There wasn't much to the way things ended up like this.
First, in the auditorium we watched
After lunch, classes ran by grade in the afternoon, starting with vocals for D-class.
"Alright, let's try singing once."
The instructor who came to D-class was Cha Mina, a specialist who coaches debut teams at major agencies and active idols.
With Cha Mina setting pitches on the keyboard, class went by with us following the lyrics sheet and singing along.
"Again!"
Even with the lyrics in front of them, not many trainees could nail the pitch of "Look." Most of its lines sat in a high range that male trainees struggle to hit.
"Watch your pitch dropping. Again!"
After several attempts still didn't land on pitch, Cha Mina swept the singers with a sharp eye, picking out the ones whose pitch kept sagging and giving them individual pointers.
And then she picked out the honor students of D-grade.
"Dan-woo and Yu-ha, come to the front."
By coincidence, those "honor students" were me and Joo Dan-woo.
"Shall we start with Dan-woo?"
"Yes."
At her cue, Dan-woo began singing "Look" to the keyboard accompaniment—and with each line, exclamations popped from the trainees.
"…Wow."
"He's really good."
"Why is that hyung D-grade? That makes no sense."
"Isn't that A-grade level?"
I, too, felt surprised listening to him.
…He's good.
Dan-woo really could sing. With this level of vocal skill, it was hard to understand why he was in D-grade at all.
His voice was on the low side, but when he went up high he breathed well and handled ranges that shouldn't suit him without strain. And, fitting a rapper, his sense of rhythm made the song come alive.
"Have you already memorized the song?"
He seemed to have the lyrics down already—he sang the whole thing without glancing at the sheet.
At this unexpected vocalist's arrival, Cha Mina's face brightened; then, with a touch of regret, she added:
"Dan-woo, you sing really well. If you'd sung instead of rapped at the grade evaluation, I think you would've gone higher."
She was right. People say rappers who rap well also tend to sing well, but it seemed his rap lagged behind his singing.
Among all those level evaluations, only a few stages left a strong impression. Dan-woo was one of the ones I forgot right away, so the details escape me, but I vaguely remembered something awkward about his rap.
Whether he picked the wrong lane or there was some other issue…
Bowing and saying thanks at the continued praise, Dan-woo looked pleased. Nodding, Cha Mina then turned her eyes to me.
"Then let's have Yu-ha try."
"Yes."
I answered quietly and, unlike Dan-woo, gripped the lyrics sheet as I sang. I already had the lyrics memorized, but I didn't want to stand out.
When I finished, Cha Mina smiled.
"Good job. Your high notes come out solid, and your pitch is good. Yu-ha's strengths are the high range and a tone that can handle any genre. 'Look' also seems to suit your voice. But your breath support and expression are still a bit lacking, so be mindful of those."
"Thank you."
I let out a small breath and lowered the sheet. Looking satisfied, she glanced between us, then announced she'd pick a vocal leader for D-grade.
"Yu-ha did really well too, but there are still many technical parts to polish. So I think D-grade's vocal leader should be Dan-woo. Can you take it, Dan-woo?"
"…Yes. I'll do my best."
Even though he could probably guess after seeing everyone in D-grade, he still looked a little taken aback. A bit dazed, he nodded.
We returned to sit among the D-grade trainees, and Cha Mina's gaze sharpened again as she laced into the class.
"Everyone, get it together. Sure, 'Look' isn't easy to sing. But this class really lacks drive. The moment a high note shows up, I get the sense you go, 'Oh, that's high. I can't do that,' and give up. Honestly, the F-grade kids who've got nothing to lose seem hungrier."
"..."
"Why do I feel like I can already see a lot of you headed to F on the next evaluation? You don't want to be alternates, right? If you drop to F, you won't even be on stage—you'll just be background below. Don't you want to perform on 'Music A'?"
"We do!"
"Then you've got to do better, right? Don't you want to debut?"
"We want to debut!"
