The Second Mission (2)
Park Hye-in's eyes flew wide at my recommendation.
"For real?! Me?!"
Then she broke into a radiant smile and threw her arms around me.
"Kyaa! Thank you, Seo-yeon!"
She clung to me, sticky-sweet and utterly unwilling to let go, overflowing with delight. Savor that feeling while it lasts.
With the positions assigned, practice began in earnest.
"Oops? Sorry, sorry. Let me try again!"
Park Hye-in's body lost its balance once more. A center isn't just someone who hits the marks. She has to hold the entire group together. And yet she kept wavering right in the middle of the stage.
"Hye-in... are you going to be okay?"
Kang Se-rin, who had been quietly following along with practice until now, spoke up with careful hesitation.
"Huh? About what?"
"I mean... they're eliminating everyone down to 50th place this time..."
Se-rin mumbled it softly. One look at her face made it obvious how worried she was. Up through the last stage, there hadn't been much cause for anxiety. But this was a team battle, and people were actually going to be cut. Of course she was nervous.
"Oh, that? It's probably a bluff anyway."
"...?"
"A bluff?"
Park Hye-in just laughed, completely unbothered by her teammates' reactions.
"Did you forget the last announcement like this? They said some trainees might not even make it onto the stage, and then they didn't cut anyone. This time it's probably just their way of telling us to work harder."
"......"
Hearing that, I felt the pieces click into place in my head.
...No way.
Had they issued this announcement on purpose, too? The reason they'd put out that fake "some of you won't even get on stage" notice last time. It might have been bait — laying the groundwork for a situation exactly like this one.
First they create a sense of crisis. Then they don't follow through, planting the idea that it was just an empty threat. So the next time an announcement drops, participants like Park Hye-in take it lightly. And those trainees get weeded out fast.
I turned my head and looked at the other trainees. Hye-in's words seemed to ease some of the tension in the others, too. The mood was clearly drifting toward yeah, that could be it.
We're screwed.
The thought actually made me laugh. Because it meant Na-bin had already won this game.
The midterm evaluation began.
The song our team had prepared was Electric Fever. It was a track built on a fast, aggressive beat and a distinctive synth sound. If you could pull it off properly on stage, the impact would be enormous — but it demanded just as much in return. The performance had to be precise. You needed stage presence. And above all, the teamwork had to click.
"...Hmm."
When our team's song ended, the trainer's expression had gone strangely stiff. Even at a glance, that was not a good sign.
"Hye-in's the center, isn't she?"
Park Hye-in flinched, then quietly nodded.
"Yes..."
"Is that so? Then why can't I see the center?"
The air grew even colder at those words. The trainer folded both arms, tapping a finger, then spoke with finality.
"......!"
A direct hit. Park Hye-in's shoulders trembled.
"Honestly, I watched the whole performance and I couldn't tell who the center was. But there was one person who actually caught my eye."
The trainer's gaze landed straight on me.
A quiet silence settled over the room.
"And it's not like Seo-yeon was trying to stand out or overdoing it, either. If anything, she was blending in as much as possible so the center would shine. If this is still the result, then the center is the problem."
Park Hye-in's expression crumbled.
"Seriously consider changing the center."
Hye-in's hands trembled slightly. The other members watching from the side had gone rigid, sensing that the atmosphere had taken a turn.
"And the main vocal."
Se-rin flinched and lifted her head.
"Isn't Seo-yeon the best singer? Did she give up the main vocal position, too?"
"...Yes."
"Still, the main vocal wasn't bad. Her voice suits the song, and those high notes were clean."
"Thank you."
A teammate had just been torn apart. Maybe that was why Se-rin bowed her head in thanks with a face that couldn't quite manage to look bright.
Then Yu Na-bin's team's midterm evaluation followed immediately. The same song — Electric Fever. But the moment their stage began, I felt it. The team's average level was in a completely different league.
The first beat dropped, and every eye was drawn to her as if by gravity. Yu Na-bin. She really did shine. On that stage, she was perfect. Every movement was clean. Her eyelines and expressions were completely natural. The ability to carry a stage as center — that was where she and Park Hye-in were worlds apart.
I stared at her, completely transfixed. In my previous life, I had loved her more than anyone. And now, midterm evaluation or not, I was watching her perform from closer than I ever had.
