"The first trainee who will be debuting," Foca began, his voice deliberately slow and sinful with suspense, "is someone who has showcased a powerful voice—yet wields it with immaculate control."
He paused.
Long enough for pearls to be clutched. Long enough for nails to dig into palms. Long enough that at least three trainees looked like they were one dramatic breath away from passing the hell out.
The lights dimmed even further. The music swelled. Heartbeats thundered.
"Congratulations," Foca said at last, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Monarch."
The theater exploded.
Cheers tore through the room like a tidal wave, shaking the stage itself. Monarch stood frozen, eyes wide, body locked in disbelief. Even as fellow trainees rushed him with congratulations, his mind refused to catch up with reality.
It wasn't until he spotted his family—screaming, crying, clutching each other with joy—that it finally hit.
And then, before anyone could even recover—
"Oh," Foca added casually, like he was commenting on the weather, "Eli and Jordan too."
Silence.
Half a second.
Then absolute fucking chaos.
The crowd erupted again, louder this time—disbelief, screams, emotional whiplash hitting everyone at once. Because who the hell just drops bombshells like that? Sir, this is not brunch.
Eli completely lost his damn mind.
He jumped so high it looked illegal, screaming, "FUCK YEAH!!!" at the top of his lungs—only to immediately lock eyes with his mother, who was giving him The Look™.
He mouthed, sorry.
Her expression softened… then shattered.
She burst into tears, jumping up and down, screaming, "THAT'S MY SON!!!" over and over again.
That did it. Eli broke down, tears streaming as he laughed and cried at the same time.
Eli's hoes, meanwhile? Entirely unmanageable.
They screamed like banshees. One fainted. No—two. Maybe more. The security team stopped counting after the fifth collapse. Thankfully, nothing serious—just extreme overstimulation and… confusing arousal.
But hey. It's Eli's hoes. Logic left the building a long time ago.
Jordan, on the other hand, dropped to his knees.
He covered his face with both hands, shoulders shaking as quiet sobs wracked his body. His mother stood tall in the audience, clapping proudly, silent tears streaming down her worn yet beautiful face.
Half of Jordan's closest friends screamed, jumped, cried, nearly threw up from excitement.
The other half wrapped their arms around his mother, steadying her—knowing full well the hardships they had all endured to reach this moment.
"Yasssss Akla!!!"
"Jordie!!! AHHHHHH!!"
"You three," Foca announced, "will be under Pandesal Fac7ory."
Monarch, Eli, and Jordan stepped forward, bowing deeply before pulling each other into a tight, emotional embrace. Together, they made their way to the side of the stage, joining Ahn Jae, August, and Silas in the Bread Music artists' section.
Their journey had officially begun.
"Now," Tuesday chimed in, crossing her arms, "moving on."
She smirked.
"Honestly, I still have some unresolved beef with a certain someone who rejected our contract the first time."
Kang Ian flinched.
Caught red-handed.
He bowed deeply, apologizing bashfully.
"It's good you're self-aware, Ian," Tuesday teased, absolutely refusing to let him off easy.
Ian could only smile apologetically, taking it like the good sport he was.
"But it's cool," Tuesday continued. "Because in the end, you still signed with Bread Music."
She raised her hand dramatically.
"Congratulations, Kang Ian—for debuting!"
Ian looked up, releasing a deep breath, as if he'd finally been allowed to breathe after holding it in for years.
"And Mika," Tuesday added warmly. "Boo boo, you were excellent throughout this entire program. And I am extremely proud to say—congratulations to you too."
Mika's eyes widened in shock.
He had been mid-hug, congratulating Kang Ian, when the words hit him. Kang Ian laughed softly, pulling him into a tighter embrace, whispering his congratulations into Mika's ear.
In the audience, Kang Ian's parents and Mika's sister collapsed into each other, crying openly.
"Both Kang Ian and Mika," Tuesday announced, "will be joining Ahn Jae, August, and Silas under Salt x Bread."
The moment the words left her mouth, Ahn Jae, August, and Silas ran onto the stage, wrapping the two newcomers into an excited, chaotic group hug.
August couldn't contain himself—skipping, bouncing, pure golden retriever energy. When they finally broke apart, all five stepped forward, bowing deeply in gratitude before heading toward the Bread Music artists' section.
Mid-walk, August suddenly jumped onto Mika's back.
Mika yelped—then laughed, automatically giving him a piggyback.
The crowd melted.
Already, the five of them looked like a real group. Solid. Connected. The chemistry undeniable.
This wasn't just a debut.
This was the beginning of something dangerous.
"For the next set of trainees who will be debuting," Luca said, stepping forward this time.
He paused, eyes glinting with mischief.
"To possibly the oldest trainee here."
The second those words left his mouth, the entire room snapped their heads toward Yone—who had just turned twenty-nine on this very day.
Yone froze.
The cameras zoomed in. The audience murmured. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
"Yone," Luca continued, his voice warm but firm, "you've shown maturity, discipline, and exceptional artistry in dance. You didn't just perform—you led. You've become an artist truly worthy of being looked up to by the younger generation."
Luca smiled softly.
"Happy birthday. And congratulations on your debut."
That was it.
Yone tried—tried—to hold it together. But stubborn tears betrayed him, spilling over as he wiped at his face furiously, laughing through it all. His smile was wide, radiant, earned. Fellow trainees rushed him, clapping him on the back, pulling him into hugs, murmuring congratulations.
Then Luca wasn't done.
"Joining him," Luca said, "are two trainees who can harmonize on a drop of a dime."
Ryu and Corsair stiffened.
"These two have shown incredible artistry in harmony—precision, emotion, instinct. You've set a standard for how harmonies should be done."
He clapped proudly.
"Congratulations, Ryu and Corsair."
They didn't even try to be composed.
The two collapsed into each other, laughing, screaming, bouncing like gravity had personally offended them. At home, their vocal teacher absolutely lost her damn mind—screaming, crying, snot, tears, and possibly drool mixing together as she sobbed about her babies making it.
"The three of you," Luca announced, "will be under MelonBun House."
Yone, Ryu, and Corsair stepped forward together, bowing deeply before heading toward the Bread Music artists' section—where they were immediately swallowed up by hugs from those already announced.
Then Tuesday stepped in, already blinking rapidly.
"Now… for the next group," she said, voice thick. "Ohhh, I'm already getting emotional."
She took a breath.
"This group showed the world that even if it's them against the world, they'll still come out slaying and eating the house down."
The crowd roared.
"They proved that some rules?" Tuesday smirked. "Are meant to be broken."
She lifted her hand.
"Congratulations to Aqua, Pink, Javi, and Kitty—the Kweens, ladies and gentlemen!"
Chaos.
The four Kweens screamed simultaneously, clutching each other's hands, jumping in place, crying, laughing—pure, unfiltered joy.
"You four showed a level of showmanship nobody else in this program brought," Tuesday continued. "You're bold. You're fearless. You're unforgettable."
She snapped her fingers.
"That's why the Kweens will be under Jeweled Macaroons."
The Kweens wiped away their tears—then instantly switched on.
They strutted forward like the stage belonged to them. And instead of bowing?
They leapt.
A synchronized jump.
A sharp high kick.
A flawless dip.
Their version of gratitude.
The theater exploded.
"YASSSS KWEEEEENS!" Tuesday shouted, clicking her acrylics high in the air.
And just like that, the Kweens strutted off toward the artists' section—heads high, heels imaginary but loud—already carving a legacy that would go down in history.