0000Translator: MarcTempest

As I pulled back the curtain and entered the booth, I saw something that looked like a self-service photo booth machine installed in the small room.

“Press the button in front of you to start recording right away.”

I answered the staff’s guidance briefly and took a deep breath. Then I pressed the record button.

“Hello, I’m Lim Hyun-seong, an individual trainee.”

What should I say now? Unlike the other trainees who were desperate as if they were betting their lives on these 30 seconds, I had no urgency.

It wasn’t a matter of pride to beg for votes with a please-pick-me sign… Even though it was a virtual world, I didn’t want to have any more influence on this world since I wouldn’t (couldn’t) debut anyway.

After a moment of hesitation, I started to blurt out something that I liked the most, but had no impact on the voting.

“My strongest area is dance, followed by cooking. These days, figs are at the end of their season, so they’re very sweet, and soon scallops will be in season. Don’t miss out on the seasonal ingredients and enjoy your meal!”

It sounded like nonsense, but that was the best conclusion I came up with. The short appeal time of 30 seconds ended and I bowed my head and greeted.

“Huh, y-you can go out now.”

“Yes.”

The staff who was guarding the booth entrance laughed and pointed outside at my unexpected appeal of seasonal ingredients.

As I walked past the staff and went outside, I saw the faces of nearly 100 trainees at a glance.

At first, there were only 10 of them, but now almost all of the participants had a hidden card that showed their true feelings.

‘I have to do this for two more weeks.’

It seemed daunting.

‘I miss our kids.’

It was a rare moment when I longed for our kids who were waiting for me at home.

After finishing the appeal video shooting, it was a bit awkward to have dinner.

The production team didn’t let that short gap go by, and they took the trainees to a huge auditorium.

There was a large screen hanging in the auditorium, and the choreographer who was sitting in the judge’s seat a while ago was loosening up his body with the staff.

“Did you all have a good lunch?”

The choreographer asked the trainees with a microphone, and answers came back from here and there.

“Yes!”

Of course, there were also some voices that muttered quietly.

“Yeah, right.”

Soon, they became conscious of their surroundings and closed their mouths and looked up at the choreographer on the podium.

“Since you said you had a good lunch, let’s practice the opening stage with a light feeling of warming up. The shooting is a week later, so let’s use our short time wisely and put on a perfect stage!”

It was a forced march with 100 people, but they only gave us that much time? I was surprised for a moment, but then the escort staff appeared again and divided the trainees by grade.

I naturally drifted away from Yu-geon and joined the A group and was dragged to the front.

“If you see someone who does well, we’ll bring them up to the stage so that other trainees can also see and learn, so please do your best.”

It was practically saying, ‘We’ll make sure the camera catches anyone who stands out a bit.’ The participants easily grasped the meaning and their eyes sparkled again.

The choreographer winked at me, which was unbearably burdensome, but I had no right to refuse.

“Alright, let’s start with some warm-up stretching!”

With the energetic clap of the choreographer, the two-hour drill began.

And exactly ten minutes later, I was called up to the stage as an assistant instructor.

After the exhausting opening stage rehearsal, dinner time started.

Even though I was troubled, the food was delicious, and by the time I finished eating, it was almost 9 p.m.

The only thing left was…

I recalled the dormitory schedule that I checked yesterday, and the word [dormitory assignment] popped up in my mind.

From what I remembered, it was a small room with two bunk beds, and four people shared one room.

Some other programs seemed to have no dorms at all, and just laid down blankets and slept, but at least here they used a renovated youth hostel, so the rooms were spacious.

“Now, you’ll be moving to your dorms. You’ll be in groups of four, so gather up and get your room assignments and keys from over there.”

Fortunately or unfortunately, the production team didn’t assign the rooms randomly, but let the trainees choose their own rooms.

I first brought Yu-geon, who seemed to be floating alone in group F.

“Do you have any trainees you want to share a room with?”

Yu-geon shook his head quietly. He still seemed shocked by his F grade, and I couldn’t believe he was the same person I saw in the morning.

“Then who should we bring…”

As I was pondering, I saw Hwijin, who was shivering in the corner, not fitting in.

‘Let’s bring him too.’

“I’ll bring one more person.”

I gave Yu-geon a brief nod and approached Hwijin, who was startled and stuttered.

“Me?”

“Yes, do you want to share a room with us if you don’t have anyone else?”

Hwijin looked surprised for a moment, then quickly nodded.

“Uh, yes. I don’t have anyone to share with.”

He had shown impressive skills as a mid-level rookie during the grade evaluation, but he looked much older than the other trainees.

