’ve completely lost your marbles.”

Then he called out for Hajoon and raced out of my room. Jaehee had seemed surprisingly cordial, despite his annoyance and silent treatment towards me the day before. But instead of dwelling on his sudden change in behavior, I scanned the room.

The first thing I noticed was the firm mattress against my back, which felt nothing like the plush, California king-sized bed that I had purchased for my new home. The bed I was currently in seemed about two-thirds smaller. The room itself was tiny with old, faded wallpaper, and the floor panels were stained yellow.

It finally dawned on me where I was—the sh*tty, semi-basement dormitory I used to share with the band in our early days as struggling idols.

This is ludicrous.

I gave my cheek a firm slap to try to snap out of a dream, but the pain was excruciating. I was not dreaming.

I rushed to the mirror and caught sight of my reflection, where I looked to be in my early twenties. There was a subtle quiver in my eyes as I gazed at the youthful face staring back at me.

Semi-basement dorm… looking more youthful… our debut performance day…

I seemed to have regressed to the darkest period of my life, back when I was a failed idol. No, actually, our band had not even premiered at that point, so maybe it would be more accurate to call it the beginning of our journey to becoming failed idols.

In any case, I had to ignore everything around me in order to unravel the mystery of the blue window that had materialized the day before. I needed to know what exactly was meant by “sincerity level”? And how had I managed to travel back in time?

But how do I get the window to pop up again?

“Hey, I'm not sure which bastard is playing this sick prank on me, but show me the window again, right now.”

[Profanity detected]

[Sincerity Level -2]

[Say “Status Window”]

Agh, ouch… that’s so freaking painful.

“S-Status window,” I said in a hushed tone, and the same translucent blue window popped up in front of me.

[A Project to Rekindle the Sincerity of the Idol who Lost his Edge]

[Target: Yoon Eden]

[Information

Age: 20

Position: group leader, rapper

Skills: rap, lyrics, composition, producing]

[Sincerity Level: 94]

[*Sincerity Level will increase/decrease based on the idol’s speech and behavior]

[*If Sincerity Level reaches zero, the project will restart]

[*To successfully complete the project, you must satisfy all prerequisites]

[Prerequisite: You have disappointed 30,000 fans. Now make 30 million fans happy! (0/30,000,000)]

What the…? Did I just get thrown back into the early stages of my career to rekindle my sincerity? And why am I now expected to please 30 million fans when I only disappointed 30,000? These numbers seem a bit excessive.

“F*ck, my Cheongdam-dong apartment! My billions of won in royalties! My savings account! My Ferrari!”

I collapsed onto the ground, clutching my curly hair and feeling overwhelmed by a sense of having been wronged. All of my assets had vanished overnight! Less than 24 hours had passed since I’d moved into my new Cheongdam-dong apartment! I had yet to experience a single night in my three billion-won apartment!

[Profanity detected]

[Sincerity Level -2]

In the midst of all the chaos, my Sincerity Level was steadily decreasing. A grimace formed on my face as I felt a sharp pain.

Cut me some slack! How can I be expected not to use profanity right now?!

While I writhed on the ground, the eldest member, Yehyun Seo, approached (wearing the same moisturizing face mask he’d had on all morning) and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Whoa. Did our group leader just have a premonition? Did we knock it out of the park? Can I take that as a sign that we’re going to hit it big?”

“Hit it big”? No way, we’re totally screwed.

The inefficiency of our management company meant that we would have to strive for three more years before we found success. And even then…

“Why so friendly all of a sudden? I mean, it’s good.”

My instinct had been to frown and complain, but then I diverted the conversation. We were still in the band’s pre-debut phase, so the drinking incident hadn’t occurred yet.

“We’re bandmates. What’s wrong with being friendly? Ugh, you’re such a jerk.” Yehyun replied, shaking his head and tsking as he left the room.

I was dumbfounded. He’s calling me a jerk?

