ZEROBASEONE knew from the beginning how it would end. Formed through Mnet's Boys Planet in 2023, the group was always a fixed-term arrangement – a contract with a closing date built in before the first note was ever performed. In an unprecedented move, they even got two months more than originally planned. It wasn't enough. When the nine-member group played their final OT9 show at KSPO Dome in Seoul on March 15, most of them left the stage in tears.

That's the project group model: manufacture something real, then dismantle it on schedule. It's produced some of K-pop's biggest acts – Wanna One, I.O.I, Kep1er, IZ*ONE – and it works, commercially speaking. What gets discussed less is what it costs the people inside it.

The way project groups work is that most members are technically representatives of different entertainment companies, but come together under a singular label to promote as a group. When the group’s contract expires, members will usually return to their respective labels to either continue the path of music or pursue other endeavors such as acting or modeling. In ZEROBASEONE’s case, members Zhang Hao, Ricky, Kim Gyu-vin, and Han Yu-jin will return to their primary label, YH Entertainment, and are expected to re-debut as part of a new group called NDOUBLE on May 26. Aside from the four aforementioned members, the final lineup and total number of members will be revealed at a later date.

On paper, project groups sound like a dream – it’s a great way for young idols to gain experience and recognition in the industry before moving on to become soloists or re-debut in a fixed group lineup. And with many forming through reality shows, these trainees and idols already have built-in fanbases that have invested in them from day one that will usually transfer over into their future projects. But in reality, commercial logic and human reality aren't the same thing.

For most K-pop groups, it’s nearly impossible for members not to form real bonds and relationships with each other over time. They train together, work together, film content together on a near-daily basis – and that’s just the professional side. When they’re not working, it’s common for members to get together for the fun of it – not because they have an obligation to, but because they genuinely enjoy each other’s company and friendship.

Take NCT Dream for an example; although they were technically never a “project group,” there are still overlapping elements and similarities here in how they were intended to operate. Introduced in 2016 as the youthful and bright unit under the NCT umbrella, the group’s seven members (Mark, Haechan, Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung) were initially meant to promote as a team until each member ages out of the system upon turning 19. In September 2018, the group’s eldest member, Mark, became the first to “graduate,” subsequently ending his time as a member of NCT Dream.

Although the remaining six members continued to promote throughout 2019 and 2020, Mark’s absence was sorely felt within the group, leading to many emotionally draining moments while he was gone. To them, Mark was the heart of NCT Dream; he was often considered the one who kept everyone else grounded when times got tough. Without his presence, it was like the members lost their guiding light, leaving promotions and album comebacks feeling incomplete.

In 2020, SM Entertainment realized this system was unfair for everyone involved – that they couldn’t just rip best friends apart for the sake of a marketing strategy and expect everyone to get on board. So with input from the members (and the outpour of petitions and requests from fans), the label announced NCT Dream would no longer operate under the graduation system, and Mark would rejoin the group in 2021. It’s a happy ending that, unfortunately, project groups don’t get because of how they’re structured and made to operate.

Granted, K-pop groups in general – fixed or not – don’t last forever. Even with the industry-standard contract of five to seven years, there’s always a possibility that members will resign or the group will disband entirely. But something about giving a group a maximum of two years together before involuntarily breaking up could become a mentally dangerous norm if an idol isn’t equipped to deal with those emotions in a safe space.

It's tough to imagine how that affects an idol's emotional well-being when they already know their group's days are numbered – that no matter how successful they become or how much they earn, a contract will be the end of it all, whether they like it or not. For some, it may not make a difference. For others, it strips away any sense of safety or stability they might have found during that time. The industry has yet to reckon seriously with that cost.

SM Entertainment course-corrected with NCT Dream because the evidence became impossible to ignore – but that required years of visible emotional fallout before anyone acted. Project groups don't get that runway. By the time the damage is done, the group is already gone.