Main Character of a Dating Reality Show C10

Chapter 10

A “failed idol” hadn’t always been a failure.

When Go Gyeol became the youngest trainee ever accepted by LM Entertainment—one of South Korea’s “Big Three” entertainment agencies—everyone around him spoke of his future with admiration and easy certainty.

“You can become anything you want.”
“LM trainee? You’ve practically debuted already.”
“He’ll be the center of the next-generation idol group.”

Those words had planted pride and dreams in his young heart. Back then, Gyeol too had believed in a shining future—he’d believed he would be the future of K-pop, a global star. He’d believed he was special, that he was destined to become someone who would shine.

And as time went on, his attachment to LM deepened.

“Wow, what a pretty little boy.”
“I’m a trainee at LM!”
“At where?”
“LM Entertainment! You know, the company run by singer Jung Seung-hwan!”

He used to say that proudly to anyone who would listen. People found it adorable—this bright, confident boy chirping about his dreams. They saw him as a hopeful sprout and encouraged him.

Even his only guardian, his older brother, joined in:

“My little Gyeol’s gonna be a famous singer and buy me a house and a car, right?”
“Yeah!”

He skipped school as easily as breathing. While his classmates played soccer, Gyeol stayed holed up in the practice room, singing and dancing until his body ached.

He often had to undergo monthly evaluations alongside trainees ten years older—constantly compared, constantly falling short. He had to grow up too fast.

He learned what it meant to lack, to despair, to rise, and to hope again.

For Gyeol, LM Entertainment wasn’t just a company. It was his entire world.

Then one day—he appeared.

“Gyeol, come say hello.”

It was spring. Gyeol had just turned fifteen.

“This is Shin Joon-oh. He’s your age.”

He was a little taller than Gyeol, his eyes sharply defined, his hair black as midnight—and his gaze even darker.

“Since Gyeol’s your senior, take good care of each other, alright?”

His stance was upright, his gaze unwavering. Even at a glance, you could tell—he was an Alpha.

“Looks like you two might debut together.”

Debut.

After seven years as a trainee, those two syllables made Gyeol’s heart leap every time he heard them.

Debut, together.

The very thought made his pulse race with excitement—and unease.

Standing rigidly, he looked at the newcomer with wary eyes. He didn’t know if that feeling was his Omega instinct bristling, his fear of losing ground, or the first tremor of something far more dangerous.

Or maybe—he’d already foreseen it.

“Nice to meet you, Gyeol.”

Joon-oh closed the distance with an easy confidence and held out his hand. When Gyeol, startled, took it, Joon-oh clasped it firmly and shook.

Up close, he was even taller. His hand was big, warm, and steady.

The presence of Shin Joon-oh hit Gyeol like a quiet, overwhelming tide.

“Let’s get along.”

The moment their hands met, a sharp tingle raced up his arm—so much like the pulse that pounded in his chest whenever he heard that word: debut.

For an instant, Gyeol wanted to pull his hand away. If the company’s director hadn’t been watching, he might have.

“…Yeah. Let’s get along.”

And that was the moment he realized something inevitable:

I’m going to fall for this person.

Post–First Impression Vote Interview: Shin Joon-oh

– Why did you choose that person?
“Exactly what I wrote on the card.”
– What did you write?
“That I missed them.”

His gaze on the camera darkened.

“That I’d been missing you all this time.”

Watch your mouth.

Out of view of the camera, Gyeol mouthed the words silently.

Joon-oh gave no outward reaction—but Gyeol knew he’d understood.
He always did.

They’d once spent enough years together to read each other without speaking.

Waves hissed softly against the shore beside them, rolling in and retreating.

At least the shot would look beautiful, Gyeol thought bitterly. He kept his eyes on the distant horizon, refusing to meet Joon-oh’s gaze.

“How have you been?”

Joon-oh’s tone was casual.

“Fine. You?”

It was a pointless question. Of course he’d been fine.

His group was thriving, his face plastered across every billboard. Just recently, articles had announced his appointment as the global ambassador for luxury brand P.

Anyone in the industry would know. And Gyeol, who still lingered on its fringes, knew better than most.

Still, he asked.

“I’ve been good too.”
“That’s good.”

Silence.

Too stiff. Too awkward. Anyone watching would notice.

Gyeol couldn’t let that happen.

He forced his tone lighter, casual.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here…”
“I missed you.”

Their words collided—his sentence cut clean in half.

The same words. The ones written on his card.

For a moment, his mind went blank. The rest of his sentence evaporated.

Joon-oh took a step closer.

Gyeol finally looked up—and found he couldn’t speak.

You bastard.

“…I missed you, Gyeol.”

You’re the one who left me.

The words clawed at his throat. A thousand sharp retorts surged up inside him, each one demanding to be said.

But there was only one thing he could do.