"Then squeeze everything you can out of Dan-woo and Yu-ha. That's why I showed you those two. You're competitors, but you're also D-class teammates. Ask each other, help each other, and level up. Can I expect D-grade trainees to move up to C, B, maybe A?"
"We'll work hard!"
Hey, even if you mean Dan-woo, why is my name in there too.
Whether or not my brief panic mattered, Cha Mina left us with a "do well," grabbed her scores, and headed out.
Leaving me and Dan-woo behind in a hellish silence and bout of side-eyeing…
"..."
"Um… Mr. Yu-ha… or, Yu-ha-nim? Could you show me how you handle this run at the end?"
"…Sure."
"Dan-woo hyung… can I call you that? C-could you maybe help me with this part…?"
"Ah… for that bit…"
While we awkwardly fielded vocal questions from D-class trainees clutching their lyric sheets, Jane came in for dance class—and I could finally breathe.
I had gotten more attention than expected, but since the vocal class leader was Dan-woo, I figured the focus would gradually shift away from me.
"Why are you all so behind on memorizing the choreography? Is that how you plan to dance on stage?"
Dance class went in an unexpected direction, and I couldn't help being taken aback. D-class was slower at learning the choreo than I'd thought.
Among the flustered trainees who hadn't learned the dance, the only ones who still remembered it were me and Dan-woo. So of course we got called out again.
After having each of us run the choreo, Jane thought for a moment and said:
"Dan-woo's memorization is fine, but he's not catching the points. The details are lacking. Yu-ha, on the other hand, knows where the points are. You understand the structure of the dance."
"Thank you."
"I don't think anyone in D-class has the choreo down as well as Yu-ha. No objections to him being leader, right?"
Stared down by that charismatic gaze, no trainee dared object.
Whether I liked it or not, in the end, Dan-woo and I wound up neatly splitting the roles between roommates: D-grade vocal leader and dance leader.
…There'll be screen time… right.
Staring at the door Jane had just gone through, that's all I could think.
Being from a big agency, I'd already expected to get a certain amount of early camera attention.
Still, I figured if I stayed out of any spotlight and kept to the corners, my screen time would shrink once the program really kicked off—around episodes two or three—so I planned to stick to the "don't stand out" approach as much as possible.
But… D-grade had more inexperienced trainees than I expected.
Their lyric and choreography memorization was slow. Most hadn't trained long.
D-grade, second only to F, had lots of trainees with short training periods. Most weren't used to picking up choreography.
Among them, the ones with the longest trainee time were me and Joo Dan-woo. Just by matching pitch and getting the choreography down, we seemed to catch the mentors' eyes.
…So much for getting less screen time. It can't be helped. I'll just watch out for the evil edit.
Wearing the desperately needed D-grade class leader titles and then getting caught slacking off or brushing off questions from trainees?
That's a straight ticket to an evil edit.
If that happens, it'll mess up my plan to return to regular life. That, I can't allow.
I'd already failed at "stay unnoticed," but I still intended to do only as much as needed—just enough not to get flak—as dance leader.
I was mulling over how to show just the right amount of leadership and then bow out, when—
Ding-dong!
…!
A system window popped up again. The moment I read it, I had to change my stance.
[Sub-Quest — He Who Wears the Crown of Leader, Bear Its Weight]
You are now D-class's dance leader. The fates of many trainees rest on you.
Show diligence as a leader and guide your teammates.
Each time you sincerely lead them and raise their skill, you will grow as well.
Reward: Activate Jump Pass (Dance specialty only)
Deadline: D–5 (until dance leader term ends)
"…Let's match the beat once more. I think memorizing the choreo comes first."
Because a jump-growth pass was being dangled right in front of me, almost for free.
I don't know how long I'll have to survive on , so I might as well squeeze everything I can out of it.
My Luck stat is low as it is. Passing up a chance to level-jump without spending any of it would be stupid.
Thankfully, the mentors' words must have lit a fire; nobody looked like they were going to get cynical about me stepping up.
"Yes!"
"Please take care of us!"