He had talent, but maybe he thought he wouldn’t make it to debut, so he was ignored by the hyenas who had their eyes on the promising connections.

So we had three people. Who would fill the last spot?

I thought of Naru first, but he was surrounded by other trainees who looked his age.

What was his name, Park Joonki? The high school trainee was already in line with his peers of similar grades to get his room assignment.

‘Hmm…’

Only the A and B grades were clustered together, as if there was no caste system.

I looked back and forth between Hwijin and Yu-geon, who were standing awkwardly, and found a trainee who was alone and clueless in the corner.

[F]

[An Juhyeon]

Let’s go get him.

I walked up to him and spoke, and he reacted similarly to Hwijin, startled and then readily followed me.

“This should be fine for the four of us.”

One A grade, one B grade, two F grades.

Three individual trainees and one actor.

Anyone could see that we didn’t match, a very strange combination, but it didn’t matter to me.

I got my room assignment after lining up and left the auditorium. The stairs and the elevator were both full of people waiting.

“Should we walk? It might take too long to wait for the elevator.”

I asked, turning around, and everyone nodded silently.

‘How do I deal with this atmosphere?’

Someone should take the initiative and lighten up the mood. It was quiet, whether it was because of the program or their personalities.

After waiting for a while, we climbed up the stairs and arrived at our assigned room. Soon, we received the dorm kits according to our grades.

“Shall we open them right away?”

As soon as we entered the room, Hwijin spoke first, looking at the observation camera.

It looked like the contents were quite different, so he probably thought that comparing them would be a good content.

“Sure.”

I nodded eagerly and checked the notice next to the observation camera.

[The observation camera and the recording device will be turned off from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m.]

That meant that they were filming everything we did and said before that, and we had no guarantee of how it would be broadcasted.

‘Be careful what you say.’

I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by saying something weird.

“Before that, shall we introduce ourselves? I’m a nineteen-year-old individual trainee, and I’m most confident in dancing and cooking.”

Hwijin was still not confident enough to be proactive in this situation, Yu-geon had reduced his words drastically due to the shock, and I didn’t know who the other person was or what he did, so I had to step up.

I sighed inwardly and started the conversation, and Hwijin quickly took the baton.

“Oh, you’re all young. I’m Hwijin, and I’m currently working as an actor, but I used to debut as an idol once.”

Juhyeon nodded as if he understood.

“Oh, that’s why you’re so good at the basics. What was your position?”

Everyone except Yu-geon started to join the conversation, aware that it would increase their chances of being on the show.

“Uh, lead vocal. I originally passed the audition as a vocalist, but… there was another friend who was good at singing…”

“Wow… You must have been on music shows then?”

“I didn’t get to go on many, so it was a pity.”

“That’s still amazing…”

Unintentionally, I became the bridge between Hwijin and the F-grade trainee who had no presence, but Yu-geon remained silent.

After a brief ice-breaking, we compared the A-grade kit that contained various sponsored products, from cosmetics to heat packs, and the F-grade kit that only had basic toiletries.

‘Was he edited out completely because he was depressed by his grade?’

I was frustrated that I didn’t know why Yu-geon got an F.

By the time we agreed to call each other brothers and it was time to go to bed, Yu-geon also nodded weakly and climbed onto the bed.

“I’ll take the top bunk.”

I felt like I would be conscious of the upper bunk if I slept on the lower one.

“…Okay.”

With Yu-geon’s short answer, Hwijin, who was next to the switch, turned off the light.

“Good night.”

The sleep began with Hwijin’s slightly awkward but courageous greeting.

It had been about two hours since we entered the lodging.

I was tired, but I couldn’t sleep. I heard the others tossing and turning as well. Maybe they were in the same boat.

As I stayed awake with my eyes open, Yu-geon got up from his bed. I held my breath and watched him quietly. He didn’t do anything special, just sat on his bed.

He didn’t say a word, just sat there blankly.

‘Is he having trouble sleeping because of his complicated thoughts?’

I whispered to the gap that led to the lower floor.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Yu-geon flinched at the voice from below, then answered in a low voice.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Because of what happened today?”

There were more than one or two things that happened today, but Yu-geon seemed to know what I was talking about.

“Can I say no comment?”

I didn’t need to force him to spill the beans. It wasn’t even midnight yet, so I could still see his innermost card.

“If that’s what you want.”

“…”

Then Yu-geon seemed to hesitate for a while, then spoke in a very small voice to the gap in the wall.

“…If you had to reveal something you don’t want to share with others in exchange for an opportunity, what would you do?”

That was a strangely specific hypothetical. It was likely his own story.

I came all this way to hear this one story from him.

As I thought that, I suddenly wondered what to say.

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