I Accidentally Became A Superstar - Chapter 397 397: Unnaturally Good

The last performance felt like a door slowly shutting. Their voices rose together in the supposed song of reconciliation that the script demanded, but instead of triumph, it carried with it resignation.

The melody wasn’t bright nor hopeful—it was weary, grounded in a strange kind of peace that only came from accepting defeat.

And yet, it was beautiful.

No more struggling, no more clawing at each other, no more competing to outshine.

The audience leaned in.

What was supposed to be reconciliation between brothers on stage sounded instead like reconciliation between weary warriors who had battled too long, finally laying down their swords.

When the final note rang out, the audience burst into applause.

But more than that, Janie J. herself rose from her seat.

A standing ovation.

The crew in the wings gasped. Even the musical experts, those who had remained cool and composed through every other performance, were on their feet. The sound of clapping roared against the walls, filling every corner of the hall.

“That was… amazing!” Janie J’s voice cut across the thunder. She clapped harder. “You hated each other so much!”

Zeno pursed his lips. Well, that wasn’t that hard to do.

“You sold it so well!” she continued.

To be fair, they weren’t selling it. They just hated each other.

Still, his groupmates froze, not expecting such compliments to come from her after their initial interaction.

“I’ll admit it,” Janie J went on, her eyes scanning across their faces. “When I first met you, I was disappointed. I didn’t bother coming back because I thought you weren’t worth the effort. But you proved me wrong. I’m not afraid to admit that.”

Her words seemed to strike the team deeper than the applause itself.

“Kudos to the team,” she finished, with a proud nod.

Zeno’s teammates exchanged glances.

The anger and bitterness dissipated, if only a little, washed away by the simple validation of having been acknowledged for what they had accomplished.

And then another voice spoke.

“Your voice.”

Heads turned. It was a director—someone who had stayed silent the entire time. His name, whispered in the audience, was Miles Cross, known for his sharp tongue and his absolute refusal to give empty compliments.

For the first time tonight, he stood.

“Your voice,” Ethan repeated, his gaze locking directly on Zeno.

“That isn’t just the voice of a screen actor. If you have time, I would like to work with you.”

The room erupted.

“Whoa,” Risa muttered under her breath.

Shin chuckled to himself. “Well, Zeno was really good. I’ll give him that.”

The experts who had seen countless auditions and countless actors before were stunned—Miles Cross had never stood for anyone, let alone extended an invitation this openly.

Zeno, however, only pressed his lips together. A faint twitch of amusement flickered across his face. The downside to being good was that everyone wanted you. He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he bowed his head in response.

Bacon PD smirked.

“You did my story well,” he said. “I can tell how you all fulfilled your roles and how each of you wanted to do your best.”

He turned then, his eyes landing on Oska.

“Oska,” Bacon said, his voice warm. “Good job.”

Oska turned to his dad with slightly wide eyes.

He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear them until that very moment. His chest tightened, feeling a sting behind his eyes, and he ducked his head quickly before anyone could see.

He bowed stiffly in response.

Zeno shook his head at him. The idiot actually wanted to cry.

With the end of those comments, they were asked to remain on stage.

The rest of the teams filed back into the auditorium. Zeno and his teammates stayed rooted to their spots, the lights still catching on their sweat-slicked faces.

It was now time for the announcement of the winners.

For this mission, only the first and last place mattered. The first-place team will get a benefit, and the last-place team will be eliminated without mercy.

Zeno was confident they weren’t going home. They might not win, but they weren’t going home either.

So, as Gene PD geared to announce the first-place team, he was already thinking about what he would eat after this tiring day. Week, actually. He needed a root crop feast.

“The first-place team goes to the ‘Hate’ Team!” Gene PD announced, and Zeno’s thoughts halted.

Well.

They actually won.

A spark of rejoicing rippled through his team. Oska felt compelled to give Zeno a hug.

Oh no.

That wasn’t deliberate!

Billy and Daniel, too, wanted to celebrate the win, but in the end, held themselves back.

