The First Appearance of Rapper Ha Ye-chan

"All right, next up is Team 1 for Don't Bother. Contestant Gi Tae-rang, Contestant Nam Ji-yu of Vita, Contestant Bae Sae-byeok of Aube, Contestant Woo Hwi-gyum, Contestant Im Chae-jin of Zion, and Contestant Ha Ye-chan."

Ugh, our Ye-chan got stuck with Woo Hwi-gyum again. Of all the rotten luck.

The moment the MC rattled off the team roster, freelance fan Jeong Mo's face crumpled into a scowl.

She was the textbook definition of a migratory fan — someone who had spent years deep in K-pop fandom without ever loving a single group for longer than a year. Part of it was her restless nature, but she had also been ejected more than once from fandoms that ran on the all-member-loving "otaku" model she simply could not adapt to.

My kid is the only pretty one, so what am I supposed to do about it?

She swept an irritated glance around her. Fans clutching Woo Hwi-gyum's name were cheering from every direction.

Their visuals and positions completely overlap — I hate it. He should've just gone down with that school-violence scandal.

She had vaguely suspected something after seeing on social media that Ye-chan had gone with him to his old high school in Gwangju, but the official clarification post had finished the job and left a bitter taste in her mouth.

In Jeong Mo's opinion, Ye-chan was the pitiful one — the one who had wasted precious practice time because of Woo Hwi-gyum. Everyone else, though, was making a fuss about how hard it must have been for Woo Hwi-gyum, suffering under those rumors. Plenty of people who were fans of other trainees had even brought an extra slogan or placard for him.

He just lucked into free publicity from the whole mess, didn't he?

Whether she scowled or not made no difference. The stage began without delay.

Hmph. The main vocal is still our Ye-chan's, no matter what— wait, what?

The instant the stage lights came up, she doubted her own eyes.

The trainees stood in light-blue denim and white cotton, looking dazzlingly fresh. Even the instrumental pouring out was so bright and breezy it was hard to believe this was Don't Bother — the song synonymous with deep, dark vibes.

The melody is still Don't Bother…!

She had dabbled in Lee:Spirit once, so she was certain. Before she could even process the complete 180 in atmosphere, the lead vocal launched into the opening lines.

Bae Sae-byeok, wearing a denim jacket as if it had been tailored for him alone, charged out first.

"Hah!"

He swept his bangs cleanly aside to bare his face, and gasps rose from every corner of the audience.

That's Bae Sae-byeok, right?

Even Jeong Mo, who maintained a cool detachment toward anyone who wasn't her bias, found her mouth falling open. The face was that staggering.

The bomb-blast hairstyle that used to hide more than half his eyes and the frumpy glasses were gone. Bae Sae-byeok looked like an entirely different person. He had taken the glasses off for the last evaluation too, but with his hair neatly brushed back this time, that doll-pretty face was on full, unobstructed display. With his features finally visible, his expressions came through properly as well — a look of genuine, bone-deep annoyance that matched the lyrics and pulled the audience straight in.

Wow… you can actually see him getting better every single time. No, with eyes like that, why did he keep hiding them under bangs that long? What a waste.

A song that had once been terrifyingly fierce had been completely reinvented into something kitschy and fresh.

Did our Ye-chan arrange this one too? Then he's a total genius. No — I already knew he was a genius, but this is getting ridiculous.

Jeong Mo's face, still soft with admiration for her bias's genius, hardened in an instant.

All around her, people were screaming and waving slogans like mad.

"Kyaaaaah!"

Woo Hwi-gyum is… the main vocal?

Then what about our Ye-chan? Not main vocal, not even lead?

Her slogan slipped from her fingers and hit the floor without her noticing. Jeong Mo sank into despair.

The despair did not last long.

Because within moments, her heart was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pounding harder than it ever had in her not-short life as a fan.

And so, for the first time in this world, rapper Ha Ye-chan made his appearance.

Am I dreaming right now?

Jeong Mo stared at Ye-chan delivering rap like song right in front of her, then lifted a hand and rubbed her eyes. It was no illusion. No matter how many times she closed and opened them, Ye-chan was still there.

The razor-precise diction slamming into her ears, the rhythm that slipped freely between on-beat and off-beat — a finished, complete rap — had the audience around her stirring, and she could feel it on her skin. Compared to top-tier rappers he still lacked a certain seasoned edge, but even that shortfall meshed so perfectly with the song's fresh, youthful tone that it created its own synergy.

Ye-chan finished his first part with easy composure and settled lightly into a crouch. Gi Tae-rang, waiting behind him, burst forward — but Jeong Mo's eyes refused to leave Ye-chan. The expression and voice were different from when he sang, and her chest trembled.

How can you fall for the same person twice?

The rush of emotion made her eyes sting with tears.

I can't cry now! If I'm going to cry, I'll cry after the stage is over.

She forced her blurring eyes wide open and fixed them on today's Ha Ye-chan with the single-minded determination not to miss even a thousandth of a second.

Meanwhile, standing beside Jeong Mo, Gi Hae-rang quietly lowered the slogan bearing her own brother's name and tilted her head.

Do people who are good at singing just… automatically rap well too? Like how someone with athletic talent is good at every sport?

It was the kind of thought that would make anyone who overheard it choke, but unfortunately there was no one around to correct her.

