The morning atmosphere was heavier than usual. Contestants were gathered in the main hall, sitting shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on the stage where the box for the draw had been placed. It wasn't just a box—it looked like a vault of fate, the kind that could shape or shatter dreams in seconds.
Dayo sat with his head slightly bowed, palms pressed together under the table. He wasn't the type to pray much, but today he made an exception.
God of luck, ancestors, anybody listening… just don't let me pull someone like Min Jae. Anyone but him. Please.
He opened his eyes and exhaled slowly. His heart was racing in a way that even performances hadn't managed to trigger. The whole process was simple: walk up, stick your hand in, pull out a number. But that simple act could decide his opponent—and maybe his survival.
