The Copycat on Stage

I rolled my neck lightly. It was time to spin the Hourglass again.

Honestly, if it were up to me, I would have loved to make Jang Hyunjun and Nam Junho suffer a little. Wander around lost on purpose, fumble the choreography a bit here and there.

Be a total deadweight and bleed these elites dry.

But then that would cut into the time I had to learn dancing from Yiyul, wouldn't it?

Absolutely unacceptable.

"I'll work hard~"

I beamed brightly and walked over to the hip-hop team.

"Wait, hold on."

And ten minutes later, Jang Hyunjun finally buried his face in both hands.

"What you just did. How did you do it?"

"Do what? This?"

I repeated the move I'd just learned. My arms swept through the air in wide windmill arcs while my feet stepped lightly through the rhythm.

Whoosh, whoosh-whoosh-

My arms cut the air hard enough to make a sound.

"No way."

Jang Hyunjun couldn't get a word out for a long while.

"This is... ha..."

Nam Junho had flat-out turned to the wall, biting back laughter.

Exactly what I'd been aiming for. The point wasn't to dance badly — it had to feel like I honestly have no idea where to even begin fixing this.

And that, gentlemen, is revenge only a deadweight can pull off.

When I cheerfully shouted again from the top, both their faces curdled at the same time.

About two hours went by like that, and I spun the Hourglass nearly a hundred times. Thanks to the teaser, SP kept flooding in without pause — that was the only reason it was possible.

"...Let's stop here for now."

If I pushed any further, I'd probably give myself a stress-induced breakdown. Meanwhile, the other two had already picked up the hip-hop version from the video alone and were polishing the urban choreography.

I sprinted straight over to them.

"You're done with the hip-hop choreography!"

"Yep? You learn fast, huh?"

Behind me, Jang Hyunjun muttered hollowly to himself.

"Are they... actually done...?"

I pretended not to hear.

"I'm gonna go grab some drinks real quick."

Han Sangyoon rose from his spot.

"Yiyul, teach him first while I'm gone."

"Okay."

Now was the real deal. Time to summon a hundred times the focus I'd wasted on Mr. Jang and Mr. Nam.

"This time too, I'll ignore the upper body and start from the lower half."

"Good!"

As expected, the choreography was no joke. Every time Kang Yiyul's expression wavered even slightly, I spun the Hourglass on the spot.

Again. And again.

By the time I'd seen that exact expression for the forty-fifth time, we finally moved on to the next move.

"Hey."

Jang Hyunjun, sprawled across the floor, bolted upright.

"Why are you getting it right now?"

Guess he was feeling pretty robbed.

I answered with perfect composure.

"Your choreography must've been harder."

"Wow—"

I ignored his flabbergasted face and refocused on practice.

Han Sangyoon opened the practice room door and rewound his approach sixty times before he finally stepped inside.

"Here, everyone drink up."

"Thank you~"

Practice stretched on until dawn. Maybe I'd spun the Hourglass too many times, but my head was starting to ring.

Any more of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this and I'll pass out again.

"I'm gonna go grab some water."

In front of the water dispenser, I gulped down cold water and finally felt like I might survive.

Then I sensed someone behind me.

I turned. It was Nam Junho.

"What?"

"You're not messing up the choreo on purpose, are you?"

His eyes narrowed to slits.

"What?"

"I mean... are you only half-learning our choreography?"

"Me?"

Wow, sharper than expected— no, I can't say that out loud.

I widened my eyes into perfect circles.

"Whoa, no way! I guess I've actually improved!"

"...Huh?"

Nam Junho faltered for a second.

"What are you talking about?"

"If it looks like I'm pretending to be bad, that means—"

I clasped my hands together, the picture of gratitude.

"No, that's not—"

"That's such a relief! Thanks, Junho. You just gave me a confidence boost!"

With every word out of my mouth, Nam Junho's expression curdled further.

