31. First Monthly Evaluation (3)

One week remained until the monthly evaluation.

Even with nonstop practice, there wouldn't be enough time—yet here I was, sitting in a café.

"...Are you under a lot of stress?"

Across from me sat Ji Soo-ho, who had probably lost a good 5kg juggling department head negotiations, HR duties, and preparations for both the monthly evaluation and the survival show.

"Huh?"

"You do realize you just chugged an entire iced chocolate in one go, right?"

Oh, had I?

As Soo-ho returned with the cake we'd ordered, his concerned tone made me sheepishly scratch my forehead. He even smoothly slid over an extra iced tea he'd apparently anticipated needing.

I'm not that much of a sugar addict...

"I was just thirsty."

"Should I take this iced tea back, then?"

"...On second thought, maybe I am a little stressed."

I hastily grabbed his wrist before he could reclaim the drink. Who takes back a gift like that?

Soo-ho reluctantly returned the iced tea with an odd expression before sympathetically pushing the cake plate toward me.

"Well...it is your first monthly evaluation. I figured it might be tough, which is why I scheduled this meeting."

While a private meeting with Soo-ho—one of the evaluators—could've been problematic before the assessment, today's gathering had an official purpose: the "pre-evaluation individual counseling session."

Though called counseling, it was essentially a chance to gauge the trainees' mental and physical states before diving into the real survival show. For many, this would be their first TV exposure, so there were plenty of things to discuss.

"How's evaluation prep going? I heard you're team leader."

"Well...I guess you could say it's going fine?"

At Soo-ho's blunt question, I swirled the straw in my empty iced chocolate, pointlessly tormenting the remaining ice cubes.

Even though I'd been regularly uploading practice videos to the company cloud for feedback—meaning he likely already knew how we were doing—Soo-ho pretended otherwise and asked again.

"You had a mid-check recently, right?"

"...Yeah."

"Heard there were a lot of issues."

See? He knows everything, that bastard.

With nothing left to hide, I answered immediately.

"Yeah, well."

"......"

"We bombed it. Spectacularly."

Recalling that (horrifying) mid-check session...I ended up downing the iced tea in one go.

The mid-check evaluation had taken place with all trainees present. Probably to make us nervous watching other teams get destroyed while staying humble seeing others receive effusive praise.

Our team? Definitely the former.

—What, uh, what exactly am I supposed to be seeing here?

—......

—Ha-jin, you answer. Can you actually finish this in a week? This was your idea, wasn't it?

The choreography trainer's irritated voice filled the practice room, sharpening the already icy atmosphere.

Not that I could blame them. Lee Do-ha still couldn't follow half the dance break, Gong Seok struggled just keeping up with the full routine, and Yoon Tae-hyun's live vocals were woefully inadequate. Objectively, our team was incomplete.

—You guys could've gotten halfway there just doing what you're good at! Do-ha, why suddenly get ambitious with dancing? Stick to your strengths, kids. Just stick to them. Who approaches a crucial pre-survival evaluation like this?

...That's harsh, even for feedback.

As the trainer's scolding continued, the mood plummeted further. I briefly considered side-eyeing them—they seemed excessively harsh today—but thought better of it. Eye contact now meant certain death.

In the end, we suffered through 20 straight minutes of berating after a mere 4-minute performance. Only after returning to our spots did I realize it had been a disciplinary example, but the others' morale was already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shattered beyond repair.

—See, I told you it was too much! This is all Ha-jin hyung's fault!

—Are we...are we gonna be okay? Should we change the performance now...?

—We all agreed to do this together, and now you're blaming someone? Let's just work harder and prove ourselves, okay?

The effort it took to reassure their shattered spirits and get them practicing again...

The sole silver lining? Do-ha, who'd borne the brunt of the criticism, reacted unexpectedly well.

—Let's just practice.

—Huh? Do-ha, but—

—We got scolded because the performance wasn't complete. So we should spend this time perfecting it instead.

Then, with visibly wounded pride, Do-ha quietly took Won-ho aside for private ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dance break training. The others had no choice but to shut up after that.

If the guy given the toughest task was pushing himself that hard, failing to match his effort would mean sheer lack of ability.

Back to the present.

I smiled at Soo-ho's still-worried expression.

"It's fine. We planned to treat the mid-check as expendable from the start."

"Can you really finish in a week? Especially Do-ha's dance break—I'm really concerned. You might not know, but before this, he always..."

"I know. Only rapped, never danced. Either stayed in back or did minimal movements."

"......"

"But isn't that ridiculous? He's an idol trainee."

This thought had lingered since first hearing about Do-ha's special class placement, and when I decided to assign him the dance break while choreographing with Won-ho.

What kind of idol trainee doesn't dance?

"Until now, sure—'we can't lose someone like Do-ha, so it's fine if he can't dance, just let him rap, just let him write songs.' But we're entering a debut survival show now. He needs to graduate from those excuses."

