Chapter 862: Answer (15)

An excessive level of ceremonial treatment, prepared once again—just like at PBS.

And Cold’s reaction to it was—

“Heheheh...!”

He was practically trembling, his face filled with a radiant smile.

I leaned toward the managers and whispered with a grin.

“Looks like Cold really loves this kind of thing.”

“......”

“Why? What is it, hyung?”

“Uh... nothing.”

Manager Wonseok looked like he had a lot to say, but shook his head.

The moment we stepped out of the car, background music started playing.

A fanfare rang out as a bodyguard in sunglasses guided us.

“This way, please.”

Walking along the soft red carpet, we reached the end where producers were waiting.

“Hello. I’m Lee Bongcheol, the CP of K-Net’s Next Mission. Haha.”

“I’m PD Yoo Hyunjong.”

They politely handed over business cards and bouquets, and Cold’s lips twitched again.

Words of welcome were exchanged back and forth.

“Come, come. This way.”

The CP personally opened the door and led us in.

He spoke excitedly.

“To have not just anyone, but the two of you appear—this is incredible! Our program is already doing well, but now it’ll shoot up like a rocket!”

“Thank you.”

“The head of production will be coming later as well.”

At a broadcasting station, ratings are everything.

Naturally, they treated anyone who could boost ratings with overwhelming kindness.

Cold Brown spoke up.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. But could we watch the rehearsal first?”

After hearing the interpreter, the CP nodded repeatedly.

“Ah! Yes, of course!”

At Cold’s request to watch the rehearsal anonymously, they guided us to a separate area.

The second floor of the studio.

From above, surrounded by lighting rigs and metal frameworks, we looked down at the stage below.

“Wow...”

It was high enough that Biju probably wouldn’t dare come up.

Below us, a flashy set spread out.

“This is our main studio for Next Mission,” the PD explained. “It’s directly connected to the contestants’ dorms.”

“It’s bigger than I expected.”

“Yes, during live broadcasts we can hold hundreds of audience members.”

Cold and I looked around.

A large program logo loomed over a set filled with that signature survival-show tension.

Recently, it had become one of the most popular survival programs.

Even a 1.5% rating was considered a hit on K-Net, and this show had already surpassed 2%.

The concept was a death game.

Contestants held heart cards representing their lives. Once they ran out, they were eliminated—“dead.”

They battled through rap to steal each other’s cards.

A structure where yesterday’s enemy becomes today’s ally, and vice versa.

—Survive by any means necessary.

True to that motto, the editing was ruthless.

Smirks during performances.

Cutaway interviews calling someone “trash.”

“Seeing them in person, they’re all really young,” Cold Brown remarked.

I looked down.

Contestants with youthful faces.

Late teens to late twenties.

This program specifically targeted young amateurs.

High school students.

College students.

Job seekers.

Officially, it was about “injecting new blood into the hip-hop scene.”

But everyone knew the real intention.

—Take young people, isolate them, and throw them into extreme competition for entertainment.

And it worked.

Unlike last year’s Drop the Beat, which featured established underground rappers playing it safe, this show had desperate participants fighting to survive.

That desperation made it compelling.

It was even filmed in isolation—no outside contact allowed.

“So that means no one knows about us yet,” Cold said. “The recordings started a month ago.”

“Exactly.”

“They’ll be shocked when they see us.”

That’s right.

The contestants had no idea about Answer.

First I would appear.

Then Cold.

And the room would explode.

“Hehehe...”

“Hehe...”

We both laughed quietly.

The staff chuckled along awkwardly.

After they left, leaving behind a single assistant director, we continued watching the rehearsal.

Today’s theme: cypher battle.

Groups of four amateur rappers stood below.

They looked slightly awkward in their styled outfits and makeup.

“Rehearsal will begin.”

As we leaned over the railing, the interpreter and translator worked busily.

Lyrics were translated. Context explained.

Cold smiled.

“It’s definitely harder with the language difference. Sunny, can you explain this part? What does ‘hell subway’ mean?”

“Oh, that? It means an extremely crowded subway.”

I explained the slang and context.

He nodded thoughtfully.

His manager spoke.

“Cold, you don’t have to go that deep. Just grasp the general meaning...”

“No,” Cold said, waving him off. “They’re all my juniors. I should listen properly. They may never get another chance to perform for me.”

“...Right.”

“When you’re unknown, having a senior rapper listen to you is a rare opportunity. This could be life-changing for them.”

