"Drew! It's Drew!"
Shock, astonishment, excitement. How else should trainees like them react upon seeing a big shot? The one who came was a household name in the country, one of the best solo idols of the current generation. Idolized by many, yearned for by millions of female fans. It was Drew, the flagship bearer of K-Star Entertainment, a subsidiary of Nova Corporation.
There were three reasons BOI had been called a flop, but not a total flop in Jun's previous life. First, because of the handsome trainees. Second, because of the signal song—so popular it outshone the program itself. Third, because Drew brought in nearly half of the domestic female viewership.
Jun let the others gush for a while before stepping forward. "Everyone."
Two claps. The boys snapped out of it, hurriedly lining up and bowing their waists.
"Hello, mentors!"
"You're all surprisingly well-mannered, boys." Drew smiled refreshingly, generous with praise. "Just like an army platoon, lining up instantly. I like it."
One of Drew's masked assistants added, "They really do have exemplary discipline."
Jun almost laughed when a few of Drew's fanboys flushed red. Not out of attraction or anything strange, but because they'd just been complimented by their idol.
Introductions followed. Each trainee said their name and briefly shared their strengths.
When the last one finished, Drew nodded and looked at the clipboard. "I've read the rules for this mission. The number who stay depends on the group's average."
"Yes," Jun confirmed.
"Then do your best. Let's start the mid-check., shall we," Drew's eyes lifted, scanning the line.
The assistant cued the music, another readied a camcorder.
"Show me the formation and movements first," Drew instructed.
The participants obediently took their positions. Before moving to his, Jun kept his back to Drew, scanning the faces and stances of the others.
A wave of his hand shifted someone a little to the left. A thumb raised over his head signaled readiness. Then he stepped into the center, between Sujin and Min.
As they waited, Jun's nerves swirled. The song was familiar, but the part he now held wasn't. Would he be better than Sujin? Than Neo?
Drew clapped three times. The instrumental began.
And suddenly, the fog lifted. Just two days in, but Jun had worked relentlessly. Greed consumed him. He wanted to be remembered as the best center for this song.
So he decided. He would give it everything. To prove himself—to the producers, to the others, to Drew. His aura shifted. His gaze sharpened.
The other boys didn't notice, too wrapped up in their nerves. But the three watching did.
Drew's lips parted slightly. "What a surprise."
He didn't say more. Even after the first performance, when the trainees, panting, turned toward him with expectant eyes, he gave nothing back.
"Formation! Quickly!" Instead of feedback, Drew clapped, and the confused boys scrambled back into place. "This time, sing and dance."
Alarm crossed a few faces. Drew expected panic—but only two looked truly rattled. The rest glanced at Jun's back, then turned back to themselves.
When the second round ended, Drew clapped again.
"Again. Sing and dance!"
"Wait!" One of the flustered boys gasped for breath.
Drew barely looked at him. The track started once more.
As they prepared for the third, Jun again became the anchor. The subtle glances weren't just for spacing.
This kid not only looks like an idol… he makes people curious.
Drew leaned toward his assistant and whispered. A short while later, the answer came.
"His name is Jun. Park Seo-jun."
Drew nodded without a word. Before the second chorus ended, the name had already etched itself in his mind.
The Greenhouse only ever held twelve Inhabitants. But failing to stay didn't mean elimination—not yet. Instead, they were sent to the Barren Lands, just outside. Despite its name, it was a single building with a modest hall, two bathrooms, a small dining area, and a wardrobe of nothing but gray shirts and pants.
Compared to the Greenhouse—a paradise—the Barren Lands were a reminder of weakness. The five voted out felt especially like angels cast from heaven.
That had been three days ago.
"The Greenhouse has so much food. And each person has a closet of colorful clothes. Everything's provided."
Hyeon-ju sighed openly, speaking to the seven who couldn't enter.
"Sounds amazing. Here, we wear gray. And we all squeeze into one room."
Hyeon-ju checked for himself. The bunk beds filled every corner of the cramped space.
"…Whoa." The five newest arrivals could only smile bitterly.
But pity had no place there.
"Barren Landers! Please gather in the training hall." The MC's voice echoed across the building.
No matter where they were, all twelve heard it.
"Let's go." With resignation, Hyeon-ju led them.
The signal song played on-screen, lyrics and choreography flashing separately.
Unlike the Greenhouse, where teamwork was tested, the Barren Landers had to memorize and perform the entire thing. Solo. Seven days.
From start to finish.
Despair sank in since not all of them learned quickly.
Days passed. No mid-check came. On the seventh day, they recorded their versions. Videos compiled, unseen judges waiting. Stress broke five of them; they admitted they had done poorly.
Then the siren blared. On the screen, white words on a black background.
Hyeon-ju read aloud. "Now that all Barren Landers have submitted, judges will rank the performances. However…"
He faltered. Some were already shaking their heads.
"…Only if the Greenhouse average falls below ninety will any Barren Lander be promoted. Even then, the number promoted depends on their average."
Gasps echoed. Someone muttered a curse at the back.
"What? Why is everything decided by the Greenhouse?"
The room darkened with unease. On-screen, the Greenhouse performance began. Half the Landers watched, desperate to measure the gap. Half prayed for failure.
Hyeon-ju's voice was flat. "They're so good."
Even praise carried fear.
"I'm behind," JO muttered. "How do they sing so stably while moving like that?"
One of the youngest tried to cheer them. "Guys, don't be so negative. We passed the first audition. We beat five hundred others. We're not that bad."
The words were kind, but most still prayed. For the Inhabitants to slip. For a mistake—any mistake—that could give them hope.
Not everyone intimidated them, but some did. Sujin. Min. Kato. And most of all, Jun. To them, he looked like he had already mastered everything, as though he'd performed it a thousand times before.
So they prayed. Desperate, selfish prayers.
The performance lasted only three and a half minutes. But to them, it dragged on like eternity.
Then, finally—something.
"Dead air…" JO muttered.
Everyone felt it.
Their prayer had been answered.