With everyone on board, I stepped to the front, put "Look" on at 0.5× speed, and started demonstrating the moves one by one. At the same time, the sync rate on my Dance stat in the system window sped up.
"..."
I'm dead.
Flat on my back on the practice-room floor, I dragged in ragged breaths.
Evening had snuck up on us, and the D-class trainees had all gone to dinner.
Me… I had no stamina, so I'd collapsed.
"…You okay?"
"Ah… thanks."
Someone set a bottle of water down beside me. I turned my head—it was Joo Dan-woo.
I pushed myself up, took the PET bottle he'd left, and twisted off the cap. I must have been badly dehydrated from sweating so much; the water tasted sweet going down.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
I set the half-empty bottle down and asked him, since it felt weird to say nothing after he'd brought me water.
"I thought I'd practice a bit more first."
He said that, then faced the mirror and started running through "Look"'s point moves one by one. With no music, the squeak of his sneaker soles dragging across the floor echoed around the room.
Watching him practice, I capped my bottle. In the mirror, I studied his movements and thought:
You can't do it like that.
I'd spotted him practicing with incorrect form.
He clearly wasn't used to dancing; his movements were sloppy and awkward. He wasn't hitting the points, and he was so rushed that he'd already be prepping the next move before finishing the current one.
He had the choreography mapped in his head, but his body couldn't keep up. Dance like that and every detail dies, the transitions smear together, and it ends up neither here nor there.
Worse, if you keep reinforcing the wrong details, you'll build bad habits, and fixing them later gets harder. Once your body learns the wrong way, it's trouble.
I hesitated, watching him in the mirror. I almost gave advice without thinking.
But—
That would mean screen time.
The camera light was still red. With his looks and character—and with the PD paying attention to my big-agency background early on—they'd probably try to give me some airtime. If I spoke up now, it would likely get cut separately and used as narrative.
The very screen time I don't want—probably even with a favorable storyline attached.
"..."
In the end, I kept my mouth shut, stood up, and left the practice room. The half-speed "Look" trailing from the room behind me followed into the hall, but I shook my head and cleared it away.
Get a grip, Won Yu-ha.
I'm not trying to become an idol now—I'm trying to get out of being one.
I'm not Lightning's leader anymore. I don't have to look after every stand-out kid.
So there was no need for me to advise Dan-woo. He'd manage, and besides, he hadn't asked me for help.
I wasn't about to stick my nose in, play caretaker, and earn screen time that might hurt my chances of getting eliminated. I quickened my pace, ignored the sounds behind me, and headed for the cafeteria.
There were almost no trainees left. Dinner service had started over an hour ago; most had already eaten and gone back to their rooms.
I checked the rice warmers. Maybe two or three scoops' worth of rice, and side dishes and soup with all the big pieces already picked clean.
Even if we're idol trainees, most of us are teenage boys or in our early twenties. Who are they feeding with portions like this?
We were all still growing, and with the heavy practice load, we were hungry all the time. Mealtimes were a war—like eating in a household with way too many siblings.
I ladled what was left onto my tray and ate. It barely touched the sides.
After I finished and cleared my tray, I glanced at the rice warmers again. Looked like the stragglers had gone back for seconds—nothing left.
In the end, I grabbed the last cream bun and a milk by the door. Judging by how there was exactly one of each left, if I'd been any later, those would've been gone too.
That's when the image of Dan-woo, still practicing to the end, flashed through my head.
"..."
I let out a small sigh and headed back to the practice room.
Dan-woo said he was… twenty-two, right.
For a trainee, that's the tail end. He's probably thinking of this as his last shot.
I get the desperation.
But—
"Hyung, eat this first."
"…! Ah, thanks."
We're doing all this to make a living—at least eat.
I didn't go as far as saying that. I left him in the practice room and headed back to the dorm first.
Even if I couldn't give advice, this level of meddling is fine, right?
I'd felt heavy for leaving a hardworking guy behind; now it felt a bit lighter. With that burden off my mind, I planned to sleep and recover some stamina.