The Flickering Danger Level

Under normal circumstances, Go Jaeseong would have been glaring daggers at every other team's stage, watching his rivals like a hawk.

But right now, Go Jaeseong was pure, unshakable ease — as if checking on the others had become pointless.

"Next up… will the baseball uniform team please come out?"

That's Yiyul's team.

Joo Han, the immovable first-place trainee, and Kang Yiyul. Judging by raw talent alone, they were arguably the strongest team of the entire round.

Out of habit, I checked Yiyul's Danger Level. Thankfully, it hadn't changed.

"The song is an ode to youth? Should suit the baseball uniforms nicely."

"With Joo Han and Yiyul, there's really nothing to worry about."

Even the judges' reactions were warmer from the very start.

And so the stage began.

"Whoa…."

In that instant, my eyes were stolen by Joo Han. And I wasn't the only one.

A being beyond the standards — neither an object of jealousy nor of caution.

I pulled my focus together and forced my gaze back onto Yiyul. And then, belatedly, I realized it.

…The choreography is different.

Before the regression, it had been textbook knife-sharp synchronization.

But now it had been reworked to emphasize flowing lines — and thanks to that, Kang Yiyul's distinctive dance line came through far more clearly.

That clever kid.

So he'd contributed more this time than he had before the regression. A smile rose to my face unbidden at the courage and growth only I knew about.

"Still, doesn't it kind of feel like all you can see is Joo Han?"

"Yiyul's doing well too, but he's definitely…."

I tried to brush off the voices drifting from behind me.

It's not that one-sided. That's an exaggeration, right…? Huh?

Suddenly, something felt off.

Even though the situation favored Yiyul, everyone's eyes were still fixed on Joo Han.

And in that very moment, Kang Yiyul's Danger Level began to flicker faintly.

Wait a second….

A chill ran down my spine.

Their stage ended, and the judges' feedback followed.

Honestly, most of it didn't even reach my ears — except whenever Yiyul's name came up.

"Who choreographed this?"

"Yiyul took part in it a lot this time!"

The judges' eyes turned briefly toward Kang Yiyul. But they swung right back to Joo Han.

"Wow, and you still dance this well on top of it? Joo Han, you're something else."

"Thank you!"

"Joo Han really is on another level."

The expectancy that had been brimming on Yiyul's face slowly hardened into stone.

His fingers, hidden behind his back, twitched in an irregular rhythm — a nervous habit that surfaced whenever anxiety took hold.

"That choreography really suited you, Yiyul. You did well."

At those words, his face brightened for a moment.

"But Joo Han, honestly… you could debut right now as-is."

If you're going to do that, why even mention him at all….

But every word of praise for Yiyul was nothing more than seasoning to make Joo Han shine brighter.

And then, the very thing I had feared most came to pass.

The Danger ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Level, flickering faster and faster….

It rose by three percent?

My breath caught in my throat.

That's impossible.

He'd performed far better than before the regression—

And in that instant, I understood. I saw what I had missed.

I was Kang Yiyul's fan. That was why I could see how much he had grown — how hard he had worked, and how far he had come.

But Yiyul wasn't looking at that at all.

What Yiyul saw wasn't a more grown version of himself.

It was Joo Han, standing right beside him.

The one he was always measured against — and the one he had never, not once, managed to beat.

And today, even after pouring everything into the choreography he was most confident in, the conclusion was exactly the same.

A crushing victory for Joo Han.

This is exactly why I'd hoped those two would never end up on the same team.

They were the maknae line, but their personalities and temperaments couldn't have been more different.

If Yiyul had simply been someone with no talent, it would have been fine — they'd never even have been held up as points of comparison in the first place.

But even after debut, these two were perpetually compared by the public and the fans alike.

And the conclusion was always the same.

[Yiyul's good. But doesn't the same-age Joo Han dance way better?]

For a kid like him to hear that kind of judge feedback — I didn't need to be told how it felt.

He'd worked up the courage, he'd grown — I'd genuinely thought things were looking up.

But right now, Kang Yiyul was crumbling harder than he had before the regression.

None of the following evaluations registered at all. Only one thing circled in my head.

Kang Yiyul's Danger Level.

"That concludes the mid-round evaluations. Everyone, fighting for the rest of the period!"

"Yes, sir!"

The judges and Kang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sejun left, but the practice room buzzed with energy.

Naturally, the center of it all was Go Jaeseong.

"We're seriously taking first this round, aren't we?"

"No question about it."

"Joo Han, you'd better watch your back, huh?"

Joo Han simply smiled and gave a casual shrug.

It was the ease that only someone with overwhelming skill could afford.

Kang Yiyul had already walked to the mirror. And he started practicing again.

Even as the other trainees went off to eat, even as they took their breaks, Kang Yiyul never stopped.

I considered saying something to him, but quickly shook my head.

