But the reaction to Seon-ho’s calm tone was anything but calm.
Team Leader Choi Ki-seok, PD Joo Min-hwan, Director Shin Ho-yoon, and even CEO Kim Dong-han had all fallen silent, immersed in mentally simulating Seon-ho’s plan.
Meanwhile, Seon-ho sank into thought.
The reason he had structured Unit B as Jia’s solo unit was, truthfully, for marketing.
Last Friday, after hearing about the unit mission, he had fallen into deep contemplation.
It wasn’t because he didn’t know what to do.
It was because there were too many viable unit combinations to choose from.
Mathematically speaking, there were 15 ways to divide five members into two units.
But this wasn’t a simple matter of picking one out of fifteen.
When you considered the different ways a team could be produced, the number of possibilities ballooned absurdly.
Most producers would first create two songs, then find unit combinations that suited those songs.
But Seon-ho was a producer who chose the singers and concept in advance, and then worked in a way that brought out 100% of their potential.
That made the unit mission one of the most difficult challenges.
Even after agonizing all weekend, it wasn’t enough—he was still mulling it over as he ate lunch, when Manager Kwon Hosan asked,
“You’re thinking about the unit combination right now, aren’t you?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
“Want some advice?”
“Advice? Do you have a good idea, sir?”
“I’ve been watching, and… You’re struggling because musically, there’s no clear best or second-best, right?”
Manager Kwon’s assessment was spot-on.
If something were clearly better and something else clearly worse, you’d just pick the better one and be done with it.
But the unit mission didn’t offer such clarity.
Sure, in the end, some combinations might be better or worse.
But without the ability to see the future, there was no way to know which choice was best or second-best in the present moment.
Whatever the combination, Seon-ho would do his utmost to bring out their full potential.
Manager Kwon said,
“Then don’t base your decision on the quality of the songs.”
“Huh? But we’re choosing songs.”
“No matter which unit gets which song, you and Prefer are going to give it your all anyway.”
“That’s true.”
“So assume the quality of the songs is equal. Think about another kind of value.”
Seon-ho asked,
“What kind of value?”
“Promotion, obviously.”
It was an unexpected suggestion.
As Seon-ho hesitated, Manager Kwon set his spoon down and said,
“I’m not like other company heads who go around saying, ‘The era of winning with songs is over. Now it’s all about promotions.’”
“Hmm…”
“Promotion is about color. Say there’s a spring dress with the exact same design. But one is a dull gray, and the other is a bright pink. Which one sells more?”
“The pink one, of course.”
“Exactly. If the song is complete and makes the singer happy, the rest comes down to promotion. What kind of color you put on it, how you sell it—that’s where the effort goes.”
Seon-ho found himself resonating with Kwon’s words.
Kwon added one last thing.
“One day, a really good song you and Prefer made will get buried. A song you were truly confident about, but it’ll get no reaction. That’s when a composer hits a slump.”
“Yeah.”
“When that happens, just say, ‘Ugh, the PR team did a crap job,’ and move on.”
At that, Seon-ho nodded.
And at that moment, a gloomy voice interrupted them.
“Was our PR really that crap?”
It was Team Leader Choi Ki-seok from the PR team, who had just arrived at the cafeteria and overheard their conversation.
Kwon jumped up in alarm.
“Team Leader! That’s not what I meant—”
“Sorry. All we can manage is crappy promotion, I guess…”
It had taken quite a while to clear up Choi Ki-seok’s misunderstanding that day.
“Explain in more detail.”
Snapping out of his thoughts at CEO Kim Dong-han’s question, Seon-ho began explaining how he had requested the OST from writer Min Heeyoung.
“So Jia’s solo track is confirmed to be included as an OST in the drama?”
CEO Kim asked a sharp question after hearing the explanation.
In truth, not all OST tracks were actually featured in the drama.
Some made it onto the OST album but weren’t used in the show, or were only used for a few seconds—like just the instrumental intro.
Seon-ho replied calmly.
“No. The song hasn’t been completed yet, so nothing is confirmed.”
“Then?”
“Writer Min Heeyoung and the PD plan to review it positively.”
“Wow, you sure know how to word things nicely.”
PD Joo Min-hwan sneered.
Just moments ago, he had looked flustered, but hearing that nothing was confirmed seemed to revive his confidence.
CEO Kim raised a hand to stop Joo Min-hwan and spoke.
“You do realize there could be backlash, right?”
“Yes. I’ve taken that into consideration.”
What CEO Kim referred to was the potential for public criticism if a song served as both a drama OST and an idol competition track.
Since both the drama and the idol competition were KBM programs, it could come across as overpromotion.
There was also the risk of rumors that the competition’s judgment wasn’t fair due to the drama tie-in.
“There’ll definitely be negative opinions. How will you deal with that?”
“That’s not something I can personally control. I’m just placing my trust in Team Leader Choi Ki-seok and the PR team.”
Team Leader Choi, who had been sitting quietly, was startled.
“M-Me?”
“Yes. I believe you’ll guide public opinion in a positive direction.”
“Uh… Well, that is my job, technically.”
Sensing the discussion leaning in favour of Prefer’s song, PD Joo Min-hwan hastily interjected.
“But if Jia’s solo track doesn’t become the drama’s main OST, then all of this is meaningless, isn’t it?”
Seon-ho rebutted.
“No. The reverse could also happen. If Jia’s solo track gains popularity through Idol War, it could end up being inserted into the drama afterward.”
As the two clashed, CEO Kim Dong-han, watching them closely, stroked his chin and said,
“Director Shin.”
“Yes.”
“What do you think?”
