Main Character of a Dating Reality Show C14

Chapter 14

From the very beginning, something was off.

No matter how globally popular it was, Al×O Connect was, at its core, just a dating program.
The fact that someone as monumental as Sung Yohan had been hovering around the island from Day One—murmuring about being a co–PD or a panelist—was deeply unnatural.

The two catfish cards delivered to Gyeol only reinforced that sense of wrongness.
An island isolated from the mainland—there was no way to grasp the program’s internal flow unless one was physically present here.
Daily affinity voting alone proved that the catfish had been on the island since the very first day.

The cast of Al×O Connect Season 10 consisted entirely of celebrities.
Among everyone gathered on the island—staff included—there was only one remaining figure of undeniable star power.

Sung Yohan.

“Hello. I’m actor Sung Yohan.”

A catfish existed to overturn the board.

Because they entered the island later than everyone else, they had to overwhelm the existing cast—shaking their counterpart traits to the core.

Sung Yohan was perfectly suited to the role.

‘Why didn’t I realize it sooner?’

Well—someone of Sung Yohan’s stature claiming to be a co–PD or panelist was already strange enough. Who would ever imagine he’d actually join the show as a contestant? His appearance fee alone would be astronomical.

“I’ll be participating in Al×O Connect Season 10. I look forward to working with you all.”

With a smile, Sung Yohan tilted his chin slightly upward.

“Is this—really—actually happening right now?”
“Wow… this is insane. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

The omegas’ eyes sparkled with excitement. It was an entirely understandable reaction. If Gyeol had still been as naïve as he once was, he would have reacted the same way.

Back when he hadn’t yet learned what lurked beneath that dazzling face and the gentle wrapping it came in.

“…Ahhh, what do I do? I think I’m going to lose.”
“Don’t say weak things already, King Potato! You can’t start like that.”
“I told you not to call me King Potato…!”

Meanwhile, tension thickened among the alphas.

Tommy, the youngest, was bright red as he displayed his honest reaction. The other alphas, however, wore expressions that mixed shock with disorientation.

“So… from now on, we’re supposed to play a game with Sung Yohan?”

As Gyeol absentmindedly glanced at the alphas, his eyes met Shin Jun-oh’s. Perhaps because of the sunlight, Jun-oh slightly furrowed his brows as he alternated his gaze between Gyeol and Sung Yohan.

Feeling as though something might be exposed, Gyeol quickly looked away.

Shin Jun-oh was perceptive—especially when it came to Gyeol. More than anyone else, even more than the older brother who had once been his only family, Jun-oh had known Gyeol better than anyone.

“I’m glad to see everyone welcoming me.”

This was like being surrounded by time bombs on all sides.

“Then what about the co–PD and panelist roles?”
“That was just a smokescreen. I wanted to observe everyone naturally.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. I knew something felt off.”
“Right? When they said Sung Yohan was suddenly a PD!”

Unlike the other omegas, Gyeol couldn’t bring himself to act openly excited. Instead, he chose to pretend he was simply too shocked to process it. Since both catfish cards had come to him, such a reaction wasn’t particularly strange.

But why had Sung Yohan sent him those cards?

The fact that Sung Yohan had voted for Gyeol—twice—would undoubtedly be broadcast.

Among an already star-studded cast, Sung Yohan commanded the greatest attention. From the perspective of Gyeol’s goal—to become the central figure of Season 10—being chosen by Sung Yohan was overwhelmingly advantageous.

The problem was that Sung Yohan was not ignorant of that fact.

Why would someone who seemed eager to devour Gyeol whole draw him such a favorable picture?

‘What are you plotting?’

A faint sheen of sweat formed in his palm. Gyeol discreetly clenched his fist, trying to calm his racing heart.

‘Damn it. Did I come on a dating show—or a damn brain game?’

Who comes on a dating program and has to think this hard?

• The Alpha Death Save Match will now begin.
• The rules are simple.
• Omegas will drift in the sea. Alphas will start from the shore, enter the water, and rescue them.
• Only one alpha—the first to rescue their omega—will win the Ivory Mansion Date Ticket.

The omegas secretly drew balls, one per person. Each ball bore the image of an animal: rabbit, puppy… Gyeol drew a unicorn.