They were not going to be charmed by Zeno nor thank him!

***

The musical mission had finally ended.

Jonas Kim hadn’t said much of anything since the beginning of the day.

Bacon PD noticed. He turned to Jonas, brows drawing together in a small frown. “Are you alright, young man?”

Jonas turned to him then nodded, his expression carefully schooled into one of quiet composure.

“Don’t frown too much. You’ll lose your good looks,” Bacon PD remarked dryly, but his gaze softened, almost fatherly. “Are you worried about your dad?”

Jonas shook his head once. His lips quirked faintly upward to brush the thought aside, but his eyes didn’t follow.

Bacon PD exhaled a long sigh, shoulders shifting. His voice dropped lower as he placed a hand over Jonas’ shoulder. “My brother is a bad seed. He’s done way too many evil things. He won’t die that soon, don’t worry.”

That earned him a polite smile. Jonas bowed faintly at the waist, that practiced tilt of gratitude that he’d perfected in boardrooms and shareholder meetings. “Thank you, Uncle,” he murmured.

It should have been the end of the exchange. But Jonas’ hand lingered by his side, clenching once before he relaxed it.

When he finally moved toward his car, his face shifted again. He frowned, but not for the reason Bacon PD imagined.

It wasn’t because of worry. Not even close.

In truth, Jonas Kim wanted his father dead.

The thought came with no hesitation or shame. If anything, it brought a sickening calm.

That old man—still the largest shareholder, still holding the balance of power in his brittle, stubborn hands—refused to let go. Jonas might be the CEO of Daebak and might sit in the highest chair in the building, but he wasn’t the one truly in control. As long as his father still drew breath, Jonas was nothing more than a stand-in, a puppet propped up for appearances.

That sick, lingering old man who just wouldn’t die.

Jonas’s jaw tightened. Every time he visited his mansion with a built-in “hospital,” it took everything in him not to rip the tubes out himself. He hated the way the nurses looked at him with pitiful eyes. He hated the way his father’s eyes, clouded but still too knowing, seemed to mock him with every shallow breath.

He visited anyway.

Even if he was the only son, the only heir, inheritance wasn’t a matter of assumption. It was a matter of paperwork, of signatures, of appearances. He needed to make sure nothing slipped, that no one else dared to insert themselves between him and what was rightfully his. Until the old man’s heart stopped, Jonas was forced to wait.

The very thought made his stomach twist with loathing.

By the time he reached his car, his expression had returned to something blank. His assistant was already waiting. Byun moved to open the door and bowed slightly. “Home, sir?”

Jonas slid into the backseat, gaze falling absently out the window. “Mmmh.”

The car eased forward, headlights cutting through the night. But Jonas’s attention wasn’t on the road. His eyes lingered on the bright screens replaying moments of the competition, the highlight reels playing outside shops, and in the corner of the plaza.

The more he watched, the more something clawed at him.

Zeno Han.

There was something about him. Something that unsettled him the longer he looked.

He replayed it in his mind—his moments on stage. The others had sung well and carried themselves like trained performers. But Zeno… Zeno had been too good. Unnaturally good.

Jonas tapped his fingers lightly against his knee.

He remembered how Assistant Byun had shown him at the very beginning of the year, recommending that he sign him into the company.

Back then, Zeno was unpolished and rough around the edges. He barely had any potential worth noting, just a strange spark that didn’t quite fit. Jonas had dismissed him at the time, unconcerned.

Now, Zeno stood there as though he were something else.

Jonas’s frown deepened. This wasn’t talent. At least, not only talent. He knew what human ability looked like, its limits and ceilings. This wasn’t that. Zeno had stepped outside the boundaries of ordinary flesh and will.

A human wouldn’t be able to do that.

Jonas leaned back, the leather seat creaking softly beneath him.

His mind was already circling.

Beside him, Assistant Byun drove quietly.

“On another note,” Jonas said suddenly.

Byun slowed just a fraction. “Sir?”

“Go to the office.” Jonas’s gaze never left the window. “We need to watch something.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com