The atmosphere in the warehouse studio was electric. The filming for the first major segment of "Road to Starlight" was underway: the 'Zero Gravity' title song performance. Cameras swiveled, lights blazed, and twenty-five trainees—the elite A-Class and the desperate Wild Cards—were a nervous, sweating mass of ambition.
Kang-joon was precisely where he wanted to be: Sub-Vocal 3, positioned on the far left. Safe, yet visible.
[System Warning: Host Rank (Sub-Vocal 3) is Inadequate for Optimal Debut Success. Recommend immediate action to secure Center position in the next group stage.]
Noted, Kang-joon thought, stretching his legs. We'll address 'Center' on the next challenge. Today, we survive the scaffolding.
He subtly scanned the stage risers one last time. His earlier warning to the Stage Manager had resulted in a flurry of repairs, turning a lethal trap into a mere hazard. He had traded a potential death by platform collapse for a slight chance of tripping over a loose cable. A better risk profile.
II. The Unfair Performance
The music blasted. The trainees launched into the complex, high-energy choreography.
Min-soo, the designated Center, attacked the routine with fierce, aggressive power. Jae-hyun, the high-energy leader, was all smiles and passion.
Kang-joon moved perfectly, but his advantage wasn't just technical; it was temporal. He wasn't just dancing the current version of 'Zero Gravity'—he was executing the final, perfected version they wouldn't finalize until Loop #89, incorporating smoother transitions and more efficient energy use.
He looked effortless.
As the performance hit the high-tempo bridge, a Wild Card trainee positioned near the front faltered, his timing off by a critical beat. He stumbled slightly, ruining the visual line.
Before the Wild Card could recover, Kang-joon, without missing a step of his own peripheral choreography, extended his arm and slapped the Wild Card's back lightly—a move that looked like a sudden burst of energy, but was actually a precise mid-air correction to push the trainee back into the right rhythm.
The whole thing looked like an inspired moment of leadership and synchronization.
[System Achievement: Crisis Management (A+) achieved. Host successfully stabilized the group formation under duress. Debut Success Score: 0.155%.]
The score jumped, rewarding the appearance of leadership. The System loved efficiency and stability.
When the performance ended, the Head Producer didn't call for a retake based on the mistake. Instead, he yelled: "Lee Kang-joon! That move in the bridge! Where did you get that idea?"
Kang-joon straightened. "Producer-nim, I noticed the Wild Card's exhaustion. It was an impromptu visual cue to bring him back into sync."
Min-soo, sweating heavily, shot Kang-joon a look of pure competitive fury. "He looked like he was showing off, Producer-nim."
"He looked like he was saving the entire take, Min-soo," the Producer retorted. "It looked like teamwork. Lee Kang-joon, you're a genius for thinking of that on the fly."
III. The Weaponized Rest
The trainees were given a mandatory 30-minute break. The exhaustion was setting in.
Min-soo and the other A-Class members rushed to the cooling fans, desperate for water. Kang-joon, however, walked straight past them toward the corner of the studio where the lighting crew was taking a break.
"Jae-hyun, Min-soo, come here," Kang-joon commanded, his voice carrying the calm authority of a teacher.
"Hyung, I'm dying," Min-soo whined, clutching his chest.
"No, you're overheating," Kang-joon said firmly. "Look at the air flow. The AC unit is designed to push air away from the center stage to keep the cameras cool. You're wasting energy standing under the outflow. Sit down, face the wall, and drink this."
Kang-joon handed them both a specific brand of isotonic sports drink that he remembered from Loop #64 (The Olympic Trainer phase) contained the precise balance of electrolytes needed to fight muscle cramping caused by the studio's dry air.
Min-soo, too tired to argue, drank it down. Jae-hyun, ever trusting, chugged his.
[System Quest: Trainee Management. Sub-Quest Complete: Optimize Recovery for Key Assets. EXP Gain: +100.]
Kang-joon sat next to them, taking small, measured sips of his own.
"Kang-joon, why do you know so much weird stuff?" Jae-hyun asked, catching his breath. "You're like a walking instruction manual."
"It's called reading the fine print, Jae-hyun," Kang-joon smiled. "I'm not the best dancer, but I know how the machine works. And the machine wants us back on stage in 20 minutes, feeling fresh. You'll be ready. They won't." He nodded toward the struggling Wild Cards.
Min-soo looked at the drink, then at Kang-joon. "You're infuriating. You're supposed to be failing, not teaching us how to win."
"I'm teaching us how to survive the show, Min-soo-ssi," Kang-joon corrected. "We need to look flawless, or we all get cut, and the CEO sells us off to a worse fate. Think of me as the 'Idol Insurance Policy.'"
IV. The Strategic Leak
The final segment of the day was the Individual Camera Focus Shoot, where each trainee got five seconds of close-up screen time to 'charm the audience.'
Kang-joon knew that in previous loops, this segment was rigged for the trainees who wore the most expensive jewelry or clothing, as the producers were subtly pushing product placement.
He approached Jae-hyun, who was wearing a cheap chain. "Jae-hyun, switch necklaces with me."
"Why, Hyung? Yours is boring."
"It's subtle," Kang-joon said, handing him his simple, but expensive, platinum chain. "The camera lens is set to focus on high-reflectivity accessories today. My boring chain will catch the light, making your face look brighter. You need that shine for your opening narrative."
Jae-hyun took the chain, confused but grateful.
Kang-joon, meanwhile, went into the bathroom. He pulled out the encrypted phone from the Hourglass scout. He quickly sent one key piece of information to Han Min-seo:
[Text]: Starline's final Debut Success Marker is tied to the Consortium Sale. Deadline: 3 weeks, 4 days. The show's only vulnerability is their reliance on the VORTEX sync rhythm, which is flawed.
He wasn't selling his team out; he was giving Min-seo a distraction—a target for her rival company to aim at, drawing her attention away from Kang-joon's immediate survival.
When Kang-joon stepped in front of the camera, he looked tired, almost sad. He gave a direct, intense, but brief gaze into the lens. He wasn't charming; he was haunting.
[System Warning: Emotional Output: Extreme Melancholy. Debut Score Integrity: Stable. Host is maximizing 'Artistic Depth' metric.]
His look was the perfect blend of technical excellence and marketability failure—a look that would intrigue the viewers but confuse the producers, keeping him out of the main Center narrative.
As the day ended, Min-soo approached him one last time, a complicated mix of jealousy and reluctant admiration on his face.
"You saved the take, you saved our legs, and you stole the camera's focus from me," Min-soo admitted. "I don't know what kind of genius you are, but I hate you."
"Good," Kang-joon replied, pulling on his jacket. "Now you have the motivation to try harder. See you tomorrow, Min-soo-ssi. I recommend you stretch your calves tonight."
Kang-joon left the studio, the System score ticking up slowly but surely. He was not a reckless genius; he was a meticulous survivor, using his past deaths as the ultimate guidebook for success.