Chapter 8: Level Test (3)

　　Was it really better to rip the band-aid off and get the beating over with first?

　　I’d had a strange feeling from the moment we entered the studio first, but it seemed the producers had firmly painted a target on our backs. Otherwise, there was no way they would have made us go first for the level test stages, too.

　　The handful of calming pills he had popped must have actually worked, because Kim Hayoung’s eyes looked relatively resolute. Moon Jaejun was calm as always. The real problem was me.

　　"I’m sorry in advance, guys…" I muttered.

　　"No, don’t be sorry," Hayoung reassured me. "We’re all going to do great."

　　I had barely memorized the choreography and formations. Nailing the finer details was out of the question. I still hadn’t adapted to this new body, so my vocal control was a complete mess, and my rapping was basically at the level of someone spitting bars for the very first time.

　　To make matters worse, the lyrics were starting to jumble up in my head. It was maddening.

　　"Victorious trainees, please head up to the stage."

　　I cried internally over and over as I climbed the stairs at the staff member’s gesture. It felt like I was voluntarily marching straight through the gates of hell.

　　After lining up in the center of the stage and bowing, I made eye contact with each of the trainers sitting at the judges’ desk opposite us. I felt inexplicably glad to see their faces after such a long time, but honestly, my fear outweighed any joy. Until the actual training camp began, these people were judges, not teachers.

　　"Trainee Lee Kanghyun?"

　　The main MC, Jo Youngwoong, who sat dead center, called my name in a relaxed tone.

　　"Yes, sir. That’s me."

　　"You’re very handsome."

　　Huh?

　　"Seriously, how are you that good-looking?"

　　The brazen question caught me completely off guard. I froze for a second, entirely at a loss for words.

　　"Haha… Thank you."

　　I knew it was a joke deliberately thrown out to ease the tension, but I still felt awkward. It had been true before my regression, and it was true now. Compliments about my appearance always made me blush. I never even knew how to react.

　　"I’m not a huge fan of guys who are this handsome," Youngwoong joked. "Doesn’t it feel like they are not human?"

　　"Come on, why are you getting jealous of a kid?" one of the trainers shot back.

　　"He’s tall, too. How?! There’s a limit to how unfair the world can be."

　　As the male trainers conspicuously grumbled, the female trainers sitting beside them lightly scolded them, bursting into laughter. Stuck in the middle, I could only stand there awkwardly, my eyes darting around.

　　How would this look on the broadcast? I’d probably look like a complete wallflower.

　　"What are you so nervous about? It’s not like we’re going to eat you alive."

　　Because I know those smiles are going to be completely wiped off your faces in about five minutes.

　　"It says his desired position is rapper," someone noted.

　　"Oh, Daddy Jam is going to love that."

　　The trainers chatted back and forth, waving around the application form the past Lee Kanghyun must have filled out. My conscience stung, and my stomach churned, but I clenched my jaw and forced a neutral expression.

　　"Could you do a little freestyle rap for us?" the rap trainer, Daddy Jam, asked in a surprisingly gentle tone. Since I was the first rap-positioned trainee they had met today, he seemed pretty expectant.

　　However, I was in a body completely incapable of meeting those expectations.

　　"I am truly sorry!" I shouted, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle. "I wrote down the wrong desired position. I actually don’t know how to rap at all."

　　Every single trainer stared at me, thoroughly bewildered. Fortunately, one of them quickly snapped out of it.

　　"Then what’s your role or position in the group? Vocal?"

　　My second attempt.

　　Even though I was in a situation where I needed to be twice as desperate as anyone else, I had been busy playing it safe until now. Simply put, I was afraid of making myself a target. I was terrified of getting caught in malicious editing, of looking arrogant, and of the viewers ending up hating me.

　　But I couldn’t just act ordinary forever. Out of ninety-nine trainees, I couldn’t afford for my looks to be the only thing that set me apart. It wasn’t like I was the only handsome guy in this studio, anyway.

　　I had to secure my own screen time, no matter what it took.

　　"No. I can’t sing, and I can’t dance, either."

　　Even if I had to look like a complete lunatic to do it.

　　"So you’re saying you can’t do anything. Don’t tell me you’re just standing up there relying purely on a pretty face?"

　　The trainers, who had initially been watching me with smiles, realized there wasn’t an ounce of playfulness in my voice. Their expressions gradually turned cold.

　　And understandably so. As I had experienced myself when teaching others, dealing with someone who lacked even the drive to learn was the most infuriating and exhausting thing. Trying to diligently teach a guy whose mindset was already fundamentally flawed only ever left you feeling empty.

　　Conversely, you couldn’t help but want to root for someone who worked incredibly hard, even if their skills were lacking.

　　"I am the best at doing my best."

　　The moment I blurted that out, utter disbelief washed over the judges’ faces.

　　"Out of all ninety-nine trainees here, I will be the hardest-working participant."

　　It was painfully cringeworthy, even coming from my own mouth. Once this comment made it to the broadcast, the viewers’ reactions were going to be quite the spectacle. I’d probably hear something along the lines of:

　　— What is Lee Kanghyun’s deal? He must think he’s an anime protagonist or something.