God, I love her so much!
The stage ended before the tears of emotion could fall. Then the trainers' reactions were a world apart from before.
"Well done. That was really good."
"The center's holding everything together."
"You picked the right center."
"Yes. That's what a center looks like."
Park Hye-in sat beside me, unable to say a word, chewing on her lip. Her hands were clenched on her knees, fingers locked tight — she looked like she might shatter. Then one of the trainers looked straight at her and said it without mercy.
"We're praising Na-bin. Why are you crying?"
Hye-in flinched and lifted her head.
"I-I'm not crying..."
"No, your eyes are welling up. Why are you crying?"
"That's... I..."
"Are you upset because you're being compared as the other center?"
Her eyes grew even redder. The trainer didn't let up.
"Get a grip. You're fighting for a debut. If you don't want to be compared, then be better. What changes if you cry here?"
At that, Park Hye-in's lips trembled, and the tears spilled over.
I'd picked her as a selfish visual pick based on her face alone, so watching her cry should have tugged at my heartstrings.
That's what you thought I'd say, right? Not my problem.
The afterimage the midterm evaluation left behind ran deeper than I'd expected. The sharpest cut of all: the most important person on stage — the center — was invisible. She couldn't hold the group together.
"...What if we change the center?"
Park Hye-in flinched at a teammate's careful suggestion. The other members, who until just now had been sitting in silence, debating whether to say it themselves, all nodded. They'd been waiting for Hye-in to offer first, apparently.
"I'll really work hard. Things could be different on the actual stage. We've already memorized all the formations — if we start over from scratch, we might fall apart even more."
Someone's expression turned complicated at Park Hye-in's plea. Someone else looked away. Nobody outright disagreed. That reaction was even crueler.
Kang Se-rin broke the silence, her voice quiet.
"Hye-in, I'm sorry, but... we could get eliminated this time, and the trainer already gave us that advice..."
"......"
She was careful about it, but she got every word across. In the end, every member of the team had arrived at the same conclusion.
Park Hye-in looked at Kang Se-rin. She was trying to stay composed, but her bitten lip gave her away.
"So you're saying if I do it, we'll get eliminated?"
The atmosphere froze taut in an instant. Hye-in's voice shook, but it was laced with injustice and anger.
"The team is going to lose because of me?"
Someone started to open their mouth in a panic, then hesitated. If this weren't being broadcast, they might have just said it honestly. But the cameras were rolling, and nobody was going to say something that would wound her on the record. Even so, everyone knew. That was exactly what they were all thinking.
I watched the situation unfold in silence. Park Hye-in refused to give up the center position to the very end. She'd been thoroughly beaten down, but the center spot was the one thing she would not let go. That made it even more vicious.
This wasn't simply a matter of skill. It was the moment a team's direction collided with one person's greed. And the outcome was as clear as day.
"...I think Seo-yeon should do it."
"Yeah. This isn't about skill — it's about the overall picture."
At last, every member except Park Hye-in tilted in the same direction.
This isn't how this should go...
But I couldn't exactly take her side and ask them to give her one more chance, either. It was a genuinely awkward position. Of course I could have spoken up for her again. But if we lost after that, I'd take the blame. And it wouldn't stop at the team's resentment. The public might slam me for only ever playing the nice girl.
So I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't help her. And as a result, Park Hye-in crumbled.
"...Do whatever you want."
She'd been sitting still at first, but she finally shoved back from her seat and stood. She tossed the words out curtly and walked out of the practice room.
Look at that. A genuine lost cause.
The atmosphere froze over in an instant. The remaining members just glanced at one another. Not a single person stepped forward.
"...Should we just practice among ourselves for now?"
Someone ventured the suggestion carefully. The other members chimed in one by one.
"Honestly, even if we go after her now, what would we even say?"
"Right. What if we go to get her and it just makes things worse?"
They might have been right. Park Hye-in would be drowning in humiliation right now. She'd wanted that center position, and she'd just watched every single teammate vote for me instead. I could imagine how deep that loss and anger ran.
But this was a broadcast. The best choice I could make right now wasn't simply about maximizing the team's practice efficiency. I had to think about how it would look on camera.