Not now.

It might just come across as pity.

I didn't take my eyes off him, though. I kept checking the Danger Level, over and over.

Please. Just don't let it pass 90%.

There had been only one moment so far when Kang Yiyul had been truly in danger.

The day right after my regression, when his arm was in a cast.

Since then, thankfully, it had never crossed 90%. And Kang Yiyul's life had never been threatened since.

But I still knew so little about the status window.

At what percentage did things become genuinely dangerous? Just how bad could it get?

Even the 90% threshold was nothing but a guess.

All I could do right now was watch.

Let me get my own part right first.

I replayed the mid-round feedback in my head. Most of it was praise for Go Jaeseong, but I'd come away with something useful.

[Seongwoo's dancing has improved enormously. All he needs to do now is build up his live vocals.]

Strengthening my live singing was a worry I'd been carrying since the brutal training with Yuz.

Public voting was about to begin. Which meant I'd have to survive the raw, unforgiving sound of the live broadcast.

Stable vocals even mid-choreography would become the single biggest criterion.

At my current SP….

I slipped out of the practice room and quietly began creating an item.

The truth was, this item hadn't been possible during my boot camp with Yuz.

I'd simply been short on SP.

But over the time since — as the broadcasts aired and steady public attention piled on — my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠SP had climbed all the way to 1,000.

"…Gill Breathing."

Whenever an idol delivered a rock-steady live vocal in the middle of explosive choreography, the "gill theory" always followed — the running joke that with lungs like those, they must have actual gills hidden somewhere.

There was no more intuitive name for it.

"There it is…!"

Sure enough, my SP had dropped to 100. It stung to give up everything I'd saved over the past week, but this item would earn me far more SP in return.

Yet even after waiting a while, nothing happened.

"What?"

The moment I began to doubt whether it had actually applied, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and froze.

The small thing visible just below my ears — those were gills.

Unbelievable.

Leave it to the underworld crowd to be disturbingly literal about the strangest things.

I sprinted straight back to the practice room and turned on the music.

The moment I launched into the song alongside the intense choreography, I could feel it immediately.

It actually works.

I no longer had to agonize over when to breathe.

A freedom I had never felt before pulled an involuntary laugh out of me.

A party room somewhere in Seoul.

Oh Gyeongjin was watching episode 4 live with Ji-soo, her fandom partner who had been fangirling over Yiyul with her since his very first agency days.

"Who did you say your second favorite was again?"

"Mine is Braces — Seongwoo. Yours was Woonjo, right?"

"Yep. Isn't Woonjo just adorable?"

"It'd be great if he goes with Shadow Play or Blossom—"

Gyeongjin shot to her feet.

"Oh my god—!"

"What? Wait, did they actually take your suggestion?"

"My number one and number two on the same team? This stock is a sure thing."

"Aw, he's adorable."

"Yiyul's gonna get a ton of screen time this episode too—"

But contrary to both their expectations, the two of them were about to fade to almost nothing.

Instead, the episode was dominated by the clashing opinions of Han Sangyoon, Jang Hyunjun, and Nam Junho.

"Seriously, what are we supposed to do if we still haven't picked when we're dying here?"

"Yiyul fits urban style way better than hip-hop—"

"Well, at least it's lucky Yiyul's team landed on Sangyoon's side…."

Yiyul's team was the only one that still hadn't settled on a concept. Gyeongjin muttered under her breath without even realizing it.

"Oh no. Guys, what are you doing?"

"Aren't they screwed?"

Even as the edit worked hard to salvage things, Yuseongwoo's clunky dancing kept catching her eye.

"Hmmm… he really is the hardworking type."

Even as flattery, no one could call him talented at dance.

"Hey, but are you gonna be okay with Braces? Don't you literally throw up watching kids who can't dance?"

Every single favorite Gyeongjin had ever had was at lead-dancer level or above — by her standards, his skills fell painfully short.

"It's a little rough, but…."

Sure enough, the atmosphere turned increasingly hostile. The other judges' reactions alone had been brutal enough, but this wasn't even the beginning.

The real thing started the moment Robin opened his mouth.

Gyeongjin quietly buried her face in her hands.

In the suffocating silence where no one dared even breathe, an unexpected scene unfolded.

"…What?"

Slow motion kicked in, ratcheting the anticipation higher and higher—

"Oh, come ON…."

"Seriously, why do they ONLY do this cruel cut right at Seongwoo's parts? Maybe because the kid just hands them a perfect broadcast moment every time?"

Watching Gyeongjin fly into a rant, Ji-soo let out a dismissive little snort.

"Anyone watching you would think Seongwoo was your number one."

"What is that supposed to mean??"

She denied it louder than she needed to. But the louder Gyeongjin denied it, the more calmly Ji-soo simply nodded along.

With an expression that said she saw right through everything.