Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Relentless Rehearsal
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I'd spent the past few days getting along splendidly with Grandpa Go Su-jong. Our vibes just clicked, you know?
The old man had me running all sorts of errands around the house. The chores were surprisingly physical, so my Stamina ticked up a bit here and there.
He also loved playing go and chatting up a storm.
After living alone for so long, he'd found himself a quiet, polite, and agreeable conversation partner in me. How thrilled must he have been?
Thanks to that, I'd heard his dapper fashion philosophy at least ten times over.
In the real world, my fashion philosophy boiled down to "face completes fashion."
That timeless gem from the fashion world wasn't just empty words—I lived it, actively proving it every day.
But dressing like a slob here would give him endless ammo to nag me.
If he caught me later grabbing whatever clothes were handy... he'd probably chew me out worse than when I told him I wasn't getting married.
Just imagining his lectures sent shivers down my spine.
Plus, these few days crashing at Grandpa Go Su-jong's place were my first real chance to scout out this world since dropping into the game.
Honestly, it was the only stretch of time free from major worries or anxiety.
First off, I learned next to nothing about "On Raon."
My student ID aside, the only other potential clue was my phone—and it was wiped clean, like it'd been factory reset.
The only incoming messages were from Pick Heart staff.
I tried a few things to dig into my background, but no dice.
Eh... it'll work itself out somehow, right?
I tried to stay optimistic.
Summing up what else I gleaned about this game world: as expected, tons of things from my world didn't exist here. Not even a trace.
Songs I loved, games I binged all day, movies that had me bawling like a baby over loyal dogs...
No one here knew any of it.
The pop culture—music, dramas, films—was all vaguely familiar yet utterly alien.
Delivery apps overflowed with franchises I'd never heard of. Even convenience stores and chicken joints had different names.
Video streaming was WeTube, not You×Tube. The big SNS was StarTell, not In×stagram.
Celebs and politicians were all fresh faces too.
Did the devs really craft every single detail? If so, that's some next-level genius.
That said, there were echoes of real-world stuff.
Like a blockbuster historical biopic with a plot and vibe mirroring one from my world.
Or characters that reminded me of kids' cartoons I'd watched alone over meals as a child.
The more I learned, the creepier it felt.
A world full of unfamiliar déjà vu.
"Gotta hustle on intel gathering if I don't wanna come off as clueless."
And today was rehearsal day for the Heart Attack stage on M Stage.
As I bundled up in my outer layers, Grandpa called out.
"Take out the trash by the entryway on your way out."
"Sure thing... Ack! What the hell's in here? It's so heavy—nearly threw my back out. How'd you manage without me, Grandpa?"
"Manage what? I'd have handled it fine."
"Nah, you're lying."
"Talking back to your elders like that? Calling them liars?"
"We're the same age, aren't we? I'm eighteen, you're seventy-eight. Dragon zodiac buddies!"
"...Did I leave my cane lying around?"
"I'm off!"
Unfortunately, Grandpa was still dead set on the idea that I was a runaway teen.
Even when I explained—truthfully—that I'd come up from Busan to Seoul to become a singer, he wouldn't buy it. What could I do?
I just let him believe it.
His conviction was so rock-solid, I even wondered if Grandpa [Go Su-jong]'s AI was programmed to take in homeless players like this.
Pretty plausible, actually.
Two hours later, I arrived at the gym for rehearsal.
A staffer handed me a name tag sticker with my rank and name, plus an orange vest printed with a B on the back.
I threw the vest over my clothes and headed to the cluster of other B-rank trainees in matching orange.
Everyone was tense, running through tricky moves even if simplified.
Spotting Ban Yo-han—who, as usual, showed Zero interest in extra practice after hitting his quota—I asked the question that'd been bugging me on the way over.
"Hyung, how'd you film your one-minute PR video?"
"Eh, just winged it."
Ban Yo-han, who usually strolled around with that carefree, worry-free grin, gave a half-hearted reply with an oddly subdued look.
That wasn't like him. What gives?
No way... this guy...
"Hyung, you nervous? If you're too tensed up to handle center, you can pass it to me."
I flashed a big smile and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Ban Yo-han recoiled dramatically and swatted my hand away. I was even gonna follow up with that hug I'd banked as payback from before.
