We filed back into the cafeteria with the other groups. The smell of food made my stomach clench. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until now.
PD Kwon stood at the front, tablet in hand, that familiar smirk curling across his lips. He was enjoying this.
"Trainees, gather around!"
His voice boomed through the space, cameras swiveling to capture every anxious face.
"Based on your challenge performances, you've been divided into three dining categories."
He gestured dramatically toward three separate serving stations, each more elaborate than the last.
"Category One—our top twenty performers—will enjoy luxury trays tonight. Full Korean spread, fresh fruit, colorful desserts. The works."
My mouth watered as I glimpsed the pristine banchan, glistening bulgogi, and what looked like actual strawberry cake.
"Category Two—the next thirty—decent, filling meals. Rice, grilled chicken or fish, vegetables, kimchi, soup."
Still good. Still enough.
"And Category Three..."
His pause stretched out, milking the moment.
"Plain rice, watery soup, one dish. Maybe a piece of pickled radish if you're lucky."
The bottom tier looked depressingly sparse. My stomach twisted again, but this time from dread rather than hunger.
Which category would we fall into?
The screen flickered to life behind PD Kwon, displaying a sleek ranking chart. Numbers appeared one by one, each reveal accompanied by dramatic music that made my pulse quicken.
"Let's see our top performers..."
Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. Names I barely recognized filled the lower slots of the top tier.
Fifteen appeared—Kang Minjae's face flashed on screen. Fourteen went to another Starforge trainee.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
My chest tightened as familiar faces began appearing. Doyun's serious expression materialized at number four, his glasses catching the studio lights.
The trainees around me murmured appreciation—well-deserved after that Underground King performance.
Third place: Lee Hyunki. His predatory smile filled the screen, and I could feel his satisfaction radiating from across the cafeteria.
Second: Seo Haejun. Expected. His calm, aristocratic features showed no surprise, as if he'd known all along where he'd land.
"And our number one performer tonight..."
The pause stretched endlessly. My stomach clenched.
Im Sejin's flawless face bloomed across the screen, complete with that perfect camera-ready smirk.
First place. Sejin had beaten everyone, including Haejun and Hyunki.
I shouldn't have been surprised our names weren't among the top twenty.
The rest of the rankings followed predictably—mostly matching the evaluation round results, with minor shuffles here and there.
Disappointment settled in my chest like a stone, but I forced my expression to be neutral. Cameras were still rolling.
"Category Two performers, ranked twenty-one through fifty..."
I held my breath, fingers unconsciously gripping the hem of my shirt. Please. Just let us have decent food tonight.
Twenty-one flashed on screen—Park Yuhyun. Relief flooded through me as his warm smile appeared. At least one of us made it.
The numbers continued climbing. Thirty-two: Lee Jinwook. His stoic face showed no reaction, but I caught the subtle relaxation in his shoulders.
Forty-one: Oh Jisoo. His round face beamed with pure joy, and I heard him whisper a quiet "yes!" beside me.
The count reached the forties. My heart hammered against my ribs as fewer and fewer slots remained.
Forty-two...
Forty-three...
Come on...
"Forty-four: Han Jiwon."
My name appeared just as the category filled. I was in the bottom ten, but I had still made it. Air rushed from my lungs in a shaky exhale.
"Yes!" Jisoo bounced on his toes. "We all made it!"
Around us, disappointed sighs rippled through the remaining trainees. Some tried to hide their frustration, but others couldn't mask the dejection creeping across their faces.
My relief curdled into guilt. While we'd scraped into decent meals, over fifty other trainees would go hungry tonight.
We collected our trays and found a table near the back. Jisoo practically bounced as he set his tray down, grinning at the assembled meal.
"Look! We got the chicken! And actual kimchi, not the watery stuff they probably gave Category Three."
His enthusiasm faltered as he poked at the single piece of grilled chicken breast, smaller than his palm.
The rice portion barely filled half the compartment, and the kimchi amounted to maybe three wilted leaves.
"Well... it's... food?" Yuhyun settled beside him, cutting into his chicken.
He offered me that familiar warm smile, the one that used to make everything feel manageable. I tried to return it, but the expression felt brittle.
Jinwook ate methodically, never complaining, but I caught the way his gaze lingered on the Category One tables.
Their trays overflowed with banchan, multiple proteins, and even small dessert cups. I noticed his jaw tighten before he returned to his sparse meal.
Jisoo scraped the last grain of rice from his tray and set down his chopsticks with a dramatic sigh.
"My hamster eats more than this. And he's on a diet.""
His voice carried further than intended, and several trainees from nearby tables glanced over.
I caught sight of the Category Three section—trainees picking at their measly portions with hollow expressions.
"Jisoo." I kept my voice low but firm. "Keep it down."
I nodded toward the bottom tier. One trainee stared at his nearly empty bowl like it might magically refill itself.
"Those guys got even less."
Jisoo's face flushed red. He followed my gaze, and his shoulders sagged.
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
He brightened slightly, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Good thing I brought my snack stash back in the room. Want me to save you some?"
Before I could answer, Yuhyun leaned forward.
"I've got a small pile too. We can share after lights out."
That familiar warmth in his voice made my chest tighten.
Even here, surrounded by cameras and competition, he still looked out for others first.
Jinwook remained silent throughout our exchange, methodically chewing his last bite.
Just as Jinwook set down his chopsticks, PD Kwon's voice cut through the cafeteria chatter.
"I hope everyone enjoyed their dinner!"
His tone dripped with false cheer as he surveyed the room, that predatory smile never wavering.
"Remember, trainees. Tonight's rankings reflect your effort. Work harder, and tomorrow you might find yourselves at the luxury tables instead."
Several category three trainees shifted uncomfortably, their nearly empty bowls a grim reminder of their performance.
"Now, while you were dining, our production crew conducted routine spot checks of your dormitories."
My blood turned to ice.
"Any forbidden items—personal snacks, outside food, unauthorized supplements—have been confiscated for the fairness of the competition."