Then he added with a grin,

“And soon, posters of me will be on their walls. They’ll respect me for life.”

His manager scratched his cheek awkwardly.

Cold nodded along to the performances.

His expressions changed constantly.

Eyes closed at good parts.

Typing notes when something felt off.

At one point, we made eye contact and burst into quiet laughter.

“Excuse me.”

The assistant director approached.

“The first rehearsal has ended. The judges have arrived.”

“Ah, okay.”

I turned to Cold.

“The judges are here. Want to go meet them?”

“Sure.”

“Haa... haa...”

Inside the large waiting room, about eight rappers sat on sofas, breathing deeply.

‘Cold Brown...!’

A legendary rapper.

A leader of East Coast hip-hop.

A global pop icon of the 2010s.

Their hearts pounded like they were about to meet Santa Claus.

“Hey, Donso.”

“Don’t call me that, hyung.”

Cash Cow replied flatly.

“You met him yesterday, right? What was he like?”

“He’s just...”

“Just?”

“Just... light itself.”

The others tilted their heads.

Meanwhile—

“...I’m so nervous.”

Machine Gun muttered, fidgeting with his ring.

“What about you, hyung?”

“Hm?”

“You’re not nervous?”

“I’m going to stick next to Wooju and talk to him.”

Haitian, the eldest judge, answered calmly.

“Come to think of it, you’re close with NewBlack, right?” Silly asked.

“I’m close with Junghyun. We worked on an album together.”

“Lucky. Can you introduce me to Wooju too?”

At that, everyone leaned forward eagerly.

“Hyung, introduce me too.”

“If I can’t become a chart dominator, I’ll become a subordinate of one.”

Haitian chuckled.

‘Not easy. He’s very selective.’

Then—

Knock knock.

The door opened.

Light spilled in.

‘Jesus.’

‘That’s really Cold Brown...’

Cold walked in.

“Hey!”

Everyone stood up instantly.

Applause broke out without them realizing it.

Cold smiled in satisfaction.

‘Yes. This is the feeling.’

His eyes gleamed.

‘Let’s build a Cold Brown faction in Korea...’

While he took photos and networked, attention shifted to Wooju.

“Wooju.”

Machine Gun formed a heart with his hands.

“Nice to meet you. I love you.”

“Haha!”

“I’ve been listening to Answer. It’s incredible...”

To them, NewBlack was like celebrities.

Even beyond idols.

‘A composing monster...’

‘Don’t fall for his face... no, he’s too handsome...’

Wooju smiled warmly.

“Senior Haitian, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

His impression was overwhelmingly good.

Kind.

Gentle.

“Can I get an autograph for my father?”

“Of course.”

“Can I get a short video message for my nephew?”

“I’ll do it in rap.”

Phones came out instantly.

“And Junghyun asked me to get your contact information.”

“Really?!”

“He said he’d like to work together someday.”

The rappers’ mouths dropped open.

“Unbelievable.”

Then Wooju hesitated.

“And... if it’s not too much, your address as well...” ℴ

“...Why?”

“Junghyun wants to send gifts.”

Steam practically shot out of their heads.

“What kind of gift?”

“Potatoes from Goesan.”

“....”

“....”

“Spring potatoes are delicious.”

“...Right...”

Their impression of Junghyun became... unique.

Then Wooju turned.

“Senior Rito.”

Rito smiled.

“What is it?”

“Your outfit looks amazing. Where did you buy it?”

“...!”

The room burst into laughter.

Wooju smiled gently.

“...Unfortunately, my feelings are hurt now.”

More laughter.

He was someone you couldn’t help but want to be close to.

While Cold and the judges were mingling, I walked around the studio holding gift bags.

It was at K-Net’s request.

“For MyTube content.”

“Of course.”

I showed the camera the package.

“These are cookies baked by Biju. Since recording takes energy, I wanted to surprise the contestants...”

Footsteps approached.

I quickly sat in one of the chairs.

The first cypher team entered.

They froze.

“...?”

“...?”

I waved.

“Hello. I’m Wooju, today’s special judge. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello!”

Then—

A gaze lingered.

Bang Yochan.

Same age as me.

Talented. Confident.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“That’s our seat.”

“Is it?”

I stood up, smiling.

“I’ve been watching the show. You’re really good.”

“I know.”

That attitude.

I’d seen it before.

I smiled gently.

“...What is this one about?”