Immediately afterward, Gyeol was placed atop a unicorn-shaped float and sent out into the sea.

“…I—I’m scared.”

The reaction escaped him genuinely. Each time the waves surged, the float rose and fell dramatically. Fear crept in.

This was when he fully understood why the staff had asked during the pre-meeting whether he was comfortable entering the water.

Clinging tightly to the unicorn’s neck, Gyeol cautiously looked around.

Rescue staff were waiting in areas outside the camera’s reach.

The other omegas, spaced out on their own floats, appeared calm. Yoon I-soo, riding a puppy float, noticed Gyeol’s gaze and even waved.

Terrified, Gyeol forced an awkward smile and waved back.

‘I can’t swim.’

He carefully looked down into the water. It was clear enough to see through—but the bottom was nowhere in sight.

That meant it was deep. Too deep.

‘Hiiik.’

If I fall in, I’ll die. I’ll die.

To make matters worse, there was no guarantee which alpha would come for him. According to the rules, they too would draw balls at random.

‘Please. Anyone. I don’t care who draws the unicorn—just hurry and come get me. Please.’

No—except Sung Yohan.

On second thought, Shin Jun-oh too.

At that moment, a large wave surged.

“……!”

Flattening himself against the float, Gyeol barely avoided being thrown into the water.

“Haah… huff…”

His breathing came out ragged. What kind of insane game design was this? This wasn’t okay.

• Bang—!

The starting signal fired. The alphas lined up on the shore sprinted forward all at once.

‘Choi Seon. Please let it be Choi Seon.’

With the skill of a national swimmer, first place might as well be handed to him.

Squinting, Gyeol searched desperately for the alpha racing toward him. But they were too far away—reduced to tiny dots, impossible to distinguish.

“…Who is it?”

In the next instant, one person dove into the sea first.

Others followed.

Running and swimming—especially in the open sea—were entirely different arenas. Rankings flipped rapidly. And the ones surging ahead at overwhelming speed were… two people.

But something was strange. Both were heading straight for Gyeol.

“Uh…?”

The answer came quickly.

With the catfish added, there were five alphas—but still only four omegas. There must have been two unicorn balls among the alphas.

‘Who is it?’

Biting his lip, Gyeol stared intently.

Then one of them pulled ahead.

A long, streamlined body. Hands slicing cleanly through the water. Flawless technique.

‘It’s Choi Seon…!’

There was no mistaking it.

The year Choi Seon swept Olympic gold medals—every citizen of Korea had seen his races countless times. Gyeol was no exception. Someone who swam like that felt unreal. For someone who feared water and couldn’t swim, Seon had always seemed especially magnificent.

On land, Choi Seon resembled a big dog. But in the water, he was a shark—cutting through the waves without hesitation.

Gyeol’s chest fluttered. Whether it was fear or relief at seeing Seon coming to save him, he couldn’t tell.

The distance was now about fifty meters.

Twisting the unicorn’s neck anxiously, Gyeol cheered him on in his heart.

‘Hurry. Hurry. Please save me.’

But then—Gyeol could no longer see his rescuer.

It happened in an instant.

A massive wave reared up like a gaping maw and swallowed the unicorn float whole.

“——!”

Seawater flipped Gyeol over. Even as he was swept away, he clung desperately to the unicorn’s neck.

As expected, the water beneath him was impossibly deep. Nothing touched his feet.

Overwhelming terror crushed down on him.

Cough. Unprepared, he swallowed a mouthful of water and began thrashing wildly.

But still gripping the unicorn’s neck, he couldn’t break the surface. The float had completely overturned.

Disoriented, his head slammed repeatedly against the underside of the float.

Cough. Cough.

‘Am I… dying like this?’

“Dad!”

Yul’s face—waiting for him—flashed vividly before his eyes.

I don’t want to die like this.
I didn’t come on a dating program just to die.

As his airway tightened, his brain went blank, consciousness fading—Gyeol accepted the end that had come too soon.

Yul…
Dad is sorry.

His awareness flickered—then collapsed into darkness.

At that moment, someone wrapped an arm around Gyeol’s waist, yanking him upward as if hooking him from the depths.