Eventually—

"...Forget it."

He let out a sigh and trudged back to the practice room, shaking his head the whole way.

Before going back in, I checked my status window once.

SP was refilling in real time thanks to the teaser, but I'd burned through more than planned. All four of them were so eager that they kept pushing us forward to the next move.

Practice finally wrapped at three in the morning. The moment I got back to the dorm, I crashed like the dead.

The next day, the trainees gathered at the practice room early in the morning.

With the clock breathing down our necks, we choked down a hasty boxed lunch and dove straight back into practice. Our team was no exception.

"No, your hand needs to extend further here."

"Seongwoo. Right foot, your right foot."

Having been split into two groups against my will, both sides were scrambling to win me over. Dancing alone was already killing me — the politics were worse.

God, I want to take Yiyul's side so bad.

One slip and I'd give myself away, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

Then the practice room door swung open, and Kang Sejun made his entrance.

"G-Good morning, sir!"

Their reflexes kicked in — everyone bowed in unison.

"Is everyone practicing hard?"

"Yes, sir!"

Kang Sejun smiled, deliberately cryptic.

"So, can anyone guess why I've come to the practice room unannounced today?"

An ominous silence settled over the room.

"It's because—"

Kang Sejun's hand swept toward the door.

"We have a surprise guest with us!"

Click.

The practice room door opened again.

"Excuse me."

In an instant, gasps erupted all around the room.

The original artists of this mission's songs.

"No way?"

"What—"

"Am I seeing things..."

Everyone was visibly rattled. A fair reaction — the mid-round evaluation was still two days away, and the original artists had just shown up out of nowhere.

"I know you've all been agonizing over how to stage your performances."

Kang Sejun continued.

"So to help you out, we've prepared a special session where you can receive direct feedback from the original artists themselves!"

I swallowed a bitter laugh.

Help, my ass—

This was always how Boys Code operated. Even as an in-house survival show, it cranked the difficulty up a notch — extra spicy.

Just how incredible could a result possibly be, with only one day to prepare?

This is them telling us to break, point-blank.

While the cameras and lighting were being set up, the trainees threw themselves into cram sessions.

I got cornered by Nam Junho too.

"Ha. Well, at least it's starting to look like something now."

He sighed.

"You're gonna get buried in the back anyway, so just don't stand out. Got it?"

Funny how the filter vanishes the second he's stressed.

"Good enough, right? I'm heading over for a final check on the urban side."

"No, wait, one more time—"

I pretended not to hear and headed toward Han Sangyoon.

"Mastering this in a day really is tough..."

Even saying that, both of them stuck with me to the end, correcting my every move one by one.

"Filming will begin now—"

The moment the slate clapped, the atmosphere transformed.

The original artists took their seats. One representative from each team filled the chairs across from them.

"Getting feedback from the original artist is a rare privilege, you know?"

"...Yes, sir!"

"I can't wait to see just how far our Boys Code trainees have come in a single day."

Of course, the most eye-catching person in the room was Wind Boys' youngest, Robin. He'd shown up alone in an adorable outfit that looked straight off a concert stage, and with those pink curls, he was an idol through and through — flawless down to the last detail.

"Alright then, we'll start with whichever team feels ready."

At those words, every gaze naturally drifted toward me. After all, I was the guy so infamous for always raising his hand first that they called me Eager Seongwoo.

But this time, my hand stayed glued to my side. I had to be compared against other teams — against a team that was really good.

"We'll go first."

In the end, Joo Han raised his hand.

There it is.

I'd aimed for the last slot, but going right after Joo Han's team wasn't a bad consolation.

Because they're going to get slaughtered anyway.

Team 'Born to Be' had only one debut-group member — Joo Han — but he alone was more than enough.

Without a single striking facial feature, he seized the entire stage on expression alone.

You could add up the energy of the other four and it still wouldn't surpass Joo Han. But flip that around, and it also meant none of the other members got in his way.

