Two days after the results, the company posted all the Sections' performances online.
It started with a simple caption: "Section D — 'FRESH!' | Quarter-Finals Performance | Stage Video." Then came the follow-up uploads: the raw Dance Practice and the Behind-the-Scenes (BTS) log.
Within hours, the videos were everywhere. Twitter clips, TikTok edits, and fancams stitched with slow-motion effects flooded the internet. The dance practice hit 50,000 views by noon. The official performance video doubled that by evening. Comments poured in—some curious, some shocked, many completely obsessed.
In the dorm, the boys huddled around Jiho's laptop, their ramen bowls entirely forgotten.
"Seojun, look!" Eunjae practically tackled him into the sofa cushions. "Someone called you 'the second coming of Kwon Bi-young'!"
Seojun blinked, squinting at the translation. "They spelled my name wrong in the hashtags."
"So? You should be happy they're losing their minds over your rap flow," Daehyun teased, flashing a massive grin. The playful sarcasm instantly made Seojun roll his eyes, a mock scowl crossing his face.
Jiho scrolled down the feed, his fingers trembling slightly against the trackpad as he read out the top-liked comments.
"Who are these guys? That 'FRESH!' hook has been stuck in my head for twelve hours straight. My landlord is evicted, my bills are paid, my crops are watered, all because of Section D."
"Section D's energy is insane. I didn't expect a wildcard team to have this much production value. The orchestral twist is genius. It feels like getting smacked in the face by a classical violin but in a trendy way."
"The main dancer in the center during the 'breathe it in' line has absolute star power. His moves are so sharp. Who is he?"
Eunjae puffed out his chest, pointing aggressively at the screen. "Main dancer star power! That's me. Min Eunjae. Global audience, remember the name."
Hyun, lounging lazily on the end of the couch, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "They noticed your facial expressions during the drop, Eunjae. Not your footwork."
Eunjae whirled around. "Is that jealousy I hear? You know jealousy is bad for your skin, right?"
Hyun didn't reply at first. But when Eunjae leaned in to poke his cheek, Hyun lunged forward like a tiger after its prey, tackling him onto the rug in a chaotic blur of limbs and pillows while the others cheered. Jiho ignored the wrestling match on the floor and kept reading aloud.
"The guy with the black hair and neon sky-blue streaks—he looks so dangerously handsome but his smile is so cute. Can he be my oppa? I'm standardizing my standard of men based entirely on Jiho from today onward."
"The blonde-haired rapper in the suede jacket? I need his private social media account immediately. If Seojun doesn't debut, I will personally sue the broadcasting network for emotional damages."
"The one in the oversized 'BAM!' hoodie—his vocals are like an angel sent from above. Chanho didn't just sing, he cleansed my soul."
"Visuals? That guy with the silver and pink wolf cut. I'm staring directly at you, Daehyun. His jawline is sharper than my future."
Daehyun blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "Me? Soft eyes?"
Seojun burst out laughing. "You? The only eyes I see on you are a pair of gaeguri (frog) eyes when you're startled."
Chanho chuckled, stirring his noodles. "An angel sent from above… our new fans are a bit over the top, but I'll take it."
Jiho leaned closer to the screen, reading a translated blog post. "Someone said I looked like I was born to stand on a stage. That's… surreal."
Hanuel sat quietly at the edge of the cluster, watching the screen and the members' hyperactive interactions. He smiled, but he didn't say anything. Sometimes, when he watched them laugh so easily together, he felt a familiar, creeping sensation of being a third wheel. He hadn't had the flashiest styling or the longest lines, and his main vocal moment only came in during the emotional bridge. He was used to being the quiet one in the back, just like he used to sit isolated in his dark gaming room. Still, a small, quiet part of his heart hoped someone might have noticed his effort.
Then, a top-liked comment under the performance video caught his eye:
"The guy who hit that soaring high note in the bridge... who is he? His voice completely saved the climax. He's the hidden weapon. He didn't just hit the note, he launched it into outer space."
Haneul's fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his sweatpants. His chest tightened—not from the dull ache of his bruised ribs this time, but from pure, unexpected validation. Nobody out there knew he was the legendary cyber-ninja 'Zero' from the Grandmaster League. To the internet, he was just a mysterious rookie with pastel hair and a massive vocal range. And honestly? He liked it that way.
Suddenly, three of their phones buzzed simultaneously. Messages were flooding in from other trainees in the company, vocal coaches, and even the hair stylists.