This sly fox calls me a mutt just 'cause I can't read minds? Fine, you're Fox Boy from now on.
Dog system, fox bastard. Keep this up and I'll open a zoo playing this game.
But why'd he worry about me? Still hung up on that thing a few days ago?
If so, I felt a twinge of guilt.
"What're you staring at?"
...Better to save any guilt for the corn kernels rotting on my real-world bedroom floor.
A bit later, the trainees gathered, and the shooting director, Pick Heart's main director, and Jo In-soo PD stepped up to brief us.
"Hello, I'm Shin Jae-han, handling today's shoot."
Boiling down the shooting director's and Jo In-soo PD's long-winded spiel:
Rehearsal starts now. From A-ranks on stage to F-ranks below—no one's going home till it's flawless.
What nonsense.
"If it was flawless, we'd all be A-ranks, not B-C-D-F."
The retort bubbled up but died on my tongue. Don't sass the bosses.
The stage was heart-shaped.
More precisely, four heart stages pointed inward at their tips, forming a four-leaf clover.
Lighting was that rosy hue from the mentor eval.
Seeing it actually move, a former Muk Hye-seong team trainee beside me stammered in a shaky voice,
"Knew it moved, but it's faster than I thought... Dancing up there possible?"
His pupils shook as much as his voice.
"Don't sweat it. Earth's spinning right now and folks manage fine."
"Thanks for the reassuring words, Class Leader."
"No biggie."
Soon after, we slapped on the regulation tangerine earset mics and took positions. Rehearsal kicked off.
Again, again, again. And again.
Any word captures rehearsal better? It was straight-up dog training.
One clean run's tough enough, but repeating with short breaks? My throat burned like blood on my tongue.
Dance breaks tore at my lungs; expression control was hell.
"If tomorrow's recording's like this, I'm screwed."
A fatigue warning hit 70 earlier.
Wanna quit and collapse, but spotting other trainees kept me grinding through spite. Even boosted my Willpower.
No real breaks—just till the director yelled his dreaded "Again!" and the stage reset.
Wish "again" was banned from the program.
"C-rank, far left! Yeah, you. Off-beat! Again!"
The director bellowed yet again.
Hey, that side's way more off. He doesn't fix errors—just barks.
What're we even doing?
Heard a mutter behind me: "F×ck..."
Aimed at the merciless director, not the screw-up. We all pretended not to hear.
Can't blame 'em.
(I'd been curbing my swearing lately.)
Gotta save the real zingers for when that damn filter doesn't block 'em.
Like a trump card.
Not just that trainee—gripe vibes spread among us, but no one dared speak up.
A- and B-ranks nailed it sans big flubs; their faces screamed "save us" silently.
C-ranks with more slips, D- and F-ranks like minefields—they hung heads in shame, sorry to drag everyone down.
If mid-choreo B-me's wrecked, how's full-run A-rank?
My Stamina's decent now, but push more and I'm toast.
How many hours in?
No clock—felt like three or four easy.
Rosy lights now looked blood-red.
As I checked Fatigue, Ban Yo-han spoke up.
"You good?"
"Yeah. Fine."
"You look pale."
Do I? Pointless chat—no rest anyway.
Opening my mouth to repeat "fine," a nearby trainee gawked at me, eyes wide.
Ban Yo-han's face matched.
"Dude, On Raon—nosebleed!"
His urgent shout hit as I felt something trickle under my nose.
Nosebleed? Wasn't that bad.
...Or so I thought.
This f×cking game won't give me even one peaceful day.
The sudden commotion drew staff stares; one panicked into his radio.
-5 HP
[Status Ailment: Bleeding (Area: Nose)]
Am I crazy?
Levels up, Stamina up—HP's solid, no immediate death risk. But theoretically, I could bleed out?
Insane.
Instinctively went to pinch with my sleeve, but stopped—can't stain these precious few clothes.
Didn't wanna learn clothing value like this.
Word spread; the B-stage en route to A paused.
B-rank trainees swarmed, asking if I was okay—their voices hit late.
Blasting lights or system effect? Vision tinted red.
-5 HP
[Status Ailment: Bleeding (Area: Nose)]
Okay, got it. No need to repeat. Twice.