They're just riding his shadow completely.

"Trainee Joo Han? He's definitely skilled."

"That said, the other trainees were almost invisible to me. That's something you'll need to fix."

"Yes, sir!"

Next came Team 'Stop!'s stage.

Most of them were mid-to-lower ranked trainees — was that the fallout from last round? Song Wooju had stepped up as their leader.

"I took on the role of sub-leader, supporting our leader!"

Huh, he and Ji Dongseok actually mesh pretty well.

With Go Jaeseong gone, Song Wooju had taken over the killing part.

He's gotten a lot more confident.

"Most of you are mid-to-lower ranked, but—"

Blinking, visibly tense.

"Your blend is nice."

"Thank you!!"

As their evaluation wrapped up, I stared fixedly at Kang Sejun's mouth.

Hand up the second he finishes—

"Next, we'll hear from—"

Swish—!

"Us! Us, over here!!"

Choi Woonjo shot his hand up at lightning speed, and just like that, our team got locked into the final slot.

Ah, Woonjo... why.

No matter how spectacularly we were about to crash and burn, I did not want to perform immediately after Go Jaeseong.

Go Jaeseong and Choi Woonjo. Those two alone made our a team that drew eyes.

The Blossom team stepped forward. But Choi Woonjo's expression was off.

He scrunched up his whole face and then—

"We're the Blossom team — the song's so good it makes me bl-ooming mad!"

"...?"

What is this kid doing...?

Everyone wore the same baffled look. Even his own teammates had the expression of people hearing this for the first time in their lives, but Choi Woonjo settled into position like nothing had happened.

Go Jaeseong, meanwhile, looked insufferably self-assured, which grated on me for no good reason.

Why on earth did he pick Blossom?

The question I'd set aside to focus on practice resurfaced.

"Then, allow us to show you the Blossom stage!"

And so, with that uneasy feeling coiling in my gut, the stage began.

Go Jaeseong shamelessly swallowed down Yiyul's part.

I forced my expression to loosen. Every time my brow threatened to crease, I summoned the memory of Yiyul's Blossom stage in my mind.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

It's a coincidence. Has to be.

Soothing myself like that, I kept watching.

Soon would come the moment — the timing of pre-regression Yiyul's killing part.

This stage was the one Yiyul brought to life single-handedly—

Go Jaeseong, dead center, slowly tilted his head.

"Huh?"

Fingertips brushed past his forehead, sliding down along the line of his neck.

Even the sidelong glance he threw on the beat — the eye-line play.

In that instant, my heart plummeted.

Hold on.

That exact point — the one Kang Yiyul had detonated on stage before my regression. Go Jaeseong ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was performing it, verbatim.

Not approximately. Exactly.

"Oh—"

Judges and original artists gasped in admiration at the same time.

The beat quickened.

And Go Jaeseong stepped forward.

No. Impossible.

Head lifting half a beat late.

A single step — tap. A movement of uncommon grace, like traditional Korean dance.

It's identical!

The moment suspicion hardened into certainty, Kang Yiyul's figure overlaid every one of Go Jaeseong's movements.

The angles. The timing. Even the eye lines.

Without a hair's breadth of deviation, it was a carbon copy of Yiyul's pre-regression stage.

It had been my favorite stage of all — there was no way I was imagining this.

And then. A chill crawled up my spine.

How.

This was not a coincidence.

Not in a million years.

It wasn't in the original choreography. It wasn't in any of the draft choreography ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠either.

Because it was a point Kang Yiyul had invented himself.

I couldn't take my eyes off the stage.

"...Ha."

Breath escaped me.

Don't tell me—

A different choice than before the regression.

Stealing Yiyul's part — and on top of that, stealing, wholesale, a stage Kang Yiyul had never yet shown the world.

My mind raced.

And then, at last, I arrived at a single conclusion.

That son of a bitch is a regressor too.