Manager Kim stood at the head of the table, his energy vibrating with nervous excitement. "Listen up. This is it! In three weeks, we start filming "Road to Starlight".
This show is your launchpad. The winners debut."
A collective gulp went around the table.
[System Quest Updated: Secure a Center Position in the Survival Show's Opening Performance. Reward: [Dance Coordination (B+) Skill].]
The System immediately upped the ante. Being the Center of the opening performance meant instant, massive exposure and a likely shortcut to his death.
Kang-joon subtly massaged the side of his neck.
He remembered Loop #61: Neck injury disguised as muscle strain during a complex Center move. Fatal due to a slow-developing clot.
He could not be the Center.
Manager Kim continued, shuffling through papers.
"The first assessment is the opening performance.
You'll perform a new group song, 'Zero Gravity.'
The final lineup will be determined by your ability to stand out."
The trainees erupted in stressed chatter.
"The choreo is already complex!"
"How are we supposed to learn a whole song in three weeks?"
Kang-joon listened to their panic, but his mind was already in the future.
He knew the complex, difficult choreography for 'Zero Gravity' perfectly.
He had done it ninety-six times.
But he also knew the catastrophic flaw in the song's arrangement.
He raised his hand.
"Manager-nim, with all respect, I have a question about 'Zero Gravity.'"
Manager Kim, grateful for anyone not whining, pointed at him.
"Yes, Kang-joon?"
"The bridge section," Kang-joon said, his tone measured and professional.
"The high-tempo syncopation leading into the final key change.
Currently, the melody has a C# over the driving drum machine.
If we perform that live, it will cause the lead vocalist's mic frequency to clash with the backing track, creating a sharp, audible static hiss in the final chorus."
Silence fell over the room.
The trainees stared.
This was the level of technical analysis usually reserved for the producer.
Manager Kim looked shocked.
"A hiss? We've tested the track—"
"I suggest you test it again, Manager-nim, specifically through the largest venue's mixing board," Kang-joon cut in, leaning forward.
"That particular harmonic collision is only noticeable at high volumes."
Manager Kim stammered, then furiously pulled out his phone to call the production team.
[System Notification: Host Intervention Detected. Quality of Production Metric: Increased. Debut Success Score: 0.007%.]
The meager jump in the score was worth it. Kang-joon hadn't shown off his S-Rank talent, he had shown off S-Rank technical knowledge.
This was a form of control not performance.
He then looked at Min-soo, the highest-ranked trainee who sat directly across from him...a talented, but overly competitive dancer.
"Min-soo-ssi," Kang-joon said calmly.
"You're the best dancer here. You should take the Center position.
You would stabilize the formation."
Min-soo narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious of the flattery, but his massive ego swallowed the bait.
"I intend to, Kang-joon."
The System flashed a notification.
[Quest Stalled: Host diverted focus from Center Position. Penalty: Host must take a Lead Vocal position in the subsequent song evaluation.]
Kang-joon inwardly smiled.
Lead Vocal was dangerous, but he could manage his emotion (and therefore his marketability) better than he could manage his body's movements as Center.
He had traded a high-risk physical death for a slightly lower-risk vocal death.
The meeting broke up.
The trainees rushed out, desperate to secure practice time.
Kang-joon walked slowly.
He needed to prepare for the inevitable hazards of the show's preparation phase.
He remembered Loop #58: A sudden ankle fracture during a midnight practice session—a common, plausible trainee injury. The doctor ruled it fatigue, but the fracture was suspiciously clean, suggesting an external, focused impact.
He also remembered how it happened...
The floor of Practice Room 2 had been improperly cleaned, leaving a tiny, slick patch near the mirrors.
He headed straight to Practice Room 2.
It was empty.
Kang-joon knelt down by the mirror, running his hand over the glossy floor.
There was a small, invisible smear of residual floor wax, slightly darker than the surrounding vinyl.
A trap set by a careless cleaning crew, or perhaps, in the context of his repeated deaths, something more sinister.
But the cause didn't matter, only the consequence.
He pulled a small, dry cloth from his pocket; a habit developed over 96 lives of avoiding physical hazards and meticulously scrubbed the area clean, dispersing the wax into the wider, safe area of the floor.
[System Notification: Danger Assessment Initiated.]
[Hazard Neutralized: Potential Physical Injury (F-Rank) removed. Current Survival Metric: 100% (Short-Term).]
The System recognized his survival instinct, even if it was blind to the reason.
It was useful, if irritatingly generic.
As he finished, he heard footsteps.
Two trainees walked in, laughing.
Jae-hyun and Dong-hyun.
"Hey, Kang-joon-hyung," Jae-hyun said, slightly surprised.
"Why are you shining the floor?"
"Maintenance," Kang-joon said, standing up. He made his voice sound weary.
"It was slick...Don't want any accidents."
Dong-hyun rolled his eyes.
"Hyung, you worry too much.
We're too busy to slip and fall."
Kang-joon only shrugged, tossing the cloth into his bag.
He didn't argue. He just saved their future group's primary dancer from being sidelined. The less trauma his teammates suffered, the less random stress was introduced into his own death-prone timeline.
Over the next three days, Kang-joon adhered perfectly to his strategy: Competence without Celebrity.
He mastered the 'Zero Gravity' choreography faster than anyone, but always made sure to trip on the same spot during the final run-throughs.
He sang the complicated harmonies flawlessly, but reverted to the 'traumatic emotion' whenever he sang solo.
His Debut Success Score crept up, painfully slowly.
[Current Debut Success Score: 0.012%.]
On Wednesday afternoon, the CEO, Mr. Kwon, finally came down to the practice room. He was a man Kang-joon remembered well: charismatic, financially reckless, and utterly ruthless.
Mr. Kwon watched them practice the final run-through of the opening performance.
When the music stopped, he clapped once, sharply.
"The song is weak," Mr. Kwon stated, his voice booming.
"It sounds like a funeral, just like Mr. Seo said."
The trainees wilted.
Min-soo and Jae-hyun stared at their feet.
"But..."
Mr. Kwon continued, his eyes scanning the group. They paused on Kang-joon.
"The one in the back...Lee Kang-joon.
You make the whole thing look solid, even when you're just standing there."
"Manager Kim," Mr. Kwon commanded. "Kang-joon will be the Sub-Vocal 3 for the performance.
But he will be responsible for teaching the entire synchronization sequence to the others.
Get him a key card for the main production office.
He needs to start working on the video cuts immediately."
Kang-joon froze.
The production office was where all the key information and all the key hazards were located.
He remembered Loop #27: Died of a sudden, freak elevator malfunction late at night after working alone in the office.
He couldn't refuse the key card; it would signal rebellion.
He had just traded a spot on the stage for a solitary death trap in an elevator shaft.
[System Alert: New Mission Parameter Acquired: 'Internal Access'. Debut Success Score: 0.050%.]
The score spiked higher than it had all week, simply because he was given access to the company's inner workings.
The System saw the key card as a major victory, a necessary step toward controlling the overall production quality.
Kang-joon bowed deeply, accepting the promotion with forced enthusiasm.
He took the key card, which felt heavy and cold in his hand.
He had three weeks until the survival show premiere.
He had to learn the layout of the production office and figure out how to be the most essential trainee without becoming the next random fatality.
Kang-Joon was now officially inside the slaughterhouse.