"...That's—"

"Don't worry. They'll pull it off by the evaluation. I've coached youth performance teams worse than them to wins."

This performance will work—if completed. That's why I designed it this way. As Soo-ho sat dumbfounded, he asked another silly question.

"Ha-jin, what exactly did you do in your past life?"

"Oh...this and that?"

"Was being an idol literally the only thing you hadn't tried?"

"Which is why I'm trying it this time. I should go—need to practice."

With a smirk at the pensive Soo-ho, I shoveled a huge bite of cake, stood up, and gave a casual nod to his incredulous laugh. But then I backtracked to his table.

"Though if you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that worried, there is a more practical way you could help. What do you think?"

"......? Sure, what is it?"

"Feel like swiping your card for us?"

Hang tight, kids. Hyung's bringing snacks.

Won-ho was once again assisting Do-ha with dance practice. Tae-hyun, having mastered the dance break, had moved to the vocal practice room with Gong Seok to work on his weak singing.

In the now-empty practice room, only their breathing, footsteps, and Won-ho's occasional exclamations echoed.

"One, two, one! Jump!"

"...!"

"Whoa, hyung! You did it! That was perfect!"

"...Ah."

Do-ha now executed the dance break flawlessly about once every ten tries. Of course, this only meant he could perform the motions—his personal flair and interpretation still needed work. But still, Lee Do-ha was doing it! For Won-ho, that alone was hope enough.

First ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time I've seen him look proud.

Noticing the faint smile on Do-ha's usually stoic face, Won-ho grinned back before flopping onto the floor.

"Hyung, let's rest. Dancing's a stamina battle. Practicing exhausted risks injury."

"Okay. ...Thanks."

"Never thought I'd hear a special class hyung thank me."

Do-ha slumped down beside him. Though he didn't show it, Won-ho could tell his legs were trembling from exhaustion. Pushing a water bottle toward him, Won-ho voiced a thought he'd had since choreographing this.

"...Can I be honest?"

"Go ahead. Unless it's 'you can't do it.'"

"Hyung, you can joke."

"That wasn't one. Hearing feedback now might kill my motivation."

At Do-ha's deadpan response, Won-ho shut his mouth. Right. Can't have that. And that wasn't even what he'd meant to say.

"Seok-i hyung and Tae-hyun are still struggling, so I haven't mentioned this, but..."

"......"

"I'm actually...having fun with this performance."

"......"

"You too, right? Admit it—dancing is fun."

Do-ha paused mid-sip at Won-ho's words. Not waiting for an answer, Won-ho continued.

"Like...I was just regular class, you know? Getting to choreograph for your song feels...special to me."

"...We're all just trainees."

"But without this monthly eval, would we ever have talked like this? Honestly."

"...Can't deny that."

Do-ha nodded. Outside of special class members Si-woo and Tae-hyun, this might've been his first prolonged conversation with anyone.

"When Ha-jin hyung asked me to choreograph this, I literally thought he was crazy. I'm not Yu-geon or Joo Eun-chan. If my choreo ruined things, who'd take the blame?"

"......"

"But actually doing it...I finally feel like a real idol trainee. It's weird. We got destroyed in the mid-check, but I'm not even mad. They didn't say the choreo was bad, right?"

This was a first for Won-ho—this feeling while preparing for the monthly eval with Ha-jin.

Before, he'd always been regular class trailing behind the special class, a mid-to-low tier loser overshadowed by the aces. Not even feeling sad upon seeing his initial monthly eval team placement spoke volumes.

"Honestly, survival show or not, did we ever stand a chance? With all those amazing hyungs around? That's what I used to think, but...preparing this time..."

"Found some potential?"

"Yeah. Like, 'oh, I can do this much.' So honestly, hyungs, no offense, but even if we don't crack top ten this time, it's fine. Just..."

His words trailed off. Won-ho couldn't bring himself to say 'this opportunity alone is enough.' It felt like admitting defeat, surrendering his dream. That all-too-familiar sense of failure.

It surprised him to realize he'd only just recognized that feeling.

"Same."

Hearing special class Do-ha agree shocked him even more.

"I never thought I could dance like this."

"Pfft—ah, hyung. That's too self-deprecating."

"I only just realized I'd been limiting my composing because I assumed I couldn't dance."

Do-ha wiped his sweat with a towel before stretching matter-of-factly. Won-ho mirrored his movements without adding more. Both were lost in thought.

"Won-ho."

"Yeah?"

"I'll do well. At the monthly eval."

"......!"

"It's your choreography. I'll make it work. Thanks."

"I brought cake—!!!!"

Won-ho couldn't respond to Do-ha's quiet gratitude because Ha-jin burst through the door.

Arms slung around Gong Seok and Yoon Tae-hyun, cake boxes piled high in both hands, Ha-jin made his triumphant return like a conquering general, filling the room with noise again.

Watching Do-ha quietly rise to join them, Won-ho felt an indescribable swell of emotion.

All this, with just one week left until the monthly evaluation.