I had worked tirelessly to support Yehyun—despite his mediocre singing, dancing, and rapping skills—to prevent them negatively impacting our position on the music charts or live performances. The problems between us began when he got extremely drunk at a party and told me to stop telling him things that diminished his confidence.

How are you supposed to improve if I don’t tell you the truth? What did I do wrong? DO I really need to think about every little emotion someone might have before I do anything?

I realized that I had regressed to a time just before our first performance. Our debut single had remained part of our sets at various concerts and private events, so I had a general recollection of the dance routine. But some steps had been removed over time, so I would be in trouble if I had to go onstage without reviewing the steps.

Since we were newcomers in the entertainment field, our performance wouldn’t be taped before being aired, which meant that any mistakes I made would be a permanent record in the public sphere. I would always be remembered as the guy who messed up his debut performance.

As I made my way to the living room, I called out to Kim Dobin, who was our best dancer. “Hey, Dobi! Is the dance routine saved on your phone?”

He rushed over and held out his phone with the video screen visible. “Come on, Eden. It’s not Dobi. My name is Kim Dobin. Why are you changing the name my grandfather gave me?” he grumbled.

Wow, I just can’t get used to this.

Before the regression, Dobi had never said a word when I used his nickname, but now Kim Dobin was complaining to my face. The way the other group members were interacting with me provided further evidence that I had actually gone back in time.

I scratched my head, turned up the volume, and pressed play on the video. Thanks to my familiarity with the dance moves, I was able to master the choreography simply by watching the video a few times.

“Shall we go over the steps one last time?” I suggested.

As the live show drew near, I realized that we didn’t have time to get to the rehearsal space, so I rushed through the performance with the group in the dormitory common area. Then I sat down on the floor, wiping away the sweat.

“Wow, I can't believe our first performance is happening so soon. Why does it feel so surreal?”

“Imagine if our video reaches a million views all because of Yehyun’s face!”

While the other members were filled with anticipation and debut jitters, I felt indifferent about bearing sole responsibility for the group’s future. Unfortunately, Yehyun’s face was going to be overshadowed by a dreadful song along with unflattering hair and makeup. I recalled that our music video, which had been so obviously low-budget, had a pitifully small viewership. I didn’t like the odds of a miraculous success occurring without any modifications to either the song or the presentation.

But what does it mean that “the project will restart if Sincerity Level reaches zero”? Will it reset to the maximum capacity of 100? In that case, losing points would serve no purpose.

I stared ahead with a vacant expression, lost in thought, until the blue status window popped up with a notification ping, snapping me out of contemplation.

[Lifeless eyes detected]

[Sincerity Level -1]

I gazed at the window with sunken eyes as my sincerity points continued to decrease. The status window refreshed incessantly, like a never-ending loading glitch, and each time it opened, the sensation of needle pricks all over my body recurred. The painful prickling seemed to coincide with the deduction of sincerity points.

Tears welled up in my eyes, causing me to blink repeatedly to refocus, and the persistent status window disappeared at last. In mere seconds, my Sincerity Level had decreased by ten points.

That’s so unfair! I was just lost in thought, which it interprets as having “lifeless eyes” and reduces my sincerity points?!

As our place in the concert lineup grew closer, we piled into a compact car with our first manager and pulled away from the dormitory. Before our debut, our living standards had been so low that the idea of owning one of the luxurious vans preferred by celebrities, let alone a more affordable van, had been out of the question. Our management company was new to the entertainment industry, with no actors or celebrities in their roster, so we had to make do with the resources on hand.

“Ugh, seriously. It’s so damn cramped back here,” I mumbled.

[The forbidden phrase ‘Ugh, seriously’ was detected]

[Sincerity Level -1]

[Profanity detected]

[Sincerity Level -2]

Ugh, come on! Saying “Oh, really?” is okay, but “Ugh, seriously” is a no-go? Am I supposed to just keep my mouth shut and not react?!

