"Once again, please give our esteemed trio one more thunderous round of applause!" Cat encouraged.
The audience happily obliged.
"All right," Cat continued, smiling knowingly, "now for what you've all been waiting for. Please welcome… your LEAVEN trainees!"
The theatre exploded.
Earth-shaking cheers and screams erupted as the trainees poured onto the stage, all bright smiles and starry eyes—fresh, handsome, charming, and a thousand other adjectives fans would later scream about online.
"KANG IAN!!!! MIKAAAA!!!"
Hyouka screamed so loudly they were genuinely risking vocal cord rupture, waving their handmade banner like their life depended on it.
The sound caught Kang Ian and Mika's attention.
Without missing a beat, the two pressed their hands together, forming a heart—matching smiles, perfectly synchronized.
It was dangerous.
Illegal, even.
The #MikIan fandom lost its damn mind.
Of course, some fans were there for one reason and one reason only: to thirst.
"ELI, YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKBOY AND I LOVE IT—PLEASE MARRY ME!!!"
"ELI! YOU'RE SO HOT! KYAAAA!"
"ELI! TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!!!" someone screamed—because on this rare occasion, Eli was actually wearing one, and the people were upset.
Eli laughed softly, smiling apologetically as he mouthed, Sorry, I can't right now.
The crowd groaned in mock disappointment, but nothing could dampen their excitement. Seeing their bias in the flesh was more than enough.
The cheers went on and on—proof of just how deeply loved these trainees were.
Some felt their hearts swell so much they teared up. Seeing support in real life—hearing it, feeling it—lit a fire in their chests. It made them want to give everything they had. To deliver performances worthy of this love. To make everyone proud.
The program continued with the trainees introducing themselves one by one.
Then came the special segment.
A lucky few fans would be given the chance to share a message—to their bias, or to all the trainees.
The raffle began, Cat reaching into the box.
"Number… 464!"
A fan shot up from their seat, practically vibrating with joy. The production crew hurried over, handing them a microphone.
"Hi there," Cat said gently. "What's your name, my dear?"
"H–hi! Oh my God, I can't even speak right now," the fan laughed nervously, taking deep breaths.
"That's okay," Cat smiled warmly. "Take your time."
After a moment, the fan steadied herself.
"Okay. Hi, my name is Flora, and I'm from the Netherlands."
"Flora," Cat said sincerely, "what a beautiful name."
"Thank you," Flora replied, blushing.
"And who would you like to dedicate your message to?" Cat asked.
"Well—first of all, I want to thank all the trainees for your hard work and dedication," Flora said. "I truly support every single one of you."
She paused, her voice wavering.
"But there is one trainee who is very close to my heart."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I'm on the spectrum as well. And life hasn't always been easy. When I saw Jordan—persevering, working so hard to chase his dream—it gave me strength to keep going."
Flora wiped her tears quickly.
Jordan, on the other hand, was already full-on sobbing.
"Jordan, you have such a beautiful heart," Flora continued. "You've become an inspiration to so many of us—those on the spectrum, those who are different, those who've been bullied for being who they are."
"You are a light. You give us hope. You showed us that dreaming isn't impossible for us either."
She smiled through her tears.
"I volunteer at a special education class, and the kids there keep saying they want to be like you when they grow up."
At that point, there wasn't a single dry eye in the room.
"So thank you," Flora said. "Thank you for being strong. For being kind. For being you. Please keep going—your fans are right behind you every step of the way."
She raised her fist slightly.
"Thank you, Jordan. Jiayou!"
The theatre was silent for a heartbeat—then overwhelmed by emotion.
"Jordan," Cat said softly, "would you like to respond?"
Jordan nodded, crying openly now.
Eli placed a steady, comforting hand on his back, rubbing gently.
"Sniff When I joined this program," Jordan said shakily, "I just wanted to chase my dreams."
He paused, blowing his nose into a tissue Eli was already holding for him like the best big brother ever.
"I never imagined… not in my entire life… that I could become someone like that to any of you."
He swallowed hard.
"Your support showed me that even though I'm different—quirky, awkward, sometimes really weird—you never made me feel defective."
