Chapter 233: The Last Conscience

[How’s FLY-B doing?]

Are they way behind Stardust?

Does anyone know what their first-week sales were?

— For the sales, f*** go look them up yourself, and stop dragging our kids into troll posts;;

└ If you look closely, FLY-B fans bash Stardust like crazy while still trying to ride their coattails.

└ What are you even saying, lol.

└ It’s a fact that your group keeps getting virality by being tied to Stardust.

└ Here we go again with the petty digs, lolol.

— Fact: Real fans don’t write these kinds of posts or bash each other.

└ Exactly, lol. Why would we even bash Stardust… We’re from another survival show, and your fandom is intense….

└ You’re not supposed to mess with survival show idols.

└ We’re from the survival show too, ha.

└ Ah, lololololol.

FLY-B vs Stardust.

These were the kinds of posts that could easily be found just by browsing the forums.

In terms of scale, the comparison was embarrassing—it was that much of a gap.

FLY-B had only been around for half a year since debut, while Stardust, though only in their second year, had already achieved the feat of charting on Billboard.

That’s why it was obvious this troll narrative was made up by other fandoms just to stir up conflict.

The more thoughtful fans would stay quiet and keep their distance, but…

As always, not every fan acted with sense, which often led to chaos.

Lee Dokyung’s fan, Gong Jimin, didn’t like Stardust for that very reason.

Her boy, already getting pushed around for being from a survival show, was now getting dragged into hate just because of a connection to that group—of course she’d be upset.

That’s why, when the guest lineup for <Base School 2018> was announced, she couldn’t be purely happy.

[Did you see who’s coming to Base School this week?]

Stardust’s Do Seohan, FLY-B’s Lee Dokyung.

We’re seeing this legendary combo here, ㅠㅠ.

I’ve wanted those two to debut together since Starf days….

The ones reacting so cheerfully were viewers who had only casually enjoyed Starf.

In contrast, Gong Jimin let out a deep sigh the moment the schedule dropped.

‘Legendary troll bait….’

There were far more hyenas out to tear something apart than people genuinely happy about it.

Scroll

As she scrolled down, disgruntled comments were already popping up everywhere.

[Why cast them as a pair?]

Could’ve just brought 2 members from Stardust and 2 from FLY-B separately;;

— That’s because they don’t have the level to pull that off, lol.

└ Shut it.

└ It’s FLY-B who doesn’t have the level, not Stardust, lol.

└ There you go again, you’re not even a fan.

└ It’s anonymous but I can already tell who this is—one of the usual trolls.

└ Please just ignore themㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

— Honestly, I feel like both fandoms are gonna hate this;; It’s been ages since Starf ended, why are they still being tied together? Please let them move on.

└ Guess Starf was really something… Fans still clinging to it.

└ Let’s just go our separate ways now….

See? This is what it’s like.

She couldn’t even imagine how much worse it would get once the variety clip actually dropped.

Especially the haters—they’d definitely twist every little word the two said into some kind of rivalry narrative.

That’s why, even though it had been a while since Lee Dokyung had a variety show appearance, Gong Jimin couldn’t enjoy it comfortably….

On the day <Base School 2018> aired—

Half worried, half hopeful, Gong Jimin played the video, and her eyes widened.

Right from the opening, Lee Dokyung was smiling brightly.

“What the…?”

His reactions to Bay’s sudden jokes throughout the show had him doubled over in laughter—his energy was on another level today.

You could call it a ‘broadcast smile,’ but as someone who had been a fan since the Starf days, she could tell.

‘Our boy’s hyped right now.’

In fact, he looked more relaxed here than when sitting next to fellow FLY-B members.

Next to Lee Dokyung was Do Seohan, casually bantering back and forth.

Mam-Seohan. Everyone knew he was a chaotic character since Starf, but he was better at variety than expected.

Bay also did a great job steering the flow as the host. With a hearty laugh, he nudged them with a question.

[You guys used to share a dorm room, right?]

[Yeah, during our audition program, we were on the same team. So we shared a room for about two weeks.]

[Got any funny stories?]

[Hmm, nothing much… But I was practicing cicada sounds while Dokyung-hyung was rehearsing praying mantis moves.]

[Hey! You’re really bringing that up here?!]

[And you even filmed that in front of a camera, remember? It just got cut in editing.]

[…Oh, wow.]

Lee Dokyung kept getting roped into Do Seohan’s playful teasing.

That guy who usually delivered his lines with composure was now completely helpless in front of Do Seohan.

His face turned beet red, and he got caught in Bay and Do Seohan’s teasing like a fish on a hook.

[Come on, show us just once…!]

Thanks to Seohan occasionally tossing lines to keep Dokyung involved… even someone still awkward with outside variety shows like Lee Dokyung got plenty of screen time.

[Swoosh. Shooshooosh.]

Lee Dokyung doing a praying mantis punch is so cute!

