The hallway buzzed with nervous energy as trainees emerged from their rooms.
Jisoo bounced beside me, already mid-conversation about the cafeteria's rumored menu, while Yuhyun walked with the effortless confidence of someone who'd never worried about fitting in.
Jinwook trailed behind, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Cameras lined the corridor like vultures, swiveling to track our every step. The red recording lights felt like laser sights trained on my chest.
"Think they'll have kimchi?" Jisoo wondered aloud, completely unbothered by the lenses following our group.
"My mom always says I get cranky without proper fermentation."
We passed the S-rank suites, where Haejun and Hyunki emerged surrounded by production assistants wielding professional equipment.
Boom mics hovered overhead while cameramen captured their casual interactions from multiple angles.
The contrast was stark—our single handheld camera operator versus their full film crew.
"Wow," Yuhyun muttered, watching the entourage sweep past.
"Guess we know who the main characters are."
A-rank trainees received similar treatment, though slightly scaled down.
Staff members approached them with clipboards, scheduling individual interviews and photo sessions.
My jaw clenched. The hierarchy was already in place around us, invisible but undeniable.
It was as if we were background players in someone else's story.
"You think the S-rank guys get better food?" Jisoo's eyes followed the production crew escorting Haejun's group.
"Like, steak and sushi while we get instant ramen?"
He patted his hoodie pocket, which crinkled with hidden snack packages.
"Not that I'm worried."
Yuhyun snorted. "They're not feeding us based on rank, Jisoo."
"Are you sure? Everything else here runs on hierarchy."
Jisoo's voice carried genuine concern beneath the humor.
"What if there's not enough food for everyone? A hundred and one hungry trainees..."
We rounded the corner toward the cafeteria, expecting to find the usual chaos of teenage boys demolishing dinner.
Instead, silence greeted us.
Every trainee stood in a perfectly organized line stretching from the serving area to the entrance. No one ate. No one sat.
They just waited.
My stomach dropped.
"Why is everyone standing around?" Jinwook spoke for the first time since leaving our room.
A production assistant with a tablet approached our group, scanner in hand.
"Room 312? Please join the queue."
The unpleasant feeling in my gut intensified. This wasn't just dinner—it was another test.
Here, even dinner was designed to evaluate, rank, and eliminate.
Jisoo's confident smile faltered as we took our places in line.
"Maybe I should've brought more snacks."
PD Kwon emerged from behind the cameras like a magician revealing his final trick, that familiar game-show smile plastered across his face.
"Before you eat, we'll play a little game! Each dorm must complete a mini-challenge to earn dinner!"
The collective groan was audible. Beside me, Jisoo's stomach rumbled loudly enough for the boom mics to catch.
"Three challenges are available, but you may only choose one," Kwon continued, gesturing to three stations set up around the cafeteria.
"Speed Quiz—answer trivia about K-pop history, dance moves, or lyrics. Wrong answers mean downgraded food portions."
He moved to the second station.
"Random Dance Challenge—music plays, you nail the choreography snippets. Winners earn better food."
Finally, he pointed to a camera setup with a colorful backdrop.
"And the Idol Charm Test—each group gets thirty seconds to do something funny or cute for the camera. Netizens will vote live."
My blood chilled. Thirty seconds on camera, trying to be charming while hiding all our starving expressions. The thought of thousands of viewers scrutinizing my every gesture, looking for weakness...
"Choose wisely," Kwon's grin widened.
"Your dinner depends on it."
Yuhyun leaned close. "What do you think? We're decent at dancing."
Jisoo bounced nervously. "I know tons of K-pop trivia. My brain's like a sponge for useless facts."
Jinwook remained silent, dark eyes calculating each option.
The camera operator stepped closer to our huddle, red light blinking like a warning signal.
Whatever we chose would determine not just our meal, but how we appeared to viewers.
While we debated, the elite trainees had already moved.
Haejun approached the Random Dance Challenge station with the casual confidence of a born winner.
The music began—a rapid-fire medley of hit songs from the past decade.
He flowed seamlessly from one choreography to another, bodies synchronizing without hesitation.
The production crew capturing their performance looked genuinely impressed.
At the Speed Quiz station, Hyunki dominated with predatory efficiency. Questions about debut years, member counts, and obscure B-side tracks—he answered them all with barely a pause.
But it was Doyun's group at the Idol Charm Test that made everyone stop and stare.
In thirty seconds, he created a miniature comedy sketch. Doyun played the serious mentor while acting out increasingly ridiculous dance moves.
When the timer hit zero, even the stone-faced cameraman was fighting a smile.
The live vote counter on the monitor climbed rapidly.
"Incredible charisma," one PA whispered to another.
"Natural variety show material."
My throat tightened. These weren't just talented performers—they were media-ready professionals. They understood the game better than any of us lower-ranked trainees.
Jisoo tugged my sleeve. "We need to decide. The quiz questions are getting harder."
Around us, other groups scrambled to claim the remaining slots.
I wanted to just follow along with whatever the group decided, but my mind raced through the options.
The Speed Quiz demanded encyclopedic knowledge of K-pop history.
Jisoo claimed expertise, but watching other groups stumble over increasingly difficult questions made my confidence waver.
The Random Dance Challenge looked even worse. Those weren't just popular choreographies—they were mixing current hits with vintage moves from second and third generation groups.
Technical precision under pressure, with cameras capturing every missed step.
Both options felt like traps designed to expose our weaknesses.
"The charm test," I said quietly.
Jisoo turned. "Really?"
"Look at the other stations. Half those groups are failing the quiz and the dance challenge..." I gestured toward a B-rank group struggling with a girl's group routine.
Yuhyun nodded slowly. "He's right. The charm test is subjective, which means no wrong answers."
"But each of us have to be entertaining in less than ten seconds," Jisoo worried. "What if we're boring?"
The live vote counter for previous groups flashed on the monitor. Some scores were brutal.
"At least we control the outcome," I said. "The other challenges depend on knowledge we might not have."
We made a collective decision and stepped toward the Idol Charm Test station, the camera swinging closer like it already smelled blood.
Thirty seconds. That's all we'd get to prove ourselves.