Tears streamed freely.
"You showed me that I can be myself. That I'm already enough. That I'm perfectly perfect the way I am."
Jordan looked out into the crowd.
"So to Flora—and to everyone who found strength through watching me—please know this: you are beautiful exactly as you are. No matter what the world says, no one can take that away from you."
His voice broke.
"I love you all so much. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
The moment he finished, the entire theatre rose to its feet in thunderous applause.
The trainees crowded around him, patting his back, clapping proudly for their baby Jordan.
His family and friends stood too—faces glowing with pride.
"That's right, Akla!!! I'm so proud of you!" his best friend Henry shouted, dramatically wiping tears.
"LET'S GO, JORDIE!!!" Allison cheered.
"We're so proud of you, babe! Jiayou!" Luke yelled, clapping like a proud dad at graduation.
And in the audience, Jordan's mother clapped the hardest of all—watching her son shine, heart full, eyes bright, knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.
****
And with that, the emotional, the funny, and the downright unhinged messages from the fans continued.
"Isaac, you showed me that it doesn't matter if I'm from a small town or country. I can chase my dreams just like anybody else," said a fan from a small town in Mozambique, their voice steady but full of pride.
Then came another message—one that shifted the entire atmosphere.
"Kang Ian and Mika, you became my strength when I didn't want to keep living anymore," said a fan from Washington, D.C.
"I survived severe sexual abuse and struggled with an eating disorder. Watching you both showed me that healing is possible."
The theatre went deathly quiet.
"You gave me the courage to tell my parents what happened. You gave me the strength to ask for help. You showed me that our painful past doesn't define our future—that we can choose to live again."
They paused, steadying their breath.
"I'm in therapy now. Slowly healing, bit by bit. I've even met people like me who decided to seek help because you inspired them to be brave."
Soft sobs echoed across the room.
"So from the bottom of my heart—thank you. Truly."
Mika covered his face, openly crying. Kang Ian reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly, grounding them both as the audience erupted into applause filled with love rather than noise.
The mood gently lifted again with the next message.
"Leo, you showed the world that being a gamer degen isn't something to be ashamed of," a fan from Canada said proudly.
"You proved we're not just basement gremlins who need to touch grass."
Laughter rippled through the theatre.
"You inspired us to chase dreams outside of gaming while still loving what we do—and to have a healthy gaming lifestyle. You're the GOAT, bro. GGs."
Leo bowed deeply, hand over his heart, smiling wide.
Next came a voice filled with authority—and awe.
"To Ryu and Corsair," said a seasoned vocal teacher with 28 years of experience.
"In my entire career, I have never heard harmonies as spine-chilling as yours."
The two trainees froze.
"Your blend is something incredibly rare—seamless, tight, almost impossible to replicate. You've already become part of my curriculum when I teach."
The audience gasped softly.
"Stay strong. Both of you are truly something special."
Ryu and Corsair bowed so deeply they nearly folded in half, eyes shining with disbelief and pride.
And then.
Oh then.
The energy took a hard left turn into chaos.
"Eli—and Eli's family—please forgive me for what I'm about to say," announced a representative from Eli's fan club, voice dripping with confidence.
The audience knew this was about to be messy.
"Dear Eli," they continued, "you are such a slut—and we love you for it."
The theatre exploded.
"Our legs are divorced the moment you pop on screen. Your smile makes us gush like a waterfalls. Your body is a public service. You are God's gift to the world, and we thank Him every day that you were born."
They finished proudly.
"With love,
—Eli's Hoes."
It was unhinged. Absolutely feral.
And somehow… deeply heartfelt.
No one was uncomfortable—because all anyone could see was pure, unfiltered fan passion.
And Eli?
Eli did not disappoint.
Before anyone could stop him, he tore his shirt off, grinning like he'd been waiting his whole damn life for this moment.
The fans screamed.
Security sighed.
The internet was born again.
Everyone else could only shake their heads in amused disbelief.
It was… iconic.
And so the messages continued—each one layering the room with warmth, harmony, gratitude, love, laughter, healing, and connection.
By the end of it all, the air itself felt heavier—not with tension, but with something gentler.
Something real.