But now I get why it got cut from the final edit!

Either way, I’m touched we got to see it like this.

Gong Jimin screamed and slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Thank you, Do Seohan-aaah!”

The audio never stopped. Watching their nonstop back-and-forth, she found herself smiling before she knew it.

Just before the broadcast, she had been completely against this pairing….

‘This is fun.’

At some point, she was completely hooked, watching the episode with rapt attention.

Meanwhile, at the same time—

There was one person who couldn’t laugh at all.

In a workroom on the 3rd floor of the SBC Broadcasting Station, Do Seojun had called someone to a place where he wouldn’t easily be caught.

His anxious expression revealed how unsettled he felt.

It had been a while since he’d felt this nervous. Judging from the cold sweat on his forehead, his physical condition wasn’t great either.

[I want money.]

That was what the other party had said in a long email.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar name.

Do Seojun tapped the table nervously while waiting for the person to arrive.

To figure out what kind of stance to take, and what words to use to persuade the other person.

He kept repeating the unanswerable questions in his head, making it ache.

Right at that moment—

Creak.

As the door opened, a familiar face entered.

It was Han Taeyoon, a TY Entertainment trainee who had participated in <Boy’s Dream>.

Even though he was eliminated at the first ranking announcement, he remained faintly in Seojun’s memory.

Judging by how little presence he had, it was clear he hadn’t received much screen time before being cut.

That’s a common occurrence in survival shows.

Broadcasts aren’t kind enough to divide screentime equally among every contestant.

Still, the blame for that was entirely his to carry.

These situations, where he arbitrarily allocated screen time, determined people’s lives, and at times ignored them…

There were moments when becoming accustomed to it felt wrong, but the truth was, he was slowly growing numb to it.

Do Seojun forced himself to calmly turn to Han Taeyoon.

From his lips came a trembling line.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Then this will be easier.”

Han Taeyoon let out a fishy smile and shrugged his shoulders.

His voice was deeply emotional.

“I’m here to confront you, PD-nim.”

“Okay.”

“All my footage from episode 1 was completely cut. In episode 2, I got a villain edit. That’s the entirety of my screen time on Boy’s Dream.”

“……”

“Let’s say episode 1 is whatever. But why did you do that to me in episode 2?”

It was probably during the first team evaluation.

It was true that Han Taeyoon and his teammates had some disagreements while coordinating opinions, but the broadcast exaggerated it beyond reality.

The reconciliation scene had never aired, and the footage was instead edited to include only awkward interactions from the waiting room… leading to speculation that the bad blood was real.

To make it worse, the conflict had been with a top-ranking trainee.

He didn’t know the full details, but public sentiment had clearly leaned to one side.

As a result, Han Taeyoon hadn’t lasted long and was eliminated.

That was what he resented.

That was the story he had shared—both in the email and now in person.

“Hm.”

PD Do Seojun nodded as he listened to Han Taeyoon.

At times, the younger man couldn’t hold back his emotions and raised his voice, but it wasn’t completely incomprehensible.

It was a matter involving someone’s life.

For Han Taeyoon, Boy’s Dream might have been his final chance.

However—

Do Seojun calmly spoke.

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

“…What?”

“I didn’t have any authority over that.”

At those words, Han Taeyoon furrowed his brows.

A sharp retort immediately followed.

“Oh, so it was the main PD who did everything? And you’re saying you didn’t do anything wrong…?”

“I’m not making excuses—I’m just stating the facts as they are.”

He couldn’t say he did something he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t participate in editing episodes 1 or 2.”

Here’s how the editing process worked.

First, all the camera footage recorded during the first week of Boy’s Dream was reviewed and scenes to be used were selected.

The junior PDs gathered and edited short cuts of these scenes, connecting them together—this was how each individual edit was created.

Then the main PD would review and approve them, going through several rounds of revisions before the final broadcast version was sent out.

If Do Seojun had so much as placed a spoon in that process, it would’ve been his responsibility—but unfortunately, for episodes 1 and 2… he hadn’t been involved even for a moment.

“I joined from episode 3.”

“That’s hilarious.”

That’s just how PDs are.

They ruin people’s lives with villain edits and then excuse themselves, saying it was just part of production.

They’ll do anything to dodge responsibility.

Even if what Seojun was saying was true, the fact remained that his name was listed in the credits for Boy’s Dream.

If someone asked whether he bore absolutely zero moral responsibility, even he probably couldn’t nod in full confidence.

However—

“Does rationalizing it make you feel any better?”

“Yes.”

“Hah… You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m going to use your brother’s name to drag this out, just because my face is already out there.”

The reason Han Taeyoon was asking for money.

The reason he came to Do Seojun instead of the main PD responsible.

It was because he intended to use Stardust’s Do Seohan’s name to his advantage.

“That’s not happening.”

Do Seojun spoke flatly, acknowledging no responsibility at all.

“Instead, name your price. That much, I can do.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep