Don't Bother

The members of Team 1 for Don't Bother began stating their preferred positions and working through their opinions.

After watching them for a moment, Ye-chan slipped out of the practice room, saying he needed the bathroom.

Status Window!

Conscious of the hallway cameras, he strolled unhurriedly all the way to the restroom—then dropped every trace of that leisurely act and urgently summoned the Status Window.

His eye snagged for a second on the Sparkle stat, which had risen at some point without him noticing—but there was no time to dwell on it now.

Ye-chan quickly invested a single point into Rap.

So at F, even one point is enough to raise it? Then what about D?

He dumped another point into Rap to push it to D- first, then added one more—and the Status Window shifted slightly.

Apparently D-grade required three points at a time. Without hesitation, Ye-chan poured in the points he had been saving.

Five points at C… and B needed ten each, so to reach A- I'd need another forty-four points from here.

Seventy-two points remaining.

He hadn't stockpiled them for Rap—but fretting over the waste was a luxury he couldn't afford right now.

Raise Rap first. Worry about the rest later!

Ye-chan pumped the stat up as fast as he could.

The instant Rap ticked over to B-, a hologram window burst out with a cheerful sound effect.

Some strange new features had appeared again.

But there was no time to sit there clinging to hologram windows.

I'm curious, sure—but I don't have the luxury of calmly evaluating new ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠functions right now. Finish what I came to do, and look at that stuff tonight when I can think straight.

Ye-chan rapidly pushed his Rap stat up to the target value and headed back to the practice room.

"Ye-chan's back!"

Nam Ji-yu, who had dragged the whiteboard from the side of the room into the center and was scribbling something on it, welcomed him. The teammates standing behind him wore oddly proud expressions.

"Ye-chan-ah, our teamwork's pretty solid! Come on, feast your eyes!"

Nam Ji-yu stepped aside from the whiteboard with a triumphant flourish, and the first thing that jumped out was a neat column of positions. Next to each one was the name of the trainee assigned to it.

Main vocal is Woo Hwi-gyum, sub-vocal 1 is Nam Ji-yu, 2 is Im Chae-jin, 3 is Gi Tae-rang, main rapper is me… and sub-rapper is Bae Sae-byeok?

His blood ran cold in an instant.

What the hell had these guys done the second he left the room?

Ye-chan swept his bangs back and pulled up the Status Window for Bae Sae-byeok that he'd checked earlier.

He didn't need to read any further.

Ye-chan turned his head, locked eyes with Bae Sae-byeok—who had boldly put his name down in a rapper slot with an F-grade Rap stat—and asked, all gentle sweetness:

"Bae Sae-byeok-ssi, do you rap at all?"

"Whoa, we're on the same team—what's with the 'Bae Sae-byeok-ssi'? Just use names, names! And Sae-byeok can call you hyung. Cool?"

Nam Ji-yu waved both hands dismissively, and Bae Sae-byeok nodded his fluffy head.

Ye-chan barely swallowed the urge to snap that none of that was the point right now, and tried again.

"Sae-byeok, can you rap?"

Bae Sae-byeok shook his head with complete confidence.

"I've never tried."

Even bolder than expected. For once, Ye-chan was left speechless.

These guys… what are they thinking? Why put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him on rap?

Had they just decided to tank the whole thing on purpose?

Seeing Ye-chan's face, Nam Ji-yu startled and threw up a giant X with both arms in a panic.

"Wait, wait! Ye-chan-ah, misunderstanding! The only thing we've locked in is Hwi-gyum as main vocal! No misunderstandings allowed! That face is banned!"

Apparently Ye-chan was making quite the expression.

There's a mirror on the wall… No. Don't check.

Better for his mental health that way.

"We decided to try the other positions one by one once you got back, then finalize."

"Ah."

At Im Chae-jin's added explanation, Ye-chan let out a breath of relief.

"Ahem. Then let's run through it lightly once! Ye-chan, you good?"

Nam Ji-yu cleared his throat and stepped toward the speaker.

Having only just set foot on the path of a rapper, Ye-chan nodded with full confidence.

He decided to trust the Rap ability he'd just stamped into place.

First time in a real run-through, but it'll work out somehow.

It did not work out somehow.

The moment the first bar left his mouth, the gut certainty that he was doomed punched straight through Ye-chan.

His head clearly knew what to do—his body just refused to follow.

It's playing back perfectly in my head. My body even seems to know what it's supposed to do. But the gap between the two is enormous.

After that catastrophic rapper debut ceremony, Ye-chan slumped his shoulders like a defeated soldier and stared blankly at the lyric sheet in his hands.

Simply raising a stat didn't magically solve the problem.

I need practice.

Except there wasn't enough time.

The performance is in six days, but I can't spend that entire stretch just practicing. Tomorrow alone, the fan signing means no practice until evening… What's the most efficient way to train?

His mind spun in frantic circles. Watching Ye-chan wrestle with it alone, Nam Ji-yu carefully spoke up.

"Hey, Ye-chan-ah… maybe we should rotate main rapper too?"

Nam Ji-yu looked serious—worried about Ye-chan, who seemed somehow unsettled, and about a performance that looked headed for disaster.

"Ah, y-yeah, that sounds good! Can I try next? I've always wanted to rap! Ah, probably?"

Gi Tae-rang rushed to agree. His pupils were trembling so pitifully that he looked nothing like someone who actually wanted to try.

"No. Just give me a little time."

Ye-chan cut the discussion off before it could go any further.

The rest of the team exchanged glances for a moment.

"…Alright. Got it. We'll leave Ye-chan's part out and swap the rest around. Hwi-gyum, is it easier if you practice on your own?"

"I'm fine."

"Then Ye-chan-ah, let us know when you're ready."

Ye-chan nodded and was just standing up to move to a corner of the practice room when someone gave his sleeve a faint tug.

Woo Hwi-gyum?

The guy had never initiated contact this close before, so the first feeling was confusion rather than annoyance.

When their eyes met, Woo Hwi-gyum hesitated a beat, then whispered:

"…For what it's worth, your rap just now didn't sound that bad to me. And you're the kind of person who pulls off whatever he sets his mind to, so you'll do fine this time too. Hang in there."

His voice was soft enough that no mic would have caught it.

That seemed to be all he needed to say. Woo Hwi-gyum quickly let go of the fabric and turned his head away.

Ye-chan didn't even get a chance to answer.

"……."

All kinds of thoughts drifted through Ye-chan's head.

This guy is unbelievable. What does a total outsider to rap know? "Didn't sound that bad"—what a load of nonsense. What does he even know about me to say "this time too"? The quiet one sure talks fast when he opens his mouth. Maybe you're the one with the rap talent?

Ye-chan trudged over to the corner of the practice room with his lyric sheet and sank down onto the floor.

Tap-tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Tap.

Drumming his index finger against the floor, Ye-chan squeezed his eyes shut and honestly admitted what he was feeling.

But the really ridiculous part is that those empty words actually snapped me out of it.

A mission song that had changed from the past. Teammates with abysmal rap skills.

Unexpected situations had stacked up one after another, and in his determination to fix things somehow, he had volunteered for rap—something he had never done in his life.

He'd optimistically assumed that dumping his saved points into the stat would lightly solve the problem. Realizing that wasn't the case had shattered his composure.

No—maybe I'd already lost my composure before that. I thought I was living like someone slamming face-first into bare ground after the resets ended… but without realizing it, I'd gotten used to the reset era.

Woo Hwi-gyum might have just been offering empty encouragement because it was painfully obvious Ye-chan was going to crash and burn.

But that cliché pep talk had jolted him wide awake.

Being an idol was a job that turned belief into reality.

A fan's belief, a teammate's belief, or your own.

So what if it's my first time rapping? If I said I'd do it, I do it. Why am I counting the hours?

If practice time was short, he could cut sleep.

If that still wasn't enough, next came eating time, then washing time.

No time to practice because of the fan signing? Hilarious. With enough will, even travel time, prep time, and waiting time could be wrung dry and put to use.

Fighting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spirit boiled up from deep in his chest.

Ye-chan glared at the profile of Woo Hwi-gyum, who was pouring himself into practice on the far side of the room.

I'll pay this debt back someday. You're getting eliminated soon anyway!

And then, abruptly, Ye-chan realized something.

…Come to think of it, when exactly was that guy's elimination supposed to be?

Early the next morning, trainees with faces still heavy with sleep gathered in front of the dorm.

"Ye-chan-i, good morning~ Haaawn."

"Good morning, Ji-yu hyung."

Ye-chan had only closed his eyes for a brief stretch before throwing himself into practice for the rest of the night. Aside from him—who had been awake for ages—most of the trainees looked like even opening their eyes was a struggle.

"Hyung, when did you get up?"

Gi Tae-rang, who had ended up rooming with him, rubbed his eyes as he asked. The sleep still thick on his face made him look even younger than usual.

"Not long ago."

"Guess this is what it takes if you really want to make it."

Im Chae-jin slung an arm over Gi Tae-rang's shoulder and clicked his tongue at how hardcore that was.

"No, but you can't have slept more than a couple hours—so why is your skin this clear? Did you slap on a face mask while practicing at dawn?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

Im Chae-jin hadn't actually expected Ye-chan to have done something to his face, and the answer left him speechless.

"Whoa, I was so excited about meeting the fans today I barely slept at all—you're a total pro!"

"Right? It's like Ye-chan's the one who already debuted, not Ji-yu hyung."

"What! You little—!"

Nam Ji-yu grabbed Im Chae-jin by the collar without any real force and shook him playfully. Ye-chan secretly nodded at the unexpectedly sharp observation.

After debuting multiple times and living as a top-tier idol for years on top of that, this level of multitasking was child's play.

If my face looked rough, the fans would just feel sorry for me and say I must be working hard—but I hate that. When I'm meeting them in person, I want to show them my absolute best.

"Alright, everyone. As previously announced, we'll be holding a fan signing today."

Before long, the main PD—looking every bit as sleep-deprived as the trainees—briefed them on the day's schedule.

Today was the first fan signing event for Choose My Prince 99.

These production bastards are actually insane…

For reference, it was a ninety-nine-person guerrilla fan signing that scraped together even the trainees who had already been eliminated.