My Life as a CEO of an Entertainment Company Chapter 4: The Start (pt.3)

Everything was going fine and dandy… until all hell broke loose.

One second Group Two was posing for their fairy shots — cute, sparkly, living their best trainee life — and the next second, August was face-down on the stage in front of millions.

He didn't wobble.

He didn't stumble.

He straight up collapsed.

The broadcast cut instantly, slamming into comrcials like soone punched the panic button.

"The heck?!" Foca yelled, shooting up from his seat so fast Luca flinched.

"What the actual fuck just happened?" Luca gasped, eyes blown wide like a deer in head lights.

And the live chat feed? Absolute ss.

BiasAugust: helppppp!! What the hell just happened 😭😭😭

minisungirlie: I'm shaking. WHAT IS GOING ON RN

Daddycon: bahahahaha this fucking show is hella cooked

multistan4life: omg the fandoms are already fighting in the quote RTs

softclouds: I hope he's okay… soone give updates please 😢

gaStarmie: I'm watching live at the venue and it's ssy af. dic just carried August off stage. I'll update y'all when I can.

charlie_xoxo: HELLOOOOO???? IS HE OKAY OR WHAT???

geniusXilliterate: what do you AN is he okay??? He just got DRAGGED OFF STAGE by DICS. READ????

"Everyone's losing their shit in the chat," Luca said, staring at the feed as it exploded at the speed of light.

"Rightfully so," Foca muttered, fingers flying over his tablet. "Holy… it's been, what, thirty seconds? And it's already hitting headlines."

Sure enough, the mont he typed the show's na into Woodle, article after article popped up like mushrooms. And the comnt sections? An ocean of rage.

Most people were blaming the show imdiately — accusing the production team of pushing August so hard that he collapsed on live television. The outrage was so loud Foca swore he could feel the heat off the screen.

After the comrcials ended, the cara cut straight to the host. Her expression was tight, somber — the kind of face you wear when producers are screaming in your earpiece.

"August has already been rushed to the hospital for imdiate treatnt," she announced gently. "We will update everyone on his condition as soon as possible. We are deeply saddened by what has transpired… but the show must go on."

And just like that, the broadcast continued.

"Wow… they're really just—moving on?" Luca said, voice dipped in disappointnt.

"They have to." Foca let out a heavy sigh. "You know how it is in this industry. Rember when you got hella sick during the winter showcase finale?"

"Ah, yes…" Luca rubbed his temple dramatically. "The show must go on. Unfortunately."

Despite the chaos online, the production tried patching the mood back together with emotional bandaids. Netizens were still pissed, but so were trying to be hopeful. And even though the vibes had crashed into the floor, the show did manage to claw back a little sentintality.

The family-ssage segnt hit everyone right in the tear ducts — parents crying, kids crying, audience crying, Luca pretending not to cry and failing miserably.

Then ca the big reveal: the number of debut mbers… and the official group na.

The internet imdiately caught fire.

Peachtree: hmmm… idk babes, E-Den is kinda cute?? Like boygroup-coded 😍

Imabottom: Love the na!! But 8 mbers??? In THIS economy???? be ffr.

Realist*145#: No cuz they right. 8 is wild. Should've been less tbh.

snarkySushi: sorry but E-Den sounds like a skincare brand 💀

ChaoticTangerine: plot twist: the group is actually sponsored by moisturizer

KangSeoYulsNoona: SEOOOO-YUL-AAAHHH PLEASE DEBUT I'M BEGGING 😭🙏🔥

"What do you think about the number of debuting mbers?" Luca asked, eyes still glued to the rolling comnts.

"It has pros and cons. I don't really care that much." Foca shrugged. "I an… the more spots they open, the better the chances for the trainees, right?"

"Huh. Interesting take," Luca humd. "I'm just shocked the number's smaller than expected."

"How many did you think they'd pick?" Foca asked, turning toward him.

"I guessed like… nine to twelve? Maximum."

"Twelve?!" Foca blinked, horrified. "Isn't that too damn big?"

"I always forget you're an idol-industry baby." Luca shook his head like a disappointed ntor. "Twelve isn't even close to the biggest. There's a company that debuts groups with freaking forty-eight mbers."

Foca stared at him in pure disbelief — mouth open, soul leaving his body — while Luca just laughed at his best friend's existential crisis.

And with that… the mont everyone had been holding their breath for finally arrived.

The announcent of the debuting mbers.

The remaining nineteen trainees stood on the opposite stage, shoulder to shoulder, all of them stiff as boards. You could practically see the nerves crawling under their skin — clenched fists, trembling lips, stiff posture, eyes flickering toward the audience like prey sensing predators.

But as the cara swept across the line of contestants, it beca painfully clear:

One spot in the lineup was still empty.

August was nowhere to be found.

The murmurs in the venue swelled. Netizens spamd the chat. Even Luca leaned forward like an owl trying to get a better look.

Then, suddenly —

A man in a perfectly pressed charcoal suit walked onto the main stage, the host standing beside him like she'd just been handed a live grenade.

His expression was somber, yes… but there was a kind of corporate coldness behind his eyes.

That specific "I am here to ruin your day, legally" energy.

The audience felt it.

The chat felt it.

They did not like it.

corporateSlave: his aura is giving… my CEO during quarterly reviews 😭😭😭

BlackCompany: WHY IS MY BOSS HAUNTING IN MY COMFORT SHOW

augustsunflower: sir plz smile we are SCARED

stanPrettyBoys: if he says what i THINK he's gonna say… i'm rioting

The man lifted the microphone.