　　└ Major main character syndrome lol

　　— I can smell my own kind reeking off Lee Kanghyun… Geek radar fully activated.

　　└ They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but man, he really doesn’t look the part.

　　└└ That’s because you can never spot a true otaku just by their looks.

　　— Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve seen such pure madness… he’s got that wide-eyed psycho stare. You know you’re seriously fucked if you mess with guys like that, right?

　　— Ah, I voted for him because he looked normal, but what’s with that persona :3 It was so cringey I almost turned off my TV.

　　Sure, there would be some people who thought it was cool and rooted for me, but I knew the vast majority would find it completely off-putting. It was a gamble I made knowing full well what the consequences would be.

　　Because I was actually confident I could back those words up. I was on my second playthrough of life. Even if you lined up all the other ninety-eight trainees, not a single one of them would improve faster than me.

　　I felt like I was going to die of embarrassment right now, but treating it as laying groundwork for future editing made it somewhat bearable. Since I had thrown myself into this totally blind, without any agency backing, I had to create my own narrative and screen time from here on out. Sink or swim.

　　"Hmm." The first person to speak up was vocal trainer Yeo Sarang, a figure renowned for delivering ruthlessly cold critiques, even among this panel of judges.

　　"Confidence is great and all… but to my ears, it sounds like you’re dismissing the other participants."

　　How did she know? Honestly, I did think they were a little easy.

　　"Someone might hear that and think the rest of the participants aren’t putting in any effort. Right?" she pressed.

　　I remained silent.

　　"All that smooth talking is absolutely useless." She tapped her pen against the desk. "You have to prove it on stage. It’s not like you’re reciting lines from a show."

　　I’m fucked. I didn’t think I’d get chewed out this brutally.

　　I thought they would at least praise my ambitious attitude, but getting thoroughly chewed out completely killed my already nonexistent confidence. I had obviously expected the viewers’ reactions wouldn’t be very favorable, but I hadn’t expected the trainers to treat me like I was pathetic.

　　"If hard work is what you’re most confident in, you must have prepared incredibly well for this stage, right?"

　　Even the few trainers who had been smiling as if they found me cute quickly put on stern expressions, joining the narrative Yeo Sarang had created. I felt a flash of annoyance toward them, but I knew perfectly well that broadcasting was all about going with the flow. It couldn’t be helped.

　　"Now I’m even more excited," someone murmured.

　　"Shall we take a look at your stage? Please play the music."

　　I could already perfectly picture how the first episode’s broadcast would be edited.

　　Looks like my first impression is completely going down the drain.

* * *

　　The level test results were exactly as dismal as I had predicted.

　　"That stage wasn’t even worth evaluating. Everything was a total mess."

　　"Honestly, I couldn’t see anyone but trainee Lee Kanghyun. Do you know what that means? When you’re that bad, it actually steals the focus. You just actively hindered the other guys’ level tests."

　　Everything they said was an undeniable fact. I had no excuse and hoped to at least avoid being a nuisance to Kim Hayoung and Moon Jaejun, but it seemed a single night of effort simply wasn’t enough.

　　"It felt like you merely memorized the choreography. You looked so desperate just trying to keep up that I actually felt sorry for you," another judge chimed in.

　　"Your rap skills are mediocre at best. Your sense of rhythm is decent, but other than that, I have nothing more to say."

　　Listening silently to the pouring barrage of harsh criticisms, I prayed fervently in my head.

　　"Then, we will announce the results."

　　Please, just let Kim Hayoung and Moon Jaejun get good scores, I pleaded.

　　"Trainee Kim Hayoung, Rank A. Trainee Moon Jaejun, Rank B."

　　Thank god.

　　Only after confirming that both of them had received ranks reflecting their true skills did a sigh of relief finally escape me. Either way, I had managed to achieve my initial goals: memorizing the choreography just enough to actually get on stage, and not dragging those two down.

　　"Trainee Lee Kanghyun, Rank F."

　　"Thank you."

　　I bowed to the judges with the utmost sincerity. To be perfectly honest, I preferred this. Getting an F was way better for building up an underdog narrative than ending up with some ambiguous C or D anyway.

　　"Good work. You may return to your seats."

　　I forced a dejected look onto my face as I walked back. It was completely an act, of course, but for some reason, seeing me like that made Hayoung and Jaejun panic. They rushed over to me.

　　"It’s okay. You’ll do great during the rank re-evaluations," Hayoung said.

　　"He’s right," Jaejun added. "Honestly, pulling off that much dancing after just one day of practice is seriously amazing in my book."

　　They are such genuinely good lads…

　　My tear ducts, which had remained entirely dry through all those brutal critiques, threatened to well up a little.

　　"I’m already totally satisfied knowing you guys got good scores. It would’ve been nice if Jaejun got an A too, so that’s the only real bummer."

　　"No way. Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did on that stage, so I was completely shocked when I got a B."

　　After wrapping up our conversation on a fairly heartwarming note, we returned to our respective seats.