The Second Mission (3)
Every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me at once.
"What?"
"You're actually going?"
"It's better if we all practice together anyway. And Hye-in could use even one more run-through."
The cameras would follow, of course. Comforting Park Hye-in was only half the plan — I also intended to look like someone who cared about the team's harmony. What mattered right now wasn't how Park Hye-in felt. It was how I looked.
"I'll be right back."
I made the call quickly and left the practice room.
Park Hye-in sat on an empty bench not far away, visibly wilted. I hesitated. Walking straight up to her might put her guard up, so I sat down quietly a short distance off.
Just sitting here for a bit is enough.
It would let her feel like I'd come out because I was worried, without looking like I was jumping in to talk out of self-interest.
"...Unbelievable."
Just as I'd expected, Park Hye-in spoke first. To her, I was the person who'd recommended her for center. She wouldn't come at me with her claws out.
"I worked hard too, you know. I wanted to try being center... I really tried to do well..."
Her voice was thick, welling up in her throat. This was the moment. My job was to comfort her while steering everything toward the idea that our team needed to come together as one. That way, when this scene aired, I'd come across as someone who valued teamwork over individual glory.
"From where I was standing, you did amazingly. Everyone on the team knows how hard you worked. The evaluation just came up a little short, that's all."
Park Hye-in bit her lip. I let the silence sit for a beat, then added in a softer voice,
"I've never even imagined a team without Park Hye-in on it."
"...Really?"
"That's why I picked you. There's no individual greater than the team, right? So don't let this evaluation get you down. If we win the team mission and move on, you'll get another shot."
Only then did she nod.
Got her.
If this scene made it to broadcast, no one would be able to dismiss it as empty virtue-signaling. I'd already laid the groundwork before coming out here — the justification that comforting Park Hye-in was something our team needed. The words I'd said to the members had really been a message for the viewers.
"Hye-in!"
"Oh? You're back? Thank goodness!"
The members reacted the instant I walked back into the practice room with Park Hye-in. I hadn't expected the atmosphere to shift this much.
I thought the awkward tension would linger for a while.
Park Hye-in's expression was still stiff, but her eyes flickered at the welcoming voices. I ran the numbers in my head.
If they edit this scene in, it's a guaranteed emotional beat.
A trainee who'd been pushed out of the center position and walked out comes back, and her teammates welcome her warmly like nothing happened? Even a member who'd been thoroughly unlikable getting a warm reception, her eyes wavering...
If Park Hye-in sheds even a single tear here, two or three people on this team have a real shot at being saved in the edit.
If that happened, this could become a legendary scene they'd have to put in the trailer. And if that happened, my position as the one who made it happen would be locked in solid.
But that didn't happen.
Come on, squeeze out a tear at least. You broadcasting amateur.
I hid those thoughts and asked Park Hye-in,
"Think you can try it with the positions swapped?"
She gave a small nod.
Practice started up again. The energy was livelier than I'd expected — far more so than before the harsh critique.
"Okay, the timing's dragging a little here! Se-rin, can you pick it up by one beat?"
"Ah, got it! Like this?"
"Yes! And Hye-in, make the steps bigger and cleaner right here!"
Park Hye-in hesitated at first, but she threw herself into the practice. Little by little, the team's rhythm came back to life. It was going... strangely smoothly.
"Did we just nail that move?"
"If we polish this a little more, it'll actually be perfect."
"Don't get complacent — let's make it even cleaner!"
The members looked at each other and smiled. Wait. What? I felt a flicker of panic.
...Hold on. I didn't want the mood to get this good.
Even the moves that had been clunky before were connecting smoothly now, and the formations flowed naturally. And because the atmosphere was good, the members started exchanging ideas more actively.
"Want to run it one more time? Let's really lock in this time."
"What if we match the arm angles a little tighter here?"
"Let's send the eyelines this way for this part."
Everyone's eyes were sparkling. The pressure from earlier had vanished, and they were naturally falling into sync with each other.
Do I... actually have leadership qualities?
My goal had clearly been for Yu Na-bin's team to win. But if this team came back to life this much, I couldn't guarantee the outcome. What was I even doing right now?