Act like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeah. I missed you too.”

He smiled lightly, pretending calm while his temples throbbed.

Eight years had changed him. The boyishness was gone—what stood before him was a man. A famous one.

The leader of a wildly successful idol group with fans like waves in an endless sea.

They’d once shared the same sinking ship called Failed Idol. But when it went down, Joon-oh had escaped on a motorboat—and Gyeol had drowned.

He knew how the world saw them.

If he showed even a hint of hostility now, the damage would be his alone.

So he smiled—bright, flawless, and fake.

“It’s nice, though. Thanks to Alpha X Connect, we get to catch up again. Let’s have a fun two weeks, yeah?”

Joon-oh’s gaze lingered on him, deep and unwavering. It felt like a spotlight pressing against his skin.

Play along.

That’s what Gyeol’s eyes said. Don’t make this harder.

Thankfully, Joon-oh seemed to understand.

“Yeah. Let’s have fun. I’m good at that.”
“Right. Fun is your specialty.”

Their talk drifted to harmless old memories.

The conversation flowed smoothly, their smiles practiced and effortless.
Gyeol did his best—acting like he was genuinely glad, like this reunion didn’t burn.

And finally, trying to end it cleanly, he asked the most fitting, harmless question a dating show contestant could ask:

“Anyone you’re interested in?”
“Yeah. One person.”
“Just one? Then you’d better go talk to them before the day’s over—”

“One person.”

Joon-oh’s voice cut through his words.

One step. Then another.
He stopped right in front of Gyeol.

Their eyes met.

“Only one.”

Gyeol’s pulse thudded painfully in his ears.

“It’s you.”

What the hell are you doing, you lunatic.

/(BEST!) Shin Joon-oh & Go Gyeol – SAVE ME Throwback Compilation
“JunGyeol Moments – Rare Finds from Pre-Debut Days”

(Gyeol pushing Joon-oh away.jpg)
(Joon-oh leaning on Gyeol’s shoulder.jpg)
(On-stage eye contact.jpg)
(Old selfie.jpg)

It’s hard to find this kind of mood outside old articles about the “Failed Idol” era.
But these? These are pure gold. They looked so close.

• “Gyeol looked so awkward lol Joon-oh hasn’t changed a bit.”
   ⤷ “There’s a reason only Joon-oh survived.”
   ⤷ “Did Gyeol’s stylist secretly hate him??”
   ⤷ “Nah, Joon-oh’s just on another level.”

• “Photo #2 is nice.”
   ⤷ “Same. There’s a weird tenderness there.”
   ⤷ “They look really close… almost too close.”
   ⤷ “Even in that mess, Gyeol’s smile is so pretty.”

• “They were super close during SAVE ME days.
   Calling them ‘failed idols’ now just hurts They trained together for years.
   Gyeol was at LM for ages, and Joon-oh was his first same-age trainee.”
   ⤷ “Wait, so the group failed and only one made it?”
   ⤷ “+ now they’re reuniting on a dating show ”
   ⤷ “And it’s Alpha X Connect?? This is literally fanfic-level drama.”
   ⤷ “Joon-oh was always the model student type, but he used to dote on Gyeol.
    Gyeol acted all macho but still ended up indulging him lmao. Peak ship.”
   ⤷ “Can someone write a fic about this already omg.”

• “That stage photo… feels like I shouldn’t be looking.”
   ⤷ “Seriously. Feels too intimate.”
   ⤷ “Let’s just pretend we didn’t see it.”

• “Ugh! Why would they cast ex-bandmates on the same dating show? That’s so manipulative!”
   ⤷ “Wait—is that real?”
   ⤷ “Obviously not… right?? ”

• “You know there was a rumor… about how Gyeol once collapsed trying to match Joon-oh’s practice hours.
   He literally carried him to the hospital back then.”
   ⤷ “What, not the nurse’s office??”
   ⤷ “LMAO just call 119, man.”
   ⤷ “LM’s near a hospital though, and they were just kids…”
   ⤷ “No way that’s real.”
   ⤷ “Shh. Let’s just… not talk about it.”

• “The selfie’s pixelated beyond saving ”
   ⤷ “Yeah, but they were literal babies there ”

• “They look so happy together. How did the group even fail? So sad.”
   ⤷ “Right?? God, the nostalgia hits hard.”
   ⤷ “Honestly, I hate the word ‘failed idol.’ Wish people would stop saying it.”

• “Hmm… I guess not many people know about that.”
   ⤷ “???”
   ⤷ “??????”
   ⤷ “What are you talking about?”
   ⤷ “HELLO??”
   ⤷ “Say it!! Don’t just disappear!!”

…

• “Sorry, I’m the one who commented earlier. Chicken delivery came Anyway—
   Yeah. Shin Joon-oh and Go Gyeol… they really dated.”