Even the lights seed to dim a little.

"First and foremost," he began, voice disturbingly calm, "we would like to express our utmost gratitude for the overwhelming support you have shown The Genesis Project."

The polite tone was already sending dread up everyone's spines.

"With that being said… due to the severity of the situation, and under the advice of his doctor, we are deeply saddened to announce that trainee August has withdrawn from the competition."

A gasp tore through the venue.

Soone scread.

Soone else shouted "YOU'RE LYING!" like they were at a funeral.

The live chat feed went absolutely feral.

But the man continued, unaffected — like he was reading weather updates.

"We ask that you send him your positive thoughts and prayers. We also ask for your full support for the remaining trainees, as so of them will be taking the next step toward their dreams."

A slight bow.

A small nod.

And he walked offstage.

Just like that.

Like he hadn't just nuked the emotional stability of an entire fandom.

For a long, eerie mont, the venue was dead silent.

The live chat froze — literally frozen on screen — like the whole server glitched from collective grief.

And then the storm hit.

cryingInBirkin: NO NO NO NO NO AUGUST CO BACK 😭😭😭

biasgladiator: one less competition for my bias LET'S GOOOOOO (don't cancel pls)

sunDrop: THIS IS BULLSHIT HE FAINTED AND THEY MADE HIM WITHDRAW????

dicalfiction: wtf kind of condition takes soone out MID-FINAL????

AugustProtectionSquad: SOBODY SUE THE SHOW. I'M DEAD SERIOUS.

K-traineeAuntie: protect that child at all costs 😭

"Oh my God! What kind of sickness is that severe?" Foca exploded, grabbing his own hair. "The finals, Luca. The actual freaking FINALS. He was a guaranteed debut! This—this is ridiculous!"

Foca exclaid, and a deadly cocktail of emotions churned inside him—anger, worry, and that sharp, icy stab of guilt he only ever felt when sothing truly unfair was happening right in front of him. He wasn't usually the type to get swept up this intensely; he was always the calm one when everyone else spiraled. Sothing about the sheer, blatant injustice of it all lit a fuse in his chest.

His voice cracked at the end — a ss of anger, sadness, and disbelief.

Luca stared at the screen, jaw slack.

"Ho-lee shit," he whispered, because honestly, that was all he had left in his soul.

The host steeled herself and forced her voice into sothing "enthusiastic," even as a thunderstorm of boos crashed over the venue. Honestly, it looked like she just wanted to get this shit over with so she could clock out, go ho, and pretend none of this ss ever happened.

Her forced energy dragged the audience's attention back to the stage—whether they liked it or not. Even Foca and Luca were pulled in, setting aside the August disaster for the mont.

"Now, the trainee in 7th place… is none other than—"

Just like that, the debut lineup filled up. One na after another, neat little boxes on the screen lighting up like the show wasn't on fire.

Of course, Kang Seo-yul snagged first place now that August had withdrawn. The smirk the kid wore? Oh, that made Foca see red. The cocky little shit looked like soone who'd happily sell his grandmother for more screenti. And then—then—he had the audacity to squeeze out a few fake tears in his winner's speech.

"And the Uscar goes to…" Luca drawled, dripping sarcasm like venom.

Finally, the 8th and last debut spot was announced… and sothing inside Foca nearly snapped. His entire deanor shifted, cold and lethal. Luca genuinely feared he'd need to start writing his will.

"Should I maybe hire a professional assassin to get rid of whoever made this program," Foca murmured, voice calm enough to be terrifying.

"Okay—hey—no. No assassins," Luca said gently, trying to keep his best friend from committing a damn felony.

"How can I not be pissed?" Foca snapped, pacing like a rich, furious panther. "Kang Ian was ranked third since day one—drops to ninth? Silas, with that tone and insane rap flow, stuck at eleven? And Ahn Jae? The guy can out-sing, out-dance, and out-breathe everyone in that debut team combined—yet he's dead last? And cherry on top? Fucking August! Like, dans quel putain de monde on vit ?! PUTA!"

It was rage, but the elegant kind—put together, calculated, expensive. His pacing practically had a rhythm.

"Honestly? Valid crashout," Luca admitted. "But look… maybe it's not their ti yet. They've got exposure now. With talent like that, they've got a damn good shot at making it later."

Foca suddenly stopped pacing.

Then he turned, calm as a lake before a storm.

"You know what… you're right."

Luca exhaled, relieved.

"See? Exactly, we just have to—"

"You're right," Foca continued smoothly. "With talent like theirs, they'll eventually make it. And what better way to make that happen… than making it happen."

He grabbed his phone so fast Luca nearly choked.

"Wha—what does that an?" Luca stuttered.

"I'm going to start my own entertainnt company and help people with actual talent debut properly."

He said it like he was announcing brunch plans.

The call connected.

"Hi, Uncle Seb. Can you tell Mom and Dad I need to speak with them—yes, urgently. No, everything's fine. Cool. See you tomorrow."

He hung up, then strolled toward his bedroom. Before disappearing inside, he glanced at Luca—still frozen in shock on the sofa.

"We're eting my parents tomorrow. Get up early."

"Wait—I'm coming too?!"

"Yeah. You're my right-hand man. We're a package deal. Job security, great pay, exclusive perks—only for you. And you get to work with your best friend. Tell that's not a damn deal?"

Luca blinked. The more he thought about it… the more he liked it.

"You know wh—"

"Great! Dress appropriately," Foca called as he shut his door.

Luca sat there, offended on a spiritual level.

"HEY! What's wrong with my fashion?!"