FROM THUG TO IDOL: TRANSMIGRATING TO A SURVIVAL SHOW - Season 1 Episode 90

“I love you, leave, my heart believes,

A paradox of tangled leaves,

With every word, I push you away,

Hoping you’ll choose to stay.”

June’s voice emerged like a whisper, tender yet powerful. It carried the weight of sorrow and longing, and the crowd watched with awe as his heartfelt delivery seemed to pierce through the very soul of the song.

As the song’s chorus approached, their voices intertwined in a harmonious blend that sent shivers down the audience’s spine.

“I love you, leave; I don’t love you, don’t leave.

My mouth spewed lies of make-believe.

Promises unravel, a fragile game we play,

I don’t love you, don’t leave, don’t let this slip away.”

Jisung and Zeth stepped forward, their movements synchronized as they danced at the center of the stage. Their mirrored choreography created a captivating visual symphony that held the audience spellbound.

The transition to the second verse was seamless, and the spotlight shifted to Lin Zhi. Zeth once again passed him the white rose, and he looked at it with deep sadness.

“Unspoken words, a silent ache,

A love unclaimed, a heart at stake,”

His voice, infused with a rich depth of feeling, painted a vivid picture of heartache. The remaining members followed suit, each delivering their lines with an intensity that mirrored the emotions embedded in the lyrics. Their collective performance was a testament to their dedication and talent, drawing the audience even deeper into the story they were telling.

“In the spaces between our stolen glances,

Lies the truth of missed chances.”

The mentors and artists watched in amazement, their heats thumping to the subtle percussion sound.

Then, Hwan let out a small gasp.

This version…were they using the original?

“I love you, leave, a silent plea,

Afraid to show the real me,

I held you back, kept feelings at bay,

Now we’re adrift, worlds away.”

The chorus once again approached, and the sound of multiple string instruments resonated in the studio, opening the hearts of the watchers.

“I love you, leave; I don’t love you, don’t leave,

In this paradox, we’re meant to grieve,

A love once pure is now lost in the night,

Two souls forever apart from the light.”

Hwan felt something tug on his heartstrings. Indeed, they were using the original instrumental.

The fact that someone was aware of the version already softened his heart. This song was very special to him as a young artist. It was the one that boosted him to stardom.

And then, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived – the bridge. The music swelled, and the LED background changed, casting an ethereal glow over the performers. June stepped forward, his presence commanding the stage as he prepared to deliver the most emotionally charged part of the song.

The music stopped, and everyone seemed to hold their breaths as June sang the first lines.

“Oh, the regrets that haunt my soul,

The pain of letting you go…”

Akira gasped softly as he watched his friend on screen.

“Crazy,” he whispered. “He’s too good.”

His every word seemed to hang in the air, heavy with the weight of the emotions he poured into the lyrics. The LED background shifted once more, revealing a cascade of falling white petals, symbolizing the release of pent-up emotions and the fleeting nature of the moment.

And then, as if drawn into a spell, everyone’s attention heightened as June reached the last line of the bridge. With a gentle yet heartbreaking twist, he changes the final lyric.

“I lied, I’m sorry. I pushed you away.

I love you, don’t leave; that’s what I really wanted to say.”

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I don’t love you, leave. Now I’m all alone in the price I pay – those were the original words, but June thought it would be better to say what he truly wanted to.

Hwan pursed his lips together.

He was thankful he was wearing sunglasses because, at that moment, he felt tears well up in his eyes.

However, he wasn’t alone. Jia and Bora now held hands as they cried silently. The profound impact of the subtle alteration struck at the core of their hearts.

The performance continued onto the last chorus, with Yuri leading the harmony. His soaring high notes pierced the air and Lin Zhi’s husky voice accentuating the pain of the song.

“I love you, leave; I don’t love you, don’t leave,

Our love’s a secret we chose to deceive,

With every smile, a part of me died,

Now we’re living in a love denied.”

The chorus served as a crescendo of emotion, a heartrending culmination of the journey the team had taken the audience on. And then, as the final notes of the song hung in the air, the studio seemed to hold its breath. The audience was silent for a moment, the weight of the performance still lingering in the space.

The studio was filled with emotion, yet it still wasn’t over.

June stood at the center for the outro of the song.

The other members of the team stood still, their gazes fixed on June.

All other lights were turned off, and only the stage was illuminated.

As June uttered the final words, a subtle change occurred on the LED background – a shadow of a girl standing with someone else.

“I love you, don’t leave; Please don’t leave

Those were the words I wanted you to receive.”

The bittersweet reality of the situation was reflected in the screen, a visual representation of the girl’s happiness with another, even as June remained in the shadows of her life.

June’s smile remained genuine and filled with an amalgamation of sadness and contentment. He leaned against the coffin, his gaze directed downwards, seemingly lost in thoughts that stretched beyond the stage. And then, as the camera zoomed in, the truth was revealed – the coffin was a mirror. The gasps from the audience resonated throughout the studio, the realization that they had been drawn into a narrative twist leaving them stunned.

Hyerin covered her mouth to stifle a sob. She had already watched the stage, but this plot twist wasn’t seen on screen a while ago.

“But I see that you’re happier, though I want you to stay

But now, I’ll smile while watching you from far away.”

The silence in the studio was profound, the revelation sinking in as June’s melancholic performance took on an entirely new layer of meaning. His portrayal of longing and selflessness, of urging the girl he loved to move on, despite his own lingering feelings, painted a heartbreaking picture of sacrifice and love beyond the grave.

As the final notes lingered in the air, June’s actions continued to captivate the audience. He reached for the white rose that had been a recurring motif, a symbol of their love, and gently placed it on top of the coffin. And then, the moment everyone had been waiting for – June’s gaze lifted, his eyes meeting the camera’s lens.

In that instant, a single tear fell from June’s eye, glistening in the stage lights.