“Well, I’m as much a stickler for principles as you are, sir. When it comes to song selection, I always follow the singer’s opinion.”
Director Shin Ho-yoon added,
“Still, I think we should at least listen to Jia’s solo track before deciding.”
At his words, CEO Kim Dong-han asked,
“Manager Han Seon-ho. When do you think the song will be ready?”
“It just needs mixing and mastering now.”
“Really? Then it’s basically finished.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s hear it here, then. Along with Producer Joo’s song.”
A moment later, Director Shin Ho-yoon spoke with a sigh.
“We should’ve just listened to it first. No point in all that talk.”
CEO Kim Dong-han gave a barely noticeable nod and said,
“Let’s go with this one.”
And so, the unit for the third mission of Idol War was confirmed.
The third filming of Idol War took place on Friday.
An average viewership rating of 11.3%.
A peak rating of 19.8%.
The insane upward trend of Episode 2 had the production crew beaming with joy.
Especially since word had spread that bonuses would be paid out soon.
But unlike the cheerful production crew, the seven idol groups gathered for the shoot were filled with tension.
There was nervousness about the Round 2 cover song mission—but more than that, it was the fear of elimination that gripped them.
Even A.S.A.P and Jesco, who were confident they wouldn’t be eliminated, couldn’t hide their unease.
The only team not nervous at all was Personal Color.
“Why is Personal Color so full of energy?”
“Come on, there’s no way they’re getting eliminated. They’re the talk of the town and they performed well.”
“Still, even Jesco and A.S.A.P are on edge, but Personal Color looks totally carefree.”
Passing staff members murmured among themselves.
Just as they said, Personal Color looked completely relaxed, immersed in something.
The staff initially thought they were rehearsing their cover song mission.
But on closer inspection, it turned out they weren’t practicing today’s mission track.
They were rehearsing Vivid, the song they had performed in the first round.
“Why are they practicing that?”
“Oh, I heard they’re singing it on High School in Melody.”
“Wait, seriously? Personal Color is going to be on High School in Melody?”
“My friend’s on the High School in Melody team—they said Personal Color was cast as cameos.”
“Wow, they’re really riding the wave now. When they were first cast, people were calling them industry plants and all.”
“Right? Makes you wonder why they hadn’t made it before. Or rather—why they’re suddenly blowing up now.”
Just then, a handsome man walked past the group of gossiping staff.
It was Han Seon-ho, Personal Color’s manager—well-known among the Idol War production team.
The tall staffer, suddenly reminded of something, said to the shorter one,
“Oh yeah. I have this friend who knows everything about idols—like, even Dispatch can’t keep up with her.”
“Is she hot?”
“No.”
“So what about this informant?”
Grinning at the absurdity of the question, the tall staffer continued,
“She told me the reason Cha Hye-mi and Personal Color are blowing up is because of that guy, Han Seon-ho.”
“Huh? What kind of nonsense is that? What can a rookie manager even do?”
“Apparently, managing isn’t what’s important about him. I mean, he is good at the job, but that’s not the key.”
“Then what is?”
“He’s the eyes, ears, and brain of Team Prefer.”
“What? Team Prefer?”
The tall staffer gave his friend a brief explanation.
“So basically… Han Seon-ho observes and listens to the artist, conveys what he senses to Prefer, and Prefer turns that into a song?”
“Exactly. And every single song made by Han Seon-ho and Prefer has been a hit so far.”
“Which songs?”
Autumn Leaf. Girl in the City. Vivid.
“Damn. All megahits. But there aren’t that many.”
“Are you dumb? He’s a three-month rookie and released three songs in three months.”
“For real? He’s only been at it for three months? I thought he was close to a year in—he’s so composed.”
“He’s gonna be huge. I heard CEO Kim Dong-han even calls him into his office for private meetings.”
“Then I’d better cozy up to him in advance.”
The shorter staffer tilted his head and asked,
“But how come I’m only hearing about this now? That kind of story should’ve been all over the place by now.”
“Because he’s too good-looking. People just assumed it was some baseless rumor. But with Vivid doing so well, hardcore idol fans are starting to take notice.”
The staffs, deep in idle chatter, quickly got back to work when the assistant PD barked at them for slacking off.
Soon, the real filming began.
And the first eliminated team was revealed.
Ladies Day, who ruined their performance by rearranging the song to highlight a new member.
Dream Girls, who got so nervous after seeing Personal Color’s performance that they kept messing up.
Soul Mate, whose performance fell flat due to nerves over potential elimination.
Most people thought one of those three would go.
But the team that got eliminated was…
“Black Label. Thank you for your hard work.”
It was the girl group Black Label, who had shown neither strengths nor weaknesses.
Their performance was better than the three candidates, but because it lacked anything remarkable, their online score was far too low.
That was why they were eliminated.
Upon hearing the result, Black Label members burst into tears, and the hosts swarmed around them.
All the weeks of rehearsal, the elaborately prepared outfits, the hour-long full makeup session—none of it made it to the stage. They had to leave for the interview room instead.
Watching them leave, Seon-ho vowed that Personal Color would never face a situation like that.
And by the end of filming, he felt confident that Personal Color wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
Day by day, Personal Color was growing in confidence and skill.
Jia, in particular—once criticized for her weak vocals—had improved dramatically.
As long as he kept creating great songs, Personal Color wouldn’t be eliminated until after the finals.
That night, the two songs for the unit mission were fully completed.
TL: Lol, this convo is funny
“Oh yeah. I have this friend who knows everything about idols—like, even Dispatch can’t keep up with her.”
“Is she hot?”
“No.”
“So what about this informant?”