***

Our first performance went smoothly with no major mistakes. Unsurprisingly, there was a noticeable lack of response, just as there had been before my regression. We were once again known as “failed idols.”

My 100 sincerity points had also dropped at a faster rate than I’d expected. Being lost in thought while feeling exhausted was seen as having “lifeless eyes,” which led to a decrease in points. The tiniest hints of irritation like “Ugh, really” or the adoption of colloquial phrases like “bro” or “Just kill me” were deductions, making it difficult to maintain the points I still had.

In just three days, complete with three live gigs, I had successfully brought my Sincerity Level down to zero. More experienced singers in the industry had commented that I lacked the enthusiasm typical of a rookie, and that also resulted in a deduction of points.

What am I supposed to do about the fact that I’m a veteran idol with seven years of experience in a rookie’s body?

I also couldn’t get used to the zapping sensation that accompanied each deduction of sincerity points.

Huh. Nothing’s happening even though it reached zero. I guess I can simply disregard the Sincerity Level.

I had just taken off my shoes and was making my way through the living room to my bedroom when I suddenly found myself unable to breathe. I collapsed to the ground, clutching my throat. I couldn’t breathe and began to gasp while drool trickled from my lips.

My longtime friend Hajoon rushed to my side and gave me a slap. “Eden! Yoon Eden! Wake up!”

“What’s wrong with him? Call an ambulance!”

I gradually drifted into unconsciousness. Everything went dark as the band members shook me and tried to revive me.

***

“Eden… Eden!”

My eyes fluttered open in response to the voice calling my name. The ceiling I had seen right before I collapsed came into view. The difference, however, was that I had collapsed in the living room, but now found myself lying in my bedroom.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Jaehee’s lively voice rang in my ears, assuming that one of the group members had most likely carried me to bed when I collapsed.

“Eden, how can you be sleeping in on the day of our debut? I really have to give you credit for your mental fortitude,” he babbled.

“What?” I asked, my voice trembling unintentionally. I snatched my phone and checked the date. It was August eighth. Reve’s first performance.

Did this day really start over...?

“Fuck, this is ridiculous!”

The moment I clutched my head and cursed, the system swiftly took action and decreased my sincerity points along with a sharp jolt.

[Profanity detected]

[Sincerity Level -2]

When I saw that my Sincerity Level had reset to 100, I screamed as though I was having a seizure. “Get out! Just go away and disappear!”

“Eden...? What’s wrong? Are the debut performance jitters getting to you? Are you losing it?”

Jaehee spoke carefully, but I was too preoccupied to worry about him. A feeling of terror consumed me as I realized that I was trapped in a time loop.

What if I never escape this place and descend into madness?

The sense of injustice was messing with my head.

Have I engaged in drug use, gambling, drunk driving, or visited establishments with prostitutes like some of my peers and fellow members?

Why me?! Why? WHY? Why me of all people?! Is it a punishable offense to simply want to create the music that I love?

How I ended up onstage was all a blur. My body was throbbing as a result of the sharp zaps that I felt all over. A bright red panel flashed before me as I stood there in my performance outfit, clutching the mic. It seemed to be giving me a warning. Maybe because I was in a daze, staring blankly into space, or maybe because I was muttering curses under my breath, I only had ten sincerity points remaining.

When it was my turn to rap after Hajoon, I struggled to produce anything other than a heavy sigh. The band members’ faces displayed a mix of bewilderment and embarrassment as they glanced at me, clearly not in a good state.

[Mistake detected on stage]

[Sincerity Level -7]

[Sincerity Level has reached zero]

Just as the song was reaching its peak, a sudden surge of pain hit me harder than ever. The microphone slipped from my grasp and fell to the ground with a thud. The stage reverberated with a loud crash and a piercing sound.

Slowly, my body began to tilt. My vision became increasingly hazy. Despite the piercing noise of the MR machine and the uncontrollable shaking, I couldn’t open my eyes. I plunged into darkness as I experienced an excruciating pain deep in my heart.

The second regression was in motion.