"Seo-yeon! Our teamwork is so much better thanks to you!"
"Right? What would we have done without Seo-yeon?!"
The members smiled at me. A dizzying feeling washed over me. Was I making the mistake of actually making this team win?
I'm so screwed!
But I couldn't very well tank the mood on purpose. The cameras were rolling twenty-four hours a day. Instead, I moved between the members, pointing out what needed work. Whenever I spotted a weak spot, I went over and helped first. I even demonstrated with my own body and ran the parts with them.
Because the cameras were rolling twenty-four hours a day!
"Oh, I see! Seo-yeon, you're amazing — how do you catch all of this?"
"I think our team is actually clicking now."
"This time we can really put on an incredible stage! Let's win this!"
The members were starting to trust me and lean on me. The problem was that I was secretly hoping we'd lose to Yu Na-bin's team, and these kids were getting moved by me instead.
"What would we have done without Seo-yeon, seriously!"
"She's our team leader, no question!"
"The vibe was so bad earlier, but Seo-yeon brought the teamwork right back to life!"
...The guilt was off the charts. Truly.
The day of the team battle evaluation. This mission would be performed in front of a live audience — meaning an absolute public vote, not a judges' decision.
Before long the seats were packed, the lights came up one by one, and tension thickened in the air as the MC appeared.
"Everyone, are you ready to have a good time tonight?"
A roar of cheers erupted. The audience was already drunk on the atmosphere.
"Today, you'll be voting right here in the venue. Let me explain an important rule."
The MC paused for effect, then spoke slowly.
"You will not be choosing which of the two teams on stage performed better."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Instead, you can cast your vote for only one trainee from either team! Please vote for the trainee you think shone the brightest."
Gasps burst from the audience. This format meant it wasn't a simple team contest — each individual's presence mattered even more.
The MC then revealed the benefit for the winning team.
"The winning team will receive 1,000 votes that count toward the final rankings!"
This time, the stir wasn't limited to the audience — you could feel it in the waiting room too. In this survival show, 1,000 votes was a staggering number, enough to decide who got eliminated. It was a figure that could become a fatal variable in determining the rankings.
But that wasn't all. The MC added something even more serious.
"And when the online votes are added in, only the top 50 in the final rankings will survive! Every other trainee will be eliminated."
The air froze at those words.
"And for those of you watching this broadcast right now! It's not too late! Please vote for the trainee who captured your heart!"
This wasn't just completing a mission. This was a war for survival. Cheers erupted from the audience, tension and anticipation exploding at once.
"Then let's begin the first stage! Everyone, please vote generously!"
As the energy climbed, the first stage went up. The moment Team Sugar Melon's performance began, Han Yu-ri's sparkling freshness seized the audience. Every time she danced, a whirlwind of cheers filled the seats.
"Yu-riiii!"
"Han Yu-ri! She's so cute!"
"Did you see that face just now? Her charm is insane!"
The audience was already lost in the stage. Intense performances followed in the subsequent matches, and the atmosphere grew hotter and hotter.
But there was a moment when the audience's reaction reached a peak unlike any other. The fated match: Team Electric Fever.
When the announcement came that the next stage was being prepared, the audience grew more and more restless. Then the names of the trainees who would take the stage were revealed one by one.
Lee Seo-yeon and Yu Na-bin.
Yu Na-bin and Lee Seo-yeon.
The moment the names were called, the audience exploded.
"Wooooaaaaah!"
"No way! Yu Na-bin versus Lee Seo-yeon?!"
"This is an insane matchup!"
The cheers punched straight through to the waiting room where the other teams' trainees were sitting. The trainees looked at each other with tense expressions.
"What was that just now?"
"That noise was no joke."
"The first episode hasn't even aired and their name recognition is insane?"
"I heard our group song blew up."
"For real? We don't have our phones so we can't even check."
Even the trainers' eyes had changed. That's how much this match was the most anticipated showdown of the entire mission.
Who would take more votes. Who would deliver the more dazzling stage.
And now, that stage was about to begin.