She had impulsively applied for audience tickets, won them, and skipped taekwondo practice for the first time in her life to come see this. The stage was incredible. The three teams before had been excellent, but the team with her older brother and Ye-chan was especially moving.

All six young men spun together in a circle, and their white T-shirts fluttered.

Ack, my eyes!

Unintentionally catching a glimpse of Gi Tae-rang's bare skin between T-shirt and jeans, Gi Hae-rang's face twisted. She redirected her gaze to Ye-chan, who was working through the group choreography. The Ye-chan who always sparkled from the other side of a screen was almost blinding in person.

It's the same song as the team before, but the feeling is completely different.

There was none of the previous stage's raw desperation and intensity — just a bright, playful atmosphere that was easy on the ears.

And the dancing feels similar but… different?

Just as Gi Hae-rang sensed, Ye-chan's team had kept only the original flavor of the choreography and overhauled nearly everything else. Even a rotting herring is still a herring — the current members simply did not have the stats to fully execute Lee:Spirit's first-tier idol choreography. They lowered the difficulty of the group sections, exaggerated the movements as much as possible, and poured their effort into locking the timing. It was a kind of sleight-of-hand: make six people move as one big body so the whole thing looked impressive. In exchange, they jacked up the difficulty of the individual choreography so the overall dance still felt hard. Since it was choreography Ye-chan himself had built back in his Lee:Spirit days, rewriting it was no trouble.

And the one executing those absurdly elevated solo moves was, of course, Ye-chan himself.

He launched into a dynamic aerial turn, landed, and answered the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠audience's roar with a smile. He glanced briefly at the two luminous arrows glowing above his head, then moved into the next step.

With a rap item and a dance item both equipped, Ye-chan quite literally flew across the stage. Unlike rap, dance was a field where his pre-reset level had been higher than his current one, so adapting to the boosted stats was not particularly difficult.

With dance at S-grade, it finally feels like my own body again. Was this about where my stats sat before the reset?

Feeling his body move exactly as he willed it for the first time in a long while, he ground his teeth at the sheer waste of the stats he had lost. Whatever the audience made of that grinding expression, a massive cheer erupted from the seats. Ye-chan buried the awkward feeling and finished his last part with a rapper's confident grin.

"Everyone worked so hard!"

The moment the stage ended, Gi Tae-rang burst into full-blown tears, sniffling as he spoke.

"You worked hard too, Tae-rang. Hey, you were really good today!"

Im Chae-jin slung an arm around Gi Tae-rang's shoulder and gave him a playful shake.

"Ugh-hhhk, I'm so glad I got to meet you hyungs and Sae-byeok. Really… making good memories before I go."

This kid is already acting like he's been eliminated.

Apparently he was still conscious of having barely scraped by at the very bottom of the last ranking announcement. The cameraman standing beside them captured every second of his tearful face as he blubbered about how lucky he was to leave with a great stage and good memories.

If this actually airs properly, he might survive another round.

Ye-chan assessed the situation coldly, patted Gi Tae-rang on the back a couple of times, and headed back to the waiting room.

He sat down in the seats left empty by Room 3's trainees, and Shim Sang-rok and Jeong Ui-tak — who had been sitting farther forward — came over.

"Ye-chan, great stage."

Ye-chan already knew that trainees who had finished their stages often stayed clustered backstage to watch instead of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠returning to the waiting room. He dipped his head lightly.

"Thank you."

"Hyung, that concept suits you too. I always thought the dark stuff was the perfect fit for you."

Jeong Ui-tak, dripping with leather jacket and dangling ear cuffs, looked Ye-chan over from head to toe with open surprise. Ye-chan stood up entirely and spun in a full circle for his viewing convenience.

"Ah— what are you doing?!"

As eyes turned their way, Jeong Ui-tak's face went scarlet. He hastily shoved Ye-chan back down into his seat by the shoulders. Ye-chan settled obediently into the chair and looked up at him.

"Ignoring a man's sincerity, I see."

"We're done here, okay?!"

Shim Sang-rok, who had been listening, shook with silent laughter.

"Ye-chan really messes with Ui-tak a lot, doesn't he?"

"Me?"

First he was hearing of it. Ye-chan gave Jeong Ui-tak a dubious look; Jeong Ui-tak nodded in agreement with Shim Sang-rok, then met Ye-chan's eyes and arrogantly lifted his chin.

Me? Messing with him? Why would I waste energy on something that inefficient?

"Oh, it's starting."

While Ye-chan was still reeling, the next stage began. He quickly shook off the stray ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thoughts and turned his eyes to the monitor in front of him.

Room 3's song was the hit track Girl's Prayer by the popular girl group Strawberry Love. Team 1 finished first, and the audience cheered.

Team 1's lineup is pretty solid. Chae Eun-seong and Lee Seung-heon are near debut range, and Park Na-gil ranks fairly high too.

Team 2 followed immediately. It had fewer well-known trainees than Team 1, but the reaction was just as strong.

The song is famous enough that everyone knows it, and these are the kinds of tracks that play well in evaluations.

The lyric-faithful choreography and addictive hook held up just fine even in a male-trainee version. Still, the scores that could actually compete with the Don't Bother teams in this round would come from the next two groups.