"Jiho, you killed that opening verse."
"Hanuel, your high note? Absolute goosebumps in the monitoring room."
"Seojun, that syncopated rap break was insane."
"Hyun, your center transitions were so clean. Teach me how you execute that wave sometime?"
Even the training center staff were treating them differently today. The choreographer teased them less during morning roll call. The vocal coach smiled warmly when they walked past. Other trainees in the hallways looked at them with a newfound, quiet respect.
"Are we… actually popular now?" Eunjae asked, looking up from his floor wrestle with Hyun.
"Not just popular," Seojun said, leaning back with a rare, satisfied smirk. "We're a threat now."
That night, they rewatched the official broadcast version together, pausing every few seconds to ruthlessly roast each other's broadcast frames.
"Look at Eunjae's face here during the 'bang!' line—he looks like he's about to pass out.""Eunjae, when did you turn into Nobita from Doraemon?"
"I tripped slightly on the third beat of the second chorus," Daehyun admitted, hiding his face in his hands. "But thank god the camera operator cut to a wide shot."
"Seojun's glare could shoot daggers directly through the camera lens," Jiho said, pointing at the screen. "You looked like you wanted to fight the audience."
"I was trying not to pass out from anxiety," Seojun replied honestly. "I genuinely thought we were going to get cut."
Chanho laughed, shaking his head. "I added an unscripted harmony boost during the pre-chorus because the adrenaline hit me so hard. I thought Judge Park was going to scold me."
"No wonder the track felt even fuller there," Jiho said. "It actually made the live mix sound better."
Hyun suddenly tapped the screen, pointing at a specific frame. "Watch Hanuel's landing after the rising-sun formation. He winced."
The room went quiet. Hanuel groaned inwardly, burying his face in his jacket collar as a sharp, sudden stitch of pain flared under his sternum just from laughing too hard. "You actually caught that?"
The playful atmosphere shifted instantly as the members rushed toward him, eyes filled with immediate worry. "Hanuel, are you okay? Is it your side again?"
He felt incredibly overwhelmed by the sudden circle of arms, but a genuine smile broke across his face. He shook his head gently, carefully shifting his weight so nobody accidentally pressed against his left flank. "I'm fine, really. The editors did a great job masking it. Seeing the final cut... it just makes me feel one step closer to being a real idol. Don't you guys feel it?"
They paused at his words, the weight of the statement sinking in. Then, led by Eunjae, they playfully attacked him—ruffling his soft pink-and-blue hair, teasing him for having such a sentimental heart despite his usually stoic appearance.
"Hyung, we're not just getting closer to being idols," Hyun said firmly, his eyes locked onto Hanuel's. "We're going to dominate 'The Flip Side' mission, win this entire show, and debut together."
Everyone shouted in agreement, a chaotic chorus of voices filling the cramped living room. For the first time in a long time, the cold isolation Hanuel usually carried melted away, replaced by a deep, radiant warmth.
Later that night, the dorm grew quiet. The ambient glow of the laptop screen still illuminated the ceiling, but the loud laughter had faded into a thoughtful, heavy silence.
Jiho slowly closed his laptop. "We're being seen. Really seen."
Chanho nodded, staring at the ceiling. "It's not just a desperate dream anymore. It's becoming real."
Eunjae whispered from the corner of the couch, his voice unusually small. "I didn't think the internet would like my energy. I thought I was always too loud. Too much."
Hyun nudged his shoulder gently. "You're just enough for our team."
Seojun leaned his head back against the wall. "I spent months being terrified of elimination. But now… I want the center. I want more."
"Who wouldn't, after what we just pulled off?" Daehyun said softly. "I don't think any of us can ever go back to the old days of being ignored."
Everyone nodded, a silent pact forming in the dark.
Hanuel sat by the window, watching the distant city lights reflect off the glass. Carefully, away from the eyes of his members, he slid his hand beneath his oversized shirt, his fingers lightly tracing the dark, mottled purple bruising tracking along his ribs. It throbbed angrily under his touch, a silent reminder of the toll his high note had taken. He knew the road ahead was brutal—especially with a dark, physically demanding "Flip Side" concept looming over his body, and his name still sitting at the bottom of the active fan rankings.
But his voice had finally reached the world. People were actively looking for the boy who sang the bridge. That was more than enough to make him ignore the pain, stand back up, and fight.